#it sounded like a pretty neutral statement and one i could imagine him making even if he'd been making good progress lately

[melrosing]

Do you think George make it in this year? Or 2025?

I kinda like that there are new covers for books, but his blog gives me controversial signals

I think (feel (hope)) we will see twow soon….

idk i do personally believe we'll see the book, i'm not as pessimistic as some people, but i also wasn't as optimistic as others were earlier this summer - i think it's going to be really apparent when GRRM is getting there, it won't just be the odd rumour.

the covers are a little encouraging tho? i work in a sort of adjacent industry to publishing so i can't say for sure that this is the case here but based on the logic of my industry at least i would be quite surprised to see new editions released if his publishers weren't expecting a renewed sales push some time soon. these things are generally timed very carefully afaik, new product releases and ad spend go way up when you think you've got your audience in hand.

you could say that the renewed push is associated with the release of the HBO spin-offs, but then why not release new covers for F&B and D&E, which supposedly would be the first books those audiences would pick up? that's why Rise of the Dragon came out to capitalise on HOTD, bc they knew new HOTD fans would go in for that sooner than AGOT. so these new editions do just seem stand out to me a little bc they've been putting off redesigning those covers for a LONG fucking time to the point I thought they never would. that said, based on GRRM's latest comments i don't think it's coming out in October lol, just that some groundwork is being laid.

[viperwhispered]

I just wanna take a moment to say thank you for always being around to chat since I don't have many to talk to about TWST. I also suck at characterization so I don't write many fics. But I was very happy when you used one of our discussions for Revel in You. I don't mind if you use our convos to write, just be sure to credit the source.

On that note: saw your smut posts. Here's an idea: Jamil celebrating his promotion to being a Housewarden.

It's Friday, there's an enormous party going on to celebrate Jamil and Kalim's new roles and the successes of the first month with this new dynamic. While Jamil is more accustomed to the spotlight, he still gets "tired out" and leaves it to Kalim to keep the party going and organize the clean up crew. After all, he's due for a more private celebration of his own.

Fun fact: for a good chunk of snake species, the male will bite the females neck to hold them down while mating.

Imagine Jamil relentlessly taking his beloved from behind, deciding they're wriggling a bit too much. Delighting in the sounds they make as he pulls them towards him by the hair, he just bites the back of their neck as his body pins them to the bed. They'll probably be annoyed by morning, but Jamil's already got some concealers beforehand.

Did I forget to mention it's a Friday, Jamil no longer has roomates, and pretty much the entire dorm is still partying to loud music several hallways away?

Also worth mentioning that, as a healthy mature couple, all of Jamil's jealousy and possessiveness is addressed in a healthy manner so the relationship never turns toxic. This statement does not apply to the bedroom.

Aww thank you, always happy to talk with you too 😊 Plus like, if you’d rather talk over messages sometime in addition to the asks, feel free. (And this applies to anyone else reading this post too.)

Yeah iirc I was thinking a bit if I should ask you about using that ask as a jumping off point for To Revel in You, but I figured I was using it more as inspiration rather than rewriting anything you wrote or anything like that. And that since you sent that ask in the first place, I did kinda assume it would be okay to build off it. But good to hear I wasn’t wrong in thinking so, and glad you liked it.

As for characterization & writing: it really is a matter of practice, I’d say. Plus, like, everyone is bound to interpret the characters in a different way, or focus on different aspects of them. Which can be freeing, in a way, knowing that you can bring to the table something that no one else can, certainly not in the same exact way you would.

Also I was actually thinking of asking for some writing prompts since the current wip seems to need a bit more time to marinate, and here you are with perfect timing.

So let’s see what I can do with this concept.

If it wasn’t obvious: smut ahead. Written with fem / afab reader in mind but I think this could be read gender neutral as well since the only specific body detail mentioned is that reader has hair long enough for Jamil to grab.

The day - and the week, and the month - had been such a whirlwind that even Jamil had had trouble keeping up with it all.

Tonight, Jamil had basked in the praises from his dormmates, their congratulations and glowing words - and noted the cautious looks of those who still had not forgotten the events of his overblot.

He had enjoyed food that was not made by him, watched others fuss over the preparations and the serving - well, as much as he had been able to keep himself from giving direction. Still, even he had not been able to oversee every single detail, as much as he wanted to.

After all, both you and Kalim had been quite insistent, in your own ways, that this celebration should be for him, not by him.

So Jamil had danced, eaten, drank, listened, talked, so much so that now when the night was beginning to turn towards morning, he had more than had his fill.

Besides, tired as he may be of the crowd, there was still something on his agenda that he was more than happy to indulge in.

You had been teasing him with promises of a more private celebration - starting from when the party was decided on all the way to when you had been dancing together earlier - and Jamil intended to finally collect his reward.

You were outside for a moment of fresh air and quiet when Jamil found you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nipping your ear.

“I remember someone promising to be mine tonight,” he murmured, voice low and husky.

You shivered, feeling Jamil’s lips on your neck. You’d half expected him to be too tired to turn your teasing into action. Yet, you certainly welcomed this turn of events, your own tiredness washed away by Jamil’s eager touch and his tempting whispers.

“You know me. Always love - ahhh - spoiling you,” you said - your words turning into a gasp when Jamil licked the side of your neck.

In no time at all you found yourself in Jamil’s room - as easy as it was to be distracted by each other, you both still preferred the privacy over lingering in the common areas of the dorm.

Jamil’s mouth was hungry on yours, his hands working quickly to rid you of your clothes.

Sometimes you wondered just how much Jamil was holding back in the presence of others, for him to get so ravenous as soon as you two were alone.

Not that you were any different, pulling away that long belt from Jamil’s hips so that you could slip your hands under his shirt, your lips covering every available bit of his skin with kisses.

It was always delicious, your naked bodies tangled together. That heady feeling of each other, both of you grasping and kissing wherever you could, like you could never quite feel enough of the other.

“So what would mister housewarden ask of me tonight?” you asked with a playful grin, nuzzling your nose against Jamil’s.

There was undeniable hunger in the way Jamil looked at you, yet also the warmth and softness of your lover that always filled your heart to the brim.

“Just all of you, albi,” Jamil murmured, pushing you down onto the mattress.

You’d entertained ideas of a celebratory blowjob, of taking care of Jamil tonight. But if he’d rather help himself to you, you were certainly not going to say no.

A few orgasms later and Jamil was pounding into you, firmly holding onto your hips while your face was pressed onto the sheets. His cock was invading your insides so hard, so deep, leaving you nearly senseless. You jolted helplessly every time Jamil slammed his way all the way in, the pleasure bordering on pain as it shot through your nerves.

“Ahhh, Jamil…” you whimpered, barely aware of the spot of drool you’d left on the bed.

“Too much?” Jamil muttered, one of his hands leaving your side to instead trail a soothing path along your spine.

“...No.”

It was a lot, your senses nearly overtaken by the intensity of it all - yet you didn’t want anything less.

Still, you couldn’t help squirming, your body twitching with every thrust, yelps and moans pushed from your throat no matter how much you tried to hold them in.

“Hold still,” Jamil grunted. 

He gathered your hair in his hand, making you gasp when he tugged. You could feel the pull on your scalp, almost like Jamil wanted to rein you in - or pull your face away from the sheets so that he could hear your cries more clearly.

“You’re all mine tonight, aren’t you? Mine to have, mine to enjoy,” Jamil breathed to your ear.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you whined, aroused beyond belief.

Always his, just as he is yours - but you had no time to vocalize that thought before Jamil’s weight pushed you prone on the bed.

Your gasp was cut short, turned into a sharp cry when you felt moist pressure at the back of your neck - a bite, you realized, some instinct telling you to keep still.

Not that you had much of a choice in the matter. Jamil’s hand, still gripping your hair. His mouth, latched onto your skin. His body, holding you down.

The weight of him against your back was almost suffocating, yet in a delicious way. Like you could be closer to him like this, more connected than just skin to skin contact - or penetration - could provide.

You could feel the rolling of Jamil’s hips against your backside, the way his cock was dragging along your insides. Not as harshly as before, yet intense enough to keep you trembling and whining with the little breath you could take.

And Jamil’s mouth, his teeth, never letting go. His muffled groans such a delicious sound, making you clench around him.

Such sweet torture, and you never wanted it to end.

Taglist since this turned into fic: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @perilous-pasta @twstgo @cannedpickledpeaches

[shiyosugi]

Hello!

I just read your "Blue Lock guys carrying you" headcanons and I thought they were cute!

I was wondering if you could write a scenario in which the reader and the guys get caught in the rain in the middle of their hangout/date?

Can you write for: Baro, Kuon, Aryu, Iemon and Gagamaru?

I don't know which characters you're comfortable writing for so feel free to leave out any you don't want to do.

Thank you! I wish you a nice day!

I'm comfortable with writing EVERY characters, to be honest. I appreciate this request! Sorry for any inaccurate stuff- and going off topic... I guess?

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE RAIN WHILE [HANGING OUT/ON A DATE] WITH BLUE LOCK BOYS

Picture from: Pink To Habanero - Chapter 3

CHARACTERS Shoei Baro, Wataru Kuon, Jyubei Aryu, Okuhito Iemon, Gin Gagamaru I will make part 2 if this got attention, which I actually might do, for now I will stick with what anon asked for! Oh, and I actually the date option, but I guess it can be seen as hanging out only as well... Well, up to you to imagine that! Also, I mostly write fem!reader, but sometimes when I wrote this kind of stuff it's gender-neutral friendly.

SHOEI BARO

"Tch." you heard Shoei as you finally turned your gaze away from your phone to him that was sitting next you. He looked pretty upset as he crossed him arms while you two were in a cafe, waiting for the rain to calm down a bit. It was clear he was upset by the rain.

You sighed and then gently placed a hand on his arm, "Hey, don't get annoyed now." you said with a small smile, he looked at you and then sighed. He had planned something for this day and how unfortunate for him, the rain ruined his planned.

"How can I not?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you and then looked away.

"Well, being all annoyed isn't going to help the rain to stop." you said with a slightly joking tone, he sighed at your statement.

He placed his hand on top of your head and then gently patted it, "I know." he simply said, he was still looking at the outside, hoping that it will stop raining soon.

"I really should have brought my umbrella with me before going out..." you said quietly as you looked down at your handbag, regretting that you didn't even bother to check your bag properly before going out.

Shoei looked at you and then shook his head, placing his hand on your shoulder now, "Well, none of us are going to expect the rain when it was literally all sunny when we went out." he said with his deep voice sounding somewhat gentle.

You were about to say something when he suddenly added, "I'm glad that you didn't get that wet." you stared at him for a moment before looking away, relaxing your body against the chair.

"But I am still wet." you said, rolling your eyes, a bit annoyed that you did get wet from the rain.

Shoei himself got wet from the rain but he was being more cautious about you, he didn't want you to get sick. "Yeah." he shortly replied, touching your hair that was slightly wet from the rain.

"We're going straight back home once the rain subsides. I hate seeing you like this." he said, referring to your wet hair which earning him a light punch on his arm from you.

"Do you really have to use the word, hate?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He stared down at you and then simply looked away. "I say what I want to say." he replied.

Eventually, when you got home he immediately told you to take a warm bath and helped you warm yourself up even more. He didn't want you to get sick because of going out with him.

WATARU KUON

While walking through the city's downtown and talking with Wataru, you suddenly a water drop on your head. Wataru felt it as well which made him looked up at sky.

It was shining bright a few moments ago but it was covered fast by the clouds as if they have just appeared out of nowhere and the weather changed fast from a clear day to a rainy one.

"Oh no..." you heard Wataru said as he took your hand and started walking quickly to find a decent place to cover from the rain.

You can see that he was upset from the sudden change of weather. You two were quick to get soaked by the rain when he finally found a good place to cover from the rain.

