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malavera · 3 months ago

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Peaches: “Will you forgive me... Daddy?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

this is a part 2 of my series called Peaches, but it can be read as a standalone 😉 if you wish to check out the part 1 click here!

summary: It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself, no. Your dad just worries a lot so he asks for your friendly old man neighbor to look after you while he’s gone on his business trip. But is that all?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. a little bit fluff, ddlg dynamic, bratty!reader, dom!logan, oral M receiving, throatfucking

taglist: @wcndercore @peachyystuff @kholdkill @narjuko @the-occasional-artist1125 @robynanthonystark @suchasweetieee @jensojkaobecna @explainthisaetheists @currentlyquestioningexistence @cathers-world @seasonofthenerd @thinkinonsense comment if you'd like to be tagged for the next part 😉

The peach-colored bath bomb hisses as it plunges into the warm water, sending ripples through the surface. It fizzes and dissolves, releasing a cloud of sweet fragrance that wraps around the room like a soft, intoxicating embrace. You inhale deeply, the scent pulling you back to a moment not so long ago. As the steam rises, you let the bathrobe slip from your shoulders, but hesitate. The water beckons, promising comfort and warmth, yet something in you resists. His scent still clings to your skin—a haunting reminder of a presence now gone. The thought of washing it away feels like surrendering the last trace of him, and for a moment, you stand there, torn between the allure of the soothing bath and the ache of holding on to what remains.

But in the end, the warmth proves too inviting, and you let yourself slip into the bath. The water envelops you, pulling you into its embrace as your mind replays the scene, vivid and haunting. You can almost see him again, the way he casually brought his fingers to his lips, licking the last remnants of you with a slow, deliberate ease. He didn’t say a word, but that smirk—so confident, so sure—spoke volumes. It was a silent claim, a parting message that lingered as he turned to leave, leaving you with nothing but the fading echo of his presence and the water that now seems too gentle, too cleansing, against the memory you wish to keep.

Time has slipped away, and now, two weeks have passed since that moment. It feels like a distant dream, yet the memory remains sharp, refusing to fade. You’ve been avoiding Logan ever since, even though that’s not what he wants from you. He’s the opposite of what you’ve intended to do; he wants you to embrace it. He wants you to embrace your desire.

But like what you are, you’re too much of a pussy to face your own desire. Even though it aches for his touch.

Now, with your dad away on a business trip, you couldn't be more thrilled. The house is yours, a rare freedom that has your mind buzzing with possibilities. You imagine nights without curfew, slipping out into the night without a care, and not having to worry about getting caught. But your excitement gets the best of you, and you celebrate too soon. Just when you think you’ve outsmarted the system, your dad’s words come crashing down like a cold wave, his rules and expectations finding a way to reach you even when he’s miles away, dampening the thrill before it even begins,

“I’ve asked Logan to watch over you here and there. So, I won’t worry much. He’ll update me on whatever it is you do so, behave.”

Fun right?

And here you are, sitting in the diner’s booth with your girlfriends, the buzz of conversation and the smell of greasy food filling the air. They’re all planning to head to a party after this, and when they mention the time—10 PM—your stomach flips. That’s your curfew, the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross. But tonight, the temptation is too strong, and you’re about to go for it, to finally break the rules. Just as you’re about to give in, the door chimes, and there he is—Logan, strolling into the diner like he owns the place. He walks right up to you, his presence sending a jolt through your resolve, and without a word, he makes it clear he’s not letting you out of his sight tonight. As he takes your hand, you know the party isn’t in the cards anymore—Logan’s about to take you on a different kind of ride.

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you pout, your bottom lip jutting out as you stubbornly refuse to look straight ahead. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old,” you mutter under your breath, the words more for yourself than for him.

“But you act like one,” Logan shoots back with a tsk, not missing a beat.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m twenty-three, for god’s sake. Both of you need to stop treating me like a baby!” You huff, finally turning to face him. He’s driving with effortless ease, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually resting against the door. The simple, relaxed way he holds himself only makes him look even more frustratingly attractive. You hate that he’s right, but more than that, you hate that you can’t stop noticing just how good he looks when he’s in control.

Stubborn as ever, you dig in, determined not to let him win this round. You reminded yourself of why you were fuming in the first place, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “Stop the truck,” you demanded, your voice edged with frustration.

Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What?”

“I said stop the truck, or I’ll jump, and I won’t hesitate. Do not test me right now, I swear, Logan,” you grumbled, your tone leaving no room for doubt. Your sudden tantrum catches him off guard, and for a moment, the confident Logan you’re used to falters. The sweet little peach he thought he knew is nowhere to be found, replaced by someone fierce and unpredictable.

It intrigues him. Something in your defiance pulls at him, piquing his curiosity. He’s not sure what you’re planning, but he wants to find out. Without a word, he slows the car, watching you closely, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

The tension in the car was thick, suffocating even, as you glared at Logan, fury burning in your eyes. The moment felt like it could explode any second, and you weren’t willing to sit there another minute. With a sharp huff, you pushed the door open and stormed out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“Peach!” Logan’s voice boomed, filled with an urgency that barely masked his frustration. He fumbled with his seatbelt, the metal buckle clinking violently before he freed himself and followed you out. The car door slammed behind him, reverberating in the stillness. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You didn’t stop. “I’m going to my friends, and you can’t stop me!” Your voice was a defiant shout, each word a hammer striking the fragile foundation of whatever was left between you two. Your footsteps were quick, determined to leave him and everything he represented behind.

Logan’s grunt was more animal than man, filled with a rawness that made your heart lurch. “Peach, I swear, get back in the fucking car!” His voice cracked through the night, a desperate command that echoed around you.

But you didn’t turn back. Not this time. “No! And stop calling me that, that’s not even my name!” You shot back, your words slicing through the tension like a blade, final and unyielding.

As you thought you’d finally put enough distance between yourself and his truck, something shifted beneath you—your feet were no longer pounding against the pavement. You shrieked in surprise, your arms flailing as you tried to break free. But before you could fully process what was happening, you were momentarily released, only for Logan to scoop you up again, this time slinging you over his shoulder with a grunt of determination.

"You're not going anywhere, not even in that dress," Logan growled, his voice rough and unwavering, sending a chill down your spine. You writhed in his grasp, pounding your fists against his broad back with all the force you could muster.

"Let me go! Please! Help, someone!" Your voice rang out, desperate and frantic, but the night offered no solace. The street was eerily quiet, not a single car in sight, no one to hear your cries. The only response was the echo of your own voice and the steady, unyielding pace of Logan’s steps as he carried you back towards his truck.

Logan wasted no time strapping you into the passenger seat, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that left no room for protest. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and before you could unbuckle yourself, he was already climbing into the driver’s seat. Your frustration bubbled over, and you flailed your arms, grunting and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a five-year-old denied their favorite toy.

But then Logan’s voice erupted, filling the car with a booming authority that silenced you instantly. “ENOUGH!” The word hung in the air, heavy and final. Your arms froze mid-motion, and you stared at him with your brows furrowed and lips pouting, the anger in your eyes now mixed with a hint of confusion.

Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm as he continued, “I’m just doing what your dad wants me to do here, Peach. So help me God, if you wanna go hang out with your friends past curfew, fine, I’ll let you go. But not this one!” His voice was low, edged with a protectiveness that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m not letting you go out there to that fucking stupid party where you could probably get drugged or have alcohol shoved down your throat without your consent; no fucking way.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the tension between you both palpable.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, taking in the way your chest still heaved with heavy, frustrated breaths. He understood why. The anger bubbling inside you wasn’t just about this moment—it was about the bigger picture, the suffocating sense of disappointment that came from a reality that refused to bend to your desires. You craved freedom, the kind that seemed to come so easily to everyone else.

All you wanted was to be like the others out there, those who could breeze past curfew without a second thought, who laughed and danced through the night without anyone holding them back. Hell, they didn’t even have curfews anymore, not since they turned twenty-one. But here you were, feeling like the world was passing you by, like you were missing out on all the big, exhilarating experiences that came with being young and reckless.

You’d never touched alcohol, never gone to a party where the night stretched into the early hours, never done anything that could be described as recklessly fun. And it gnawed at you. The longing for that freedom, for the chance to let loose and live a little, was a weight on your chest, one that no amount of logic or concern from Logan could lift.

Logan watched you quietly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he saw the storm brewing in your eyes, the conflict between the person you were and the person you wanted to be. He knew he couldn’t give you the freedom you craved, not in this moment. But he couldn’t ignore your pain, either.

Logan leaned over, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled your seatbelt. You watched him, confusion flickering in your eyes as the sharp edges of your anger began to soften. His gaze met yours, steady and calm, as he murmured, “C’mere.”

Before you could fully process what was happening, his hand found your thigh, firm yet gentle as he lifted you up and guided you to sit on his lap, sideways. The shift in position felt unexpected, your body tensing for a moment before you let yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.

Logan’s strong arms wrapped around you, guiding your body to lean against his chest. He carefully positioned your head on his shoulder, his touch tender as if he knew exactly how to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid feel of his chest rising and falling beneath you, gradually eased the tension from your muscles.

In his arms, the world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, shared space. The anger and frustration still simmered, but now, in Logan’s embrace, it felt more manageable, less like a storm and more like a lingering cloud.

Logan's voice rumbled softly against your ear as he spoke, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, alright? Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. But if you want to go out with your girlfriends tomorrow night doing other things than PARTYING, you bet your ass I’m gonna lock you in the house myself. Deal?”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words settling in as you considered his offer. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was better than nothing. The compromise, though not ideal, felt like a small victory. So, without saying a word, you nodded your head against his shoulder, accepting his terms.

Logan seemed to take your silent agreement as enough, his arms tightening around you in a way that felt protective rather than restrictive. The frustration still lingered, but there was also a sense of relief in knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Logan murmured as he turned the key, the engine of the truck rumbling to life. You instinctively started to shift, ready to slide off his lap and back into the passenger seat, but his hand on your thigh halted your movement.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” His voice held a teasing edge, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

“But, you’re about to dri—” you began, but Logan cut you off with a grunt.

“I don’t care,” he said, his gaze intense, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourself comfortable and sit on my lap like a good girl, no more tantrum.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you met his stare. The tension from earlier was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. His grip on your thigh was firm, but his touch was still gentle, almost reassuring.

Slowly, you settled back into his lap, your body leaning against his solid frame as the truck began to roll forward. There was a strange comfort in the way he held you, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. The fight had left you, replaced by a quiet acceptance, your earlier anger melting away as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The ride was wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. For some reason, being around Logan soothed you in a way that nothing else had for a long time. It was a feeling you’d longed for, a sense of security and warmth that you hadn’t realized how much you missed until now.

Even though you had your dad, it wasn’t the same. You were never really close with him. The glue that held your family together had always been your late mother, the one who bridged the gap between you and your father. But when she passed away from that illness when you were seventeen, everything changed. The dynamic between you and your dad became something different—just plain family.

He loved you, you knew that, but it was a love that felt distant, like an obligation rather than a connection. And you loved him back, but only just enough. There was a gap, a void left by your mother’s absence, that neither of you knew how to fill. You’d drifted apart, existing in the same space but not truly together.

But with Logan, it was different. Even in the quiet, even without saying a word, there was a comfort in his presence that made you feel like you weren’t so alone. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours—it was like a balm to the aching loneliness you carried.

The warmth of your house greeted you as soon as you unlocked the front door, a comforting contrast to the cool night air outside. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a blanket. With a tired sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl on the console table, the clatter echoing in the quiet hallway. Without a word, you made your way upstairs, leaving Logan standing in the entryway, the silence between you stretching out once more.

Logan watched you disappear up the stairs, a heaviness settling over him. With a resigned sigh, he headed straight for the kitchen, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, the glass container cold to the touch as he unscrewed the cap, pouring it down the glass.

Taking a generous sip, Logan flopped down onto your couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. The remote was within reach, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the TV. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

But even as the TV droned on in the background, Logan’s mind wasn’t on whatever was playing. He took another sip of his beer, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle around him, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the night.

After slipping into more comfortable clothes, you hesitated at the top of the stairs, hoping that Logan was still there. The night had left you feeling unsettled, and the thought of him being gone added to the unease. Slowly, you made your way downstairs, the soft fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin, grounding you.

As you reached the living room, you cleared your throat, the sound breaking the stillness. Logan, who had been staring at the TV without really watching, turned his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe relief—before he watched you walk towards him.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the couch beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and vast. You looked at the glass of scotch in Logan’s hand, your curiosity piqued. “Can I try?” you asked, your voice soft but eager.

Logan glanced at the glass and then back at you. He simply handed it over without a word, his expression neutral. The amber liquid sloshed slightly as you took the glass from him. The warmth of the scotch felt foreign in your hand, but there was a sense of anticipation as you held it. Logan watched you silently, his gaze steady as you prepared to take your first sip.

You raised the glass to your lips, the rich, amber liquid catching the light. With a deep breath, you took your first sip. The taste was immediately intriguing—complex and smoky, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. It was unlike anything you’d ever had before, a unique blend of flavors that seemed to dance across your palate.

The warmth of the scotch spread from your mouth down your throat, a slow burn that settled into a comforting glow. You took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the sensation wash over you. The flavor was bold and sophisticated, a little bit of adventure in a glass.

“You like it?” Logan asked, raising one eyebrow and giving you a half-smile. His gaze was curious as he watched you take in the experience.

You folded your lips, glancing down at the glass before meeting his eyes again and nodding. “It’s not bad,” you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Logan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you trade your life for this or for your peach soda?” he joked.

You giggled, the scotch giving you a carefree lightness. “Peach soda for the win,” you declared with a playful grin. But then, without hesitation, you raised the glass to your lips and chugged the rest of the liquor in one swift motion.

Logan watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Says one who’d trade her life for the peach soda,” he remarked with a scoff, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

He grabbed the empty glass from your hand and, with a quick motion, poured another round for himself. The scotch swirled in the glass as he settled back onto the couch, the warmth of the liquor evident in his relaxed demeanor.

“I want one again,” you murmured, a pout forming on your lips as you looked at the empty glass.

Logan sighed, giving in with a resigned smile. “Fine, here,” he said, pouring another generous measure of scotch into the glass. But instead of reaching for the glass, you snatched the bottle right from his hand.

“Wha—hey whoa, Peach,” Logan started, surprised.

“I have my limits, don’t worry,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Logan frowned, his hand reaching for the bottle. “Right, considering this is your first time and you like this more than your peach soda, I think that’s not a great idea. Come on, give me the bottle.”

With a shriek of playful defiance, you pushed yourself off the couch and stood in front of him, waving the bottle mockingly. “Watch me,” you smirked, lifting the bottle to your lips.

You took a generous sip, the rich warmth of the scotch flowing smoothly down your throat. Logan watched, amused. The newfound confidence in your actions only seemed to grow with each sip, the scotch emboldening you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel a subtle shift within you. The warmth from the scotch seemed to spread through your body, making you feel more alive, more fearless. It was as if the world outside had softened, the edges of your worries and reservations blurring into the background.

“Hmmm,” you hummed contentedly, taking a step closer to where Logan sat. With a playful glint in your eye, you placed the bottle on the coffee table and then gracefully straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan’s expression shifted subtly, his initial concern giving way to something more intimate. His eyes softened, the playful warmth of the moment casting a new light on his face. He adjusted his position slightly to accommodate you, his hands resting gently on your hips.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight," you murmured, looking down to his lips before gazing up to his eyes. "Will you forgive me... Daddy?"

Logan looks at you surprised, he couldn't believe what he just heard. It's something he has never heard anyone addressed him with that before. The tension wasn't comforting it was rather more, sensual. Logan slowly leans forward inching closer to your face, he looks down to your lips before murmuring, "What did you just call me?"

You giggled, "Daddy." You repeated. "You're more like a dad to me than my dad ever was," you giggled. "The only difference is, I wanna fuck you." The scotch is now talking. "You were right, all those times you've caught me fucking myself with my fingers through my window, I wanted you to watch me," You stare at him with doe eyes. "And thank fuck, you watched me."

Logan groaned from listening to you talk like that. His hands gripping your hips, throwing his head back against the cushion. "You promised me you wanted me to feel your cock," you pouted, starting to move your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his denim jeans. Inching your face close to him, you whispered against his lips, "So give me your cock, Daddy."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his gaze darkening as the playful tension between you ignited into something more intense. Without warning, his hand moved to your throat, not with force but with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. In one swift motion, he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you all night. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that took your breath away, the earlier tenderness giving way to something more primal. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and you felt your heart race as the kiss deepened, becoming more feral and uncontrolled.

Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours with a hunger that made your head spin. The kiss became sloppy, desperate even, as the two of you lost yourselves in the intensity of the connection. You struggled to keep up, your breath hitching as you tried to match his pace, but it was overwhelming, intoxicating. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses consumed by the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, and the way his lips demanded everything from you.

You never stopped grinding your hips against his clothed cock as both of your lips were dancing with each other. The bulge in his jeans kept growing bigger and bigger until he decided it's finally enough to torture him; he broke the kiss and lift you up before his hands went to undo his jeans.

You watched the way he swiftly pulling down his jeans along with his boxers, his cock slapped against his abdomen. Shit, you thought. He's nowhere near small, he's big and fat. You wonder if it's going to fit in your small cunt and your small mouth. Logan noticed your demeanor has changed as he smirked to himself.

"Don't worry, Peach. I'll show you how." You looked at him confused. "You're gonna put my cock in your mouth first," You inhaled sharply before nodding your head, Logan smiled at you, happy that you're obeying to what he wants you to do. "Good girl, get on your knees."

Logan walked you through it, by telling you to grab his cock with both hands. "Give it a kiss." He urged, nudging his chin cockily. You hesitatingly kissed the raging red tip of his cock that has his already pre-cum leaking from the tiny slit. "Lick it, peach." He commanded, you obeyed. Dragging your warm tongue out from your mouth and made contact with the skin.

Logan watching you so innocently making out with his tip, makes his heart beat faster, eager to slide his cock down your throat and fuck your stupidly innocent face. "Thaaaat's good, peach. Put 'em all in your mouth." Before you do that, you fixated your gaze on Logan before moving away to inch your face close to his heavy balls.

You decided to improvise and see if he'd like that, Logan watches you intensely and groaned as you drag your tongue from the bottom of his cock upwards to meet his tip before putting him all in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, and teasingly rolled your eyes close to show that you're enjoying it so much. And it did sent Logan to heaven, watching his little peach enjoy sucking his girth.

"You like my cock, peaches? .... Yeah? .... Well come on, put them all in ya." Logan muttered as he raised his hip slowly upward, pushing his cock into your mouth further to reach your throat. When you gagged, Logan moaned. You thought that was a good sign, especially when you couldn't control your saliva as it drips down to his pubic hair and all. "Fffuck." Logan cursed watching you bob your head and up down his cock.

"Feels s'good.. Peach, god." Logan rolled his eyes and lean his head back, his hand rest on top of your head, fisting your hair. He grunted, "'want more." He murmured under his breath before he decided to take control. He bobbed your head up and down, increasing the speed while also thrusting his hips upward, fucking your throat.

"Fuck yeah, you better think twice before you talk back to me like that in the car." Logan grunted, watching you struggle to breathe, your eyes getting teary and choked on his cock. Logan laughs rather maniacally, watching you struggle turns him on even more.

"You wanna feel how it feels like to have a warm cum slides down your throat, peaches?" Your eyes widened. "Yeah.. I'll show you. 'M gonna cum soon, Oh.. So good, peach." Logan moaned, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

Placing your palm on his thighs, you tried to at least breathe a little. You didn't want to pull away as you don't want you disappoint him. You can feel Logan's tip twitch in your mouth, you take it he's about to cum soon.

Without warning, Logan let out the loudest moan ever, spilling his warm cum down your throat. His hips stuttered a little, giving you one final thrust to make sure he emptied everything in your mouth. And you gladly took them all. As Logan pulls his cock out from your mouth, he watched you swallow his everything down your throat as he smirked in proud.

You watched him with your famous doe-eyes when you want something but Logan just laughed at you, mocking.

"You think after you pulled that stunt on the road you deserve my cock in your pussy? Hell fucking no, peach. At least not tonight, now get to bed."

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! if you love my writing feel free to check my other works here

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joocomics · 7 months ago

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wild cherry (18+)

read part two here

pairing: skater!jiseok x fem!reader x hyeongjun

genre: smut, slice of life wc: 3.9k

summary: your childhood best friend who studies abroad comes back for the summer break. his first day in his hometown after not visiting for three years ends with a sweet unforgettable experience and an unexpected new friendship for you

contains: sub!reader, slight food play? (there’s a scene with a lollipop involved, if it sounds uncomfortable to you, i advise not reading this), unprotected sex, public sex, oral sex (f!rec), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism

There’s so much that three years can do to a person.

You realise it after you walk out through the front door and call out Jiseok’s name who’s on the other sidewalk.

He’s sitting on his skateboard, settled under a tree to hide from the July sun and waiting patiently to see you for the first time after three years.

You cross the street, and run into his arms. He doesn’t even get the chance to give you one proper look, because you immediately jump on him with the widest most radiant smile.

His arms lift you up in the air as you scream at him for not telling you that he’s decided to come back for the summer.

He only giggles into your hair which is half-wet with a sweet scent that tickles his senses. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your back.

“I just got here last night and you’re already yelling at me.” He jokes quietly, but you barely hear a word from your heart beating so fast.

His appearance can continue to change as much as it wants, but the welcoming feeling of his comforting presence will always remain the same, and you will miss it every time he’s gone no matter what.

You feel the warm breeze across the back of your thighs, and you realise the flowy summer dress you’re wearing has hiked up your body a bit too much, exposing more skin than it’s appropriate. Jiseok’s grip around your body unintentionally exposed most of your panties by bringing you in the air, and you decide it’s time to let go before any of your neighbours see it.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you speak up almost out of breath from the excitement, “but I was in the shower when you called.”

“No worries.” He chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s just you getting used to hearing it again in person, or if the sound really has changed a bit. “What’s thirteen minutes compared to three years?” He gives you an ear to ear smile as his eyes squint from the bright sunlight.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

He shrugs shoulders, because the reason is pretty simple and obvious.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

You both can’t stop grinning at each other, closely observing the changes that you’ve missed during all this time. His hair has gotten longer, his figure more broad and confident, his gaze - bolder. You’ve sent many selfies in the chat, many pictures, videos and you talk on facetime often, but it’s not the same.