You didn't mean to but you made frustrate sound as you look down at your wet clothes. Wataru looked at you, he had an apologetic look upon hearing your frustrate noises. He looked down at the ground, watching the raindrops that fell from the sky hit the concrete floor.

"I'm sorry. I should have brought an umbrella with me before going out." he suddenly said, making you looked at him and saw his upset face.

You sighed quietly and then leaned forward a bit to take a good look at his face, "No need to apologise, I didn't bring an umbrella as well so you're not the only one regretting the decision of not being sensitive enough about the weather." you said with a straight face.

He looked at you, but when his eyes(that are opened in this situation), met with yours he immediately looked away. He still felt nervous to look at you in the eyes, especially with how serious you can look sometimes.

"But, I've told you that you can trust me on having fun spending time with me today..." he said in a quiet voice, eyes not wanting to meet yours. However, that won't happened as you placed your two fingers on his cheek and then turned his face to look at you.

"Jeez, no need to be like that. I trust you, but this is something you can't predict or control and you know it." you simply said, your expression softened a bit to reassure him which he noticed and that made him blushed. A rare sight of you.

"Y-Yeah- I know." he said quietly. As you were pulling your hand away from his cheek, he suddenly but gently held that hand. He stared at you for a while without saying anything which made you wondered what he wanted to say.

However, when he opened his mouth to speak you were rather disappointed with what he said, "You're really are wet from the rain." he said, looking at you, soaked by the rain.

"I can say the same to you." you replied back to him, he just laughed softly at that.

JYUBEI ARYU

You didn't even need to look at him to know his reaction at the sudden rain, "No! My hair is ruined now!" he said as he looked down at his hair, all wet and not stylish anymore.

Your sigh caught his attention which made him examined your hair that was also wet, "Your hair is ruined also. Your soft hair..." he said as he touched your hair that he had helped to make it as stylish as he preferred it.

He had spend quite a time to do his hair, as well as your hair so getting it ruined by the rain annoyed him. Well, you were annoyed as well but not having the same reaction as him.

"I'm sorry, I should have considered of bringing an umbrella..." you said, looking down at the ground feeling a bit bad that his work on your hair had to be ruined since he spend most of his time doing his hair and yours.

He looked at you and then shook his head, patting your head, "No need to apologise." he said, leaning down a bit so that his face near yours his face that you have always found pretty was close to yours.

You slowly looked at him, turning your head a bit to look at him, "Don't put that face on, it's not stylish." he said which earning him a soft laughter from you. He preferred that face on, it might not be stylish in general but for him, it was.

OKUHITO IEMON

He felt bad that you were now soaked by the rain, he thought that you have put some effort into your looks today so getting it ruined while spending time with him made he felt a bit responsible somehow.

"I should have brought an umbrella along with me." he said as he guided you to a covered area.

"Don't worry, it's fine. Not a big deal." you said as you dried your face using your handkerchief that you always have around for some reason.

"But I can see that you put some effort into your looks so..." his voice trailed off, you just stared at him before chuckling.

"Some effort? Not really. I just try to look decent." you said, and then handed him your handkerchief which he took it and then wiped his face as well.

"Well, that is still an effort..." he said as he gave you back your handkerchief. After you took it back, he looked at your appearance once more. "I thought today will be a good day for us to spend time together, I guess I was wrong." he said while shaking his head with a small laugh.

"Don't worry about it, being with you counts as well." you said which made him looked at you again, a shy smile can be seen on his face.

"Well, it could have been better." he said but you simply patted his shoulder.

"Hey, I said don't worry about it. Stop bringing down the mood." you said with a slight joking tone before laughing quietly.

He looked at you as you laughed, you were always a sunshine to him even in the rain. He loved that fact. He almost forgot about how he felt a bit uncomfortable because of his wet clothes and the cold wind.

GIN GAGAMARU

He didn't react much to the rain but looking down at you who looked annoyed by it, he immediately looked around for a shelter and when he did, he immediately dragged you there with him. You didn't even get to protest on his action since he simply carried you there.

While he was at it, he sort of covered your head a bit, a cute gesture that you appreciate. After reaching the covered area, he placed you down and then helped you to wipe your face off with your handkerchief that you handed to him before he could use his shirt.

"You still look good." he said as if to make you feel better about how your looks got ruined a bit. You looked at him and then smiled a bit.

"Thank you." you said, he looked down at you with his usual seemingly blank face.

"Here let me..." you took the handkerchief from him and then tried to reach up for his face which he noticed and then leaned down a bit, allowing you to wipe his face off.

While you did so he stared at your face, admiring your beauty. You didn't mind that, you were used to his staring so it was not really a bother. After you were done, you patted his cheek which he then leaned back.

"Thank you." he said to you and you gave him a smile, you might didn't see it but he was a bit flustered by your gesture.

"I'm sorry... Our plan have to end up this way." he said, you shook your head.

"No no. It's nothing. Don't worry." you said, he slowly nodded at your statement. While waiting for the rain to subside, he tried to entertain you which he always managed to do.

[stingslikeabee]

As far as making decisions went, Melissa had called some pretty lousy shots over the last couple of years. Perhaps Japan hadn't been the best place to pursue her dreams of finally finding a permanent home, particularly when she lacked awareness of how different Okinawa was from the rest of mainland Japan (from the dialect to everyday diet) and the intensity of the prejudice and bias towards foreigners (even more so of the female kind).

Well, now Melissa knew - but not before owing ridiculous sums of money to the worst people around, of course. Too proud to write back to family to ask for help, too insignificant for the local police or law enforcement to act (she had willingly gone to these loan sharks for financial aid, after all). It was something the girl needed to work out herself, even if the suffocating presence of Sagawa felt like a leash had been strapped around her neck, his false honeyed words always leaving the hint of a darker fate possible.

Being a woman always meant that there were more dreadful things than mere forced labor or death, really. Japan was not that different in that aspect.

But the fact that Melissa endured the strange exchange between the two men at one of the back rooms of the Grand with remarkable composure said something of her experiences already; as a hostess (even if away from mainland), there had always been a component of the job which involved being sized and appraised as some sort of prized horse during an auction. The entire idea of hostessing was rather mindblowing to a non-resident - but once she fell in the industry, the brunette discovered it wasn't so bad.

At least when she did it voluntarily and not dragged around by Sagawa like some sort of exotic commodity, even if there was nothing but the right amount of deference and respect in her gestures. But the exchange between Sagawa and Majima had been weird - when the older yakuza mentioned that Melissa would be working her debt off at a place she couldn't possibly hope to escape or run away from, the woman had imagined something different.

A far less luxurious house, for starters, and the idea that her boss would be a new type of jailer. But going by the interactions that happened just then, it didn't look like the two guys were on best terms either. Melissa's mind was running fast, trying to put the pieces of a complex puzzle together, but the best route thus far seemed to be a well-behaved, decent employee. Sagawa had power over her, enough to send the brunette to far less illuminated and pleasing establishments in Sotenbori. That she had ended up at the Grand was not precisely... Terrible.

Even if Majima was the greatest question mark of them all; he surely was yakuza too (Melissa had been around too many to tell; even if they had been Okinawa-based, those who joined the criminal life in Japan seemed to behave similarly everywhere), but he didn't dress like one except for the eyepatch. There were just... Too many questions there, but it wasn't the moment or the place to voice any of them.

Once Sagawa was out of the room, however, Majima changed; the aggressive edge from earlier seemed to dissipate and he spoke in a normal voice tone, not sounding (or looking) dismissive of her prior experience as many had been in Osaka. Blinking, Melissa smoothened the front of her dress and nodded, offering him a bow as etiquette mandated. She could do this - not her first rodeo, certainly not her first contact with the yakuza either.

"That's right, Majima-san. I'm Melissa, pleased to make your acquaintance," the introduction came easily enough in Japanese, although there was an accent there denouncing her obvious western origins. "I worked for a couple of years as a hostess in Okinawa, then a few months in Sotenbori after moving to Kansai. Nowhere near as impressive as the Grand, of course," the girl added, a statement that was meant to be sincere and also offer him some background that was purely neutral. Whether or not Majima was there to keep an eye on her, this was nothing Sagawa didn't know himself.

"I'm happy to take any questions you might have during training - I look forward to learning from your experience and that of my colleagues," the woman declared with practiced ease, which showed Melissa not to be ignorant of the peculiar hierarchy among the hostesses, too; newcomers could have a hard time, particularly if the reigning favorites were not keen on more competition, as minimal as it could be.

@stingslikeabee liked for a starter ( plotted )

business was silent in these hours, still a few customers, but not as many as these were work hours for most. majima was able to find the time to sort out some of the back area, not really being required to be out on the floor so much though he still made an effort to make an appearance every now & again.

he was checking through the orders they had put in for alcohol, making sure everything added up to the amount he paid for, it was crucial to him that he wasn't losing any money as any money lost was progress lost to him getting back into the tojo clan. it had been like what ... a year now that he had to adopt this lord of the night persona ? something majima never seen himself as, he didn't feel like he was fit for this kind of work, he really wanted to be yakuza again, but the goal still seemed so far away from him.

it didn't help sagawa didn't make things easier, while this definitely wasn't as bad as his time in the hole, he felt mentally drained, & he didn't get a break from this bastard either, dude had eyes everywhere.

a knock sounded at the door, majima figured it was likely just one of his workers, probably needing help out on the floor for whatever reason, he just hoped it wasn't something little, he really hated to be disturbed.

❝ come in. ❞

sure enough, one of his workers came in, however his eye widened as he saw who followed, now on edge, majima had not expected sagawa, but he should've, the man comes around unannounced a lot of the time, he should be used to this by now.

❝ sagawa-han ... what brings you here ? ❞

the man had that smug look on his face like he always did around majima, his eye narrowed as he saw the woman behind him, a foreign woman in a matter of fact, what was sagawa doing with a foreigner ?

majima-chan, only came around for a minute to drop something off to you, why you always so stiff when i come around, what about a 'how are ya ?' or something ? wouldn't kill you, you know, to be a bit nicer towards me.

majima didn't speak, he hated this, he hated how this man acted, if it was both of them alone, majima would likely have a hand held around his neck, threatening to cut off the air supply to his windpipes, he hated this fake friendliness the other put on in front of others. it was a long pause of silence before he did speak up.

❝ ok, what exactly are you dropping off ? ❞

sagawa merely had the foreign woman come forward, now standing between the two men, majima looked down at her, examining her visually, she wasn't bad looking at all, but what was this for really ? sagawa never really helped him with hostess, & any he did, turned out to be so foul & nasty, it hurt the business more than it helped, majima was pretty sure they were likely spies too, more eyes for sagawa, now he comes with a foreigner, whilst majima was open enough to any woman, he couldn't say his clients would be the same.

❝ this is ? ❞

your new hostess, don't worry, she's got some experience, might even attract some unique clients, being foreign & all.

great, just great, another hostess from sagawa, before majima could say anything more, sagawa waved his goodbye & left majima with this woman now alone in the room, majima still had his eye on her, not sure what to say, he guessed he had to deal with this though, maybe she'll be different than the rest, or maybe she'll be the worst, only time would tell.

❝ so, ya a hostess then, & have some experience goin' by what he says ? how 'bout we go out onto the main floor so i can run ya through some questions ? ❞

his put-on kansai dialect & soft tone of voice kicked in, he never really liked sounding uber-serious towards women, he liked to sound chill around them so they would also feel chill & safe with him.

[spice-chan]

Ethereal

Yan!Dragon King!Bakugou Katsuki x Water Nymph!f!reader

The water nymphs send an unusual peace offering this year...

Warnings: Reader sent as a peace offering so feelings of objectification are present. Yandere themes. Possessiveness. Yandere bakugou but only becomes outwardly yandere towards the end. Death (killing). Not too descriptive about wounds though, although they are mentioned (not inflicted on reader). Bakugou is a bit of a douchebag at the start.

wordcount: 4.5 k 

tags: @angie-1306 (your ask got deleted but thank god you werent on anon) @axther @reddriot​

A bundled-up body was dropped under his throne, the body writhing and trying to get muffled screams to be heard. 

“My king, the water nymphs made a peace offering. She was dropped off in front of the castle entrance.” 

Bakugou’s rich red eyes calculatedly glanced down, breath hitching for a second at the beauty of the roped female—a water nymph. An offering to him. His eyes made contact with yours, seeing the clear defiance and disdain in them, but he knows this look, behind made walls of resistance and will of steel is a petrified woman afraid of her fate. How unfortunate for you. Your eyes were wide and glassy, cute in their attempt at conveying anger, brows furrowed in a glare that merely made Bakugou smirk in amusement. Your mouth, even with the rope muffling every sound you made, clearly showcased a pair of sweet and kissable lips. 

The nymphs who sacrificed you did you no favour as well, for they left you scantily dressed, leaving you exposed to the hungry eyes of dragons around you, irking Bakugou slightly that others are looking at his prize. 

He left his throne, languidly walking up to you before crouching down to inspect you, to see what’s so special about you. The water nymphs never usually offered one of their own in their attempt at maintaining neutral peace. This ritual which they adopted since ancient times became nothing more than a nicety, they usually offered rare fish, nuts, never a full-fledged nymph, and an attractive one at that. Perhaps the fact that Bakugou, the most renowned dragon shifter finally claimed the throne made them feel unsettled. For his savage and bloodthirsty need to be the absolute best was second to none. 

His calloused palms took a hold of your face, ignoring your attempts at deflecting his hold as his massive palm dwarfed your face and made it plenty clear he can easily crush you. He inspected your face from different angles, seeing nothing extraordinary. He took this opportunity to feel up your soft skin which had been tempting him ever since he noticed you laying helplessly on the floor. He then confirmed the validity of the rumours that claimed water nymphs had skin supple and silky as water. It felt like he was running his finger across the surface of a ripple, a mere dip of his finger could breach the surface. 

Heh, you’re kinda pretty. So very different from draconian women, who had thick builds paired with excellent survival skills and shifting abilities, but you...he bets it was so easy to overpower you and wrap you up nicely for him to unpack his gift. 

He lifts you, his muscles bulging and tensing, proving that carrying you was not a struggle to him in the slightest. 

He ignores your useless thrashing, kicking and resisting like a wild bird held in a tyrant's hand. Its wings contained and nails not doing any damage, freedom seeming further and further away. He walks with you on his shoulders, his massive, hulking shoulders. 

Soon enough, the rowdy chatter of the men becomes scarce, and their figures even more so, making you double your efforts in trying to escape the tyrant lumping you on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. 

“Tsk, keep bein’ a brat and I’ll have to tie your shitty hands.” He turned his head to look at you as he said this, cementing his statement with a fiery glare that only infuriated you further. 

He ignored any protest you made after that, walking with you and entering a wing that looked to be heaven-sent from the sheer luxury, gold highlights emphasized in every corner, treasures and artefacts littered around the corridor in a painfully tidy and organised to the very centimetre, clearly they got shined twice a day. However, the further he ventured, the more the previous shine lost its glory, it appeared clean, however, the stark contrast to the speckless shine from before was clear. 

Bakugou stopped in front of the grandest door, he twisted the golden doorknob, finally appreciating your quietness. You couldn’t help it, you weren’t particularly rich back home, so to see this reincarnation of decadence really has your eyes glassing, bright in some semblance of joy, you forgot your situation for a second. 

You were rudely reminded when you were dumped down on a hard surface. 

“OUCH, YOU ASSHOLE.” 

When you looked down, however, every profanity disappeared from your tongue as it twisted in awe. You were thrown on a pile of fucking treasure. A huge, mountainous pile of glittering gold and brandished silver, rubies, and every single gem one could imagine. 

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, scowling at how much he liked the view of you on top of his hoard. He smirked, feeling prideful and accomplished until he noticed that the walls of fury and fire you built up ever since he saw broke in the worst way possible. Your face was scrunched, it felt like your cheeks were lit aflame in humiliation as tears streaked down your adorable face.

Bakugou felt like the biggest douchebag to walk the earth. 

You brought your knees closer and hid your face behind them, body shaking as you sobbed. Your tribe sent you as a peace offering, not caring for the slightest about your well being and fate, and now you're stuck here with a brute of a king who has no qualms with treating you like a glorified piece of jewellery. You didn’t want him to see this side of you this soon, you didn’t want him to see how petrified you are, how weak and defenceless you are compared to him. You wanted to rivers of anguish gushing from your eyes to stop, but they wouldn’t. 

“Hey…” he tried to console you. It was a poor attempt from an unpractised dragon. 

You tried to speak, navigate around that lump in your throat to shout at him, tell him to leave you alone, but your voice failed you just like everything tends to. 

You felt him clumsily try to lift your head in a gesture that fell between a forceful demand and a soothing touch. What is up with him now? 

You relented and showed him your puffy eyes, glistening eyes, looking at him with trembling lips.

“Tch, stop crying! You—you’ll get snot and tears all over my hoard.” 

It was the wrong thing to say, because a fresh batch of tears came, staining the apples of your cheeks. 

“Fuck—no. I didn’t mean that.”  Your sniffling was reduced to mere hiccups, break down halting at the sight of the most feared man on the earth, the legendary dragon king bakugou, most hardened warrior and skilled shifter, attempting to apologise. 

“Shit—I wouldn’t have to be so rough if I knew it bothered you this much.” He pouted, cheeks turning a shade of red that seems almost adorable, turning away from you to scowl at the floor. 

Fuck, his mother taught him better, yet the sight of you made him forget any semblance of manners, eager to get his hands on you and away from the prying eyes of people to who you didn’t belong. 

An innate sense of possessiveness engulfed him, one that can only be appeased with you sitting on the one place most intimate and guarded by him: his hoard. 

But, he’ll tone it down until he gets you more pliant and accepting. 

“Stay where you are.” He simply commanded before walking off. 

You stayed there, mind urging you to run away, a foolish choice your pride keeps urging you to make. Runaway, in a castle heavily guarded, without having the slightest clue how to get to the exit. 

Yeah, bad idea. You’re sure you aren’t welcome back ‘home’ anyway. The thought feels like a sharp dagger slicing your heart, taking its time carving the pain into you. 

Soon enough, Bakugou is back, trying to tone down his intimidating aura, but to no avail, for he noticed you shrinking at the sight of his hulking figure. It stung him a little, making his frown a little tighter. 

“Come with me,” he said curtly, then walked swiftly out, his cape swishing behind him,  making you scramble to follow him, struggling to keep up with his fast steps, frustration slowly rising like bile up your throat and making it harder to stay silent and compliant. 

He took you out of the castle, ignoring the curious looks to the best of his ability, but before he could step a foot outside the gate, he grits his teeth in anger and took off his cape. He bundled you in it and lifted you, once again, like a sack of potatoes. But you were too busy feeling like you were lit on fire as you realised that you were walking around in the outfit you were donned in or lack thereof. You buried your face in the fabric, unintentionally making a sound that’s caught between a groan and a whimper. 

He walked behind the castle, climbing places with you on his back until he got to where he needed to be

When you arrived, however, you are almost glad you didn’t voice your woos. The sight before you was breathtaking, so much so that your previous plights evaporated even if for a minute. 

The scenery was breathtaking, it was a cave, and in the corner, if it was a treasure pile, except merely saying it's a pile was an understatement as it was a mountain in its own right. The hoard you saw back at the castle was incomparable. But that’s not what truly captured you. As he led you further in, you realised the true purpose of this journey. 

There was a medium-sized pool, wide enough to fit comfortably in the cave without hogging up all the space, but deep enough that even Bakugou with his stature could enjoy a swim in it. It was clear too, so clear you felt like you could dip your leg in it and see through your very own flesh, that it would make your skin translucent. It was a shade of blue one could only dream of seeing, and after doing so would live their life content. 

Perhaps you were biased, seeing that it’s in your very nature as a water nymph to be needing close contact with water, and to be enamoured with it. 

All rationale left you though, needing for the water to cleanse you of all your stress and pain, and so bakugou’s cape slipped off your shoulders and hit the floor, your figure leaving it behind as you approached the water and slipped inside. You felt a rush of dopamine override all the negativity inside of you, feeling the water hug you, surround you, shield you. 

“So it's true, huh?” 

You almost forgot he was here, but Bakugou didn’t forget about you, not even for a second. He was watching you, fascination swirling in his pupils as your expression melted to one of near happiness, heart lurching with every cute expression you made, that *he* caused. 

“What is?” You replied, turning in the water to face him. 

“That water nymphs live such carefree lives because they spend them inside ponds and lakes.” 

You scrunch your nose at that, unable to fathom the exact meaning of his words but having an idea. “We don’t live carefree lives. Not all are given that luxury, at least not me.” You said, giving him a once over with a glare to signify that he’s the problem. He’s the root cause of your misery, Bakugou doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s quite unfortunate really. 

He shrugs his shoulders and reverts to his default face, feigning nonchalance. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem like much goes on in your ditzy head.” 

You felt your face warm, could very well hear the aggressive thrumming of your blood as you gritted your teeth in anger. And you were about to unleash the full force of your fury until you heard wings flapping outside. 

You turned your head, trying to take a glance at the disturbance, but your view was shielded by Bakugou, who moved unnaturally fast for someone who made it clear how nothing phases him. And not fast enough for you to think it’s a real threat. 

He came back moments later with an attire you regretfully recognized. 

No, scratch that, he brought several. Pale, light flowy dresses that are often worn by your people. Light enough that they wouldn’t mind an occasional soak in water. 

Your anger dissipated, melting into confusion, then quickly becoming embarrassment as you realised you were comfortably standing in front of him in your underwear. 

You should feel happy, but bile rose up your throat, the taste of humiliation clear on your tongue as you realised with distaste that he was indeed right, you did live carefreely. You also realised you won’t be able to live like that ever again, and that very realisation brought tears to your eyes once again. 

“Tch, just take one and wear it. I don’t need you crying again.” 

Your face fell, and Bakugou felt his heart twinge a little when you responded with silence, looking at your sad face made him feel oddly protective. It’s probably because you were his treasure. Like his hoard right? He always needs his treasure to be kept in optimum conditions. 

Having justified that to himself, he didn’t feel as weird now regarding what he was about to do. 

While you changed into one of the outfits he got you, he dug through his hoard, knowing exactly what item he wanted to dig out. His fingers slithered through countless gold pieces, shining enough to cure a greedy man’s blindness. He finally found it, a delicate golden chain, but what demands attention is the ruby hanging from it. He brings a thumb to it, rubbing the rock appreciatively, liking the semblance of the colour to his eyes. 

You coughed, signaling you you were done, snapping away his wondrous gaze from the necklace. 

You looked really pretty in the dress, he’s got to thank Kiri for the speed run to the shops that he did. The light material hugs your skin, looking stretchy, yet form fitting that it hugged your body in a way that made Bakugou jealous. 

You looked in your element now, but somehow the awkwardness still lingered in the air as you avoided his gaze.  

Bakugo didn’t try to be subtle when checking you out, in his eyes, you were *his* whether or not that’s what he chose so he can at least check what he has right? 

Bakugou didn’t pay heed to the slow spiral of his morals, of the things he worked so hard to uphold. His justifications were slowly manifesting into delusions. 

He approached you, ignoring the way you tensed when he went behind you, turning around to question him, but he was quickly done. Your eyes caught the glistening red ruby hanging from your neck, the colour rich and deep like red wine. You didn’t hate it, but confusion swirled in your veins at his actions. 

“Looks good on you.” The colour looks like my eyes, it reminds me that you’re mine. 

Bakugo wasn’t sure why he held off on telling you what’s on his mind, he usually doesn’t hesitate once to tell the truth. 

Your wide, glittery eyes stared up at him, trying but failing to hide their awe. The anger and resentment took a backseat to intrigue, so did he pick this out for you because he thought it would look nice on you? How strange of him. 