Not even close.

“I have a surprise for you too.” You move your hand up in front of his eyes and Jiseok gasps loudly.

“No way!” He grabs the lollipop the second he sees it. The same one you always used to buy while you were in high school and continued to buy after graduation. “Wait,” his brows fake a suspicious look, “did you know I was flying home? Do you have some psychic powers you’re not telling me about?”

“I wish,” you laugh. “I just buy some once in a while, especially this time of the year. The flavour reminds me of the good ol’ days.”

“Thanks, I missed them.” He opens his arms, inviting you in a hug again. “And you too.”

You cling onto his body, genuinely grateful to have him so close to you again. The memories throughout the years you’ve created together since you were little kids running on this same street you are standing right now, burst into your mind, but you shove them away, wanting to be fully focused on the present.

“I missed you too. More than I expected.”

“Told you it will be boring without me.”

After you back away, Jiseok accidentally peeks into your cleavage while you fix your dress, and his laughter suddenly dies down. He shifts his gaze up to your face with a coy smirk.

“You look beautiful by the way.”

It’s not only your nicely shaped breasts that he’s complimenting, but your blossomed beauty too.

“Thanks.” You respond a bit flustered because it’s the last thing you expected to hear from him.

“Oh!” He turns around. “Check out my new skateboard deck.” He lifts it in front of his chest with a proud grin. “Customised it myself.”

“I knew there was an artsy side to you.”

You run your fingertips along the colorful deck, telling him how much you like the creative design.

Jiseok hops on the skateboard, and you both take a stroll around the neighbourhood. He said he wanted to see if anything has changed since he left to study abroad, and you tell him the only difference is that a few people moved.

As the both of you chat, jumping from one topic into another, you catch with your peripheral vision that Jiseok is taking off his t-shirt. You quickly look away, but not for long because his feet speed up the wheels of the skate and he’s suddenly ahead of you with his back muscles into your face.

He used to constantly yell at you “check this out!” before doing his tricks, but now he doesn’t do it anymore; maybe he grew out of it and since he’s shown impressive skills in a few competitions he doesn’t feel the need to.

He pops ollie high in the air before groaning from the hot temperature. His shirt hangs from his shoulder, and the closer you get, the better you see his tanned skin and the abs… especially the abs.

“We should go to the skate park before I leave so you can see my newest jump. I learned something that will make your jaw drop.”

“We should,” you agree.

You don’t ask when he’s leaving. You don’t want to know just yet.

Later in the afternoon Jiseok called you to hangout, and you noticed that your heart is racing quicker with each passing minute as you wait for him to pick you up with his dad’s car.

It’s unusual. There’s no reason for it to beat this furiously for a friend you’ve known all your life.

The vehicle approaches and you sigh with relief once you sit on the passenger seat, enjoying the colder air.

“Seatbelt, please.” Jiseok glances at your chest before preparing to leave the empty street. “Hot, isn’t it?”

“Deadly,” you complain, secretly checking your reflection in the rear view mirror.

You thought it would be just the two of you, but turns out a friend of his will be joining you.

“Do you mind?” Jiseok asks, paying attention to the busy road.

His schedule currently is packed by meeting up with many hometown friends that he hasn’t seen in a long time. He does his best to squeeze in everyone in a short period of time, and you understand that.

“Of course not, it will be fun.” You reassure him with a quick curl of your lips. “Do I know him?” You ask, worried if the slight disappointment you felt is echoing in your voice.

“I might’ve mentioned him before, but I don’t think you’ve met him.” Jiseok admits after a few seconds of thinking. “I’m sure you’re gonna like him though,” he quickly adds. “He’s not like most of my friends, don’t worry.”

“I like your friends!” You turn to him with a fake expression of surprise.

“No, you don’t.” Jiseok peeps at you before fixing his gaze on the road again.

His laugh rings in the car, and you feel a wave of relief. You’re glad he doesn’t mind your opinions on most of his friends. Not that he’s here to hang out with them and invite you to come along, but when he’s done with college he may have more opportunities to travel to his hometown… You wonder what his friends are like in his current new life. Does he act the same when he’s with them or is there a different version of Kwak Jiseok that you have no idea about?

“Here he is.” Jiseok shouts through a wide grin, rolling down the window. He sticks out his hand and his friend greets him with some kind of special fist bump. “Damn, the ponytail is sick.” He exclaims after the dark haired boy settles in the back seat. “I didn’t know you’re growing out your hair.”

“Thanks,” Jiseok’s friend says. His voice is coming in a mellow calming tone from behind your shoulder. “Thought you knew.”

“Maybe I would’ve if you facetimed me more.”

His friend laughs through a sarcastic reply, and Jiseok finally introduces you.

“Hyeongjun, this is Y/N, you’ve heard about her, Y/N, this is Hyeongjun.”

“Nice to meet you.” You turn around, reaching for his hand.

He accepts it gently with a genuine smile, and that smile awes you quite honestly. As he walked towards the car you noticed he has a nice slim figure with an appearance that seems appealing at first glance, but now that you take a closer look at him, his face is charming. It makes you want to keep staring at him.

“Actually,” Jiseok’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you turn back around, “Hyeongjun attends the same college as you, Y/N. He’s majoring in Art.”

“Really?” You peek at him intrigued.

“Have you seen each other around?” Jiseok asks curiously while taking a left turn. He’s driving towards a nearby supermarket where you’ve decided to grab drinks and snacks for a picnic at the park.

“I don’t think so,” you mumble and Hyeongjun agrees with you.

“Figured.” Jiseok nods. “Hyeongjun would’ve remembered you.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect it to get so empty here.”

It’s midnight, and the only sounds left around are coming from your unending conversation with Jiseok and Hyeongjun. You can hear occasionally some murmurs or barking in the distance, but it seems that from now on it will only get quieter.

The multiple beer cans are sitting empty outside of the blanket on which the three of you are lazing on along with a few empty packages of snacks.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Jiseok sneaks a hand in the pocket of his pants and quickly unwraps the lollipop you gave him this morning. He puts a hand on his chest, overreacting after tasting it. “Just like I remember.”

“Wild cherry. It’s your favourite, right?” You direct your eyes on him, as you keep resting on your back. He’s sitting in front of you in one of the corners of the blanket, shirtless.

He humms in agreement, pulling out the lolly through his plump lips before showing off his enticing smile.

“But this one is even sweeter cause it’s from you.”

He hides it back in his mouth enjoying the way you attempt to look away shyly. Even in the darkness your features glimmer with a beam of light, and he can see clearly when you’re reacting to his words in a more special way.

Hyeongjun who’s sitting with his back leaning against the tree is picking out the next song to play on his phone while still drinking the remaining sips of his last beer.

He cannot help but steal shameless glances at your laying figure as you chuckle at almost everything Jiseok says. Your hair is spilling on the ground messy, but still beautiful while your naked legs move playfully left to right, distracting him with their hypnotising curves.

“Caramel apple should not come before wild cherry,” Jiseok bursts out dumbfounded.

“That’s your opinion,” you fight back. “I like it, I think it’s great.”

“Better than this?” He holds the red lollipop, anticipating your answer with raised brows.

“Maybe,” you reply, but you’re not able to say anything more after Jiseok moves closer, suddenly prepping himself over you. His lips hover over your mouth, slightly redder than their usual color, as his eyes pierce through yours which are stunned; not able to stop at just one part of his face. “What?” You ask.

“Can I kiss you so you can tell me if you still think that?”

You’ve never craved any taste so badly in your life.

“Yes.”

Jiseok presses his lips on yours, hard, yet cautiously at the same time. A burst of excitement and lust explodes in your chest the moment your mouths connect, allowing your lips to move in sync and explore parts of each other that were till now unfamiliar. Your tongues meet and the sweet flavour increases in your mouth as Jiseok’s dominates over yours.

He breaks the kiss, breathing out.

A moment later of just staring at each other somehow you find a conclusion despite the fuzziness of your mind.

“No, you’re right.” You answer, still facing him so closely. “Wild cherry is better.”

Your response provokes a smirk of pride on Jiseok’s face before it disappears from your vision. He moves lower down your body, his hands hike up your delicate dress that if you ask him, you look pretty much naked in anyway.

His palms explore your bare stomach and hips and you feel how every single place he touches starts heating up despite the normal temperature.

You spread your legs wider and Jiseok levels his face with your clothed cunt with a lollipop in mouth. He grabs it by the handle before speaking up.

“I have a feeling you’re sweeter, baby.” His thumb rubs the spot where your clit is and you sigh from how nice it feels. “Should we find out?”

You meet his heavy gaze between your legs.

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

After your permission, Jiseok moves your panties to the side, and shoots a warm thrill in your entire body through a long lick with his flat tongue. He repeats the same motion more slowly, giving you time to adjust to the feeling before he goes in to suck on your bundle of nerves, shutting his eyes in delight.

Hyeongjun respectfully ignored everything that happened a moment before this… however, he feels like it’s expected from him to watch this.

He sees Jiseok’s hands hugging your thighs as the sounds from his mouth devouring your pussy fill the silence of the deserted park. They’re so lewd and alluring. Just like the soft moans, spilling from your lips that cause his boner to grow.

Jiseok detaches from your folds, groaning from how turned on he is. The lollipop in his fingers appears closer until it bumps into your swollen clit.

“So sweet, doll.” He whispers in a raspier tone, tapping a few times with the head of the lolly. “I knew it.”

You feel him dragging the ball down your folds. The built up arousal is so much, the slickness makes it easy for half of it to slip inside your entrance with ease.

“Fuck, got you so wet for me.” Jiseok moves his dark gaze on your scrunched face, wanting to see your next expression when he pushes the rest of the lollipop into your cunt.

He smirks provocatively once you mewl with pleasure, letting him move it back and forth.

“What a needy girl,” he grunts, pulling it out slowly, “gonna cum from a fuckin’ lollipop.”

He hands you the candy all covered in your essence as soon as you rise up in a sitting position.

This is when the realisation that Hyeongjun saw everything hits you. You also just now notice there’s a new song quietly playing from his phone which apparently has his full attention, or that’s how he’s trying to make it seem.

Jiseok gives you an encouraging nod, his cocky expression with a hint of mischief tells you his imagination is running wild. He has something on his mind, and he’s excited to see you’re thinking of the same thing.

“Hyeongjun.”

Jiseok’s friend looks up at you questionably, and your lips turn up to make him feel less flustered.

“Do you want to try the lollipop too?” You ask.

He asks in return if it’s okay with you, and you respond by moving closer to him.

You guide it towards his lips and he separates them like by a command. You maintain the eye contact as you invite the sugary flavour on his tongue, but once he wraps his seductive lips around the ball which looks too erotic to you for some reason, you couldn’t control your eyes anymore. They move from his lustful eyes and remain on his mouth to watch how he sneaks out his tongue, swiping it along his lips after you pull out the lollipop.

He swallows the sweetness, and you gulp right after him - solely from the urge to kiss him. There’s a desire to find out how his lips would feel that bubbles up inside you.

“You can taste the cherry even better from her.” Jiseok calls out as if he has just read your mind.

You lean in and Hyeongjun does the same simultaneously moving his hand at the back of your neck. After your lips connect, your body flutters from an electric wave once again, but a different type - much more tender and lightweight than the one coming from Jiseok’s lips. Hyeongjun moves passionately as well, but in a graceful way like he’s worried not to get too caught up and make you fall apart, while Jiseok kisses without restraints, like seeing you fall apart is exactly what he wants.

You open your eyes and see the tip of Hyeongjun’s tongue out, not able to get enough of you yet. You gently close your lips around it, holding his neck with your two hands while his roam around your thighs underneath your skirt.

Every flinch he makes with his muscles, every breath he lets out, is as if he’s on slow motion. He wants this to last for as long as possible.

Your heart races as you suck on his wet tongue meanwhile your chin gets wet from a trail of saliva that Hyeongjun licks off after you unwrap your lips.

His hands leave your body - the opposite of his needs, - allowing Jiseok’s to grip on your hips from behind. He gets a hold of you again with an even bigger hunger that unlocks something primer in him from seeing you in this new light. So different and nasty from how your usual pure self is.

Seems like he’s not the only one who’s changed in the past three years.

“Are you having fun driving us crazy like this?” He tilts your head, running his tongue up to your ear.

Every time he touches you slightly you get the urge to moan pathetically, so you bite your lip to avoid it, at least for now.

Hyeongjun watches Jiseok peppering your skin with kisses while his fingertips make the thin straps of your dress slip off your shoulders.

“Not even wearing a bra?”Jiseok notes amused, squeezing your breasts. His erection turns more impatient as your nipples harden on the instant from the breeze. “Come here.”

Jiseok stands up, unbuckling his belt. Soon enough, his pants are open enough to free his cock, and you kneel in front of him while facing Hyeongjun who leans back against the tree; watching you take his friend from behind.

At first you couldn’t focus on Hyeongjun for a while. Feeling Jiseok sinking into you wraps your brain into a fog, unabling you to think or do anything else besides focusing entirely on his thick length going deeper and deeper.

Jiseok digs fingers in your hips while picking up a steady pace which has your moans elevating in the silence.

He shushes you to stay quiet, but his body speeds up.

“You don’t want to get caught fuckin’ in the park, right pretty doll?”

“More, please…” you whine in response finally able to take a peek at your surroundings illuminated by the moonlight. “Please…”

“Only if you don’t make a sound.” Jiseok warns you before slowing down his thrusts.

You nod obediently not letting Hyeongjun out of sight. Jiseok notices your fixed attention on him, and finds it quite intriguing.

He makes you lean back by pulling on your small scrunched dress. The fabric exposes your entire body besides just a small part of your waist. He humms quietly once you begin to move up and down his cock on your own, squeezing him perfectly with your tight walls while your nails stab his thighs as you support yourself.

“Tell me what else do you want, baby.” Jiseok runs his hands on your bare shoulders. His deep voice covers you in goosebumps.

You blink at Hyeongjun while the pleasure floods your veins.

“I… I want him to feel good too.”

“So sweet,” he coos, praising you with knuckles caressing your warm cheek. “You heard her.”

Hyeongjun doesn’t hesitate.

He unzips his jeans and the sound is enough to make your heart skip a beat from excitement. Your eyes widen in the distance, following the rushed movement of his hands.

When his slim fingers grip his shaft he starts tugging in a slow pace, imagining that the pressure around him comes from your gummy walls; that the smacking sounds from skin clashing against skin is because he’s the one kneeling behind you.

You’re bouncing on his dick; you’re making him throb and leak with desperation.

“C’mon, doll, don’t get distracted.” Jiseok speaks in a gentle manner, but you notice the slight tone of frustration hidden underneath. “Take it, c’mon.. fuck.”

He doesn’t wait for you to change your pace though, instead he decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs your lower waist and starts thrusting against the desired spot rapidly; uncontrollably, like he doesn’t plan on ever stopping. Due to the insane amount of pleasure that shoots his core, his head falls back and his eyes roll at the back of his skull.

A warm knot forms in both of your bodies, so close to snapping, as sweat collects on different parts of your skin. It’s gliding down your forehead, neck, chest, your inner thighs along with the spilling fluids from your cunt.

Hyeongjun’s eyes are leveled with your boobs that shake every time Jiseok shoves his cock through you. As his lips open from another small moan, yours close, tucked between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good… so tight and wet.”

And Hyeongjun can almost feel it too. If he keeps his eyes shut and just focus on your panting and the squelching coming from between your legs, he can really feel it. His fist speeds up, building up the intense heat inside as you whimper that you’re about to cum.

“Let it out, baby,” Jiseok grunts, his own voice shaking too. “That’s it, cum for me, good girl.”

He covers your mouth with force while his spare arm stays around you, wanting to keep his cock gliding sloppily till the climax shakes you up.

The thrill is staggering; it makes your body convulse in Jiseok’s embrace as you hold onto the arm that keeps you silent. A few muffled cries sneak out from his palm which are enough to push Hyeongjun over the edge. His cum spills all over his naked stomach in hot thick ropes and he manages to stay quiet till the end in comparison to Jiseok whose throat releases a deep groan after he jerks off, spraying your back with fluids.

Once Jiseok gives your ass a playful smack you let yourself collapse silently on your tummy.

The three of you wait for your breaths to return back to normal in the shared silence. For your surprise, it's not awkward nor perplexing. You let the minutes pass comfortably while the night summer wind finally turns colder, helping your bodies cool off.

The moon shines bright and you meet Hyeongjun’s eyes as he rests on your left side.

He smiles at you.

You smile back.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

#— writing: xdinary heroes #— wild cherry #xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdinary heroes hard hours #kwak jiseok smut #gaon smut #jiseok hard thoughts #gaon hard thoughts #xh hard hours #han hyeongjun smut #junhan hard thoughts #hyeongjun hard thoughts #junhan smut #gaon x reader #jiseok x reader #hyeongjun x reader #junhan x reader #xdinary heroes x reader

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moonsaver · 9 months ago

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Yan!Sunday isn't someone who likes the spotlight.

I mean, it's obvious, even his normal character seems to be one that works behind the scenes, pulling taut strings until they snap one by one.

But Yan!Sunday leaves no exception, even when it comes to adoration.

The frequent visits you somehow always manage to make, scrounging up money from who knows where to afford all those tickets to Robin's concerts, meet-ups, fancalls, etc.. it's cute. Your devotion is almost admirable. Robin starts to recognize you more as a friend or acquaintance than a superfan, which is a great feat for someone like you – a measly fan who managed to get through from constant meetings and relying on a superstar's memory.

It isn't a surprise when you're invited by The Oak Family to Penacony for the Charmony festival, when it arrives. Imprompt shows, coincidental fan meetings as both Sunday and Robin work for the festival eventually leads you and Sunday to meet. It's almost unfortunate for you, things go awry at the last moment. Ticket prices soar the moment you reload the page, the line brutally cuts off right before you for the autograph signing, and the cameras just don't work whenever you want a photo.. it's comical to Sunday, in a way.

Of course, just as it is his responsibility to look after his sister, he talks to you, subtly scrutinizing your body language for any suspicion. It's not uncommon for creeps to appear in Robin's huge audience. He manages to flag you clear, however, when you talk about her in such a lively and innocent manner. It's almost as if you'd been her childhood friend. Something about it is so endearing to Sunday.

Hmm.. since he's taken such a liking to you, why not let him help you out a bit? You may have not been able to scrounge the money for Robin's new concert at the last minute, but don't worry, he can take you backstage, and let you see her performance from a completely different angle. He's family, he can get you to many more places than your fan-title. Soft chuckling as you mention almost losing your ticket because the page decided to glitch at that very moment, you just had to go bankrupt during the payment, and your phone ran out of battery that moment you were in the middle of one of Robin's best performances. It's cute. Spend some more time with him, too, won't you? He's a brother of hers, surely you'd be interested in knowing him, too?

Secret entries to Robin's backstage or VIP rooms turn into imprompt escapades, playfully and softly laughing as he leads you with a firm grasp of your hand somewhere peaceful, a large contrast to Robin's bustling concerts. The night air is cool, serene and quiet, much like Sunday. The night falls and remains in darkness to let the stars shine brighter. And Sunday tells you this over a quiet moment between you two. He never liked the spotlight, bustling crowds, loud noises.. people.

Unfortunately, your meetings came to an abrupt halt. At least.. it was unfortunate for Sunday. Your eyes always lit up at the end of the night, being able to meet Robin and talk about just how amazing her performance was, how happy you are with the opportunity to meet her again, and that you're so glad she remembers you. The spotlight belonged to his sister, and he was more than happy to let her have it.

But.. if it meant your eyes were for hers, it just never settled in him well.

Surely, there was a single admirer for the darkness of the night sky? The vast, velvety black expanse that held stars with the edge of it's fingertips? A single one.

His entire sky craved you.

And.. well, his sister has everything, doesn't she? She's quite generous too, like you said. Perhaps she'll help him out, just this once?

Suddenly, all your VIP tickets seemed to no longer matter. Shifted to waiting rooms where Sunday just so happened to be, backstages were empty and almost desolate, Sunday being the only "staff member" there, guiding you with his familiar firm grip on your hand, always back to that place where he shared that quiet moment with you.

The moments only got quieter and longer,however.

Sunday took notice of it, far before you did. Awkward, polite laughing trailing off into poorly hidden disappointment, the stuttering of your tongue as you try not to mention Robin again, the polite smile on his face telling you it's okay to start over, but never stop trying. The constant, slow push towards him instead of your favorite singer, seemed to only cause a repulsion between you two. He was extremely bitter about it.

Of course, he wouldn't dare take it out on sweet Robin. She's just an amazing singer, he doesn't dare blame her – she's admirable in many ways. But Robin doesn't miss the undertone bitterness that carries the flow of your name on his tongue.

Eventually – Robin stops meeting you. She stops looking at you in the crowds. She refuses autographs, fancalls, etc..

It does break your heart. A little.

Why don't you go to Sunday? He's family after all. He can help you reach closer. The walk to where she is, is not that long. Accompany him for a while, will you? Let him keep the firm grip of his hand in yours. He'll fix everything.

And when your excited face morphs into disappointment once again, as both of you fail to find her after her concert is just perfect. Let him comfort you, hm? He's very understanding.. and quiet. He listens to you so well. Perhaps.. being with Sunday isn't as bad as you thought? Maybe.. instead of searching for Robin over and over, you'd like to spend time with him instead. No one can comfort you better than Family, right?

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bahrtofane · 8 months ago

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after pleading and much excitement on kylians’ end, you finally bite the bullet and take him with you to your hometown of algiers.

kylian x algerian!reader

word count : 1.3K+

watch it: fluffy fluff fluff, mild over thinking and angst if u rly rly dig deep for it

luv my country fr fr

—--

theres a small dent on the wall from where you banged your elbow so hard you swore you broke it. you were around 10. it's been years, and the little spot still stands. you never forget to run your thumb over the ridges, the cool wall warming under your touch.