He lifted a calloused finger up, face now cleared and relaxed that he looked pretty, not intimidating, not barbaric, but pretty. He caressed your cheek, smiling slightly when he felt how warm it was. It slipped off his face all too soon when he took the reins back. He squished your cheek, lips once again taking the shape of a sadistic smile. 

“You look dumb” 

Your features hardened, gaze narrowed in anger and hatred that it made Bakugou surprised. Surprised by how much he hated it, or by the sheer intensity? He didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts though, because a dainty hand flew his way and slapped his hand away. 

“You-“ you nearly growled in anger, tears once again coating your eyes because of him. “You rude, barbaric, selfish, egoistical “jerk!” You shouted at him. Why were you this angry? 

“Just when I think you might be a decent person.” You rub furiously at your eyes, shoulders slouched in disappointment as you disappeared deeper into the cave and out of his sight. You were always so naive and easy to fool. 

Bakugou felt the full weight of your words weighing down on him, but he tried to shrug it off. He walked out, silently brooding with his thoughts until a servant came and delivered dinner. 

He stood up, walking to you with tje food in his arms, hoping he could butter you up with it. He found you in the deepest part of the cave, face hidden behind your knees, unmoving. 

You were sleeping. 

He set the food down, bending down to try and confirm his observation, only for a remorse to hit him like a truckload after he saw the semi dried tear tracks. He didn’t have to be that mean to you. Maybe his dragon subjects can handle it because they have thicker skin, naturally, and they’re used to him. But you were just thrust into his life today and he’d been laying it thick on you. He’s coming to terms with his attraction to you and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. 

He nudged your shoulder, not wanting to test his voice right now, afraid it might be too gentle. 

You stirred awake, your face relaxed and serene as you blinked blearily. 

“Hm?” You rubbed your eyes, looking at your surroundings with confusion. Your eyes were red. 

He wondered how much you cried. 

He mumbled something unintelligible, you turned your gaze to him, the sleepiness now almost all gone. 

“What? I can’t hear you.” Your tone was sharp and cutting, and your gaze, now devoid of all confusion, was similarly icy. 

“‘didn’t mean to make ya’ cry.” You nearly believed him, nearly. 

“What’s this? Another act to make me lower my guard? Well you don’t need to, I’m at your mercy. You can skip the pleasantries and just laugh at how pathetic I am.” 

He stared at the floor, well, *glared*. 

“You’re not pathetic.” He simply said, glaring at you in a way that dared you to challenge him”-and I’m not going to laugh at you.” 

He could speculate about his feelings all day, drown in this euphoria of infatuation, hate you for making him weak but one thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to hate him. He wants your eyes to look at him in wonder again, to admire him and fill him with endless pride, to maybe smile at him, he hasn’t seen you smile yet but he bets it’ll be gorgeous. 

It’s only because he wants his treasure to be in optimum condition, nothing more, nothing less. 

“Then why do you go out of your way to demean me?” You questioned accusingly. 

“I don’t, that’s just how I am, you’re going to have to accept it because you’re not going anywhere.” Dread filled you, knowing your days would be filled with humiliation, mocking words echoing in your head like an endless loop. 

You stayed silent, accepting your fate because what else could you do? At least you got your greatest companion to keep away the loneliness; water. He once again waited for a response that never came, and he stood up with a sigh, stretching his limbs. 

“Just eat your food. I guarantee you’ll like it.”

He said, hanging his cape around him once again, reminding you just who he is, making it flutter behind him as he left you all alone. 

He was back early the next day, he found you asleep inside the pool, your head resting on your folded hands on the ledge. The sight had his worry spike so much that a vein was visible on his forehead. He woke you up and scolded you. 

And then he proceeds to lay food in front of you, climbing up to sit on top of his hoard to watch you while you eat, not minding the fact that his gaze was sealed on you for minutes, nor the fact that at some point you scolded him for making you uncomfortable. 

You didn’t like the glint in his eyes. 

In the afternoon he was back with blankets, pillows and other gifts, hoping to sooth the raging waves of your ire. Trying to convince you that he isn’t that bad. 

After a while, his daily visits, gifts…reluctant kindness was all you knew. You were starting to let the memories of your home slip, you were accepting the fact that the previous bonds you forged were inevitably breaking. You were accepting the fact that you’re now stuck in a cave as glorified treasure. 

And it showed, the sadness on your face would linger, numbness in your tone. Even the water was suffocating. 

“CAN YOU STOP ACTING SOULLESS?” And Bakugou eventually couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to him, no longer was there a fire raging in your eyes. He’s losing the girl he met in his throne room on a fateful day. He no longer cares whether he has to bare his raw feelings to you, the intimidate, gushy, soft, mushy feelings he feels every time he sees you. He wants to hold you everyday, not like you’re an exotic treasure, *but his* treasure. He wants you have his hatchlings with you, and he wants to see you smile at him. 

“Why should I?” You replied with dullness, not particularly moved. 

“Because…” he looked constipated, his lips clamped together while his cheeks were dusted a cherry red. 

“Because?” You didn’t get it. You’re just like a piece of jewelry right? Why does it matter if you become quiet and compliant? 

“Because I love you.” He said softly, too softly for someone who looks as rugged and rough as him. Now that broke your composure. Your eyes widened, surprise painting your features as the dragon king Bakugou Katsuki just confessed to you. The greatest soldier in the land, the most terrifying shifter. 

He cupped your cheeks, softly stroking the skin, appreciating the soft texture against his scarred hand. His face was so red, even his ears but he was smiling. He was smiling so hard that you wondered whether this was the same person. “I love you, I want you to be happy.” He said, now louder, prouder and more confident in his honeyed words. 

You slapped his hand away. 

“I don’t believe you.” You cruelly stomped on his confession, making his smile fall. 

“But why? Have I not treated you well? I’ve never cared about someone as much as you” 

“Prove you love me.” You challenged, staring him in the eye before adding. 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t though.” 

You turned around and walked away from him, but he decided that wasn’t the end of the conversation and he grabbed your wrist. 

“How?!” Frustration was evident in his voice, but so was desperation. He was genuine about wanting to prove his love to you, what would people think if they saw the great dragon king behaving like this over a woman? 

You ripped yourself from his hold and spat “figure it out.” 

He came back at the dead of night, grunting, laughing and calling your name. You stirred from slumber, eyes fluttering open and peaking out from the blanket you cocooned yourself in. Yoy felt a hand brushing the hair away from your face, lips pressing to your forehead before the fog cleared away to reveal a bloodied Bakugou. 

You screamed, scrambling to move away from him, but he held you back, keeping your supine form in place. With his arms on either side of you, not only holding your arms in place but also supporting his weight above you as he stared down at you like some sort of predator. 

He laughed heartily, and if he wasn’t drenched in blood you’d find it kind of cute. 

“What? Ya’ scared of a little blood? That’s cute.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, asking shakily whose blood it is. 

His eyebrows rose, humming at your question before a cocky smirk took over. 

“You’ll see. This will show you for sure that I love your bratty ass.” He got off you, walking towards the entrance of the cave, dragging a lifeless figure with him before discarding it carelessly in front of you. 

It was the chief of water nymphs. Her old and withered frame looked pale and lifeless, yet brutal gashes littered her body.

“She was the one who sent you here, right?”  

You wordlessly nodded, eyes glued to the corpse in front of you. 

“I couldn’t set you free, ‘cuz I loved you, I won’t stand to have you around. But she hurt you a lot didn’t she? If she didn’t send you here as simply a peace offering, I would have found my way to you eventually and fell in love with you anyway. I don’t keep you because you’re another treasure on my hoard.” Despite the flaw in his justifications, his manic ramblings and his lovesick eyes, you weren’t repulsed, you weren’t mourning the death of the monster who sent you as a peace offering for objecting to her new rules. 

No. Maybe you’re as fucked up as he is, but in a moment of pettiness, you turned to him and smiled. 

You weren’t sure whether the redness on his cheeks were blood or a blush. But his eyes were looking at you like you were a miracle, a shining star, it’s like he had heart for eyes but who can blame him? Who can blame the wild thumping of his heart, that’s hammering against his ribcage like a woodpecker does to a tree? He finally got to see you smile. 

“Do you believe me now?” He said, leaning closer to you, his eyes looking misty, glistening like the ruby on your neck. 

“I do, Katsuki.” You replied, letting your eyes hold his own as you also moved closer to him, cupping his cheek, hand tangling in his surprisingly soft hair. 

He was mesmerised, breath lost at your soft touch. The only physical contact he’s had before was when he was out in the field slaughtering enemies, hurting, grabbing. Not being caressed, because that’s soft and he’s never done soft until he met you. 

You pecked him softly, lovingly. But you soon moved towards his ear, whispering carelessly. 

“You know this could cause war with the forest creatures, right? You broke a centuries long treaty.” 

He growled, giving you a bloodied grin. “Whatever those shitty extras throw at me, I can handle it. They wouldn’t pick a fight with me if they are smart.” 

You squeezed his bicep, marvelling at how hard it was, he’s not infamous for nothing. 

Is that all it takes to win you over? 

You looked down at the chief, or ex-chief. You could still remember her cold, cruel grin as she saddled you up, to make an example out of you. No one questions her rule, no one has the right to, even if she endangers them, even if she takes the land that they always freely enjoyed. 

Yeah, maybe that’s enough, you believed him. Or maybe you’re picking your own poison. 

[mandoalorian]

hello, lovely. i'm stalking you today but not on purpose. can i pretty please request general - #12 on the prompt list with din djarin? i'm feeling soft today. 🥰 thank you.

Glittering Silver [Din Djarin x Gender Neutral!Reader]

Prompt: “Come back to bed, please.”

Summary: The Mandalorian hasn’t been sleeping much lately, and tonight is the night you find out why.

Warnings: mutual pining, soft fluff/smidge of angst. [Rated T]

Reblogs appreciated because it’s not showing up in tags🤍

It was hard to tell whether or not you were overstepping. You were, after all, only ‘crew’ on the Crest. You weren’t even sure if you could call Din a friend, really. You’d like to think he considered you a friend. You helped with his kid and he occasionally showed you sentiments of gratitude. But, he wasn’t the easiest of people to read.

The past few nights, something had been preying ��on his mind. Something had been keeping him awake. In the darkness of the hull, you could hear the clattering off his beskar armour as he dropped it to the ground. You usually slept on the floor, with a crocheted blanket that Din purchased especially for you, from a market in the Illenium System. “My pilot chair is a lot more comfortable,” his gruff voice would tell you, every damned night. “Or my bed.”

But you were used to sleeping on the floor; and with the blanket, it truly wasn’t so bad.

Despite it being completely pitch black, you could just about make out the glittering silver that shone by your feet. He’d discarded his plates of armour into a pile and was now wearing only his dark grey sweatshirt and black pants. He was circling around you, his footsteps heavy as he paced back and forth.

“...Din?” you rasped out, rubbing your tired eyes. There was no way of telling just how late it was.

The footsteps suddenly stopped.

“You’re awake.” Din’s voice was sweet like honey, but also, unmodulated. His words came out like a statement, rather than a question, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he sounded panicked.

You didn’t exactly want to tell him how his antics had been keeping you awake these past few nights; or how you were more than aware of his newfound habit of pacing around in anxious circles by your feet.

You knew he wasn’t wearing his helmet and so, out of respect, you closed your eyes again.

“What’s wrong?” you simply asked, tredding lightly on your words. Din was never one to open up or talk about his feelings.

“Can’t sleep.” he responded.

Go figure.

“Why?”

Another pause.

“You can’t be comfortable on the floor,” he huffed, and Maker, he sounded frustrated more than anything else. “Just— come to bed with me, please.”

It’s what he’d been asking of you for weeks now.

Was that really what had been preying on his mind? Your comfort? Surely not. You’d expressed more than enough times you were fine sleeping on the floor.

It’s not that you didn’t want to sleep with Din... you actually really liked the thought of your bodies crushed up together in such a close proximity. You liked the feeling of being snug against his chest and hearing his gentle snores. Maker, you liked him. It’s just, you didn’t want to overstep your boundaries.

“There’s not a chance the two of us will fit in that metal slab you call a bed,” you chuckled softly, dodging his request just like he’d dodged yours. “Why don’t you lay here, on the floor? There’s more than enough room.”

“I can’t.” he replied sadly. His dejected tone only confused you further.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” You padded down the floor next to you with your hand and straightened out your blanket.

“It won’t help.”

Won’t help what, exactly? You stiffened slightly. “I’m not following...”

Din sighed. “It won’t help,” he snapped again, this time his voice even more gruff and angrier than you’d ever heard him before. “You were only meant to be crew. Only meant to help with repairs on the ship and take care of the kid and— that’s it! That’s all you were supposed to be!”

“Din I don’t— I don’t understand—“

“Do you not want to sleep with me, is that it? Because I’d never force you, but just— make it clear. Be clear with me.”

“Is that what this is about?” you quizzed, completely and utterly baffled.

“I— I— agh,” Din kicked the pile of beskar armour, and cursed in a language you could only assume was Mando’a. “I have feelings for you!” He shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls in the dead of night. “And I shouldn’t! I know I shouldn’t. But listen, you always look so pretty when you’re fixing up the engine and you have grease on your cheeks and oil splatters on your clothes, and your hair is sticking up in random directions. When I see you holding Grogu, my heart melts. And I feel bad for him because he loves you so much. He’ll be broken when you eventually leave. Because everyone always leaves eventually.”

Sometime during his outburst, you had stood up and tried to make your way over to him, your eyes still shut. Your arms were extended, trying your hardest to feel the way. Your stomach burst into butterflies when Din grabbed onto your hands and steadied you.

“Who says that I want to leave?” you sniffed, feeling completely and utterly full by his revelation. “I— I have feelings for you too.”

Din made a exasperated sound and dropped one of your hands. “No,” he muttered. “You haven’t even seen my face. How can you have feelings for me? You won’t even sleep with me.”

You let go off his hands and reached up, cupping his face. In the darkness, you could feel the brassiness of his stubble and the sharpness of his jaw. No, you couldn’t see his face, and you were fine with that, but there was something so special about him letting you touch you this way. It was an intimacy you’d never experienced before.

“Come back to bed, please.” you whispered.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Din croaked, trying to fight back tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, softly shushing the bounty hunter. “Come back to bed with me. Let me hold you.”

He did, eventually, without any further protest.

Knowing he was comfortable in his own bed, you slipped in next to him. There was no need for any more fighting or arguing when you both felt the same way about each other. Your mind was racing a million miles an hour, in complete disbelief that he actually liked you back. It felt like a dream you were unable to even fathom.

It was cozy at least, your warm bodies pressed against each other just like you’d imagined. You wrapped a tired arm around Din’s torso and shuffled into his chest.

“I do have feelings for you, Din,” you admitted. “I have for a long time. I didn’t want to sleep with you because I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” Din asked.

“No,” you replied. “Scared of what it might do to us. I didn’t know where we stood.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

You smiled to yourself and reached down to hold his hand. “I’m just glad I know now.”

———————————————————

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[mcwriting]

it's just part of the job

This is a once shot based on a request by @laurentrvn! I really loved the idea and tried to stick as closely to the prompt given, so I hope you enjoy!

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1248

Warnings: can't think of any, it's pure fluff

><

You were exhausted, to be frank.

It was just past 2 a.m. in yours and Tom's London home as he prepared for a late night TV interview based in Los Angeles.

The show was taping his part at 8 p.m. their time, which converted to 3 a.m. yours during the summer months.

Normally it wouldn't have been that big of a deal.

You were so proud of Tom for his upcoming film, but you were actually in the middle of shooting your own movie in the city, something you'd been busy doing all day long.

Crazy hours are just part of the job, though.

The interview wouldn't be long, so you'd agreed to stay up with your boyfriend and make sure he was well styled so he wouldn't have to call other people to the house in those early morning hours.

Thankfully, you were going to have a two-day work break anyways as your film's scripts went through some minor rewrites.

Because of the ridiculous hour, your stomach had decided that 2 a.m. was the perfect time for a snack, so while Tom dressed you had decided to scrounge around the kitchen until you found something good.

You brewed some tea in the meanwhile, both you and Tom deciding that this wasn't an ideal time for coffee, especially considering you hadn't slept in at least 20 hours.

You walked into the bedroom, a small tray in hand with the tea and snacks stacked carefully.

"Hey I got some fruit and some cookies but let me know if- woooow..." you said, brows raised once you saw Tom's outfit in the reflection of his full-length mirror.

He'd chosen to dress in a shirt you loved, a button up with thick vertical stripes tucked into some grey slacks, an outfit which was reminiscent of 70s fashion.

You had to laugh at the fact that he was even wearing pants, though. Unfortunately he'd learned the hard way what it was like to forgo pants on a zoom meeting, so he swore to wear them for any video call from now own.

Who knew, he might even be asked about it in his interview tonight after his boxers had previously gone viral.

Tom turned and smiled at your pleased reaction, walking towards you. After you set the tray down, he snaked an arm around your waist and planted one kiss on your forehead and another to your lips.

"Think I look good, eh?"

"I'm loving the fit, but we need to put a little makeup on you," you said, shimmying from his grip and disappearing into the bathroom to find the foundation his stylist had explicitly told him to use tonight.

When you returned, he was indulging in a chocolate chip cookie, the crumbs all over his mouth.

"While you finish that, I'm going to start on your forehead," you explained as you began dabbing a beauty blender along his hairline. After a few minutes, he had an even layer painted over his face and neck.

"Am I done now? I'm supposed to log onto the call soon," he pouted.

"Almost, I just need to swipe on a little blush and neutral eyeshadow and you'll be all set," you answered, focused on picking out a blush color that would look natural on camera.

"I don't even get why I need makeup. They're going to be seeing me from my shitty computer camera and office lights. I mean look at you. You're not wearing makeup and you look great!"

You paused brushing a light rouge over one cheek to give him a half lidded look.

"Nice try, but we both know I look like I was run over with a truck," you joked.

It's not like you were even trying to sound self-deprecating, it's just that you had been awake far too long after having done a physically taxing shoot all day.

The second you'd gotten home, you'd showered and gotten rid of any trace of makeup, leaving you bare faced with damp hair that wet the collar of your old t-shirt.

"Well I think you look beautiful," Tom reiterated, kissing your forehead again as you went to grab eyeshadow.

You hummed in response and quickly brushed a light tan color over his eyelids to complete his look.

"Okay, all done. You did a good job on you hair," you commented, still instinctively reaching up to reposition a curl.

"Well that's perfect, because I need to get logged on. Why don't you relax and I'll come get you when I'm done, yeah?"

You nodded and let him go, watching him head across the hall as you sat at your vanity, sipping on the tea you'd made for yourself.

><

Though it took almost 30 minutes of sound checking and ensuring a good connection, Tom's interview had only lasted about 10 minutes.

When asked about the time in London, he'd only had one answer:

"It's just part of the job"

As expected, he'd had to show off his pants and make sure everyone knew he was wearing them despite the wee morning hour. Also unsurprisingly, he'd been asked where y/n was, explaining her taxing day and praising her for helping him get ready.

Once he closed up his laptop, he got up and turned out the office light. He then untucked and unbuttoned his shirt, ready to put on some comfy clothes and get in bed.

"Hey I'm don-" he paused and stopped in the doorway, grinning.

In the 40 or so minutes since he'd left you, you'd fallen asleep with your head down on the vanity, a half-eaten cookie in hand and your hair splayed all around the desk.

"Darling, are you awake?" he asked in a whisper, his hand gently placed over your shoulder, to make sure that you weren't just resting your head.

When he got no response, he knew you were actually asleep.

Tom quickly removed his unbuttoned shirt and exchanged his slacks for sweatpants. He also haphazardly took a makeup wipe to his face, knowing that leaving makeup on his face would cause it to break out.

Once he was cleaned up, he came back into the room to take care of you, starting by removing the cookie from your hand and placing it back on the tray.

He sat you up, your head rolling backwards until his hand could catch it. Thankfully you hadn't scooted the seat forward at all, so all he had to do was hook an arm below your knees and the other around your back.

He stood with a little huff, your dead weight no match for his strength.

Though you were asleep, your head instinctively turned into his chest as he transferred you a few feet and laid you gently on the bed where he had folded back the covers.

The missing warmth of his skin awoke you as he shuffled to the other side of the bed, so you stretched and yawned.

"Sorry that I woke you love, I was trying to be gentle," he whispered, sliding onto the mattress as you rolled to face him, still exhausted.

"It's okay. How did it go?"

"Amazing of course," he punctuated the statement with a forehead kiss. "He asked what you were up to."

"Hmm. What did you say?" you asked, cozying up to Tom.

"I told him you were out partying while I worked all day, as usual," he joked.

You snorted, not having the energy to fully laugh at his joke.

"It's just part of the job," you retorted. You were starting to slip away again.

"G'night, Tom. Love you," you slurred hazily.

"Good night, darling. I love you, too."

><

A/N: Ugh this was so cute are you kidding me??? Pretty much all the credit goes to @laurentrvn like I said before. I was given pretty much the backbone of this fic and just filled in the missing pieces, so I hope it's what you were imagining with this!

Thanks for reading!

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[yniswaifu]

1. Suna

You exit the booming nightclub through the emergency exit, wanting to escape the loud music. Nothing about it was YOU. And yet, here you are.

You see a tall shadow already occupying the other side of the wall, their shoulders hunched as if they were hiding their activity from the outside world. But well, what did you know. Everyone has stories – just like you did when you decided to take up your friend's advice for a 'good distraction'.

What's so good about it? You think as you close the door behind you, the music fading in the background.

After you're out in the open you see the person. It was a man. A very, very pretty man.

His eyes were downcast on the phone in his hand. The hair reflected the neon lights above his head, and the outfit – a hoodie and some sweats from what you could see in the dark alley if you squint made him look broad. From what you could make out in that split second checkout session, he had a great side profile.

He could have been a good eye candy were you not in a sour mood.

But not today handsome.

Sighing, you turn away. You were regretting everything. And the nightclub trip wasn't at the top of the list. You shuffle inside your jacket pocket, to reveal a pack of cigarettes. Again nothing about it was you. Then why were you doing it? Because it's a 'good distraction'.

"smoking is bad." you were in the middle of lighting the white tobacco stick when the voice spoke to you.

You stop midway, slowly lifting your eyes to see the possible eye candy looking at you with a blank face. His eyes were slanted, almost fox like. Heck, he almost resembled a fox. But boy was he attractive. And popular.

You weren't unfamiliar with sports. In fact, you quite enjoyed watching sports as a pass time. So this man, who was telling about smoking, Suna Rintaro himself, was no stranger to you.

But you weren't in a mood to either ask for an autograph or talk to anyone. If you were, you wouldn't have left your friend behind in the club to come here. So you certainly weren't going to talk to him.

Suna kept looking at you, expecting a reply perhaps. But what you did even shook you to the core.

You looked right in his eyes and took a smoke.

Of course, the plan backfired.

A rough round of cough threatened to leave your lips and you immediately turn to the other side, trying to be discreet about the failed mission. You were expecting him to laugh, or scoff, something remotely snarky, but there was no sound. Curious, you slowly turn back, peeping at Suna from under your lashes to see him look at you with...confusion?

"what is it?" you ask him, your voice barely audible.

Shaking his head, the six feet something fully turned towards your direction and stood straight, with his hands crossed.

"do you seriously have so much tragedy in your life that you'll resort to" he directs his head towards to the cigarette, "this?"