It's been years, but the wall holds the memory, a mirror of you. each flick of your thumb ignites the scene inside your head over and over, you swear you can feel your elbow sting. you remember the way you hissed sharply and called for your mom, who came scuring from the hallway. and how your cousins all lined up to see the damage and soon teased you for being a baby. screeching at the 'crater' you left in the wall. your aunt snapped a picture of the comotion while she laughed hysterically, hand on her hip, head tossed back while the rest of the family filled in to check out the commotion.

you were given a wet towel to keep in your elbow till the swelling went down. and the teasing never stopped, in fact you're bound to have it happen at any second. your cousins called you bulldozer for years, some still do. that's even your contact name in a few of their phones.

it's so silly how such a little moment from so many years ago carries on. wasn't even your funniest moment in full honesty. you have much better ones.

it's been years, and it remains one of your many contributions to your grandmother's little flat. cozy and quaint in the center of algiers. today you bring a new addition, kylian.

you joked about taking him once, just a passing comment while you showed him pictures from your last trip. he hummed, latching onto the idea like an excited puppy to a chew toy. bothering you with itineraries (as if you need one in your hometown?), your texts are a wall of flight screen shots at this point. and of course bombarding you with questions every second he got the chance.

"should i pack light?"

"what cities will you take me to?"

"do you think i'll need to bring a lot of security?"

in truth, you were hesitant to bring him along.

going back home is a feeling you can never get enough of. from the moment you step off the airplane and the familiar smell of your country hits your face, to your first dip into the mediterranean, a homemade meal, singing out of cars in the dead of night while you race through the city.

bringing him is an intimate ordeal. your country is your first love, first home. she raised you in a sense.

she is a part of him, the same as she is of you. but having him in your grandmother's home? introducing him to your very lively extended family? you don't know about that.

you were worried about your sanity as much as his. you know the questions will be never ending. he's your fiance now after all, wedding in the works. this is only going to add to the disaster that is wedding planning. you know you're going to have to squeeze in promises of inviting your 2nd cousins aunts cats neighbors gardener.

and how could you forget, he's kylian. kylian mbappe. there's no way you're bringing him to the heart of algiers and going to be free to roam the streets as you please.

you know you'll never be able to do so on your own again once the media puts two and two together. good by freedom. it's easy in resorts or fancy hotels. everything can be arranged. but not here.

you and kylian value your privacy dearly. french media has barely ever gotten a proper look at your face and you intend to keep it that way. but you don't think you can get away with that here. you want to show him real places that hold history and the people. not just fancy villas on the coast that cost more than you want to think about.

he pleaded with you anyway, even after you voiced your concerns. "i have an agent and security for a reason. just take me and the rest will come easy. don't even worry."

you frowned, "it'll be in the summer, when everyone else and their mother is going."

"i just want to see it you know, authentically. i want to experience just a part of what you did growing up." he confessed, shy.

and so you caved. and here he is. leaning against that same wall you rammed into all those years ago, fanning his face with a pile of notebook paper he found lying around after a long day of unpacking the gifts you bought for your family.

he's had a long day of posing for pictures and videos, all of which you rolled your eyes at. it's nearing sunset, and you press your forehead against the familiar cool wall of one of the living rooms. it's going to be where you sleep for the next 2 weeks or so.

the couches convert to beds and you get to play the age-old game of war with the mosquitoes that torment you. you haven't told kylian yet. he needs to be ambushed in the middle of the night for the full authentic experience. ha ha ha.

you look back to where kylian is sat on the couch perpendicular to yours, hes given up on the fanning. hand under his thighs while he watches what he can of the balcony. you can see the sea from here. in all its beauty. the gentle wind it brings flutters the curtains while you hum.

tomorrow he meets the rest of your family and you can't help the butterflies that pool in your stomach at the thought. your fiance, meeting the rest of what makes this house a home. you can't wait. for now though, all you want to do is nap.

you get up from your couch, sliding on your socks to press up against his side. even if its pushing near broiling temperatures. he doesn't complain, only bringing his hands to cup your face gently, giving your nose a peck.

"its so beautiful here, " he sighs, "thank you for bringing me."

you hum into his lips, giving them a firm kiss, "you're welcome my love. i'll show you around tomorrow. it's time for my post flight nap."

he gives you a lazy smile, "yes please i was waiting for you to bring it up. it's past my nap time." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and throw one of the couches throw pillows against his chest. he manages to grab it, hurling it back at you. and while you're distracted he curls his hands against your side, tickling you till you yelp and thrash in his hold, back pressed against the couch while you gasp in between laughter.

he finally lets you go and collapses on top of you, kissing any skin he can reach.

"okay get off, it's too hot for that." you groan.

he at least listens to that, peeling himself off you and retreating to the far end of the couch while you set up yours for what you know is going to be top 5 naps of your life, easy.

against the gentle breeze and city sounds, you're lulled to sleep. in your vision you see kylian getting ready to do the same, reaching over to press one sound kiss on your forehead before settling down into his little bubble.

you could do this forever you think. you're glad he came.

#kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x you #mbappe x reader #kylian x you #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #kylian fanfic #mbappe imagine #mbappe fanfic #mbappé #football fanfic #kylian fluff #bahr footy

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kurishiri · 3 months ago

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01 . . . happy birthday, alfons! ˗ˏˋ🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— this is a fan translation of alfons’ second birthday story. for full enjoyment, i would recommend you to read his first birthday story and his and elbie’s past records story, but it’s not required!

— cw: smut 👍

——Mirror, mirror on the wall,

What, pray tell, entails the happiest birthday celebration of them all?

A scrumptious cake? A beautiful scene of the night? Or a surprise present? Perhaps, a most sweet, blessed kiss?

If I were able to shower your birthday with wonderful memories to make you happy,

and if you were able to bury that empty expression you sometimes show, with a genuine smile…

…I wonder how much of it would remain in your memory?

Kate: Hey, Alfons, could you clear your schedule a week from today?

Alfons: A week from today, you say? …My, now what might that day be?

Kate: Jeez, don’t tell me you forgot. Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?

Alfons: My birthday… Ahh! Now that you do mention it, indeed that would be the case.

Alfons clapped his hands together, as though having just realized just now.

Alfons: Do you plan to celebrate it, by any chance?

Kate: Of course! It’s a special day that comes around only once a year, and besides that, we couldn’t really do much for your birthday last year, so…

K: …that’s why, if anyone else invites you to something on that day, please decline. Like last year.

Alfons: Very well, I will do as you say then.

Kate: Great! I plan to have a packed schedule on that day, so you better be prepared!

Alfons: I see your words resemble that of a declaration of war. One that I accept.

A: Well then, I will be waiting most patiently like a good child, yes?

And so, holding onto the promise I made with Alfons, I made plans for his birthday.

However——

The night before his birthday, with a little bit of pleading from him, I couldn’t bring myself to say no, causing me to fall completely into his trap.

Kate: Mn—ahh… plea—sto…hh!

Alfons: Indeed… you can stop if you wish. I don’t have the slightest intention to restrain you here.

A: Go on now, by all means you may let go if you so wish. I won’t chase you down, after all.

(But even if you say to let go…)

I was on top of Alfons, straddling him, where our bodies connected.

I tried to let go by raising my waist, but…

Kate: …ah, mn…!

Just the slightest movement caused me to feel my insides being rubbed, enough for me to feel good,

and I ended up falling back down, the heat inside me reaching ever more deeply than before.

Kate: hh… haa…

Alfons: Dear me, was all your talk about wanting to stop naught but empty words?

Kate: That’s not… ahh…!

Holding my hips, he thrust into me from below,

and the pleasure I had been trying to hold back was forcibly brought out.

Kate: Hngh… I said ‘just a little,’ but this…!

Alfons: Hehe, that should be my line, no?

A: Seeming to want me so, and reluctant to let go, that’s your body, is it not?

Tonight as well, dragged into the waves of pleasure, I drowned in him.

—— The next morning ——

(I overslept…!)

It was the day of Alfons’ birthday, and yet when I awoke, the sun was already high into the sky.

(It’s because we did all those things late into the night…)

Kate: Hey, Alfons, wake up already!

Alfons: …In two hours I will.

Kate: We can’t afford to sleep away two more hours! Come on, let’s get ready quickly.

Putting aside his unreasonable demand to sleep in, I somehow dragged him out of the bed.

(I’ll celebrate so much so that Alfons can have an unforgettable birthday!)

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#ikemen villains #ikevil #イケメンヴィラン #ikevil alfons #ikevil alfons sylvatica #alfons sylvatica #ikemen villains alfons #cybird ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #otome game #otome #ikevil translation #ikevil translations #mdni #divider by cafekitsune

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halosdiary · 5 months ago

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somnolent | Mermaid!Choso x Fisherman!Reader | 呪術廻戦

a/n: Aww yeah! Plot twist and part 3! This is gonna STIIING.

contains: Choso being Choso, hypnosis, implied murder, obsession

wc: 2k

You both were just staring at each other, in the middle of the town square. People were coming and going. It felt like time stopped between them. He looked at with those beautiful dead brown eyes. You feel like you were in those silly romantic scenes where the main character has a "love at first sight" scene. You snap out of at and looked at him curiously.

"You..I'm sorry, have we met before?"

The man looked a little hurt. He couldn't believe you didn't remember him. All he did was gently stroke your cheek. His hand was cold and wet, he loved the way you felt. But he couldn't blow his cover, for his family's sake, for his sake.

“No…we’ve never met.” He sadly answered you.

He continued to walk away from you. You stood there curiously, you can't shake that feeling of that mysterious man. You didn't see where he went, but it was like he disappeared. Choso looked back at you from the sea, his appearance changing more aquatic like. Unfortunately, this became an annoying routine for the both of them, you bump into each other, but avoid each other like the plague. This separation was driving then man crazy. Every second he was away from you was driving him crazy. He didn't realize it, but he was slowly growing an obsession with you.

Choso wanted to speak to you, but needed a little help. He LOATHED, seeing you just socialize with others like you. Potential dates? Nope, you'd find out they just vanished, but you did find some gifts left behind, for you. Theu were sweet, kind and from the sea?

You couldn't tell, but you felt like you've seen him before. But you don't know where. You placed a finger on your chin, tapping it like you were thinking. All he could do was look at you.

"You just look..familiar to me." Was all you could muster.

“Maybe we were acquainted in a past life…” He says to you.

Past life? What did he mean by that? This was the only life you knew of, born on land, still living your best life. There was something off, about him. This man was a bit aloof, but you couldn't deny he was really cute.

"Maybe." You answered.

You two parted ways once again, the next time you two would meet. You'd talk would talk to him again. Funny enough, Choso didn't mind this at all. He was just in high spirits he's talking to you. A week passes back and you two meet again. The awkwardness had to end at some point. You slowly turn to leave,but he gently reached out to you.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Choso asks you.

"Yes?" I look at him with curiosity in my eyes.

“Have you ever been in love?”

"...I have." You said honestly, with a bit of a sad smile.

You then look back at him, seeing as his eyes were very curious for me. You try to make the sad feeling go away, but he can feel it.

"Sometimes, it doesn't last forever. But that's just me."

He’s taken aback by your look of melancholy. Choso can’t help but wonder about the reason behind your sorrow.

“You still seem to miss whoever it is you loved.”

"Not really, only the happy memories. Before they became what they became. Something unrecognizable."

I clenched my sweater a bit, looking off into the distance. Those happy memories on replay in my mind, but I soon snap back to reality.

"I'm sorry, I'm guessing you wanna know what falling in love feels like?"

He studies your face, looking for any hint of deceit, but all Choso sees is a somber sincerity. He nods.

“Yes, I want to know what it feels like. Love and emotions in general are foreign concepts to me…so I’m merely curious.”

"That's alright." You sit by a near bench and offer him a seat.

"Falling in love, well? I don't really know how to put it." You say to him with a small laughter.

He sits down next to you, his gaze unwavering, and listening intently to your every word. He remains silent, inviting you to continue.

"I do know. It feels like you're flying. All you can really think about is that person and that person alone." You continued on.

"You feel your heart skip a beat whenever they're near by." You blush a bit.

You always remembered how this feeling was. It felt euphoric, blissful. I unintentionally lie my hand on top of his.

Choso flinches when you place your hand on top of his, the unexpected gesture causing his heart to flutter. For a brief moment, Choso’s eyes widen before he quickly composes himself, his expression returning to the stoic look he always wore. He felt something strange stirring within his chest, a mixture of confusion and surprise. He was trying extremely hard not to focus on your touch.

“And then what happens?”

"Well? That's up for you do decide. If the feelings mutual it's the most wonderful thing in the world. If not? It will hurt, but it won't damage you if you let it."

He slowly exhales, trying to keep his breathing steady as you continue to touch his hand. The flutter in his chest is only growing more intense each passing second, the longer your hand remains on his.

“And that’s it? Those are the only feelings associated with it? Feeling like you’re flying? Your heart skipping a beat?”

You nod at him. You didn't know this pang you were feeling. Again, something about this man was all too familiar. But he was really nice to talk to.

"It's like finding your other half. That other half making you feel whole."

Each of your words seemed to send a jolt through Choso’s body, as though your explanation of love was creating a physical effect on him. He couldn’t deny the strange reaction your words and touch was having on him. He suddenly wanted to remove his hand from yours, but something was stopping him. His eyes slowly traveled down to where your hand was resting on top of his. He tried to ignore how gentle your touch was, and how his own hand seemed to subconsciously curl into yours.

You finally realized you had my hand on top of his. You slowly removed it and apologized to him. This must've made him feel awkward. You didn't mean to make it weird. The absence of your touch seemed to leave him feeling colder than before. He flexed his hand once, allowing his fingers to spread out like yours previously had. He tried to ignore the strange pang in his chest as a result of the loss of your touch, and also the urge he now had to reach out for your hand again. But Choso kept his hand firmly planted on his lap.

“You don’t have to apologize…I didn’t mind it.” Choso stated.

It was silent, his did feel cold, but it also felt comforting. I could feel my heart skipping a beat. I slowly placed my hand on top of his hand once more. The instant your hand made contact with his once more, it took all the strength Choso possessed to suppress a shiver that wanted to run up his spine. He suddenly found it difficult to look at you, and a light pink blush dusted his cheeks. He slowly moved his fingers to intertwine with yours, his heart thudding so hard within his chest, Choso feared it would burst.

You giggled at how flushed he'd become. It really was a big softie, despite his melancholic look.

"Well, look at that. You're blushing." You teased him.

He scowls in embarrassment, trying to ignore the way your teasing made his chest ache. He wanted to pull away, but that would mean having to pull away from your touch again, and even just the thought of it made him hesitate.

“Shut up…I’m not blushing.” He retorted.

"Are you sure about that?" You raised a brow at him, along with giving him a smirk.

He refused to look at your face now that you were giving him that goddamn smile. It sent a jolt straight through him, and it had his stomach doing flip-flops. Choso let out a shaky exhale, attempting again to keep his breathing from becoming uneven.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He lied.

"Y’know despite these little run ins. It's really nice talking to you." I admitted to him.

He finally musters the courage to meet your eyes once more, though his cheeks had now reddened a bit more from your comment. He subconsciously tightened his grip on your hand, the feeling of your skin against his making Choso’s heart flutter. He tried to keep his breathing steady as he gave you a nod in response.

“I’ve enjoyed talking to you, as well.”

You look down at his hand as he holds onto it a bit tightly. You couldn't help but feel my face heat up as well. You could feel your heart flutter rapidly.

"Can you feel it?" You asked him quietly.

He couldn’t help but notice the color rising to your cheeks, finding it strangely satisfying to know he was able to make you blush like he had been. Choso was fully focused on you now, his gaze unwavering, as his thumb gently stroked the back of your hand.

“Feel what?”

"That floating feeling I told you about?" I asked him.

I didn't let go of his hand, gently rubbing my thumb on his hand. I looked in the distance, seeing trees and leaves being blown away by the wind.

Choso subconsciously held his breath as your thumb began stroking his own, his heart threatening to give out at the feeling. The fluttering in his chest had only increased from your touch, and he suddenly felt more than a little lightheaded. Even so, he didn’t pull away. He just allowed himself to feel the way he was feeling, though it was completely foreign to him. Choso swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out a bit shaky.

“Yes…I feel it.”

"That feeling of feeling completely whole?" I continued to ask him.

He could feel the heat on his face burning up, no doubt causing him to look like a complete fool, but he didn’t care. Not when you were sitting here talking like this to him, while your hand was still wrapped up in his. The feeling of your thumb grazing his skin made every inch of him feel like it was on fire, and the way his heart was wildly thumping in his chest was enough to make him dizzy.

“Y-Yes…I feel it. It’s hard to concentrate when you do that, though…”

"Don't overthink it." You gently take his hand and looked into his eyes. For some reason, you couldn't stop smiling at him.

He couldn’t help but shiver from the feeling he got when you held his gaze. He was hyper-aware of every point of contact between the two of you, and the urge to reach up and touch your face was almost too much to bear. His face reddened even more, and he found himself returning your smile with a small but warm one of his own.

“I’m not…overthinking it.” He said in a shaky voice.

"Alright. I don't want you to feel pressured." You stated.

I continued to look in the distance. Still holding his hand, you slowly leaned on his shoulder.

His brain stopped functioning and his heart stuttered when you suddenly rested your head on his shoulder. Choso felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. But he quickly adjusted, and slowly relaxed the tension in his shoulders. He even let his head rest against yours, feeling a strange sense of serenity wash over his body.

“I feel anything but pressured…” He muttered to you.

This was his dream come true. They're both talking to each other. You're holding his hand, and even accepting his gifts. He looked into the distance as he smiled. Unfortunately all good things turn back, he wanted to love you. He looks into your beautiful eyes. Your beautiful hypnotized eyes.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @littlemochabunni @bleach-your-panties @blkkizzat @buttercupblu

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #halo's writings #choso #choso kamo #呪術廻戦

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myfavoritesstuff · 8 months ago

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Crimson Hearts Part 2

Paring: Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Prompt: Meeting the Sturniolo’s gang wasn’t as bad as you thought. It almost made you forget why you were brought here in the first place. Almost.

Warning(s): Gore, Shooting, Profanity, Mafia type stuff, poorly written fight scene, not proofread

Note: I made some of the YouTubers from their most recent collaboration be a part of the gang. And yes, I have soft Matt. He along with some of the other members will show more of their bad, gangster side in future chapters. I also kind of rushed it, so I apologize. I will go back and fit it later.

Word count: 3,047 (I will make all my others chapters not as long as this for those who don’t want that many words in a chapter)

Part 1

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred, the memories of last night's encounter with the Sturniolo triplets creeping into your consciousness like a persistent fog. The images were vivid: the cold sweat on your father's brow, the imposing figures of Nick, Matt, and Chris, their presence commanding.

With a deep breath, you pushed the covers aside and rose from the bed, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the day might hold. The air was crisp, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere of the party. You dressed quickly, the weight of the impending meeting settling in your stomach like a stone.

Stepping outside, the world seemed oblivious to the turmoil that churned beneath its surface. The neighborhood was peaceful, the only sounds were the distant laughter of children and the soft rustling of leaves. But the tranquility did nothing to ease your nerves.

The sleek black limousine was impossible to miss, idling at the curb like a silent predator. The door opened, and you were greeted by the sight of the Sturniolo triplets, their expressions unreadable. Nick's nod was curt, an unspoken invitation to enter their world. Matt's eyes flickered with a hint of curiosity, while Chris offered a reassuring grin, the edge of danger still lingering in his smile.

You took a seat, the leather cool against your skin. The interior of the limo was luxurious, a stark contrast to the ruthless reputation of its occupants. The triplets watched you, their gazes sharp and assessing. You swallowed hard, searching for words that wouldn't betray your anxiety.

"So," you began, your voice steadier than you felt, "I hear the city never sleeps because of you three."

Nick's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, and Matt's posture relaxed ever so slightly. Chris chuckled, the sound rich and surprisingly warm.

"We do keep things... interesting," Nick replied, his voice smooth like aged whiskey. “The city has many stories. Some are bedtime tales for the innocent; others are wake-up calls for the brave.”

Matt’s gaze was unreadable, yet you could tell that he was reading your expression, almost like he was deciphering the thoughts racing through your mind. “Marriage is a strategic move,” he mused, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. “It’s not about love, it’s about power and alliances.”

Chris leaned forward, light catching the edge of his grin. “But don’t worry,” he chimed in, his tone light but laced with seriousness. “We’re not monsters. We’re humans too. We’re businessmen, and in our world, we value a good partnership.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the reality of the situation settling in. This wasn’t just a marriage proposal; it was something much more. You thought of what you could say and the next words could potentially have consequences that would be yours to bear.

“I understand the stakes”, you replied, your voice trying to remain steady. “But I’m not just a pawn to be moved at will. Like you said, we’re all human here.”

The brothers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. It was clear that this was a new development, a wrinkle in their plan they hadn’t anticipated. But it was also clear that they respected strength, and perhaps, in that moment, they saw a glimpse of their own resolve reflected in you.

The conversation flowed more easily after that, small talk bridging the gap between your two worlds. You spoke of inconsequential things—the weather, the city's nightlife, the latest technology. And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, you could almost forget who they were and the dangerous game you were all playing. Almost.

The limousine glided to a stop in front of an imposing mansion, its facade a testament to the power and wealth of the Sturniolo gang. As you stepped out, the grandeur of the residence struck you, a stark reminder of the world you were about to enter.

Inside, the atmosphere was charged, a mix of opulence and danger. The triplets led you through the halls, their steps echoing on the marble floors. You were introduced to the other members of the gang, each one a vital piece of the Sturniolo empire.

Nick gestured to a man with an intense gaze, "That's Colby Brock. He's our eyes and ears on the street. Nothing happens in this city without Colby knowing about it."

Matt nodded towards a figure leaning against the wall, "And there's Sam Golbach. He's the tech wizard. If it's digital and it's secure, Sam's the one who can crack it. He also works great with all kinds of weapons. If a weapon was created, he knows about it and will find out everything about it.

Chris's grin widened as he pointed out a man with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Meet Jake Webber. He's the charmer, the face for our... less official dealings."

You followed their gazes as they introduced the rest. "That's Johnnie Guilbert," Nick said, "He handles our finances, making sure the money flows where it needs to."

“Tara Yummy," Matt added, "is our negotiator. She's got a way with words that can turn any deal in our favor."

"And last but not least," Chris chimed in, "is Larray. He's the life of the party, but don't let that fool you. He's as sharp as they come, especially when it comes to information gathering."

As you took in each face, a complex web of roles and responsibilities began to form in your mind. These were the people who ran the underworld, each with their own story, their own skills, and now, they were all looking at you.