You looked at him baffled. Was this guy always this nice? As far as you remembered him, he always has a poker face. He didn't talk much during interviews either. But he was a great player, and the crowd cheered like crazy whenever he would block those super strong spikes. So what's with this extempore counselling session?

Laughter bubbled out of you, looking at the situation. Here you are, standing in the back alley of some nightclub, talking about life with a famous sportsman.

Suna waited for you to finish laughing. If anything, he kinda felt glad you laughed. Because the moment he saw you, and your eyes, he couldn't grasp the fact that someone could have such sorrow in them. He didn't even have to go under proper lighting to know that you were here to distract yourself. Including the pack of cigarettes you took out of your pocket. Suna was a sportsman, and health was something he always had to take care of. So he couldn't stand seeing someone else try to ruin their health just for some temporary relief. It was so not worth it.

You slump against the wall, your laughter dying down. He was right. You couldn't deny that. These things will only give you temporary satisfaction.

"I'm sorry." you say, smiling because you're suddenly high on adrenaline and pumped for this heart-to-heart. You don't know why, but you felt you could just go bare in front of this man. And he wouldn't say a thing. Moreover, you didn't have anything better to do. And it seemed like Suna didn't either because he too leaned against the wall, making himself comfortable.

"that's fine. I'm sorry too. Didn't mean to be so rude and abrupt." he says.

And he's polite, you think.

"nah. It's fine. By the way, I don't smoke."

"that I can see. So? Why did you do it?"

You look at Suna for a minute before looking to the front. "boy problems."

Before he could even say anything, you start laughing again. Adrenaline or not, you definitely seemed high on something.

"can you imagine? I'm resorting to these methods because some stupid person decided to dump me." you continue, your voice bitter.

Suna was silent. You turn to see him looking at you with an emotion you couldn't quite understand. He was frowning, but he didn't look mad or anything.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you ask him, a little flustered because come on, it was Suna Rintaro and he is staring at you so intensely.

"I don't understand..."

You tilt your head at this statement, confused. You expected him to roll his eyes and leave, which you didn't want, but he had better things to do than listen to you talk about this.

At least that's what you thought before his reaction.

"was it your fault that he broke up with you?" he asks after some time.

Was it? You don't remember. You always did everything, even went out of your way to make your partner happy. You sacrificed so much. Then why? Why did he break up with you and didn't even say the reason? What were you missing? Why couldn't you make him happy?

So many questions, and to think the break up happened over text. You hadn't even gotten a chance to resolve this because all you can think about is — distracting yourself from the issue will somehow make everything better.

Suddenly the vibe surrounding you both dropped certain degrees. The question that Suna hit you with brought the memories and words back like a big wave, and suddenly you felt like you were drowning. It was suffocating, overwhelming, and your hands shook beside you. But you didn't move. The therapist you consulted, in other words Google, had advised you to take deep breaths when you are hyperventilating. So you did just that.

You hadn't realized that during your moment, Suna had already come by your side, rubbing your back in a soothing motion, whispering words that you didn't quite catch. But it was something between 'breathe' and 'it's fine'. It's like your ears were blocking his voice and everything else.

Slowly, you return to your senses. It was so embarrassing, but you were grateful Suna caught you before you fell deeper.

"thank you" you tell him, moving his hand away.

Suna backs up the moment you stand straight, his hands beside him. "no problem. I'm sorry for asking it."

You sigh. "it's not your fault. I just...I'm sorry for this. You shouldn't see me like this."

"you couldn't help it. It's okay. We don't have to talk about it."

You don't reply immediately. After a few deep breaths, you calm down, then look at Suna. His expression neutral, with hints of worry. "it's not something I did. Or...maybe I did." you decide to answer his question. "I...I don't know. It's just, I thought I could forget it. But you know what they say, first love isn't easy to forget."

Suna just nods in understanding. "I guess it isn't."

Both of you fall into silence. Suna observes that you need to calm down, and he felt he shouldn't pry more. First of all, the words he had spoken were something no one tells a stranger. And Suna wasn't the type to do it at all. In fact, this whole encounter was surreal to him. All he wanted was to call home but the restaurant across the street was filled with Bokuto's loud ass and he wanted some peace and quiet to talk. So he came here, in the quite place and then you exited the club. The rest is history.

"so..." he starts off, unsure what to say.

"so, I hope you have a goodnight Suna." you reply, smiling at him. This was enough for the prompt therapy session.

Suna's eyes widen for a moment before they go back to normal. He had almost forgotten he was a national player and that people will recognize him. He returns your smile and you were dazed by that smile. Well I'll be darned, is what went in your head.

Shaking off the thoughts, you wave at him before turning to return to the club and inform your friend that you want to go home. You were never a party person and you certainly ain't gonna change now.

That's when Suna interrupts you and goes, "do you...maybe wanna exchange numbers?"

What compelled him to do that? Even he himself didn't know. He asked for your number before even asking your name. He asked for your number when all he did was help you from passing out because he triggered bad memories.

But he wouldn't want to take back this moment. In this moment, your vulnerability resonated through him. It's not he's had first love or any serious relationship, but seeing you like this, made him curious and cautious. Do people really spiral down when they lose what they hold on to tightly? Do expectations hurt this much? Because he wouldn't know. He never expects much from anyone.

Perhaps it was some repressed saviour complex inside him, or the fact that you looked beautiful even when you were breathless. Or that when he held you up, he didn't feel like letting you go and was disappointed when you moved him away. He just felt a certain attraction towards you. It didn't hurt to act upon that feeling right?

You stop in your tracks. The gears in your brain turn, and you went into a deep thought. Finally, you look at the hopeful guy in front of you.

"sorry Suna. I really appreciate you talking to me, but I can't do this. I'm still not over him." you say, your voice solemn.

A flicker of disappointment passes his eyes, you notice. You felt bad for doing this. But you had to. Because from what you saw tonight, Suna didn't deserve someone like you. He was a great guy, who should go for a great girl.

That's why you had to do this. But you also wanted to be clear about how you reciprocated the attraction. The timing is wrong. So you walk up to him, and place your hands on his cheeks. "I need to get over him before I come to you. Because you are more than just a random stranger at this point. I mean, you saw me at my worst and it's not even been an hour since I met you. And if we start this, we do it the right way. So I can't just brush you off just like that. That's why I'm asking you – will you wait for me?"

Your words were sincere, but does Suna believe that? Not really. For him, it was a clear no. In a nice way.

Nodding, he looks away, probably regretting this with every bone in his body. But your words still held onto him like an anchor. How long did he have to wait for you? His whole life? Surely you didn't expect him to do that. So you thought of a better way to reject him. And guess what, it worked.

"right. Have a goodnight then." he says and walks off hurriedly. You watch his figure disappear off the corner, and you close your eyes shut to assure yourself.

This was for the best.

***

Suna waited.

He said he wouldn't, he said he will do everything in order to forget about you. But he waited. Somewhere in him he hoped you actually asked him to wait, and that you were going to come to him, with a smile reserved only for him. That you would go lengths for him and that he will replace the first love you had.

So he waited. He was glad he did.

Because there you were, standing in front of him. Your face looked better, healthier, and you were smiling. Your eyes that once held sorrow and pain was looking content in this very moment.

He walked up to you, his breath visible in the cold winter evening. It had been almost six months when he last saw you. He never expected to see you standing outside his apartment complex when he was going to the convenient store to get groceries. And you had changed so much in that time. Beautiful nonetheless.

As soon as he was close enough to see your orbs soaking in his figure, Suna slowly exhales. "how did you know where I live?"

You laugh at his question. Well, he ain't wrong. You did pop out of nowhere.

"I have my ways." you say, a sly smirk forming on your lips.

Gosh, how much you had changed. You're even making jokes now.

"I asked my friend. She works for the paparazzi." you answer truthfully after some time.

Suna's eyes widen. "dang. Then I better stay away. Who knows where you are hiding your friend now." he jokes, looking around.

You giggle at his words when you see him looking at you with a soft expression. You know what he was thinking, but chose not to say anything. You stepped closer to him, your fingertips almost brushing with his. Your breaths mixed together as you continued to stare at each other.

Suddenly Suna's eyes flash with worry. "are you sure you're over him?"

You knew he'd be worried. You wanted to make sure you finish everything you held onto before moving forward. So you went back, and talked it out with your ex. Truth was, both of you had fallen out of love. But you realize that much later. And when you did, you felt terrible to push away the only guy you saw a potential future with. So you got to work. You fixed your life, fixed your relationships, and fixed your head space. When you felt yes this is it, you asked your friend for Suna's address. Of course, she was curious at first. But when you answered that you like him, without any explanation to be exact, the friend didn't even bother asking for details. She knew how much the previous relationship hurt you, and seeing you moving on was enough reason to give you Suna's address.

"yes. I have no lingering feelings left. I never did actually. But I knew I had to fix myself before I move forward. So that's what I did. And here I am." You shrug.

The man in front of sighs in relief. Suddenly, he rests his forehead on your shoulders, fingers intertwined with yours. "took you long enough." his voice but a loving whisper.

You tighten the grip on his fingers, his cold hands in your warm ones. "but you waited."

A smile forms on his lips. "but I waited."

I'm going through an Inarizaki phase guys. Please bear with me. Also, can you tell I have a special place for Suna in my heart? Because I do. I felt Suna needed a serious scenario, one where he's actually mature and don't just look bored with life. I mean, grown up Suna would definitely be more in touch with his emotions. Yeah. So I did that. It's a bit on the sad side, but the ending is happy enough I guess? I'm sorry if you didn't feel like it. I tried.

[poptod]

A Special Kind of Attention (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The young Prince, who you are in the employ of, enjoys playing pranks and generally tormenting you.

Notes: pretty heavily implied male reader, but its still gender neutral! if you ever wanted to dom ahk, heres your chance to live vicariously through your imagination. ahk has some major bde in this fic WC: 3.6k

*- this is a reference to a wellknown myth at the time. basically, its saying he should stick cum up his ass (and thus label himself a bottom)

+

No matter how much sweat had gathered on the back of his sun-burned neck, he comforted himself with the fact that this would be, in the end, very much worth the work. Below his clinging hands, the bag sloshed with well water. He had passed by you earlier in the morning, as you stood guard outside the city gates, your attention unwavering from your duty. The sight of you followed by a well brought an idea into his head, and he decided seeing you drenched in water would be a fun activity.

He'd done worse before, to be fair––always to you, never to any of the other soldiers, and certainly not any civilians. By now you must've grown some deep seated resentment for him, but you never let it show. That was part of the fun––seeing just how far he could go before you lost it.

Keeping his back pressed to the wall of the entrance, he snuck up behind you, careful to keep slow so the swishing water didn't give him away. With one great heave, he moved to the tips of his toes and dunked the bag over your head, sprinting off with maniac laughter as you shouted, yanking the bag off just to see him disappear. From a distance he watched how your skin glistened, and how he could very nearly see through your clothes.

Unbeknownst to you but known to him, you would see each other later tonight––the  soldiers were being rotated again, meaning the soldiers by the Nile were to protect the palace, and the palace soldiers would take over observation of the outer markets. Ahk grinned to himself, imagining you looking over dinner. It wasn't often that he got to see your behavior in front of the Pharaoh, but each time was such a treat, watching you keep perfect posture and composure as he teased you any way he could imagine.

That night, he eyed you from his seat at the long dining table. You were positioned in front of the entrance of the hall, opposite another soldier, whose name he didn't care to remember. As always you kept your chin high, eyes trained on a distant wall.

He stared for as long as he could, and when at last your own gaze wavered to meet his, he winked, biting his lip with a smile. You turned away immediately, flushed with warmth.

"You're quiet this evening," said the Pharaoh, his attention directed to Ahk, who turned with wide, surprised eyes.

"Apologies," Ahk said as he returned to his dinner. "I did a lot of studying today, so my mind is a little... flighty, right now."

"I didn't see you in the library," Kamun said, raising a single, accusatory brow.

"I went to Osiris' temple to practice my handwriting," Ahk returned curtly, a quick and succinct statement that was as effective as it was fake.

"Good man," his father said with a smile. "Taking initiative. Why don't you ever do that, Kamun?"

Kamun, the eldest brother, seethed in his spot but said nothing. He was the least charismatic of the four brothers and also the most dedicated, which was an unfortunate combination for a man as prideful as him. All the work he did was brushed away, always dulled out by his younger brothers' accomplishments, yet he very rarely mentioned his own anger in front of his parents. No, most of the time it came out when Ahk was alone.

That was how you found him after dinner; his face shoved against the coarse wall, arm twisted painfully high behind him. Kamun had a knee in his back, keeping him pinned there.

"Admit it was a lie, brother," the elder hissed, readjusting his grip on Ahk's head to bang it harder against the stone.

"Go stick a head of lettuce up your ass*," Ahk said, laughing at his own joke until Kamun knocked his head against the wall again, a hollow thud coming from his skull.

You cleared your throat and both their struggling ceased, the two parting from each other.

"Good evening, my Princes," you said quietly, stepping nearer till you faced them both. The muscles in the back of your hand rippled as you strengthened your hold on your spear.

"Hello," Ahk said dully as Kamun stormed off, his hands balled into fists even when he disappeared around the corner of the hall.

You watched as Ahk rubbed at his sore arm, massaging away the strain.

"You know, he wouldn't do that if you weren't such an asshole to him," you said offhand, looking down at his injury with an unimpressed expression.

"Why are you nice to me then?"

"If I wasn't, I would get my head chopped off," you reminded him.

"Oh," he grumbled. "Right."

"I'm sure you don't need an escort to your room. Good night," you said, turning to leave before a hand grasped your upper arm, whirling you back around.

"He knocked my head pretty hard," he said with a dazed, shit-eating grin you knew all too well. "Might need some help."

You very nearly groaned audibly, but you managed to keep it behind your lips. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, was all––besides, this wouldn't take long, and you would be able to retire to your quarters, which had recently been moved into the palace. You comforted yourself with that thought as you silently walked down the halls.

Ahk being shorter than you did little to make you feel less humiliated. Actually, it only worked to make you feel worse, being bossed around by someone both younger and smaller than you. You supposed that was how most people felt when children were made Pharaoh.

"So," Ahk began, his hands behind his back, "how's your day gone?"

"Someone threw a bag of water over my head that disturbed several of the market stalls, and many merchants got angry. So we had a tussle outside the city," you recounted blandly, your eyes straight ahead despite the wealth of expressions coming from the man beside you.

"Sounds like someone made your day interesting," he said along with a smile, neither of which you replied to in any way.

By the time you made it to the double doors of Ahk's bedroom, your grip on your spear was so tight you were surprised it hadn't snapped in half yet. You helped him open the doors, weapon still in hand, and kept the doors open as he stepped inside.

"Good night, m-"

"It's still early, why don't you join me?" He asked, tilting his chin upwards with a cocky look in his eye.

"I really should -"

"Come," he ordered, beckoning you over.

Again you bit the inside of your cheek, and followed him in, letting the door slowly swing shut behind you.

"You want to know something I admire about you?" Ahk said as he wandered into his room, leaving you in the middle while he searched his bookcase.

"What's that, sir?" You asked, despite not wanting to know in the slightest.

"You've got quite the resolve," he said, turning back to you with two chalices and one jug. "Haven't seen it break yet."

"Well, I was trained in Thebes, sir. They're thorough with their teachings."

The prince handed one of the cups to you, pouring red wine that sloshed and bubbled as it landed in the goblet. He filled his own glass before setting away the jug. With that he clinked his cup against yours, the empty tink ringing in the silence. He drew a long sip, his eyes trained on yours, and remaining so even as he lowered his cup.

"Tell me about your family," the Prince said.

"I'm not sure how that's relevant to anything."

"Come now, you know all about my family--"

Who doesn't, you thought.

"––and I think it's only fair I know something about yours."

"Do you ask this of all your soldiers?" You asked as you took another sip of red wine.

"Just the handsome ones," he replied, stepping closer with a cheeky, lopsided grin.

"I don't think I need to remind you that you shouldn't be fraternizing with your employees," you said flatly.

"Mm, you're good at deflecting questions, aren't you?"

"I'm good at staying focused."

"Still... what's going on with your family that you're ever so reluctant to share anything about them?" He asked, taking another step towards you, that you now combated by taking a step backwards.

"... my sister got deported recently," you said, breaking from his gaze to look to the floor beside you. "I don't have any family besides her."

"I thought you were an Egyptian citizen?"

"I am. She isn't. She was born down south, a few years before I was born here, in Memphis. Our parents died a little while back but they would've been deported too."

"She is older than you though, isn't she? I'm sure she can take care of herself," Ahk said as he swirled his cup.

"Yes. I know."

For politeness's sake you stayed a moment longer, took another swig from your cup, before setting it aside.

"If you don't need me, I should be getting back t––"

"Oh, but I do need you," he said, stepping closer, "if you don't mind."

You stumbled as your back hit the closed door behind you, feet fumbling to regain what balance you'd lost.

"Of course... sir," you said in a monotone voice, keeping your rushing adrenaline below the knot in your throat.

The younger prince had always been a bit eccentric––stories from your coworkers and various palace dwellers had told you so. He generally did whatever he wanted, but his parents doted on him dearly, and he got away with just about everything. While it seemed a little unfair to not do the same for the eldest child, you did notice that while both siblings were passionate, Kamun was passionate in a more violent way, while Ahkmen was passionate in an undeniably flirtatious way. In the short amount of time you'd spent guarding the corridor for Ahk's room, you'd seen three different people sneaking out of his room multiple times. You had a responsibility not to become one of them.

Ahkmen circled you, stopping in front of a floor-length mirror that casted his reflection perfectly.

"My manservant got sores from work yesterday, so I sent him home early. But," he met his own gaze, "these clothes are near impossible to take off without help from another. Do you mind?"

Though the expression on your face remained a mute, dull expression, you could feel the flame burning in your cheeks. Your heartbeat pounded even in the ends of your fingers, wrapped around your spear.

"... no. Of course, my prince," you said, your voice strikingly low and rough.

A pleased smile stretched across his lips as you approached, setting your spear aside against a wall. To be fair, he did genuinely need help––the beaded collar on his shoulders was latched far behind his back, and if he tried to reach it, he might tear the sleeves or break the collar. You reached for the tiny latch, pulling and releasing the two you found.

"There's one more, bit further down," he said, still watching his own reflection. You caught your own eyes peering over his shoulder, their dark sternness piercingly depressing beside the Prince's golden colors.

With a deep breath you pushed aside his long cape, calloused fingers reaching for the last latch. You accidentally brushed against the skin of his back, hot against your cold hands, which he certainly felt judging by the way his posture straightened and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"There," you said, stepping away. "Done."

"Thank you, dear," he said as he reached up, sliding the collar off his shoulders, his cape drifting off with it.

Sleeves soon followed and the whole of his chest was bared, graced by dark freckles and the golden bands still circling his thin wrists. You watched, unaware of your own staring, as he began to tug at his belt, pulling it off his hips. His skirt sagged, exposing his hips carelessly in front of you. Something as little as a deep breath had you shaking ever so slightly.

"Is that it, my Prince?"

"Here," he said, handing you his collar, and the attached cape and sleeves.

Golden fabric piled onto your arms, soon followed by his belt, golden wristbands, and the crown on his head. It was a good deal heavier than you would've imagined, and you wondered if it ever hurt.

Your thoughts on the crown were ripped away from you, leaving your mind a blank, empty expanse the moment his skirt fell to the floor. If he noticed your stupor, he didn't say anything. Instead he simply gathered up the cloth and handed it to you, padding nude to his desk, upon which he opened a box made especially for his gold wristbands. He pulled them off, leaving him blank of identification.

As he turned, he finally caught your eye, but couldn't keep it for long. Your eyes darted back to the ground, wide with the morbid feeling stewing in your head and chest. He chuckled.

"You can set those in my wardrobe," he said, stepping towards his bed and kneeling upon it.

You dutifully obeyed, trying to get a grasp on your shaky breathing before you had to turn and face him again. Folding and taking care of clothes was absolutely not one of your skills, but you tried your best, and eventually returned to stand in front of the kneeling Prince.

He wasn't terribly muscular, more lean, but you could still see thin muscles peeking through the dark skin. Along his clavicle were two freckles––similarly, long eyelashes led to the freckles lining his cheekbones, still dusted with an earlier blush. There was no denying he was a handsome man, though that was no excuse to give into such urges. You could hardly admit to your own desires, much less act on them, which kept you from moving at all.

"A little while ago you informed me that you have no partner," he said softly, still looking you directly in the eyes.

"Yes."

"Is that still so?"

"Yes," you said. "I like to keep to myself."

A touch against your exposed thigh had you jerking backwards, a strangled grunt coming halfway out your mouth.

"No one will have to know," he murmured, dragging his touch up your sensitive skin, long untouched for most of your waking years.

Your first instinct was to pull away, which you did do at first, but the flat expanse of his palm pressing on your thigh had you rooted to the spot. Most everything in you froze, shock and surprise filling your head. Still, you tried to keep a calm expression, and gave little away.

"Is this what you wanted?" You asked.

His grin just widened, teeth digging into his bottom lip and pulling till it released, soft and red.

"Why am I your victim in all your... hijinks?"

"Well," he chuckled, "you're awfully pretty, and you won't pay any attention to me if I don't."

Seeing as you weren't struggling, he took to pulling on your belt, shifting back on the bed to make space for you. Your lack of movement was no invitation, but he must've taken it as such. One harsh tug had you stumbling forward, balancing yourself with one knee on the mattress, your hands open to catch yourself.

"Sir, I am not permitted –"

"Shhhhh," he hummed, his hand moving lightning fast to catch you by your chin, pulling you closer yet till your noses nearly touched. "Your Prince asks this of you."

The slightest movement from him––eyes fluttering shut, neck craning forward––and he was kissing you, plump lips moving as soft as rose petals against you. Warmth gathered everywhere, growing in your breath, in your moving lips, building and building till the tension became nearly too much. You tried to move backwards, oversensitive and overstimulated. But the Prince wouldn't let you––he simply held you tighter, dug his hands into your hair, and pulled you forward so forcefully you landed on top of him, your weight meeting his heat.

That heat was recognizable even through the material of your skirt, pressing against your hip. As unfortunate as it was, you could feel your own excitement growing within you, sending warmth to your face and your thighs.

"Fuck," you mumbled, mostly to yourself, when Ahk finally let you breathe.

"What?" He asked softly, petting your hair as he did his best to keep you close to him. His legs wrapped around you, the hand on your cheek keeping you facing him.

"I told myself I wouldn't do this," you said, still quiet and gruff.

"So you expected this?"

"I knew it was a possibility," you said flatly.

"Good," he said with a smile you couldn't quite understand. "That means you're prepared for this."

Before you could ask what he meant, his feet were pushing your skirt down your hips, the white linen quickly dropping to the floor. You didn't do the knot as tight as you should've this morning.

"Ahkmen ––"

"Mm, I like that," he said, grinning sly as ever. Your expression contorted with confusion, so he continued with, "I like when you say my name."

Very rarely did you ever refer to any of the royal family by their first name. Technically you could call the Pharaoh by his Horus name, but simply calling them by their status had always been easier than remembering names.

Your shock once more worked to your demise, or at least the demise of your self respect. The young prince flipped you over while you were unaware of yourself, pinning you to the bed with his hips sat on yours, directing your hands to circle his waist as he kissed you deep once more. A muffled grunt came from you, fingers instinctively digging into him.

I'm being seduced by a Prince, you thought miserably. I feel like I should be happier about this.

"I want you to use your mouth on me," he mumbled between rough kisses, taking what pleasure he wanted from you. "Wanna see what that quiet tongue can do."