The triplets watched you carefully, gauging your reaction. "Welcome to the family," they said in unison, their voices a blend of warmth and warning. It was clear that this was more than a mere introduction; it was an initiation into a world from which there was no easy escape.

After the introductions, you were led down a corridor lined with portraits of stern-looking individuals, their eyes following your every move. The triplets stopped in front of a heavy oak door, its surface carved with intricate designs that spoke of a long, storied history.

"This will be your room," Nick said, pushing the door open with a gentle nudge.

The room that greeted you was a study in contrasts. The walls were painted a deep, velvety maroon, accented with black trim that gave the space an air of sophistication and power. Heavy drapes in dark shades framed the windows, allowing slivers of light to pierce the room's natural dimness.

Despite the dark colors, the room was undeniably beautiful. A large, four-poster bed dominated the center, its ebony wood polished to a high shine and adorned with plush bedding in shades of crimson and gold. The furniture was of the same dark wood, each piece exquisitely crafted and perfectly placed to create a sense of balance and comfort.

On one wall, a fireplace crackled softly, the flames casting dancing shadows that played across the room. Above it, a painting of the city at night hung, its lights twinkling like stars in a dark sky, a constant reminder of the world that lay just beyond these walls.

The room was a sanctuary, a place of quiet strength and luxury. It was clear that every detail had been carefully considered, from the soft, thick carpet that cushioned your steps to the subtle scent of sandalwood that lingered in the air.

As you took it all in, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. This was a room that belonged to someone of importance, someone who wielded power with a quiet confidence. It was a room that spoke of the Sturniolo legacy, and now, it was yours.

The soft knock at the door pulled you from your reverie, the room's grandeur momentarily forgotten. You crossed the plush carpet and opened the door to find Matt standing there, his expression serious.

"May I come in?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The room seemed to shrink with his presence, the air charged with a new intensity.

"There are rules," he began, his voice low and steady. "Rules that are non-negotiable if you're to stay here."

You nodded, a silent signal for him to continue.

"First," he said, holding up a finger, "loyalty is paramount. You do not betray the family, not by action or word. Second, discretion is expected. What happens within these walls stays within these walls. And third," he paused, his gaze locking with yours, "you must contribute. Everyone here has a role, a purpose. You'll need to find yours."

The rules were clear, each one a pillar that upheld the Sturniolo empire. They were not just guidelines; they were the very foundation of the life you were stepping into.

"Understand this," Matt added, "we protect our own, but we also demand respect and obedience. Step out of line, and there will be consequences."

The weight of his words settled over you, a tangible reminder of the reality of your new existence. This was no longer the world of lost cats and late newspaper deliveries. This was a world where power and survival were intertwined, where every choice could mean the difference between life and death.

"Are you willing to accept these terms?" Matt asked, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

You took a deep breath, the gravity of the decision before you not lost. "Yes," you replied, your voice a whisper of resolve. "I understand."

Matt nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of your acceptance. "Welcome to the Sturniolo family," he said, and with those words, the next chapter of your life began.

Led by Matt, you returned to the main lounge, the heart of the mansion where the gang congregated. The room buzzed with conversation and the clinking of glasses, a stark contrast to the solemnity of the corridors. You hesitated at the threshold, the weight of countless eyes upon you.

The lounge was expansive, the ceilings high and the furnishings a blend of luxury and comfort. Plush sofas and armchairs were arranged in inviting clusters, encouraging close-knit discussions. The walls were adorned with art that hinted at the gang's reach and influence, each piece telling a story of power and conquest.

At first, you lingered on the periphery, a silent observer to the camaraderie and dynamics that played out before you. The members of the gang moved with an ease that spoke of long-established bonds, their laughter and gestures, a language you had yet to learn.

But as the minutes passed, you found yourself drawn into the fold. Colby shared a street-smart joke that eased the tension in your shoulders. Sam's tech and weapon talk was surprisingly accessible, his enthusiasm infectious. Jake's charm was disarming, and soon you were sharing stories of your own, laughter spilling from your lips more freely than you'd have expected.

Johnnie discussed business with a sharp acumen that piqued your interest, while Tara's negotiation tales were both harrowing and exhilarating. Larray's vivacity was a bright spark in the room, his humor a welcome relief from the gravity of the situation.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the triplets. They stood apart, a silent, watchful presence. Their expressions were unreadable, but there was no mistaking the intent focus with which they observed your integration into the group. It wasn't surveillance, but rather an assessment, a measure of your ability to adapt and belong.

Nick's gaze met yours across the room, a silent nod of approval. Matt's lips quirked up in what might have been a smile, and Chris raised his glass to you, a silent toast. In that moment, you felt a flicker of something like acceptance, a sense that perhaps you could find your place here after all.

The evening wore on, and the initial awkwardness faded into a sense of belonging. You were still an outsider, but now you were an outsider with a foot in the door, and the path ahead seemed a little less daunting.

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm, golden hue over the faces of the assembled gang members. You entered quietly, still adjusting to the rhythms of this new life. The chatter ceased momentarily as all eyes turned to you, but a nod from Nick and a smile from Chris were all it took for the conversations to resume.

The breakfast table was a lively scene, plates piled high with food, and the air filled with the rich aromas of coffee and cooked meals. You took your place, feeling the last remnants of sleep fade away as the energy of the room enveloped you.

After the meal, as the others dispersed to their various tasks, Matt's hand on your arm stopped you. He led you to a quiet corner of the room, his expression earnest.

"There's something I need to discuss with you," he said, his voice low. "The wedding is going to happen soon. It's in a month."

The words hit you like a wave, unexpected and overwhelming. A wedding? The concept seemed out of place in the dangerous world you'd been thrust into, yet here it was, being presented as a matter of fact.

Your heart raced, a mix of shock and an emotion you hesitated to name.

"I... I understand," you managed to say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I won't disagree."

You looked into Matt's eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance. And there, in the depths of his gaze, you saw something. It was a look that conveyed a hint of respect for the role you were about to take on.

Days had passed since your conversation with Matt and you were starting to like your new living situation. You grew close with each member in your own way, and you were starting to see what was beneath all their hardened exteriors. Tara, with her sharp wit and silver tongue, had especially grown a liking to you. She had taken you under her wing as an older sister type figure.

One afternoon, Tara decided it was time for a break and claimed that “you look like you could use some fresh air. A little shopping might do us good.” You agreed, welcoming the chance to step away from your new environment.

The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life. As you and Tara made your way through the crowds, you two laughed as she was telling you about some of the gang member’s weaknesses.

“Seriously?! Matt is afraid of ketchup?! Like he has never really tried it?” A smile formed on your face as you giggled at the news. Tara nodded while recounting the memory.

“Yeah, he seems terrified of it, and in fact–” She suddenly stopped. A serious expression taking over her features.

“What is it?” You were greatly confused but soon you saw why she had so abruptly stopped. A group of figures emerged from the shadows, their intentions clear from the malice in their eyes. Now that you realize it, you two were the only ones in the area and you started to get surrounded by the men.

Without hesitation, Tara pulled out a black and pink gun from her belt and fired it straight up in the air. A pink smoke materialized.

“Oh you think your tough shit huh? Calling the rest of the gang to come help you?” One of the men called.

“No, I just want the rest of my gang to see me beat your ass.” Tara replied with an attitude. The men did not seem to appreciate that as they all soon started charging in your direction. Tara unfazed called out to you.

“Y/n! Get down, now!” Without a moment's hesitation, you crouched down just as Tara pulled out another gun, this time black with gold designs. She fired, aiming it towards the man closest to you. The sound made you jump as you shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to see the bloody scene in front of you. Tara kept firing and all you could hear was the sound of the bullets. At one point she seemed to curse, making your eyes open. You immediately felt nauseous for all you could see was blood, dead bodies, and men still trying to put up a fight.

It seemed as though Tara ran out of bullets, but that didn’t stop her in the slightest. She put her fists up and started striking at the men around you. She was a whirlwind, her strikes precise and lethal. You would have tried to help but you didn’t know the first thing about defense or attacking someone. You assumed that if you tried to interfere, you would just get in her way.

And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The surviving attackers retreated once they started hearing the sounds of running footsteps headed in your direction. As you thought, it was the rest of the gang. You saw Matt, Chris, and Nick leading the way.

Jake and Johnnie went to go check up on Tara while Matt, Chris and Nick made their way over to you. Colby, Sam, and Larray stayed on guard and watched for any other potential threats.

“Are you okay?” Matt questioned, worry hinted in his eyes. Chris and Nick stayed silent as they seemed to watch the interaction in front of them.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little shaken.” Nick then suddenly signaled to Matt.

“I don’t mean to rush this, but we should probably go. We caused too much attention” Chris intervenes. With that, you all head out to the limousine and make your way back to the mansion.

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mjlovescm · 9 months ago

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Illicit affairs, Spencer Reid

Very old Spencer oneshot inspired by "Illicit affairs" by Taylor Swift.

“Meet me outside in seven minutes. We need to end this now.”

As you read the text, you could feel your stomach turning.

“We need to end this now.”

We, huh? He ended it months ago, so what could he possibly need to talk about. You walk to the gift table and drop your present off. Perfume and cologne. The same ones they wore the first day they met each other. No name signed on that part would hurt too much.

You asked Spencer so you could be exact about what you planned to buy. It's a simple gift, really, but it's the thought that counts. It's sweet with sentimental value. The perfect gift for the perfect couple. The perfect girlfriend and boyfriend, soon to be the perfect husband and wife.

With the gift gone, you walked towards the exit before being stopped by a worried Penelope.

“Y/n have you seen Spencer ?” Your heart drops. “We want to start soon, and the guests are getting anxious.”

You panicked not knowing what to say so you shake your head instead. You were flustered, your face warm in anticipation.

Of course, everyone is anxious. No one wants the groom to be missing on the wedding day. Everyone's looking for him, and he's waiting for you outside. You felt disgusted with yourself. Guilt was written all over your face. And soon tears would be too.

Scanning the parking lot, the only person you could see was a tall man in a large dark coat. You almost didn't want it to be him.

It had been ages since you and Spencer spoke one on one, and you knew this would be just like the last time. He'll tell you it's over, the best thing to do now is to move on. But maybe this time would be different, maybe this time you would say what needed to be said. Maybe this time you'll be the one he wants…

The man turns around, revealing himself, his face covered by the hood on the coat. You smiled seeing him again, all dressed up with his long brown hair gelled back and the bowline glasses that fit his face perfectly. You opened your arms for a hug, any sort of embrace from him. Instead of doing the same, Spencer roughly grabbed you by your arm, pushing you against a car behind him. Making sure no one could see you.

This isn't the time or place to make a scene.

“Why are you here?” He barked.

“What no hi, hello you good y/n.” you attempted to lighten the situation.

Clearly you failed.

“Answer the question,” he demanded.

From this angle you could see his face fully, it was lit up by the moon. Being pressed against the car brought back memories. Memories of him and you, but his face lit by candles, and you were pressed against his bed. Naked.

“Are you gonna answer or not?”

“Surprisingly, I was invited by the bride, Ms. Jennifer Jareau. Well, soon to be Jennifer Reid, but I highly doubt she'll take your last name.”

The tension and anger is visible not just on his face, but also in the way he was holding you. His nails digging into your skin, you still pressed to the car. The only time he was as you was when you threatened to tell her about your relationship. If you could really ever call it that.

“Fine. Then why did you show up.” he hissed.

He lets go of you, he knows remaining calm was the best thing to do. He wouldn't ever hurt you, at least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy.

“Why wouldn't I show up? My friends are getting married.”

You state the obvious.

“You know why you shouldn't show you. We've been over this y/n, it was a lap in my judgment, JJ and I were having issues, and you comforted me when things escalated.”

“A lapse in judgment for almost half a year.” you yelled, pain cracking your voice.

His hands flew over your mouth and Spencer silenced you.

“Y/n, JJ is my best friend, okay she means the world to me. I'm sorry I no longer think about us the same way you do, but the fact is… I am marrying the love of my life today.” He speaks slow and careful, praying you understand. “You telling her we slept together for a few months would break her trust in me, in our relationship, in your friendship with her, but most importantly, it would break her.”

It would. It would absolutely shatter her, you couldn't care less what happens to Spencer in the end. But JJ, she deserves to be happy. She deserves the truth, right?

Spencer calms himself and takes a step away from you as you think.

“Fine, I wasn't planning on telling her anything anyway. But I have to stay for the wedding.” you attempted to stand your ground.

“No.” He demanded. “No, you have to leave. Coming here was one thing, but staying is something else.”

You stood still, frozen in disbelief. He didn't trust you enough to stay.

How did everything crumple so fast ? How did he go from crying in my arms about how much he missed her to coldly forcing me away again ? You could feel the tears in the corners of your eyes. It soon became hard to breathe, but you hold yourself together. Crying in front of Spencer wasn't something you could do, not again. Not now.

“Promise me you won't have any more laps in your judgment, JJ doesn't deserve that, no one does.”

As you began to walk away, you felt Spencer pull you back. His cold hands cup your face. He kisses you, forcing your face into his. His hands shake from the moment, from the cold, from you. Spencer pulled away from you with tears forming in his eyes.

“I love you, y/n.” He whispers it, like the secret it is. “Thank you sincerely.”

He ran back towards the building at the speed of light. Leaving you in shock as you stood alone in the large, dark parking lot. That was the first time he'd said those words.

You walked to your car freezing, your jacket left in the coat check. Silent, you sat in the car for a moment before releasing a large sad sigh. It felt like the first time you'd breathed in months. For too long, you were caught in Spencer's awful chokehold. Without your notice, tears streamed down your face as you looked at the building in your rearview mirror.

You could stay sure, but what would be the point?

This night was painful enough, JJ doesn't need that kind of hurt.

“She deserves happiness and he deserves her. No one else needs to get hurt tonight.” you repeat to yourself as you drive away.

Masterlist - mjlovescm "Flashing Lights" Spencer Reid x black fem stripper reader fic

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black!reader #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #illicit affairs #taylor swift #folklore #criminal minds imagine

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queen-haq · 9 months ago

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Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 2

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to Part 1 and my other stories)

Chapter 2

Penelope sipped her cup of lemonade, scanning the crowd in front of her. They were at Lady Hathaway’s ball, another social engagement in a series of endless ones, and she was bored. Whereas these events served a purpose in the past, now she was no longer in search of a husband or gossip. The gatherings weren’t all work however, there were many an evening when Eloise and she would die from laughter at others frivolity. And then there were the dances. Penelope loved to dance but she wasn’t very popular and not many gentlemen asked her to partner. Often Colin would be the only one. A part of her knew his invites were more for her benefit than his but she always assumed he enjoyed their moments together as well - but now that she knew how embarrassed he was to be seen with her, she cringed at those memories.

“Good evening, Pen. Enjoying yourself?”

She almost choked on the liquid at Colin’s unexpected appearance beside her. She thought he would avoid her company, hoped for it actually after their last conversation at the park, but there he was. Stubbornly she took another sip, refusing to speak to him.

“You look lovely tonight.”

She rolled her eyes.

“As pleasing as the new wardrobe is, I must admit it’s your hair that is most… intriguing.”

In her peripheral vision she saw his eyes roaming over her, and every nerve in her body tensed. It was difficult to breathe. For as long as she’d known him, she loved him. Being flushed and breathless around Colin was nothing new, but there was something different about the reaction he evoked in her now. There was no longer a soft, sweet warmth that enveloped her. Instead something dark and caustic surged through her, a swirl of tumultuous emotions that left her reeling with confusion when he watched her in the strange, new fashion that he had at the park and now. It probably had something to do with the anger she felt towards him but it wasn’t just that. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t like it, and she needed it to stop.

“Oh, you’d like to know how I am?” Colin continued, unfazed by her silence. “Quite well, actually. London air has been surprisingly refreshing, although I’m still not fond of the rain.”

“I do not wish to discuss the weather with you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she replied stiffly, straightening her back while her eyes remained fixated on the flood of people circling the dance floor.

“Then what shall we discuss?” he mused. “Would you like to hear about the gifts I brought back for everyone? Or would you rather share more about your time in the country?”

“I would not.”

“Alright, let’s discuss your falling out with Eloise. My sister refuses to speak on it but maybe I can pry the truth from your lips.”

“You’d be foolish to try.”

“How about a dance then? Would you join me for a waltz?”

“No.”

“Fine. Quadrille it is.”

Irritated, she turned to find him smirking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest seeing the wicked glint in his eyes, the mischievous tilt of his lips as he deliberately goaded her. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Is it working?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“I won’t be indulging your whims, Colin.”

He pouted at her. “How unfortunate.” Eyes glued to her face, he drank from his cup. “Shall I take a turn about the room, Pen? Perhaps I’ll run into Lady Portia and ask her if she’ll arrange a dance for the two of us.”

Pen quirked her eyebrow. “I certainly won’t stop you from dancing with Mama if that’s what your heart desires.”

Colin laughed heartily, and instantly Penelope noticed Lord Fife and some of the other gentlemen glancing at them. And they weren’t the only ones. Nearby were Eloise and Cressida Cowper, watching her with disdain. Feeling self-conscious at all the attention they were drawing, Penelope stilled. “I’ve asked you to leave me alone, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His sigh was heavy with resignation. “I see we’re back to unpleasantries.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here. Aren’t you worried about Lord Fife and his gaggle laughing at you?”

“I don’t give a damn about what he says.”

“That’s certainly not true.”

The easy smile on his face dissolved, replaced with an intensity that held her transfixed. Regret loomed over his features. “I am truly sorry, Pen. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I wish I could tell you there was a reason why I behaved so foolishly but I can’t. I was intoxicated, yes, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.” He took a step closer, his hands tantalizingly close to her own gloved ones. “I will do anything to earn your forgiveness. Please. Just tell me what you need.”

They were in a ballroom crowded with people but all she saw was Colin standing in front of her, his eyes soft and pleading, voice trembling with emotion. Yes he hurt her, wounded her so deeply that she spent weeks in despair trying to understand how he could be so cruel, but seeing him so torn up made her recognize he was sincerely apologetic. If she was honest with herself about that fateful encounter, what devastated her the most wasn’t him putting her down in front of others, but the sinking realization that he never really could love her. And that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t fair to be angry at him for not reciprocating her feelings because love was not something that could be forced or demanded. And despite their newly fractured relationship, they were close friends once and she didn’t want him to continue suffering because of her. “I forgive you.”

Stunned, he stared at her. “You do?”

“Yes. We’ve both been unkind but it doesn’t serve any purpose to hold on to that pain.” She offered him a smile. “So you needn’t worry, Colin. Everything’s resolved between us.”

The cloud of worry departed from his face, his lips broke into a mischievous smile. “Does this mean I can have the next dance?”

She paused, her stomach twisting into coils. “Our friendship, Colin, it complicates things. It makes everything more difficult and…” Wringing her fingers together, she glanced down at her hands. “You’ll be traveling soon and I’ll be moving away from London once I’m married. We won’t see each other often and it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to exchange letters then. I wouldn’t want my husband or others to misconstrue things.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “It’s best if we end our friendship now.”

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by Eloise and Cressida.

“Colin, Penelope,” Eloise greeted them, her demeanor markedly cold as she turned to Pen. “Brother, I’m quite parched. Would you bring me some lemonade? Cressida will accompany you.”

“I would love to hear more about your travels,” Cressida cooed.

Jaw clenched, Colin kept his eyes centered on Penelope. “Pen and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“Colin, be a gentleman!” Eloise chastised.

“It’s alright. We’re done speaking.” Penelope felt his keen stare upon her, he refused to budge, but it seemed to finally dawn on him that Eloise was not going anywhere. Reluctantly he walked away, with Cressida alongside him.

“Leave my brother alone.” Eloise’s words were saturated with heated rage. “Colin doesn’t know what you’re capable of, the damage you’ve caused to him and the rest of our family. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt by you.”

“Then you should tell him to keep his distance,” Penelope snapped back, and then regretted her tone instantly. “Eloise, I know you’re angry at me but you must know I would never deliberately cause Colin any harm.”

“You already have.” The pain in Eloise’s eyes was evident, causing a tidal wave of shame and guilt within Penelope. “Do you think he could ever forgive you if he knew the truth about who you are? He would hate you. We both know that.”

“Then maybe you should tell him.”

Eloise shook her head ‘no’. “I would never do that to my brother. He holds you in high esteem, the truth would break his heart. Like you broke mine.”

She stormed away, leaving Penelope staring after.

Her words weighed heavily on Pen’s mind, and she desperately needed air to compose herself. Her stride was quick as she made her way out of the ballroom, walking towards the large garden. There were some guests scattered around the grounds but as she went deep into the maze on the property, she found herself alone in a private corner behind the hedges.

For a long time she pondered Eloise’s words, the accusations echoing in her mind. As much as she’d tried to defend herself, Eloise was not interested in forgiving her. And deep down Penelope knew she didn’t deserve it. Her actions had hurt others, especially the Bridgertons, and even though she had only written about them to protect them, the end result was still the same.

Yet there was a part of her that didn’t regret her actions, because Colin was living the life he wanted and Eloise was no longer under suspicion.

Most of all, Lady Whistledown had given Penelope the kind of freedom she had never imagined. A voice to speak her mind and leave a mark in the small word she inhabited, and enough money to secure a healthy future. It was selfish of her but she didn’t care. She was Lady Whistledown and she was proud of it.

“You’ve been lying to me, Pen.”

She turned around immediately. Colin was only a few feet away, moonlight shining brightly upon him. He’d always towered over her, but standing there to his full height he looked regal and statuesque. While he’d never been a wallflower, there was something intrinsically shy about him from living in the shadows of his formidable father and brothers. He had indicated as much in his letters and in some of their private conversations. But the Colin from their recent encounters, the one staring at her now, appeared to be a different person. More confident, sure of himself. And it was reflected in his poise and gait as he sauntered closer. His thumb was pressed against the palm of his other hand, idly stroking his skin, as if in deep thought.

“You should not be here,” she replied. “If someone were to come upon us-”

“Your betrothed would not approve?”

“There would be a scandal!”

“Yes, of course.” There was wry amusement in his voice, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve been making discreet inquiries about your activities, amongst friends and others. I even approached Mrs. Varley and your mama earlier, and they both confirmed my suspicions.” He dipped his head to the side. “Albeit inadvertently.” Eyebrow quirked up, he sent her a teasing smile. “There’s not been any hint of a suitor, Pen. None at all.”

She peered at him, horrified.

“There is no engagement is there, Pen?” He came to a stop in front of her. “You lied to me. And I need to know why.”

Red hot anger coursed through her veins, she was so enraged that every sense of propriety and decorum left her brain. “You arrogant prick!” She charged at him. “How dare you?”

Before she could shove him away he gripped her hands, forcibly holding her tightly in his arms.

“Is it that difficult for you to imagine someone would want me? That there is a man out there who could love me and want to marry me? You find that so inconceivable, Colin?” Her breath grew ragged as she tried to break free from his grip. “Did it never occur to you-”

“You don’t get to end our friendship, Pen.” His eyes were dark and volatile, so deep that every moment she held his stare felt like sinking into the abyss. It was she who had lost her temper but now it was Colin who looked untethered, clinging to her. “You don’t get to walk away from us.”

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest, her stomach in knots as she realized she was trapped against him. There was no escape. He was occupying every inch of space, filling her senses with his scent, overwhelming her with his presence as his close proximity wreaked havoc with her insides.

“You are my friend.” Colin’s voice vibrated with raw, desperate urgency that shook her to the core. “My confidante.” Lips parted, his gaze trailed down to her mouth, down the length of her neck, settling on the highs of her breasts. No one had ever looked at her with such ferocity before, making her feel utterly exposed. “You’re…” His voice trailed off, like he couldn’t finish his thoughts; he was distracted, caught up in his world. Suddenly his hand was on her neck, the other wrapping around the back of her head. Frozen in his arms, she was simply too enthralled to move. His long lean fingers traced along her skin, searing through her heaving breasts, until his index finger hooked along the neckline of her dress.

It was such a simple thing, his finger tucked into the cleavage of her dress, but her body burned at his touch. She couldn’t take it any longer, unravelling in front of him as wetness gushed between her legs.

“Have you always been like this, Pen?”

She swallowed audibly. “Like what?”

His left hand loosened its hold on the back of her head, shifting so that his thumb now traced the contours of her lip. His gaze met hers, her body trembled. The complexity of emotions in his eyes was unsettling, she didn’t understand it at all. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he making her feel so completely vulnerable?

“So disagreeable,” he murmured, his soft breath humming against her skin.

And then just as she decided enough was enough and she needed to make her escape, his mouth closed over hers.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, feedback is loved and cherished, and encourages the muse to write faster :)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please drop me a note/comment.

#polin #penelope x colin #bridgerton #colin x penelope #my fics #never you

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dark-frosted-heart · 1 month ago

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Beauty and the Beast's Last Theater - Keith Howell (part 1/4)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Mireille: Brother and Emma are going to be on stage?!

Today, I was taking part in one of my everyday pleasures: having tea with Prince Keith and Mireille.

Mireille was sipping her tea, but then shot up to her feet at the unexpected news.

Prince Keith and I had a similar reaction yesterday.

Mireille: When was this decided?!

Keith: Yesterday. While having dinner with Sonia, an author who I owe a lot to, had asked.

Mireille: The author herself did, huh…But why you two and not actors?

Keith: Well…

~~ Flashback ~~

It came up while we were enjoying some after-dinner tea.

Sonia: My new book's become quite popular, so we decided to have a special one night only performance.

Emma: Congratulations! I can’t wait to see it being performed on stage.

Keith: The new book’s about a spirit of a large tree who falls in love with a prince, dons a magic robe of visibility, and goes to seek out the prince for a moment of freedom and happiness.

(It’s a sad story, but those moments of happiness warmed my heart whenever I read it…)

Keith: I especially liked the last scene where the two desperately tried to convey their feelings for each other and have reread it several times.

Emma: You always take your time when reading that scene.

Keith: Huh, really?! I wasn’t aware…I’m so embarrassed. But hearing how you notice those little things about me makes me happy.

He gave me a soft smile with red dusting his cheeks.

It was my favorite look on him and made my heart race with happiness.

(It’s like he doesn’t know he’s hit me with a counter attack)

Keith: Emma and I love your work, so we’ll definitely go see the performance.

Sonia: I’m happy to hear how much you enjoyed it, both as an author and as a friend. Actually, the script’s already complete.

With a beautiful smile that’d even charm the same sex, Sonia handed the both of us a script.

(Since she handed us copies of the script, that means we can look at it, right?)

Prince Keith and I both looked at each other, and then at Sonia with hope in our eyes.

Sonia: Hehe, you two always have the cutest reactions. Go ahead and take a look.

Keith and Emma: Thank you…!

Holding back my excitement, I flipped open the script and found a list of characters and actors.

My hands immediately froze on the spot.

I blinked my eyes to make sure that I wasn’t seeing things, but the text remained the same.

(Weird…Prince Keith and my name are on here)

Prince Keith and I looked at each other again, and then at Sonia in confusion.

Sonia: To be honest, the protagonists in this work were modeled after you two.

Keith: After Emma and I…?

(I did notice how the prince was gentle, yet strong, and a little awkward)

(Every time I turned a page, I thought about how cute and cool he was…)

(He really was modeled after Prince Keith)

Learning the secrets behind how the book was produced had me feeling more embarrassed rather than happy or surprised.

Sonia: When I mentioned it to the stage director, he enthusiastically said, “I want them to play those roles.”

Keith and Emma: …

(Is this why Sonia invited us over for dinner…)

Sonia: Why not enjoy the play as its actors instead of from the audience?

Keith and Emma: Huh…?!

~~ End flashback ~~

(After that, Prince Keith tried to politely refuse, but was no match for her enthusiastic pleas…)

Incidentally, I was also no help at all.

When my favorite author asks for help with promoting her work, of course I’m going to agree to it.

Mireille: As expected from Sonia. She’s able to flawlessly deal with my pushover of a brother.

Keith: …I’m not happy about that.

Mireille: Anyway, as our sister, I’ll be really happy to see you two on stage. We need to hold on to these memories. I’ll have Jade’s painters capture every second!

Emma: J-just one is enough…

Keith: No, just one won’t be enough for Emma’s first performance. But doing every second would make the painters collapse, so why not one per scene?

Mireille: That’s true. Then, if we go with your suggestion, how many painters will we need—

(Hopefully this won’t turn into some major incident…?)

A cup of tea in hand and eyes sparkling as bright as the sun filtering into the conservatory, Mireille started making plans.

I found myself smiling at how much she reminded me of Prince Keith when he was talking about plants.

(Since I get to see Mireille full of energy, this is fine)

Keith: …

Emma: Is something wrong, Prince Keith?

Keith: Ah, um…

Prince Keith’s eyes shifted from side to side before looking at me.

Keith: Sorry for bothering you.

(Because he wasn’t able to turn down the stage performance?)

I had heard it on the carriage home, but it must have slipped out again due to some lingering guilt.

I shook my head.

Emma: I didn’t turn Sonia down, so please don’t apologize. While it will be my first time on stage and I am feeling nervous about it, I’m glad I get to be involved with a work I love. More importantly, I’m looking forward to this once in a lifetime opportunity to be on stage with you. Let’s do our best to make this performance a huge success!

When I pumped my fists, Prince Keith’s brown turned downward and he gave a slight nod.

Keith: …Yeah. Thanks, Emma.

His apologetic expression was in some way different from the one before.

When Mireille noticed something was off, she clapped her hands together as if she remembered something. Her eyes were still sparkling.

Mireille: Have you two done a read-through of the script yet?

Emma: We were planning on doing that later.

Mireille: Is that so?! Then do you mind if I hear a little bit of it?

Emma: I don’t mind, but…

Keith: Ah……yeah, it’s fine.

Mireille: Yay! Thank you.

(Why does something feel off)

His eyes had wavered and there was some trembling in his voice, but he returned to his usual calm look when took the script from Liam.

Keith: Let’s start from the beginning.

Emma: Okay, it’s when you first meet the heroine’s spirit.

I flipped open the script and looked over the exchange between the prince and the spirit.

The story opened with the prince’s line.

Keith: …

The only sound that could be heard was water gently flowing in the conservatory, and with a deep breath, Prince Keith looked down at his script.

And then—

~~ Keith’s inner world ~~

Alter!Keith: Hey, how long are you gonna hug your knees and mope around for?

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #keith howell #ikepri keith

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alice-angel12x · 2 years ago

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Death is always around the Corner

Idia + Death!Reader+ Ö̵̗̭͙̠͍̙̬̦̬̺͙̻̻̰̮́͌̈́͑̅̉̉͆̄̓̉̒͝͝ͅř̵̡̨̡̞̦̩̰͖͚͕͙́̑̎̆̏̐͂̀́͒̿͆̆̆̀̿̐̀͂͊̀͑́̅̈́̚t̴̛̛͖͚͑̽͑̓͋̒̈̈́̀̔́̌͒̆͘͝͠ẖ̵͚̦̫̫̻͔̤͚̺̬̗̥͇̾̈͐̎̿̊̋̄̉͑̅͑̊̊̍́̿̚ͅơ̵̛̹̯̤̟̔̍̋͗͗̾͆̒̏̋̉͐͛̿͆̇̈͆̈́̈́̔͝͠

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Iida, Malleus

Masterlist

Let's set the scene:

So it was finally that time again, I will not let you get in the way of my work Shroud. The shroud company, through blessing or curse from Hades. Made it very difficult to find the Isle of woe to be by mortals, or Death itself. Memories from times of old began to resurface.

" Look at this cute little pie. We would like to thank you all for the gifts on behalf of our son," Zeus smiled. " Oh, so precious. How absolutely heart-warming. I haven’t felt this choked up since I got some moussaka stuck in my throat," Hades said, trying to make a joke. "Don’t look so glum, chum. Come and join the celebrations!" Zeus invited. " I’d love to, but unfortunately, I can’t leave my post thanks to the work you graciously “bestowed” upon me. Love to stay, but sadly can’t!" Hades said as he backed away. "Come now, you’ll work yourself to death!NGet it? To death! I could kill myself laughing!" Zeus laughed as the rest of the party joined him. " Ugh, if only…!" Hades scoffed to himself.

As Hades returned to the underworld, his two minions Pain and Panic came running with news.

"BOSS! BOSS!" Panic cried out.

"What! What is it!? I am Not in the mood," Hades scowled.

"T-T-The Boss! The Big Boss is back!" the two screamed.

"After all this time, this could be a great opportunity," Hades smirked.

The God quickly made his way to a simply room that belonged to the one and only, Death. The room was simple, it had one throne that was placed by the window. That over looked the river of Souls.

"Hey, Death! The Big Boss, Head honcho, Top dog! How've yeah been?" Hades greeted his long time boss and friend. "How was the travel, travel good brought souvenir?"

"Hmm, oh. Hello Hades," Death greeted, snapped out of their thoughts. "You needed something?"

"So I have plans for Mayhem, your favorite," Hades smirked as he went on to explain his plans.

But he noticed that something was different about his underworld friend. The bloodthirst chaos loving friend was not present, instead this sad and mellow person sat before him.

"Um Who are you and you know what happened to Death?" Hades asked.

"Just a new perspective I guess. As for your plan. If that's what you really want I won't stop you, though I'm afraid I will not join you," Death said calmly.

"Okay, no seriously what happened to you. What happened to the King/Queen of terror and dread?" Hades asked.

"I guess like you I'm also tired of ruling the dead and this place," Death sighed as they looked back at the underworld.

__________________

Death would be confided Hades. The only other high being that would associate with them. Even if they were never Hade's first choice.

But Death told Hades about the many changes to come. Like how they plan to eventually get rid of the underworld. Their symbol and trophy to rub into Life's face of their power over said, god.

Hades did not like this much. But he was confident he would take over Olympus before that would happen. But of course, things didn't go that way.

So as not to lose anything else, using the last of his power to hide the remaining piece of the underworld and a few mortal followers. Becoming the Isle of woe.

__________________

Y/n knew that this next series of events might be the only chance to find this isle of Woe. At least for a long time.

So in the middle of the night, Y/n woke Jamil and asked for his assistance.

Y/n informed Jamil what was about to go down in the morning. So they gave Jamil an enchanted necklace to hide him in plain sight. While they took on his form and be captured in his stead.

Jamil agreed to this since he doesn't like the thought of being dragged off to possibly be never seen again.

________________

~~SNAP! SNAP! CRACK! SNAP!!~~

" What are those!? They’re all flying in the sky with their�� Wait, are those hoverboards!?"Kalim gasped.

"What in the world…!? Unless there are events, the school is supposed to be protected with a magical ward to keep intruders away," Vil said in a slightly nervous tone.

"No, the Barrior is breaking," 'Jamil' said.

"They’re heading this way. One, two… Incoming! Take cover, everyone!" Rook said to everyone.

"Jamil" quickly raised a shield to protect everyone from the debris and robots falling from a ceiling.

"Are you alright, Y/n?" Deuce asked as he helped "y/n" stand up.

"This is the Hepta Unit. We have visuals on Subjects D and E. Beginning Detainment Maneuvers," The bots said.

" I do not know who you are, but it is absolutely impolite to be barging in through windows! I will acknowledge this as an emergency! On my authority as the Pomefiore Prefect, you are all given permission to use magic against these intruders!" Vil said.

"Wait! Vil, I need you to think carefully," 'Jamil' said quickly. " We are outnumbered, and most of the students here are rookie wizards. You Rook, and maybe myself can last a while, but the first years."

Vil scowled as he realized Jamil's assessment was right, and they would risk a lot if they fight.

"Then what do you recommend we do?" Vil glared but gasped as he watched Jamil raise his arms and surrendered.

" What!?" Everyone gasped.

" They are only after us. If we don't resist no one will get hurt," Jamil said simply, Vil sighed in frustration as he slowly raised his hands.

_______________________________________

As the fiery robotic men loaded the overblot boys into the airship, "Jamil" gave one final look back to the school. Only to see the VDC group running in the distance, trying to reach them in time.

"Jamil" smiled warmly as the airship door began to close. My heart warmed that mortals were trying to save them-... No, save Jamil.

But It was a long Flight, and the most "Jamil" could do was let Riddle rest on their lap. When the boy woke up, he was a bit startled. But "Jamil" Was quick to comfort the boy.

But Azul quickly pointed out that "Jamil" was acting strange. So Y/n decided to let them in on the plan a bit.

So "Jamil " explained how the Isle of Woe is the only place in the world that is hidden from the eyes of Death. It is also the place where many blot monsters are stored.

The boys asked why death would care so much about Blot monsters. With "Jamil" would explain that when a person overblots, for a time they will be joined by a blot phantom.

But eventually, the phantom will consume the victim and store the person's soul deep within it. Leaving the soul in perpetual torment, till the Phantom is destroyed.

-----------------------------------------------

"And you know this how?" Leona glared.

"Cause they told me. So in my plans to get into better standing and redemption. I am willingly being their eyes, and beckon for them to track down," Jamil smirked.

"So that's why you didn't want to fight, Y/n wanted this to happen," Vil sighed in annoyance.

"They also wanted no one to get hurt," Jamil snapped back.

"So how long must we wait for Y/n to rescue us?" Azul asked nervesly.

"Only Time will decide," Jamil said.

"Umm don't you mean 'Only time can tell' ?" Riddle asked.

"No," Jamil said simply.

"So these robots are from the Isle of Woe?" Vil asked.

"They’re S.T.Y.X’s special security unit, Charon. It’s their job to capture magicians who have Overblotted so they could be transported to the Island of Woe," Leona explained, then smirked. " But the fact that not even Y/n can find this place must be a blow to their ego. Score one for mortals."

"I think you mean score one for Hades," Jamil said as he went on to explain the story of Hades, Death, and the Underworld.

Apparently, the story was so Gripping and engaging, the 4-hour flight was over in a flash. They have arrived on the Isle of Woe, with Idia there to greet them. But as soon as Jamil stepped off the airship a wave of cries and howls filled their ears, the sounds that went unheard by everyone else.

"̶w̷҉̧h͘͟y͜͝͏ h͘a͏̵v͢e̸ ̡̀͝y̡o͏u̵͠ ̛̀f̷̨͢o͜r̴̕͜s̷̢a̧͝͏k̷͠en͏̷ ͟u̧̨s̕͡,̡ ͡d͢ea̢͠͡th͟

"̴̕P̸͞l̸͝e̷͡a͝s̵͘ȩ̷,̷͢ ͟w̸̡h̸͡ȩ͏r̵e̛ ̵͝a̶̡re̷͟͞ ̸̡y̸͜o̴u̷͝ ́͞D̵̛͠e͏̀a̴t̢́̀h̷͟?̴͘͠!̡͟"͢

"̡̀͘S͘om̛̀e̸͘o͘n̶̨͜e ͘͟Pl̵e̸̶a̧ś̷̶e ̕͟͜S͢҉a͞v̸e͞ ͏̷M̷͢͝é͢͝!̢͢!̨̕"҉

The voices cried out, it was so overwhelming Y/n almost dropped their disguise. But they composed themselves and held back their tears.

As Idia put the boys through many tests, he noticed something strange about Jamil's vitals. That he didn't have any vitals or basic signs of life. Before Idia could pull Jamil aside for questioning, he was locked in the meeting room with the rest of the NRC boys.

________________________________

Idia began to question Jamil, but he didn't really answer any of the questions. Till ortho pointed out that Jamil had no body heat. So seeing no need to hide, they dropped the illusion.

Revealing Death.

Idia began to panic as he quickly stood, but before calling for hade's level to shut down. His calling device suddenly shut down from low power, and the same with some of Ortho's functions.

Y/n sat down confidently as Idia trembled in his boots, and the others sat in awe and confusion. Vil was just frustrated that he was tricked so easily.

"Y-you can't be here! The Isle of Woe is supposed to be hidden from you?!" Idia panicked.

"You can only hide from death for so long," Y/n said simply as they rested their elbows on the table.

"W-why are you here?" Idia asked slowly.

"I'm here to collect all the souls in Tartarus," Y/n said simply.

"This isn't the underworld, there are no souls to collect," Idia glared.

"That is untrue. Phantoms hold the souls of their victims and those it slaughters. I am here to collect them," Y/n said.

"but that would mean you will destroy the phantoms. But we need them to study and find a way to stop blot," Idia reasoned.

"Those 10,000 and more souls have been suffering for thousands of years. I think it's time to give them an out," Y/n replied as they stood up.

"Demands here, demands there… This isn’t a zoo, damn it. Did you forget what I said earlier? Don’t make me repeat myself again… I!!! AM!!! THE!!! BOSS!!!" Idia shouted as stood in front of Y/n, blocking their path.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!" Y/n laughed, so much so that they had to lean against the table to support themselves. "You almost remind me of Hades. But no Your not my boss, and are you okay with keeping Ortho the first in Tartarus, to suffer till the end of time? You made a machine of him, so why not let the real one go?"

Idia froze as Y/n bore into his soul when suddenly the power went out as the room went dark.

______________________________________________

Things just did not get better, as Y/n learned that Rook and Epel had tracked them down. And the blot phantoms had felt the presence of their doom. So in one last desperate attempt, they manipulated the bot Ortho. To Get Idia down to them.

With this, the isle of woe went into Chaos. The NRC boys went to go collect the thunder staff, but thanks to Y/n there were little to no phantoms standing in their way.

Y/n, in a blink of an eye, was making quick work of the phantom. Ortho was not happy about the lack of challenge to the NRC boys.

But eventually, The boy manages to push the final phantom back to Tartarus. The phantom using Ortho's voice cried out to Idia.

Idia jumped to follow his "brother" to Tartarus, but Y/n in one clean motion slayed the phantom.

______________________________________________

As Idia's memories and regrets flashed in his mind, he slowly opened his eyes to find himself in the void. As he sat up, he heard a familiar voice in the distance, he turned to See Ortho. He was sitting on death's lap as the two were talking when Ortho noticed Idia. Death helped ortho to his feet as Ortho ran to Idia and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you for looking out for me. You’ve made me so happy. But, you can’t be here yet, Big Brother," Ortho said.

"Ortho… Why? I want to go with you. We made a promise, didn’t we? And You," Idia turned to Death. " Why did you save me, I just wanted to follow Ortho."

"Because Ortho and I believe it's not your time yet," Y/n answered.

"You still have comics to read, concerts to watch, and new games to play, don’t you…? You love this world too much to give up on it completely," Ortho added.

"What!? Who said I loved this rotten world!? All that nonsense can just disappear!" Idia said as he began to tremble.

"Not everything has to make sense. You shouldn’t have to give up on anything ever again. You have your future ahead of you, Big Brother. You see, I want you to fulfill the dreams we talked about that day," Ortho smiled.

"Our Dream?" Idia asked.

"I’m sure it will take a long time. You might feel like giving up along the way, but… I know… I’m sure you can go anywhere, Brother. It may be long and tiring, but you’ll get there someday. It’s okay. I’ll be right there with you always. Please, don’t give up," Ortho said as he gave one last squeeze of a hug. He slowly let go of Idia and turned to Death. "Okay, I'm ready to go now."

"Wait, Ortho! Death Please Don't Take Him?!" Idia begged as he watched Ortho grab Y/n's hand.

"Actually I have something special for you, and I want Idia to be there. But he needs to wake up first," Y/n explained.

"Really, I can't wait. Hurry and wake up big brother," Ortho said.

________________________________________

When Idia came to, standing over him was Y/n and some old man. Who was actually Vil? Idia shyly apologized to everyone and said he would probably never return to school.

But Grim and everyone else was not going to let him off easy, telling him to fix ramshackle at least. But the group was spooked to see the ghost of ortho next to Y/n.

"Well before you do anything else I will need you to come with me Idia," Y/n said as ortho grabbed their hand.

"H-huh W-why?" Idia asked.

"To accompany ortho and me when we go to see someone important. And I think Vil will need to come too," Y/n sighed.

"Why am I needed?" old man vil asked.

"To help with your situation," Y/n said. "And the rest of you are free to go back to the school, we will catch up."

"W-wait where are you going?" Epel asked.

"And where is this important person?" Riddle asked.

"In the void between dimensions and the worlds," Y/n answered simply.

"Who could you possibly be taking them to?" Azul asked.

"Life," Y/n smiled

______________________________________________

To be continued...

#twisted wonderland #Falling Pegasus answers #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #death!reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud #ortho shroud #idia x reader

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zepskies · 11 months ago

Text

And So It Goes - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job — and more importantly her life — or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca.

AN: I have the entire week off work, so I'm catching up with my WIPs. 😜

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Angst, violence, more of Soldier Boy’s bad flirting, hurt/comfort, PTSD, explosions…

ASIG Series Masterlist

17: Emotionally Deficient Men

Helena used an old bobby pin in the pocket of her jeans to break free of her restraints. It took her a while, but eventually the metal handcuff clicked open and she hastened to her car.

Butcher, Hughie, and Soldier Boy had maybe half an hour on her, but she could make up some of the time if she didn’t stop, only for gas halfway through the six-hour drive.

Vermont was lovely this time of year. The only sights she could afford to take in was the luxurious mansion owned by the infamous T&T Twins, who were hosting an even more infamous…party.

Oh fuck, not Herogasm, Helena thought, as she pulled up to the side of the road and parked her car. She zipped up her leather jacket against the windchill as she got out and surveyed the huge lot.

She’d heard about Herogasm, but she’d never had the misfortune to go to one of these events; she wasn’t a supe. And she was never more grateful for that as she took in the scene.

The mansion was already on fire. It was a clusterfuck of half-naked supes and working professionals fleeing, screaming, crying as they filtered out across the manicured lawn and back to their cars.

Helena’s eyes widened as she took in the half-demolished house, which looked like it had been blasted right through the front. Soldier Boy.

They must’ve already gotten here before her.

She was cautious in approaching the house, coming in from the back gate by the pool that was swinging open. She made it through the debris in the house with careful steps. It was quieter inside, eerie in a way. She avoided looking down at the bodies and held her breath at the smell of charred flesh.

She turned a corner of the house and stopped short. Her breathing shallowed with a gasp when she came face to face with the one man she’d hoped to never see again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked Homelander. He looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him, and her eyes widened.

In her mind, his blue eyes flashed like a memory: of a hand around her throat, pinning her to the wall. A lazy, crazed look in his eye as he debated whether he was going to let her breathe again.

“I was…invited,” she lied on the fly. “I’m just a bit late to the party.”

Homelander’s smile was subtle, but telling. He didn’t believe her. He tilted his head and took a booted step forward into her orbit. Helena stepped back out of reflex, but when she turned her head, she realized she had unintentionally stepped into a battlefield.

Soldier Boy stood mere feet away, suited up with his shield in hand. He regarded her with a half-smile in greeting, though his gaze was focused on Homelander.

“Out of the way, sweetheart,” he said.

She wanted to be annoyed by the nickname, but she tried to oblige him. The last thing she wanted was to be caught between the past and present of dickhead supes.

But a gloved hand grabbed the back of her neck. She gasped, instinctively cringing and glancing back at Homelander. His eyes flicked down to hers.

“Oh, Helena,” he drawled. “Don’t tell me you know this guy.”

“I think we all saw him on the news,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. “I’m surprised it took you this long to catch him.”

“What fucking rock did you crawl out of, I wonder,” he mused out loud. His hand tightened a fraction, making her wince and suck in a breath as she fought to remain still. “But I don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you?”

Panic welled in her lungs, squeezing around her heart like a vice. Her gaze darted to Soldier Boy. It was pure instinct, the plea in her eyes. He saw it, though he said nothing until his attention turned back to Homelander.

“Homelander, I take it.” Soldier Boy eyed the other supe with a quirk of his lips. He gestured to the long red and white cape hanging from Homelander’s shoulders. “Nice candy stripes.”

Homelander tensed, though Helena wasn’t sure if it was because of the other man’s taunt, or because Butcher stepped into the hallway beside Soldier Boy. Butcher’s eyes widened when he saw her, and he hardened when he realized her predicament.

He sharpened on Homelander, who was perceptive enough to catch the brief exchange. His gaze narrowed.

“William Butcher and Soldier Boy,” he remarked. “Of course, you’re behind this. This whole thing… It really is all about me.”

Bile rose up in Helena’s throat. Just the sound of his voice made her sick, but the sheer size of his ego was even worse.

“William, we made a deal,” he continued. “To fight to the death. You, and me.”

Helena’s eyes widened. What kind of fucked deal was this, and when was that bargain struck?

Again, Butcher glanced at her, but he focused on Homelander.

“This is cheating,” said Homelander. His brows pinched with a glare. “Deal’s off.”

He lasered at Butcher with his eyes. Helena screamed as the man went down hard on his stomach. She tried to go to him, but Homelander’s hand tightened on the back of her neck and yanked her back.

She gasped and was forced to look at him through tearful, wide eyes.

“What, are you on their side now? Are you helping them?” His hand moved into her hair and started to squeeze even tighter, making her unconsciously whimper and twist against him. Her nails bit fruitlessly into his hand.

The mania behind his eyes was familiar. It had been featuring in her nightmares. “Be honest, Helena.”

“Figures that you’d hide behind a woman,” Soldier Boy remarked.

It earned Homelander’s attention.

“Excuse me?” he asked. He took a step forward, dragging Helena along with him. Her boots scrambled for purchase over fallen debris.

Homelander had to chuckle a little. “You know, you were my hero growing up. I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me.”

Helena bit the inside of her lip. She could tell, just by the look on the other man’s face, that that was the wrong way to endear himself. Soldier Boy’s ego was more than a match for Homelander’s.

“Buddy, you think you look strong?” Soldier Boy said dryly. “You’re wearing a cape.”

Homelander took in an irritated breath.

“You’re just a cheap fucking knock-off,” Soldier Boy added.

It made Homelander seethe. “Oh no, no, no… I’m the upgrade.”

He pushed Helena away from him and launched full speed at Soldier Boy, tackling him into the next room. And she was shoved against the wall hard enough to knock her clean out.

Helena woke to a pounding in her head and a sharper agony in her ribs.

She uttered a pained groan, soon realizing that she was laying on a dingy bed with a ceiling fan turning slowly overhead. She tried to sit up, but that proved to be too much. She fell back with a gasp.

“Hey, hey, don’t get up,” said Hughie. He came into the bedroom with a glass of water and some pills in his hand. He helped her sit up enough against the pillows to take the meds and drink a bit of water. She thanked him, and moved her frizzy hair away from her face to meet his concerned gaze.

“Where the hell are we?” she asked.

“A motel just a couple hours south of Vermont,” he replied.

She nodded. She was still wearing her now dusty gray shirt, jeans, and boots, but her jacket had been draped on the far corner of the bed.

She looked past Hughie to find Butcher standing in the doorway. Hughie noticed as well, and he laid a comforting hand on her arm before he got up.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he said. She nodded, though she could hardly think at the moment.

Butcher shared a brief, but meaningful gaze with the younger man as he left. Then he stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. He let out a sigh and reached for the side of her head, and she winced as his fingers brushed a tender knot there.

“Got your bell rung, didn’t ya?” he said.

It was her turn to sigh.

His eyes took her in; the pain in her face, the way she shifted to try and fail to get comfortable.

“You all right?” he asked.

All Helena could manage was a jerky nod of her head, even as tears glistened in her eyes. Her hand reached up and shakily touched his chest.

“What about you?”

Butcher quirked a smile. “Had me a little supe cocktail, didn’t I?”

Helena let out a breath of relief. V24 was still untested poison, but it had saved his dumbass. And he’d saved her dumbass in turn…

“Does Homelander know I was the mole at Vought?” she asked.

Butcher’s expression dimmed.

Hours ago…

Butcher got up, shaking off the feeling of a point-blank laser blast with a shrug of his shoulders thanks to the Temp V coursing through his veins. He rubbed the sting out of his chest and shook off the stun of hitting the ground so hard.

Butcher pushed off the ground, and the sounds of the nearby fight between Homelander and Soldier Boy reached him. But he also saw Helena just a few yards away, lying prone on the ground, twisted onto her back.

His eyes widened, and he went to her. He dropped to his knees at her side and brushed her dark hair away from her face with slightly shaking hands. Her eyes were closed, her body unmoving. He cupped her cheek and felt for her pulse at her neck.

The tension in his shoulders eased when he felt her heartbeat thrumming under the pads of his fingers. Fucking hell.

How the fuck had she broken free of those cuffs? And more importantly, why did she insist on putting herself in the line of fucking fire?

Butcher knew the answer, deep down, but he stowed that all away to ease her more comfortably on her back, untwisting her hips and legs. He hated to leave her like this, but he had no choice. He saw that Soldier Boy was having a hard time with Homelander on his own.

So Butcher jumped into the fray, lasering Homelander from behind. The supe’s face betrayed his confusion, and even his anger in that tick in his brow.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“Scorched earth,” Butcher taunted.

But Homelander glanced passed him, at Helena still lying unconscious in the hall. It made Butcher tense and shift his stance, subtly putting himself in between.

Homelander smirked. “Wait, wait…you and Helena Flores? You have a thing, don’t you?”

His steps forward were somehow both lazy and measured. Butcher’s movements were even more calculated, stepping closer, but still blocking Helena.

“How long has this been going on?” Homelander asked. “Couldn’t have been very long. I mean, how did you even meet? She worked for us…”

Something seemed to don on the supe, and a sinking feeling churned in Butcher’s chest.

“Fuck me,” Homelander chuckled as a realization brightened his eyes. “You had an inside woman at Vought, didn’t you? Feeding information to you and your little rats.”

His grin deepened at the way Butcher’s smugness faded, and his expression became sharp and threatening.

Homelander wasn’t intimidated. Only pleased.

“Now everything makes sense,” he said. “Tell me, how long has she been servicing you?”

Butcher glowered, his eyes flickering with golden light. Homelander’s smirk raised higher.

“I’ll have to ask her about her hourly rate—”

That was the last quip the supe got out, before Butcher lasered him directly in the face. Homelander flew forward and met Butcher blow for blow, until Soldier Boy yanked Homelander down by his cape.

The fight began in earnest, with even Hughie joining in.

Unfortunately, Homelander slipped away at the last minute, leaving Butcher with the bitter aftertaste of an opportunity lost. And even worse, he knew, was the target now firmly painted on Helena’s back.

Now, in the relative safety of a crusty motel, Helena tried to wipe the tears from her face as she took in a breath meant to steady herself. It didn’t work.

Homelander knew the truth, and she was deep in this shit now.

For his part, Butcher buried a hand in her hair and sighed deeply.

“For fuck’s sake. This’s why I bloody told you not to come,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me, you restrained me,” she snapped.

“For all the fucking good it did me,” he said, just as angrily.

She stared into his eyes and saw the depths of his concern behind the anger. She knew how to read through the cracks of his rough exterior, and despite the fact that she was still so unbelievably mad at him, for several reasons, part of her felt mollified. She knew he still cared about her.

She was feeling petulant, however.

“You don’t have the right to lecture me,” she said. “Anyway, what the hell happened? When I got there, everything was already on fire.”

Butcher crossed his arms. “Yeah, Soldier Boy fucking snapped.”

Helena frowned. “What do you mean?”

“On account o’ his PTSD.” Butcher rubbed at his mouth and beard. “I think he blacked out. Same as Midtown.”

For a moment, Helena was in shock. “Shit. And this is the guy you want to make a deal with?”

“The deal’s been made, love,” said Butcher. He regarded her with more guarded eyes. “Only thing to do is keep moving forward.”

“Right,” she snapped. “Until you get killed.”

Helena shook her head and tried to sit up straighter. It caused a shift in her ribs that felt like white hot pain, a knife stabbing into her. She gasped and grabbed at her right side.

Frowning deeper, Butcher stayed her hand and lifted up her shirt enough to take a look. What he found was a large, yellowish bruise covering nearly half of her ribcage. It wasn’t dark enough to be internal bleeding, but he knew her tan skin would darken soon enough.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“Is it bad?” she asked in worry.

“Is the pain dull or sharp?” he asked.

“Sharp,” she replied.

“Likely you’ve got a couple of broken ribs,” he said. “You can still breathe though. Nothing feels like it’s pokin’ ya, is it?”

She shook her head, relieving him further.

“You’ll probably be fine,” he said. You should get checked out at the hospital, though I doubt you’ll fucking take my advice. “They’ll heal up eventually.”

She frowned at him.

Maybe he should’ve made the hospital suggestion, because she shoved his hands off her and withdrew from him. He realized then how’d she’d taken his attempt to reassure her—like a lack of concern.

“Thanks, Dr. House,” she griped. “Your bedside manner is impeccable. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Butcher held in a sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean it like—”

“I don’t care,” she said. Her tongue was sharp, but her eyes said that she was exhausted, in pain, and done with him.

So he reluctantly left her room and shut the door behind him. He eyed Soldier Boy, who sat on the couch, still in his supe suit while channel surfing on the TV. Hughie was trying to figure out on his phone where the closest fast food was.

Already Soldier Boy had given Butcher a list of possible safe houses to find Mindstorm: the second to last cast member of Payback. They were close enough to one of the addresses that it justified stopping for the night, but it also meant leaving Helena injured and alone with this radioactive boomer fuck, complete with PTSD and a taste for anything in a skirt.

Butcher grabbed Hughie’s arm and led him just outside the motel.

“I’m gonna cross off the first safe house on the list,” he said. He jabbed a pointed finger in Hughie’s chest. “Don’t leave her alone with him, whatever you fucking do. And make sure he don’t fucking leave.”

Hughie was wide-eyed, but he nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

Butcher raised his brows. I mean it, the gesture said. Hughie nodded, a silent agreement struck between them.

He soon went back into the motel while Butcher took off in his car.

Hughie found the supe exactly where he’d left him: on the couch, watching reruns of Cheers. Soldier Boy didn’t look all that entertained, but his gaze slid over to Hughie when he came in.

“What’re you doing about food?” Soldier Boy asked.

Hughie blinked, and once again checked his phone. They were so deep in the middle of nowhere, no regular restaurant was going to deliver within an hour. There wasn’t even an Uber Eats or Doordash that delivered out here.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” said Soldier Boy. His gaze was firm. “30 minutes or less. That’s what I’m’ giving you, before I go look for something myself.”

Fuck, Hughie thought. He couldn’t leave Helena alone, but he couldn’t have Soldier Boy taking off on him either.

“You can go, Hugh,” Helena said. He turned to find her standing in the doorway of her bedroom, looking worse for wear, but standing on her feet. She was leaning against the wall, and he immediately went to help her.

She directed him on where she wanted to sit: at the small, two-seater dining table.

She didn’t care what she ate, as long as it was hot, she told him. Though Hughie promised to bring her a soup of some kind, while Soldier Boy wanted “red meat.”

A burger it is, Hughie thought, internally rolling his eyes. He was still reluctant to leave, but Helena gave him an, I’ll be fine smile, weak though it was.

Hughie shook his head. Butcher was going to kill him, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He left soon after, aiming to walk to the closest Wendy’s about half a mile down the road.

Meanwhile, Helena let out a breath. Already she knew this shitty plastic seat at the dining wasn’t going to do it for her. She needed support for her back and ribs, but she also didn’t want to lay down in bed anymore.

It made her head swim and her stomach churn, but she slowly got up and moved to sit on the far end of the couch, where Soldier Boy sat. At least she’d be able to watch some TV and try to take her mind off her pain as she waited for the meds to kick in. However, it did mean trying her luck with the supe.

She glanced at him, giving a thin smile. Soldier Boy turned to her with a gaze that slowly took her in.

“This isn’t an invitation,” she said warily. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

His smile was lazy, with the confidence of a man who’d no doubt fucked his way through starlets, cabana girls, and certainly any willing supe.

“Hey, now,” he said with charm. “What kind of man do you fucking take me for?”

A murdering one, Helena thought. But she didn’t sense a predatory attitude from him. At least, not in that sense. It didn’t mean she would let down her guard, but she did breathe a little easier.

“Besides. We both know that at some point,” he said. His voice lowered, like he was sharing a secret. His voice was deep and smooth, “You’re gonna get off your little high horse. When that time comes, I'll be more than happy to fuck you well and good, baby doll.”

Again, this man’s audacity knew no bounds. Helena’s brows raised high in shock. It took her a moment, but she eventually cleared her throat.

“Unlikely,” she deadpanned, despite her blush. “And who hits on someone with broken ribs?”

“They won’t be broken forever. And I can be…gentle,” he said. His eyes once again slid over her form, lingering on the hint of cleavage of her V-neck shirt. “Gentle enough, anyway.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit. This guy was too much.

“For the love of God. Enough, please,” she said. She shook her head, despite her incredulous smile. “I thought you said I needed a leash.”

She’d heard that little tidbit from the bug she planted in Butcher’s car.

Soldier Boy smirked. “Maybe. You are a bit fucking mouthy for my taste.”

That dimmed her amusement, into annoyance. There was that old-fashioned machismo that she couldn’t stand.

“Welcome to the 21st fucking century,” Helena snipped. “There’s a lot more where I come from.”

Soldier Boy shot her a look, annoyed yet contemplative. “So what, you and Butcher had a thing?”

“Good use of the past tense,” she grumpily acknowledged. She took the remote that lied between them and started looking through the TV guide for something to watch.

The supe eyed her with a certain smile.

“What’s the fucking deal with him and Homelander?” he asked. “I mean, the guy’s a prick. But why does Butcher hate him so much?”

Helena paused in her channel search. For now, she landed on an old episode of The Mesmerizer.

She let out a deep breath, holding a hand to her side when that pained her ribs. She wasn’t sure that this was her story to tell, but maybe if Soldier Boy knew the truth about Homelander, he’d be even more motivated to kill the bastard, besides ego and jealousy.

“Becca. Butcher’s wife,” she began. “Homelander…”

Helena paused. Even now, it was hard for her to say it out loud. She took in another steadying breath, and she met Soldier Boy’s green-eyed gaze.

“He violated her,” said Helena. “He ruined her damn life…and she died, because of him.”

That fell between them with a stiff, somewhat awkward silence.

“And how do you fit into all this?” Soldier Boy asked, gesturing at her.

Helena inclined her head. “Becca was my best friend.”

She told her part of the story, after Becca disappeared. How she’d worked at Vought, and Butcher had come knocking on her door demanding her help. But once she was on board, she became committed to avenging her friend. Helena did omit any mention of Ryan, for his protection.

She gave Soldier Boy just enough of the story that it still made sense, down to her finally leaving Vought and giving the CIA as much intel as she could, while trying to keep her involvement with Butcher and his team a secret from her ex-employer (and Homelander, most of all).

“So you hooked up with your best friend’s husband?” Soldier Boy mused with a smirk.

Fucking figures. That was what he took from this conversation?

Helena gave him a shrewd frown.

“You’re taking the moral high ground here?” she volleyed back. “We didn’t get together until this year, if you must know.”

The supe shrugged. It led her to look at him with a little more contemplation. She asked a question she probably had no business asking, if she wanted to have some self-preservation. But her pain meds were kicking in, and it was giving her a high dose of fuck it.

“How long were you with Crimson Countess? You know…before,” she asked.

Soldier Boy’s expression dimmed, with a bitter edge.

“Too fucking long,” was all he said, crossing his arms. “She was always a raging bitch.”

Helena wanted to roll her eyes, but she supposed his vitriol was understandable, given that the woman had helped gift wrap him for the Russians, along with the rest of his team. She truly must have hated him.

“Did she participate in Herogasm too?” Helena asked. Or was its founder the only one allowed to fuck other people?

Soldier Boy quirked a brow at her, but she held her ground. She’d heard about that particular tidbit when she still worked at Vought.

“She knew better,” he replied. It made Helena chuckle.

“Right. I just wonder if maybe Countess was a little bitter,” she mused. “I mean, her man is over here having frivolous orgies while she’s expected to be the Virgin Mary.”

Soldier Boy frowned in earnest now, with irritation and a hint of warning behind his eyes. Helena was too buzzed on her meds to heed that warning. Fuck, what the hell did Hughie give me?

“I was dedicated to our relationship,” Soldier Boy argued.

“In the viewing public, sure,” Helena retorted. “Vought’s poster boy committing serial adultery would’ve probably been frowned upon.”

She worked with supes for ten years. She knew how their marketing worked, especially with their “relationships,” fabricated for PR or otherwise.

Now, however, Soldier Boy turned to her with a sharper warning.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he raised his voice.

Helena paused with a small flinch. But she hid her apprehension.

“There’s no need to get loud,” she said.

“There’s no need to be a smart-mouth bitch,” he shot back.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I take that as a compliment, comrade.”

Soldier Boy didn’t know whether he was more irritated or amused by her audacity.

“You must really wanna end up over my knee, sweetheart,” he said snidely.

His arrogant face was insufferable, Helena thought. But he’d made no move to “put her in her place.” Maybe because she was injured. If she was a supe, or even a man, she didn’t think he’d be so lenient.

She smirked. “Or maybe….maybe I’m just high. Jesus, how many milligrams did Hughie give me?”

She tried to shift into a more comfortable sitting position on the couch, but it only disrupted her ribs, with a sharp flare of pain that made her wince. Her head ached as well, cutting through some of her brain fog.

She needed a shower, food, and sleep. The shower would have to wait, but Hughie had better hurry the fuck up with the food.

She was so preoccupied with her discomfort that she didn’t notice, at first, how Soldier Boy was looking at her. He still seemed irritated as he took the remote from her.

“You should probably shut the fuck up then. Get some sleep. Maybe then I’ll get some peace and quiet,” he said.

Helena raised her brows. “Wow, you are a delight.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes.

He was an asshole. In fact, he’d just caused a hell of a scene, had apparently blacked out, and as a result, had even killed a handful of people in the process of getting revenge on the T&T Twins.

And yet…

Get some sleep, he’d said.

He seemed to have a tiny sliver of decency. Helena only detected it because she was fluent in the language of emotionally deficient men.

She considered getting up to take his “advice,” of getting some rest, but he managed to find Lethal Weapon playing on one of the movie channels.

“Oh, that’s a classic,” she told him. “From the late ‘80s…you probably just missed it.”

Soldier Boy frowned at her, but he didn’t turn the channel. They watched the movie from then on in a strangely companionable silence.

But of course, the peace couldn’t last for long.

There was a shootout on the screen; predictable for an action movie. Helena had seen this scene half a dozen times, but she heard a hitch of breath. She turned to her right and saw that her companion’s gaze was glazed over, unfocused.

Soldier Boy sat stiffly, blinking, with a subtle shake of his head, like he was trying to get rid of a ringing in his ears.

“Soldier Boy?” she tried. He didn’t seem to hear her.

Oh fuck. She paused, realizing what was happening.

Though it pained her battered ribs and head, she pulled herself up straighter and scooted closer to him on the couch. When she touched his shoulder, his gaze snapped up to hers. She tried not to flinch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“…I don’t know,” he gritted out.

Her breath shallowed along with his. Even if she tried to run, she doubted she’d get very far if he freaked out and blasted this motel off the map.

“Okay, it’s okay. Soldier…what’s your name?” she asked.

For just a moment, her question managed to split him out of his disassociation.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” Helena repeated.

He blinked like he had something in his eye, though she knew he was trying to concentrate on her. At the same time, she seemed to be irritating him.

“Soldier Boy,” he said.

“No, not that bullshit. Your real name,” Helena insisted, and she squeezed his shoulder. It was unnaturally warm.

She couldn’t know that her words kicked the man back into his memories—before Russia. Before even Payback.

Behind his mind’s eye, he saw the tall, stoic, imposing figure of his father. The floral print of his mother’s Sunday dress when he was a kid. Her smile when she touched his cheek.

“Ben,” he gritted out. His chest was started to burn and glow from the inside. He was fighting it tooth and nail as his gaze flit over the woman next to him. Run, you fucking idiot.

“Ben,” Helena repeated. Her concern was in her eyes as she chanced lowering her hand, from his shoulder to his arm. “Stay with me, Ben. Can you breathe through it?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, shutting his eyes.

He wanted to tell her to stop touching him like he was some weak piece of shit. But the pressure was building beyond his control.

“Ben?” she prodded weakly. Even through his super suit, his arm became too hot for her to touch. She gasped and was forced to release him. She saw the glow of his chest through his suit and tried to back away, but her shaking body was frozen in fear.

Her wide eyes met his.

Ben had just enough presence of mind to push her away from him, just before a burst of nuclear power escaped him. With a rough yell, he tried to angle it upwards. The beam tore through half of the motel room and escaped through the ceiling.

Afterwards, he was breathing hard and staring into a midnight sky through the large hole his power had created. The distant sounds of screaming and car horns blaring was familiar, though he grimaced.

Fuck, he thought. He looked at the carnage wrecked through the rest of the motel room, though he didn’t remember creating it.

Belatedly, he remembered Helena.

She had been tossed to the floor, onto her back. Ben hesitated, but he slid off the couch and went to her, taking a knee on the ground beside her prone form. He brushed some plaster dust off her face and checked her pulse at her neck.

He nodded at the feel of her pulse thrumming under the pads of his fingers. Then, he surprised himself by sliding and arm under her back and propping her up against him. He tapped her cheek.

“Hey, wake up,” he prodded.

She didn’t oblige him just yet, making his brows furrow. Ben had a moment to take in her dark lashes that matched her long, dark hair of loose curls. (He could imagine wrapping them around his hand.)

Though her face was pale at the moment, her skin was tan and smooth, with full lips he couldn’t help being tempted by. Through the sweat and dust, he could even detect an earthy, floral scent. Maybe it was her shampoo.

“Helena?” Butcher’s voice made Ben raise his head. He frowned, mostly because he hadn’t heard the man coming. His ears were still ringing a bit, though he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Butcher got down on her other side and took Helena from Ben’s arms, quickly, but still with care. Butcher touched her clammy cheek, then glared at the supe.

“Get your Wonder Girl powers in check before you blast us all to hell!” he snapped.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Ben barked back, as he stood. “Without me, you’ve got fuck all.”

Butcher seethed; both because he was furious, and because he knew Soldier Boy was right. They still needed one another to accomplish their respective agendas, and that was the bitch of it.

Butcher got back onto his feet with Helena in his arms. He ignored the supe for now, and brought her to the bedroom, which had mostly remained unscathed.

He laid her down on the bed and surveyed the damage, even lifting her shirt to make sure she wasn’t visibly bleeding. She really should’ve been checked out at a hospital…

Just as he almost resolved to do just that, she started to wake, with a moan of pain. Butcher softened. He rested a careful, and surprisingly tender hand against her cheek. He held his breath, waiting for the moment that she blinked awake, revealing those honey brown eyes.

Helena bit her lip when she saw him, leaning her cheek against his hand. She was still full of painkillers and brain fog, and all she really wanted right now was some comfort. The thought made her eyes sting with tears. She held his hand against her face.

“You gotta stop doing this to me, love,” Butcher muttered. His thumb caressed her cheek.

She smiled, because this was the man she knew. She missed him so damn much.

“I thought you hated being bored,” she rasped.

Butcher let out a long breath while his thoughts darkened. Might just kill that prick after Homelander.

Her gaze narrowed a bit.

“I know that look. Believe it or not, this was him saving me,” she said, with a sigh, briefly closing her eyes. “The Russians pulled a fucking number on him.”

“Yeah. He’s got a few fucking screws loose, don’t he?” Butcher replied.

Helena tugged him down to her by his collar and touched his cheek.

“Come with me, Billy,” she all but pleaded. “You can still let this go…”

She leaned up enough to nearly press her lips to his, but Butcher held off. His eyes roamed over her face, concentrating on her lips. They both knew he wanted this…

But he wouldn’t let himself. Her tears dripped down the corners of her eyes when he gently pulled her hand away. He leaned back and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“We’re gonna have to move,” he said. “Just rest there a tick, ‘til we get all squared away, figure out where we’re going. And where the fuck is Hughie?”

The latter he asked to himself, but Helena couldn’t be bothered to answer him. She wiped at her face and tried to bury her hurt and dismay, deep under a layer of anger. She forced her body to sit up with a whimper.

“Ey,” Butcher protested. She ignored him.

“I know where we can go,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It’s safe, and neither Vought or Homelander know where it is.”

He was confused at first, but he was too smart not to know where her mind was headed. Her house was close to the city, but still far enough to give them cover. And only Helena, Butcher, and Grace knew its location.

Butcher frowned.

“No,” he started to say. Before he could get going in earnest, Hughie stepped into what was left of the motel. They saw him through the gaping chasm—of what used to be a wall between the bedroom and the front door. He nearly dropped the Wendy’s bags.

“What the shit?!” Hughie exclaimed. “Where’s the roof?”

AN: 😬 Okay, so a lot of Soldier Boy being an ass in this chapter lol. (As usual.) And now these four are headed to Helena's house. What could possibly go wrong? 😂

Next Time:

Maybe I really do have a death wish, Helena thought, as she let the most wanted supe alive into her home.

Butcher and Hughie joined him, with the latter taking in her two-story house for the first time.

“Nice,” Hughie said with a nod. “This place is beautiful.”

Helena gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Though she gave Ben a pointed look. “Try not to break it, please.”

He shot her a raised brow, but didn’t comment. Instead, he watched her turn and show them one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor. Meanwhile, his gaze lingered on the curve of her ass in those jeans.

Butcher caught the supe’s lazy perusal with a sharp eye. Ben felt his stare and had the gall to shoot him a wink with his smile. His steps had a certain swagger as he followed Helena down the hall.

Keep Reading: Part 18

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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sl-newsie · 4 months ago

Text

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Descendants: A Royal Wedding

Fire burn and cauldron bubble, show me what’s the latest trouble.”

Poof!

The brewing potion sparks to life and a smoky image of Auradon Castle appears. It’s almost the same as when I left a year ago, only this time it’s decorated for a celebration. Outside Dude is chasing some frisky squirrels off the stone steps.

“Come on! This is a very special day! It needs to be perfect!” The canine whines.

You’re not wrong, Dude.

A month ago I had a visit from an owl. The creature flew inside the cottage and perched right on my shoulder. At first I was confused by my new guest but that was put to rest when I read the scroll tied to its leg.

Magica,

The Royal Highnesses Ben and Mal invite you to a royal wedding at Auradon Castle.

So much for keeping me up to date. While Ben, Remus, and the Sea Three have kept their promise of staying in touch, I’m afraid the rest of the VKs have failed.

“Today’s the day, huh?” Binx asks from the shelf he’s perched on.

“Yes. Yes it is,” I reply, still looking at the swirling potion.

“Do you have a wedding gift?”

A gift. A wedding gift… Good question.

“What gift do I give to my best friend and his bride? Something fun? Something sensible?”

The black cat does a big stretch. “You’ll think of something. Don’t worry too much.”

Broomsticks! I can’t think of something good this last-minute. Maybe I could copy off the three fairies? Grant them a wish? Possibly. On the other hand, doing a magic gift might look lazy and unthoughtful.

“It’ll come to me,” I mutter as I look in the mirror one last time to check my dress: a lavender sundress. Time to fix it. “By the powers of this bewitching book, change the clothes to a wicked look.”

The dress goes stiff and the fabric ripples down to turn into a deep purple gown with a black-laced corset, complete with a matching cloak and Victorian heels. Mother’s spellbook still has its perks.

“Too much?” I ask.

“Nothing is ever too much for you,” Binx chuckles. “You look very pretty. I’m sure people will love it.”

“My name is cleared, but this is the first public appearance I’ve made in a year. I hope this works.”

“And what about your aunt’s spellbook?”

Oh. Right.

“Not a word of it,” I warn Binx with a narrowed look. “No more evil spells.”

I found it. Mother’s tipoff sent me traveling deep into the Deadwood Grove in search of Winifred’s spellbook. Lo and behold it led me to a twisted tree. Buried beneath it was a wooden chest, and within was the malevolent book itself. Eye and all. And now it remains covered and hidden within the stones of my fireplace.

“How long will you be staying-? Oh my,” father walks in from the kitchen. “You look beautiful, my little witch.”

“Thank you, father. Are you sure you won’t come?”

He shakes his head. “These are your people, Magica. It’s time you enjoyed yourself after a year of solitude. Besides, I’ve got chores to do.”

He’s right.

“I shall return with haste,” I call before heading out the door. The sight of my broom leaning against the porch sends my heart skipping for adventure. “Fly!”

It all goes too fast. The familiar castle below awakens unwanted happy memories. Deep breath. Nothing will be the same. I prepared for this. What is new is the absence of wanted posters with my face plastered everywhere. All I can hope is that the scene of a witch flying a broom over the village won’t send the residents into a frenzy.

“Look!”

Here we go.

“It’s Magica!”

Magica? Not ‘Sanderson witch?’

“Hi Magica!” A little girl waves up at me.

“Um- Hello?” I wave back. What’s happened since I’ve been gone?

“Trixie! Down here!” A familiar voice yells from the castle steps.

My broom sends me down and I land with grace. After I lean it against a nearby pillar I spin around to face Jay with a wide grin.

“Jay, Jay! Thou hast grown!” I greet with a dramatic curtsey.

“Come on, none of that. Get over here!” Jay laughs and wraps me up into a tight hug. “So glad you could make it!”

“Ah! G-Good to see you too!” I wheeze. “How is the lucky couple?”

The VK’s eyes dim and he nods towards the palace. “Oh, you know. Last minute wedding preparations. I’m trying to stay out of it. My job is to be the usher. But I’m sure Mal and Evie will want to see you before the wedding starts!”

Something tugs at my heart. Is that all? Nothing else to catch up on?

“Oh. I see.”

I pivot crossly and strut up the stairs, leaving Jay in the dust. My mood is beginning to sour and if this is how today is going to plan out then I’m not sure I’ll be able to upkeep this happy smile.

I sneak over to peer down the hall to Mal’s dressing room and spot Audrey giving Ben a murderous look with her hands on her hips.

“Get back to the palace, Ben!” She pushes him out and slams the door, then opens it again. “And catch your mother-in-law!”

Ben turns and sees me. “Sparks? You’re here!” He too squeezes me into a hug and I’m surprised my lungs haven’t gotten bruised yet.

“Hello, Brother Ben. It is really a pleasure to see you after all this time.” At least he tried to stay in touch.

“Are you here to help Audrey with the decor?”

Another tug. Skip to addressing the wedding and nothing else? Granted it’s his special day but surely he understands why I would be upset?

I hold my hands up and walk away slowly. “I don’t want any part of… whatever this is. I’m just here to give you both my best wishes, as well as a wedding gift. One wish.”

The door opens again and Mal notices me. “A wish? What wish?”

My eyes flash but my temper remains tamed… for now. “Any wish you want, provided it’s reasonable of course.”

“Meaning…?”

I huff. “You know, no wishing for more wishes, no resurrecting the dead, the usual stuff. Just make a wish!”

Ben can see I’m getting uneasy. Thankfully he quickly comes up with a solution.

“Um, would long-lasting happiness work? Or is that too sappy?”

I hold back a gag. “Ben, that’s the sappiest wish you could ever think of. Pick something that actually exists.”

“How about having you as our child’s godmother?” Mal thinks out loud.

“What?!” Evie and Audrey shout from inside

“You’re… expecting?” Evie asks with a wide smile and rushes over to put a hand on Mal’s chest.

Mal backs away and both her and Ben shake their heads. “No, no! Not yet. We’re just thinking ahead. Who better would be qualified than Magica?”

Ben comes up behind me. “So whaddya say, Sparks?”

Tug! How many synonyms for pain can I discover? First all this talk of weddings and love, and then they expect me to be a godmother?

“A godmother?” My breath hitches slightly. “Witches aren’t fairy godmothers, Mal. And I- I… I need a moment.”

The gathered crowd watches with confused stares as I push through and sprint back down the stairs. Thump thump thump! Is it possible to die of a broken heart?

For if to grieve is to mourn,

And to mourn is to grieve,

What can a life be if a life is no sanctuary?

Find me a word to describe my pain,

May I never feel its sting again.

Past the doors and into the gardens. Purple flames are beginning to taunt my fingertips. How can they do this? Just- Push it off?

The hollowness that haunts my soul,

My smile shows one who takes a heavy toll.

For if being alive and ripe alienates me from my peers,

Let me be cursed forever alone to persevere.

Lord’s purpose is ill-defined,

Between life and death can be a fine line.

“Hey, Magica!”

“Hello, sugar!”

My eyes fly up. “Hello Lonnie. Tiffany.” I can’t talk now. Not without breaking apart again. “I apologize but I must be going.”

The two girls wave goodbye and I pull my hood down to cover my glowing eyes.

Some say I look to kill,

But inside I long to love.

If to hate is to love, then in order to love one must hate.

Patience is at death’s door,

And time is weakening the score.

“Magica! Wait!”

My thoughts halt and I’m pulled back to the present. “Wha-? Oh. Hello Remus.”

The redhead jogs up and I see he’s wearing a spiffy suit just like the other men. It’s unclear what he does that calms my triggered pulse. He doesn’t hug me or smile like we’re old friends pretending nothing’s changed.

“Magica… I’m sorry. It- I know there’s nothing I can do to help-”

“That’s not true,” I interrupt. “You’re talking to me. That’s more than anyone’s given me all day. Thank you.”

Remus nods and offers a hand, which I look at with distrust. “It’s ok. I know you won’t burn me on purpose.”

I arch a brow. “Clearly you’ve never seen a Sanderson’s temper firsthand.”

He smirks and takes my hand anyway. “It takes a lot to scare my dad and me. How have you been?”

My heartrate has steadied. This is what I’ve been wanting all year. Closure. Friendship.

“It’s… Been hard. All I want is to grieve properly. Between solving my own family issues and worrying about self image… It- It came out of nowhere.” A building sob escapes me. “And now they want me to be a godmother.”

I anticipate more flames to jump from my hand again but none do. Remus’ eyes stay soft and comforting.

“I can’t speak for the other VKs but I’m sorry they’ve been distant. You deserved to be told.”

His gentle tone soothes my thoughts. “There is no man that hath power over the spirit to retain the spirit; neither hath he the power in the day of death: and there is no mere discharge in that war; neither shall wickedness deliver those that are given to it. Ecclesiastes 8:8. Death always follows, Remus. We’re just not always expecting it.”

Silence inches by. We both know no words can repair. I just need someone to stand by me.

Flash!

A bright blaze of blue light shines across the grounds. What in the name of Auradon is going on now?

“What was that?” I wonder out loud.

“I’m not sure. Magica, if you need to talk-” Remus says softly.

“The time for talking has passed,” I answer in a determined manner. “Right now I need to help. They may not have earned it but they still need it.”

The chauffeur starts jogging next to me and we head back towards the palace. “Count me in.”

Ahead of us I already see the other three VKs sprinting in the direction of the ocean. What could-? Oh my goodness. The bridge to the Isle is engulfed in blue flames.

“Any ideas?” Remus asks, sounding as befuddled as I am.

“Not exactly. How about you go help out with whatever damage there is to the castle. I’ll go handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

I give a steady nod to try to convince him and myself. “What’s the point of spending a year studying sorcery if you never use it?”

I hurry down the road and notice the captain of the Sea Three herself standing near the edge of the bridge. Mal, Evie, Jay, and Audrey have caught up with her.

“Uma! What happened?” Mal calls out.

“Hades happened.”

“Wow. When your dad burns bridges, he literally burns bridges!” Jay jokes.

This shouldn’t surprise me. Inviting Hades to an event in Auradon is like inviting the Mad Hatter to a trial. Chaos is sure to spark. In Hades’ situation, quite literally.

“Sparky? That you?” Uma notices me standing in the back.

The other VKs turn around. Jay is the only one to smile while Mal and Evie avoid my gaze with sheepish frowns.

“Hello, Uma! It’s been too long! Thank you again for those powdered cockleshells. They were just what I needed for my draught.”

Uma sees the others’ strange looks. “What’s all this about? Y’all look guiltier than Gil caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Did I miss something?”

Jay is completely oblivious. Mal and Evie exchange glances, trying to decide how to move forward. I’m waiting.

“Um, we… Mal and Ben asked Magica if she would be the godmother to their first born,” Evie answers slowly.

Uma isn’t satisfied. “That don’t explain why you both are so awkward. Spill it.”

Mal clears her throat and lifts her head to look at me directly. “Have you thought about it? Please, Magica? It would mean so much to us.”

I hiss at her words. “Why would you ask me to be someone so important when you didn't even bother to tell me when Carlos died?”

Everyone goes silent. One could cut the atmosphere with a sword. Here it is. No more beating around the rosebush.

“‘Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.’ Song of Solomon 8:7. I loved him, Mal. I loved him so much. And now he’s gone.” My glaring eyes catch something gleaming on Mal’s wrist. “New bracelet?”

She sees where I’m looking and stutters. “Yeah, it’s um… All the original VK crests. I…” She can’t ignore my melancholy face and gives a sad sigh. “I- We know how much Carlos meant to you, and I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“I knew.”

She blinks. “What?”

“I knew he died. When you’re a witch and you find true love, you form a love bond with them. An empathy link. You know what they’re feeling, and can tell when they’re -” I sniff. “In distress. When Carlos died I knew something was wrong. I waited to hear any news. Do you know what I was told?”

The three VKs shuffle their feet and look at the ground. “Nothing?”

“Exactly! Not one person bothered to tell me! After the first week I decided to investigate myself, and when I found out what happened-” I can’t fight the tears anymore and my eyes start leaking. Fire is crawling across my hands, which makes the VKs even more anxious.

“Magica, I- we’re so sorry!” Evie tries to comfort me.

“You never told her?” Uma asks, appalled. “Magica, if I-”

“No no, Uma. There’s nothing you could have done,” I quickly assure her. “Processing death is different for all of us. But I cannot dwell on that.” Deep breath. A gentle smile makes its way onto my face. “This is a happy day. Carlos wouldn’t want anything to spoil it. Is there anything I can help with?”

Everyone keeps staring at me. After all these years people’s stares pass right through me.

“So… Hades?”

Uma catches on and fills us in. “I tried to catch him and get him to chill but his fire hair was blowing in the wind and set the bridge on fire.”

Mal steps forward. “I need to get to the Isle and find him. Help me, please?”

“For the queen on her wedding day? I got you!” The aqua-haired pirate runs over and plummets off the bridge into the churning blue sea. Within moments he resurfaces in her octopus form. “Y’all might wanna stand back!”

She does a twirl and her tentacles send a giant wave of water rushing up to the bridge. The only one who doesn’t take cover is Audrey, who’s just walked over.

“Audrey! Look out-”

But Audrey’s too distracted by her phone to notice the giant wave coming towards her. When she gets splashed she lets out a muffled scream, then just stands there dripping wet with a shocked look.

“Thank you Uma!”

“Yeah, Uma. You’re so great,” Audrey says blandly.

“Consider it my wedding present!” Uma cackles. “Now go find your dad and I’ll get all your guests back to the reception.”

“Thank you, Uma!” Mal waves.

Uma gives a sly wink just as the VKs go sprinting across the bridge. When they’re gone she looks up at me with a sad smile.

“Mal is a good person. She’s just not the best at expressing it at times.”

“I know. In their own process of grief my name was at the bottom of the list. It was selfish to hold them to it.”

Uma stifles a laugh. “I would not think you were a Sanderson Sister. That’s got to be some of the fluffiest forgiveness talk I’ve ever heard.”

Still a pirate. I roll my eyes. “Enough chatter. Let’s get this wedding back on the road!”

Audrey really went all out with the decor. Unfortunately I’m not sure if my spells can undo the work of Hades’ power. The blue and gold banners are singed too deep. So… What now?

“Magica?”

My head perks up at the familiar face. “Jane!”

She squeals and hurries over with a gleeful smile. “You made it! I haven’t seen you since…” Her voice falters and she gets a saddened look.

I give her a soft hug. “He’s with us today. Let’s make this wedding the biggest bash of the century.”

Her smile returns. “Right! Where should we start?”

“I’m off to fetch the bride and groom!” FG announces from down the aisle.

“We’ll come too!”

Ben’s parents join her and in one big poof they vanish. Jane and I exchanged animated looks.

“Guess that leaves us to tend to the guests.”

“What do we say? ‘Sorry but the couple of the day is missing?’”

I shrug. “I could spell them to fall asleep until they get back.”

Uma gives me a pointed look. “As tempting as that is, you need to steer clear of too much magic. Girl you just got your name cleared! The last thing we need is another witch hunt.”

“Alright! Then I shall need assistance.” I throw my arms up and look around. “I need a phone-”

“Right here.” Uma hands me a small plastic tile. Is this what people are using? “Do you not know how to use a phone?”

“And you do? I thought there was no internet on the Isle.”

“That doesn't mean we never knew what a phone is. Here, turn it on.”

Uma presses a small button and the screen lights up with a picture of the ocean. “Behold! What kind of sorcery is this? Explain yourself, magic box!”

The pirate laughs at my flabbergasted surprise and touches the screen. An icon of names pops up and I very carefully click on the name I need. It’s ringing…

“Hello?”

“Tiffany, is that you?” I ask.

“Magica? Hi, sugar! What’s going on? I’m here for Mal’s wedding but everyone’s gone.”

I give a nervous laugh. “Yes, um- There’s been a slight delay. Did Audrey already call you?”

“Yeah I’ve got the taco bar set out but people are getting antsy.”

“I was afraid of that. Think you could whip up something if I get you the materials?”

I hear an excited holler. “Absolutely!”

Perfect! “Ingredients coming at ya! Pots and pans, sugar and spice, disappear from here to there when I snap twice.”

Two snaps and a flash of pink sparks and I hear Tiffany gasp. I’ve still got my touch!

“We’ll meet you in the banquet hall.” I close the phone and give Uma and Jane a mock salute. “Let’s go!”

We sprint across the lawn and immediately I spot Audrey’s eye-catching tent that’s set up down the hill. Hundreds of guests dressed in many different colors chatter and mingle. Now we just need to hope that Tiffany’s miracle baking can distract them a little longer.

“Almost there! We need to-”

Poof!

I run past Mal and- Hold up.

“Mal, guys- you’re back! And all dressed up I see!”

I’m no longer near the palace. Instead I’ve been spirited away to a forest, joining the VKs, Ben, Audrey, FG, Ben's parents, and- Hades?

“Hey, Sparks!” Ben waves. “We had Fairy Godmother bring you here for the wedding!”

“Wedding? Oh! A more private party, hm?” The other thing that’s different is- My dress? “Evie!”

The blue-haired VK grins. “Now you look like you!”

“You’re a Sanderson witch, Magica,” Mal explains. “We want you to be you for our wedding.”

I finger the purple locks that have replaced by blonde ones. "The hair too?"

"Dizzy would go nuts if you didn't!" Evie giggles.

I can be me. They even outfitted me with the hat and everything.

Mal looks around the forest and smiles. “Ok, I can work with this! All it needs is…”

“A little VK flair?” Evie inputs.

“That is exactly what it needs!” Mal agrees.

“Let’s do this!”

And here we go!

“Gather ‘round in the forthcoming night, the roaring embers blinking bright.”

I snap my fingers and golden sparks pop to life and sprinkle throughout the waning sunlight. A cozy atmosphere never hurts. Ben returns with Hades and they’re both carrying a red carpet.

“I thought he was all mad and stuff?” I whisper to Mal.

“It really wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do it on purpose.”

Aw! This is going to be a proper family wedding after all! FG waves her wand and pillars form in two rows down the aisle while Jay sets flowers on them. An altar of vines and roses grows at the end. When we all get in position, with FG as the officiant and Evie as Mal’s maid of honor, Hades starts to walk Mal down the aisle to Ben. I feel myself getting worked up and excited, and I can see they’re both really happy. Jay, the ring bearer for Ben, fetches the gorgeous ring.

“Mal Bertha, with this ring, I pledge everything that I have to you. My life, my kingdom, my heart. I promise to always be there for you, to accept everything that you are, and to always put you first.”

Now Evie takes Mal’s ring from Hades and hands it to Mal.

“With this ring, I pledge to you all the days of my life. All of my burdens and all of my joys. I promise to be my best for you, to share all my secrets and to keep yours, and to choose good always.”

No more tugs. My heart is soaring at the beautiful scene of true love. Hours earlier I was terrified to confront true love again but now I’m overjoyed at their happy moment.

“Do you, Ben, take Mal to be your wife, to love and cherish forever?” Fairy Godmother asks.

Ben’s eyes shine and never stray from Mal. “I do.”

“Do you, Mal, take Ben to be your husband, to love and cherish forever?”

Mal looks confidently joyful. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife! Bibbity-bobbity whoo!”

She waves her wand, and in another split-second poof! we’ve been transported back to the banquet hall.

“There you are!” Uma waves at me. “You just- Poof! Are you were gone!”

I smile sheepishly. “Um, sorry. It’s kinda my thing. But this time it wasn't me.”

“It was my idea!” Ben declares and squeezes my shoulder.

By now the whole crowd sees we’ve returned and cheers loudly. We appeared at the top of the stairs- Much too out in the open for my taste. I start to inch away but Jay pulls me back.

“You’re a part of this too, Magica.”

Something catches my eye. Mal’s bracelet starts to glow, and we see Carlos’ charm shimmers the brightest. Oh, Carlos. Dude comes running up next to me wearing a spiffy bow tie, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing. He’s here, in spirit.

"Mal," I speak evenly. "It would be an honor to be a godmother."

The newlywed smiles and both her and Ben press me into a hug. "Thank you, Magica. Thank you so much."

“Let’s dance!” Evie pulls Doug into the crowd and everyone starts jigging.

“You too, Magica!” Jane waves me over to where her, Tiffany, and Lonnie are.

“It’s the Sanderson witch!” Chad shrieks and all but runs straight into a column.

Audrey rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Chad. C’mon, Magica!”

After all this time I still can have friends. A Sanderson witch having friends. Maybe one day I can set mother free and I can have her back too. But one day at a time.

“Trixie! Wanna join us for sky dancing?” Jay points to the platforms lifting people into the air.

I shake my head. “No, thanks. I think I’ve overspent my welcome. Besides, that looks really dangerous.”

“Says the witch who rides a broom!” Jay taunts.

“At least I have a broom! What’s to stop you from falling off of those things?”

“Get up here, Sparky!” Uma calls, both asking and ordering.

I roll my eyes. “Very well. Broom!” In a split second it appears in my hand. “Fly!”

All of my troubles stay behind. The cool night air refreshes my thoughts and for the first time in two years I’m actually having fun. No more screaming or villagers running away. Even though Willow’s probably still mad at me.

Someone grabs my hand and suddenly I’m spun into the crowd. Goodness-!

“You stayed!” Remus grins from his own platform. “I’m so glad you’re here! May I have this dance?”

A carefree laugh escapes me and I begin to swing to the music. “You really don’t want to know about my family’s history of social events, Remus. But… Yes. I would love to dance with you.”

Oh. Oh. I wonder if…?

“Looking good, guys!” Jay cheers us on.

Is it possible…? No, life is too short to worry about Fate and true love. I’m finally happy.

We all make mistakes. Some are kind of messy, others… Almost successful in cursing an entire kingdom. But that’s past me now. And not only so, but we also glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulations worketh patience; And patience, experience; and character, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our Hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. Romans 5:3-5.

You helped me through this, Carlos. We all will remember you. Wherever you are, we wish you all the best.

(Thank you to Cameron Boyce for his wonderful talent, may he rest in peace.)

#carlos descendants #carlos de vil x reader #descendants carlos #mal descendants #evie descendants #jay descendants #uma descendants #harry hook descendants #audrey descendants #ben descendants #disney descendants #descendants x reader #mary sanderson #winifred sanderson #sarah sanderson #binx hocus pocus #hocus pocus #cameron boyce

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sailorshadzter · 9 months ago

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@jonsa-valentine

No one should forget: Eros alone can fulfill life; knowledge, never. Only Eros makes sense; knowledge is empty infinity; – for thoughts, there is always time; life has its time; there is no thought that comes too late; any desire can become a regret. - Emile M. Cioran

He watches from the head table, cheek to palm, gray eyes smoldering in their gaze.

Across the room, she mingles with the lords and the squires and the knights alike, laughing and smiling, cheeks twin blooms of rosy color. He hates to see her laughing with another man, loyal lord or not, but he forces himself to remain where he was. No matter how he felt inside, he would never cause a scene.

They are hosting a feast for all of the North, every House no matter how small has been invited to Winterfell, all to celebrate his recent crowning as King in the North. More have come than he ever imagined would, but they have plenty of food and plenty of ale to keep their guests happy and fed for the night. Naturally, he leaves the hosting of the whole thing to Sansa, who can beguile any man, who can light up a room from the moment she enters, but he finds he’s quite unhappy to see her there among them. Those very men she intends to ensure remain at their side, his side, he wishes to strike down simply for looking at her as they are now.

He sighs, heavily, before draining the last drops of ale from his goblet, watching as she shifts jauntily, hand on the lord’s elbow she stands beside, her other hand wrapped around her goblet. Jon shifts in his chair, recalling how just the night before he had felt that same hand wrapped around him, the memory sending shivers down his spine.

Just then, as if attuned to his thoughts, she’s looking his way, blue eyes gleaming in the firelight, her lips twisting with a smile meant only for him. Her pink tongue darts out, running across her lower lip and he imagines it to be sticky sweet with the wine she drinks; such a thought is more than enough to do him in and he inwardly groans, forcing his body to drive away the lustful warmth growing in his loins.

From where she stands, she can see what she’s done to him.

It fuels her, knowing what power she holds over him, knowing he was weak to only one thing in this world and that thing was her. She can’t help but to chuckle, turning away to instead focus on the lord at her side, knowing that he’s yet to take his eyes off of her. Jon was hers, that was for certain, and truth be told… She was just as much his. There was nothing she enjoyed more than the feeling of his hands running the length of her body, of his lips against her throat, of his teeth breaking skin. The sound of his lips groaning her name, of the feeling of his arms pulling her in when it’s all said and done… Every moment, she loves, and the truth is she longs for more.

Suddenly, she wishes that this party would end, but she returns to her conversation, knowing that for a few more hours, she had a role to play.

[ x x x ]

As she pulls the last pin from her hair, the door to her chamber swings open without ceremony.

It’s Jon, of course it’s Jon, and she’s chuckling as she turns to face him there, standing in the center of her room in nothing but his breeches and a rumpled white shirt. His hair, once slicked back and perfectly twisted into a bun is now wild and loose, just as she prefers it to be. “I wondered if you’d gone off to sleep,” she teases, recalling the several goblets of ale he’d consumed throughout the night. She rises up, crossing the room so she might stand in front of him, tilting her head so her hair cascades across her shoulder. “I thought I might have to sleep alone tonight.”

“You’ve not slept alone in many days,” he reminds her with a wolfish grin and she’s laughing again, slipping past him to stand beside her bed. “Or have you forgotten already?” He watches as she tugs her robe apart, allowing it to fall open and down to the floor; beneath the thin fabric of her chemise he can see her pink nipples, antagonizing him even from here. His breath catches and it’s all he can do to keep from surging forward, from tackling her to the bed and taking her for his own once more. “So many men you mingled with tonight…” He mutters, inching closer, unable to take his eyes off of hers.

“Were you jealous?” She whispers as one hand encloses her breast, thumb rubbing the most devilish of circles against her nipple. His other hand threads into her hair, tugging her head backwards, exposing the soft skin of her throat- a throat which already bears the proof of his mouth. He sinks his teeth into her ivory skin, savoring the feel, savoring the soft sound she makes. “Did you think of me with one of them instead?” His grip on her hair tightens and she laughs, her own hand finding its place over the bulge in his breeches. “Surely you realize…” She continues as his breath ghosts along her skin. “I am yours and only yours…” His mouth clamps down over hers, silencing anything else she might have wanted to say- but she supposes, that was more than enough.

Only yours… Her words echo in his mind as he kisses her, as her tongue meets his in playful banter. Both of his hands now tangle into her hair and he thinks he might never pull away, might never let her go ever again. Only when his lungs scream for salvation does he break the kiss and the sight of her panting is enough to force him to move. He gives her a gentle push backwards so she falls into place on her bed, her laughter ringing out, her slim legs exposed as the hem of her chemise rises up. “You are mine… And I am yours.” He says as he climbs over her, kissing her once more, feeling her hands as they run through his hair, a tremor rushing through him.

He’s never been more in love, he’s never been more at home.

#jonsa valentina #jonsa valentine 2024 #jonsa #actuallyjonsa #this just gave me an excuse to write some jealous jon lol #my writing #i wrote this

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corydora-writes · 13 hours ago

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Meleth nín

Pairing: Elrond x Plus Size Human Female Reader

No descriptions of physical features, but ya know, I only write for fat women.

Summary: Elrond meets you, the muse from his visions, after the siege of Eregion.

Word count: 2,122

A/N: Been having a shitty week, so this is just something I quickly wrote to help lift my spirits. Hope you enjoy it. X

Elrond perched on a sturdy branch of an ancient tree, his quill gliding across parchment as he poured his thoughts into poetry. These days, he sought refuge from his responsibilities in Lindon, immersing himself in his visions in the form of glimpses of you, a beautiful stranger. With his gift of unprompted visions, he often found himself enveloped in visions that flickered like candlelight in his mind.

He saw you wandering through a vast field of tall orange blossoms that waved gently in the breeze as you called his name softly. Your eyes sparkled like the brightest stars scattered across the night sky, shimmering with mystery and warmth. The scene shifted to your playful laughter as you splashed in a crystal-clear lake, droplets of water catching the sunlight as they arched through the air, inviting him to join you with an irresistible smile.

At last, the final vision settled into his mind like a cherished memory: you stood before him in a flowing gown, radiant as you became his bride. Though you were human, your ethereal beauty felt otherworldly, as if you transcended the borders of reality itself. What significance did these powerful images hold? Was fate hinting at a destined connection with you, the woman who captured his heart and imagination? While uncertainty shrouded his thoughts, one thing remained clear: you had become his muse. Each day, he committed himself to becoming a better version of himself, striving to embody the qualities that would make him worthy of you.

--------------------------------------------------------

Since his last quarrel with Durin, Elrond had prioritized visiting Durin and his family more frequently. Their friendship meant a great deal to him, and he was determined to mend any lingering tension, vowing never to let any resentment fester again. Elrond found himself at their sturdy, warmly lit stone table, surrounded by the rich aromas of hearty dwarven cuisine. Laughter filled the air as they indulged in generous portions of roasted meats and robust loaves of bread, their goblets brimming with ale.

As Elrond listened to Durin and Disa share fond memories of their romantic past, he felt a sense of comfort enveloping him like a well-worn cloak.

“Elrond,” Disa said, her voice clear and inviting, drawing his attention. “We’ve shared our tales and adventures. Now it’s your turn. Is there a fair maiden who has captured your heart?”

Elrond nodded slowly, his thoughts drifting away from the warmth of the hearth and into a distant realm. His gaze seemed to search for you, the ethereal figure that had appeared to him in fleeting moments.

“Yes, a mortal maiden. Her name is Y/N, and in my vision, she shines like the stars. I know it sounds strange and perhaps foolish, but there’s a connection I can’t ignore.”

Disa clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “A love that transcends realms! How romantic! But are you not worried about the differences between your kind?”

Durin crossed his arms, a frown creasing his brow. “Humans are… fleeting,” he said, a hint of protectiveness lacing his voice. “What future could there be in that?”

Disa put a gentle hand on Durin’s arm. “Sometimes, love finds you in the most unexpected ways, dear heart. We cannot judge what we do not understand. Elrond’s heart speaks to him; that is enough.”

Elrond met Durin’s gaze, unwavering. “Life is fleeting for all of us, Dwarves and Elves alike. It is our nature to grasp the moments we have, to cherish them. If this bond were to grow, it would be worth the risk.” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

Disa smiled warmly. “Aye. You speak with wisdom, Elrond. If this Y/N is as wondrous as you say, then it seems fate has a hand in this.”

“Fate or folly,” Durin muttered with a hint of skepticism, though there was a softness in his eyes. “Just remember, old friend, to tread carefully.”

“I will,” Elrond assured him. “But I cannot ignore the calling. She is a part of me, even if we are strangers.”

Disa beamed at him. “Then let us hope the stars align for you, Elrond."

Elrond returned her smile, feeling a swell of hope within him. "Perhaps one day you shall meet Y/N, and she will seize your hearts just as she has captured mine in visions.”

--------------------------------------------------------

After the brutal siege of Eregion, with smoke still curling in the air and the echoes of battle fading into memory, Elrond felt the weight of exhaustion settle upon him. His heart ached for his dear friend Galadriel, whom he had just finished healing, though the effort had drained him completely. He let himself sink to the forest floor. A group of elven healers, their expressions a mix of concern and resolve, carefully carried Galadriel away to a quieter part of the woods, where the sounds of battle faded.

“We shall return for you, Commander,” one of the elf healers said softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes as she offered him a reassuring smile.

“I am truly fine…” Elrond replied, his voice more weary than he intended. “I but only require a moment's repose…”

As the healer turned to leave, a rustle of leaves caught his attention, followed by the sound of water dripping steadily onto the earth, forming tiny puddles in the dry soil.

“Could you please lend aid to the Commander behind the oak tree?” he heard the elf maiden call to her companion, her tone infused with urgency.

“Truly I insist, it is but unnecessary,” Elrond interjected, lifting his weary gaze. “There are others who are injured and need—”

“— need you to be whole first,” you interrupted softly, your eyes unwavering. “You need to be taken care of now,” your voice interrupted him, rich and warm, commanding his attention. “Even the mightiest need to rest. You cannot bear all the burdens alone.”

He raised his gaze and found the source, his heart skipping.

Elrond blinked in incredulity. You, his muse—the very inspiration behind countless verses penned in the serene beauty of Lindon, where every word had been infused with longing—were now standing right before him, as tangible and radiant as the dawn. It was as if you had been summoned not by chance but by the very desires of his heart, materializing amidst the chaos to fill the void he had been carrying.

Elrond found himself unable to look away, caught in the depths of your gaze. With a heavy sigh, he finally relented, letting the weight of exhaustion wash over him, if only for a fleeting moment.

“Very well,” he finally conceded, his voice softening like the gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. “I will accept your help.”

“You fought well, Commander Elrond,” you said, your voice a melodic whisper as you studied the lines etched on his face. Your fingertips traced the evidence of hardship and valor, each movement deliberate and tender. The touch was gentle yet electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading through him, reawakening a sense of life he thought was lost.

“What is your name?” he asked, an insatiable desire coursing through him.

“Y/N,” you replied softly, a name practically singing from your lips.

“How did you come to be in this realm, Y/N?” he asked, overwhelmed by the mere fact of your existence beside him.

“I was part of an envoy sent to aid,” you explained, your touch gentle and comforting, reflecting years of practice. “When word of the siege reached my ears, I felt a powerful pull in my heart that drew me back to this place. It seems that fate had other plans in store for me.”

"Indeed,” He said, fighting the urge to smile because he knew with certainty that fate was unfolding right before him. “I am deeply grateful for the generous aid you have rendered to my people," Elrond replied sincerely. A warm smile spread across his face, illuminating his wise features and reflecting the kindness in his eyes. "Am I mistaken in presuming that you are a healer?" he inquired, his tone inviting and intrigued.

“I consider myself a wanderer of distant lands, and yes, a skilled healer dedicated to the well-being of others, and an eager student of lore,” you declared with a sense of pride and purpose.

"A traveler," Elrond said, a touch of sadness clouding his mind as he thought of your departure. "Where will your next adventure take you?"

You paused for a moment, your brow furrowing as you contemplated the weight of his question. "I'm not entirely certain," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "Perhaps I'll continue my journey northward and see where the path takes me." Your gaze drifted toward the horizon, filled with lingering possibilities.

Elrond felt a surge of concern twist in his chest, a protective instinct rising up at the thought of you traversing the wilds alone, facing whatever challenges the unknown might present.

"Might you consider joining us on our journey? The elven people of Eregion have faced great hardships; many have been displaced from their homes and bear the scars of battle. If you’re willing, we would greatly appreciate your ongoing skilled healing." Elrond cast his gaze downward, avoiding your eyes, feeling an uncomfortable mix of vulnerability and fear about the possibility of rejection.

"I accept," You replied with a warm smile, your eyes shining with compassion. "I would be truly honored to keep offering my support in helping your people heal," you added, your voice full of kindness and sincerity.

Water splashed quietly as you dipped the cloth into the worn bucket, the sound almost soothing in the stillness. As you began to wipe the dirt, grime, and blood from his face, Elrond felt battle weariness begin to ebb, replaced by the comforting sensation of your attentive care.

The moment feels strangely intimate. You’re so near, so close, and he notices things: the small sounds of your breath, and how your focus is intense; he observes the way your brow slightly furrows, and the world around you fades away, making your features glow with a contemplative light. More so, he notices the unfamiliar sensations that flare up when you’re near.

“Meleth nín,” Elrond murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, unaware that the words have escaped his lips loudly enough for her to catch. He quickly averts his gaze, a flicker of panic crossing his mind and he hopes that she hasn’t heard him.

“Hmm?” you query, your tone light and curious as you continue to wipe away the smudges of dirt from his face. “I assume you said something in Elvish?”

“I did…” Elrond replies, hesitation creeping into his voice. “I said ‘my friend,’” he lies terribly, and he wishes you would not probe any deeper into his unguarded moment.

“Ah,” you respond, a playful smile curling your lips as you consider the beauty of the language. “Such a lovely tongue,” you add, reclaiming the cloth to finish your task. With gentle, careful movements, you tuck a stray curl behind his ear, your fingers brushing against his warm skin as you wipe his forehead clean. The moment your eyes meet his, an electric connection ignites, and you softly whisper, “Meleth nín…”

Caught completely off guard, Elrond’s breath catches in his throat. The innocent sincerity in your voice sends his heart racing and his mind into a whirlwind of emotion. If only you understood the true weight of the words you so naively uttered, he muses, a mix of longing and trepidation coursing through him. He can't help but chuckle. The sound dances in the stillness around you both, breaking the tension and momentarily allowing him to gather his thoughts as he stands on the verge of something he cannot yet define.

"I mispronounced it, didn't I?" you asked, a playful laugh escaping your lips. Your eyes danced with a mix of humor and a hint of embarrassment, creating an atmosphere of warmth and understanding. "Well, we shall have ample time for you to teach me your tongue," you continued, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

Elrond gently releases the tension that had been coiling in his shoulders and jaw, finally allowing himself to lean back against the sturdy trunk of the tree. The rough bark presses reassuringly against his back as he sinks into a state of relaxation, savoring the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves above. You sit comfortably right next to him.

In that fleeting moment, with a soft breeze rustling the branches around him, he visualizes a future where he and you reminisce about this very instant. He imagines you laughing together as he draws you into a warm embrace.

#genna writes #plus size reader #elrond x reader #elrond x you #elrond x plus size reader #corydora writes

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