He reached down to stroke his own length pressed against your stomach, leaking and hard from the tension he'd grown. Your breath caught in your throat again, unable to dislodge itself as you stared, mesmerized by the pulse of his chest and hum of his soft moans.

"Can you do that for me?" He asked as he began to grind against you.

Holy fuck, you thought, wide eyes taking in his entirety. You could finish from his begging alone.

You gripped his hips, and in one, swift movement he was beneath you, his hand returning to touch himself. Before he could properly do so you batted his hand away, stalking down the bed till your face rested above his twitching hips. You kept his eye the whole time. 

Wet already began to seep to the edge of your tongue, waiting for you to finally meet his cock. The arrogant young prince had you right where he wanted you, where you had tried so hard to avoid, and where he now kept you of your own free will.

The flat of your tongue ran a long stripe up him, drawing from him a long, relieved sigh. His head fell back, one of his knees kinking upwards. You watched his reactions carefully, kissing wet spots all up and down, catching whatever dripped down. On the prominent veins you sucked a little harder, making him hiss and his back arch upwards. Every movement he made you lapped up like you were starved.

Fingers soon dug into your hair, pulling and tugging whenever you graced his sensitive spots. Soon, ready for his lack of control, you wrapped your lips around the head, gently pulling and sucking with your tongue as you began to sink deeper.

"Fuck," he said emphatically, running his fingers through the locks of your hair before tugging hard.

Soon his cock nudged the back of your throat, stopping there as you tried to swallow him down. Twice you tried unsuccessfully, but as you calmed yourself, you could feel him thrust deeper yet into you, forcing into the back of your mouth and cutting of your breath. You moaned, albeit quite muffled, from the sensation. The hand on the back of your head kept you in place as he thrusted upwards, moans tumbling from his mouth as he used you.

Caught in his hold, you did your best not to gag, dutifully swallowing around him and breathing when you could. He grew steadily faster, with less rhythm and more force shoving into you. Your hands gripped his hips to hold yourself up better, but even as you tried to pull away, tears stinging your eyes, he kept you there, locked away in the throes of his own pleasure.

Your nose remained pressed to his hip as he came, a long, sweet trail of moans following what spurted into the back of your throat. With no give to pull yourself off and no possible way to open your mouth further, you swallowed what you were given.

The burning pull on your hair soon released as well, allowing you to sit up and away from the young Prince. He was still panting, his gaze cast lazily upwards, and hands gathering in his own messy hair.

"I got a little carried away there," he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing. "I apologize for that."

"Don't worry," you said as you grabbed his hips, pulling him close to you and flipping him over. By pulling him up on his knees, you shoved his head onto the mattress, the force of it drawing a gasp from him. "You'll make up for it."

[empire-of-wildfire]

HOLIDAY SURPRISE

A @starseternalnighttriumphant X @empire-of-wildfire CHRISTMAS MINI-FIC COLLABORATION

WARNING: GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT. NOT SUITABLE FOR READERS UNDER 18 YEARS OLD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

a/n: here’s part 3!! Sorry it’s not on schedule, we both have been going crazy with work but we worked really hard to get this out for you guys tonight!

Cassian hung up the phone, running his hand down his face in frustration. His partners hadn’t been pleased when he’d told them he was staying in Velaris longer than planned because they needed him to start working on another case, but he told them he would work virtually until he could return. He hadn’t told them about Amina, wanting to keep her to himself for a little while at least. He’d called and arranged for more of his things to be sent to him in a week or so, and he looked into AirBnBs so he wasn’t living in the hotel long-term. He was pretty sure he’d thought of everything that needed to be handled while he stayed here, although something still nagged at him but he ignored it. The possibility that he wouldn’t be returning to Illyria permanently flickered through his mind, but he shoved it away. It was too early to know that. That would require further planning, and likely an extremely uncomfortable discussion with Nesta. If she didn’t kill him first.

Even just thinking about her for a brief moment, she moved to the forefront of his mind like she always had, since the day he left Velaris. Except now it wasn’t just Nesta he couldn't stop thinking about. Now she shared his headspace with Amina.

Amina. Now that he’d had a little while to get over his initial shock, he marvelled at the thought of her. So many times he’d dreamed of the day Nesta would bless him with children, but his imagination couldn’t have ever come up with such a perfect child as the one he met hours ago. He wished he could’ve been there to see her birth, to see her grow into the fiery toddler she was now. He couldn’t wait to see the woman she would become one day. Tough as nails and sharp as a whip, no doubt, with Nesta as her mother.

He was dragged out of daydreams of his daughter by the shrill sound of his phone ringing. He didn’t even look at the screen, assuming it was Rhys calling him to chew him out some more.

“What, Rhys?” He snapped.

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s your other favorite brother,” a deep voice said, sounding amused.

“Oh shit, sorry Az.” Cassian instantly regretted his attitude. He hadn’t even seen his other brother yet in the hours he’d been home, he didn’t deserve his anger. And yet, Azriel had clearly known about Amina, and had kept her from him just like Rhys. “What’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with Feyre… she sounded pretty upset. Mentioned something about you and Nesta and that she wasn’t sure if you were leaving again?” Azriel said the last part slowly, as if afraid of setting Cassian off.

Cassian sighed heavily, bracing for the conversation he knew was about to happen. “How could you not fucking tell me? I don’t give a shit what Nesta threatened, I’m your brother Az. She’s my daughter. I deserved to know.”

“I know Cass, trust me. I wanted to tell you so many times. But I also knew how much your job means to you. I guess I’d just hoped you’d at least come home to visit sooner than this so you didn’t miss so much time, but then the longer it got the less likely I thought it was that you’d ever come home. And I didn’t want the only reason you came home to be because I told you about Amina. I was afraid you’d come to resent me for taking you away from your career, or worse, resent Amina for it. And I couldn’t risk her getting hurt like that.”

Cassian just sat there for a minute, shocked into speechlessness. For all his anger about how he felt about this, he hadn’t stopped to think about how Amina would feel. He’d just decided she would love him automatically, but what if that wasn’t the case? What if she never wanted to know who her father was? Would Nesta have ever told her, even if she didn’t ask?

“Cass? You okay?” Azriel asked tentatively.

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

“It’s Christmas Eve, and I know she’s taken the next week off. Go talk to her. I would assume at this point you know where your priorities are, so tell her that. Apologize. Make her see you won’t hurt Amina, or her, and go from there.” Azriel paused, clearly considering something. “She just dropped Amina off with me and Elain. She’s over in the neighborhood by the Sidra.”

Cassian sagged with relief, glad that someone was telling him something at least. “Thanks.”

“Good luck brother,” was his only reply.

Cassian immediately hung up and ran for his car, taking off for the other side of town. The neighborhood Azriel had told him Nesta lived in was pretty small, but he still wasn’t sure how he’d find her house. He slowly drove through the neighborhood, looking at each house for a sign of the fiery woman he hoped was living in one of them. Suddenly he came to a stop in the middle of the street, unable to look away from the house in front of him.

At face value, the house was simple, but elegant. Nothing overly extravagant, but clearly a well loved home. The thing that stopped him in his tracks though, was the front door. All the other homes had very neutral front doors, black, beiges, whites. This door was a bright, crimson red. He was immediately transported back to a different time in his life, when whispered secrets were shared under soft sheets with the woman that held his heart in her hands.

“When we get our own place, like officially ours, I want the front door to be red. I know it’s weird, but I want it to be a statement.” Nesta’s words rang in his head like she just said them, though that conversation was over five years ago.

Evidently Nesta had taken her dreams into her own hands, no longer wanting or needing Cassian with her to make them happen.

Cassian pushed down the twinge of pain and regret that thought caused, then finally parked and got out of the car, making his way slowly towards that bright red door that represented so many missed moments and realized dreams.

Knocking on the door, he braced himself for the wrath of Nesta Archeron.

As soon as she opened the door, she took a step back and ground out, “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?” Nesta hesitated, scanning his face as if looking for something. “Please, Nesta. I just want to talk,” he pleaded.

Finally she nodded, turning and walking into the house, leaving the door wide open since she knew he would follow her. He quickly stepped inside, following her through the house.

He spied the big Christmas tree in the living room, covered in matching ornaments. Nesta had never really been in to Christmas, but he wondered if that had changed now that Amina was in the picture.

He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting Nesta to live in the richer part of town. She must’ve been doing well at the hospital, being paid well if it meant she was living like this. Despite how awkward it felt to be here, to feel her weighted gaze on him, he was glad Amina would be cared for well, even if things didn’t end well and he ended up going back to Illyria.

“How is she?” he asked after a few moments.

Nesta’s whole body was tense as she poured cups of coffee, and he watched her closely just in case she decided to poison him. “She’s fine.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Tell me about her.”

“Oh, all of a sudden you’re interested?” she asked, her pleasant voice not concealing the venom underneath.

“Nesta, please.” He never begged, and she knew it. Her shoulders dropped in acquiescence, and she walked over with the two mugs, setting one down in front of him as she sat at the opposite end of the table.

She looked out the window to where the sky was dark now, and he had forgotten how late it was. But she just gazed out for another moment before she sighed and turned back to her coffee, staring into the mug.

“She’s super smart. She started walking months before the doctor said she would. She started talking months before she was supposed to. She’s leagues ahead of any other kid her age.” A small smile graced Nesta’s mouth. “She’ll be smarter than me one day, if you can believe it.”

Cassian watched her intently, hanging on to every word as Nesta finally relaxed and talked about their daughter. It was clear that Amina was the center of Nesta’s world, a place that had used to be his. He always knew Nesta would be an amazing mother, and his heart clenched when he realized he’d always thought he would be there for that day that she did become one. And he’d missed it all: the moment she found out, the ultrasounds, the birthing classes, the actual birth of his daughter. And the truth of it hit him square in the chest, making him wince.

As if she had sensed it, she stopped talking, eyes roving over him. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

Ouch. He guessed she was ready to move on to the harder parts of a conversation that was four years in the making. She didn’t give him time to reply as she grabbed her mug and placed it in the sink, walking out of the kitchen. He scrambled to follow her, catching up to her in the living room.

“Nes, you know I loved you. So much. I just wanted to prove I was more than the dumb kid I was here. I wanted to see if I could make something of myself.”

She spun on him, her eyes ablaze. “You don’t know how much it hurt when you told me you wanted to leave. I thought it was because of me. Every insecurity I’d ever had about us, warranted or not, came roaring back.”

“Nesta—”

“We’d been together all of high school and college, and then suddenly you wanted to leave and I hardly got any more notice than anyone else did.” She was on a roll now, and didn’t leave any space for him to interrupt. “I mean for cauldron’s sake Cass, we’d talked about our future together! That didn’t involve you being thousands of miles away and leaving me here. So after you left and I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want to try and make you come back. And I knew if I told you and you still didn’t come back, it would crush me.”

Her words shocked him. Nesta Archeron knew him better than anyone else in the world, knew him better than his own brothers. And for her to think that… “Do you honestly think that if you’d called me and said we were having a baby, I wouldn’t come back and be there for you? For fuck’s sake Nesta, I can practice law anywhere.”

She crossed her arms stubbornly, fire in her gaze. “You fucking left, Cassian. You wanted to chase your dream, you were so focused on being such a hotshot lawyer, so forgive me for thinking that a baby would ruin that pipe dream for you!”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’ve known me for how fucking long, Nesta?” his voice was hard, and he was struggling not to raise it but he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Do you think for one second I would’ve stayed in Illyria if I had known you were pregnant with our child?”

Her jaw clenched. “I didn’t need you to stay here out of guilt that you knocked me up.”

“Gods, Nesta, I’m not standing here because I feel fucking guilty. I’m here right now because I never stopped loving you!”

She froze, her face a mask of pure shock. For once she was left speechless, and Cassian took advantage of it. He closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands and kissing the hell out of her.

He wasn’t expecting her to return his fervor, her hands sliding up around his neck, tangling in the locks at the base of it. Every nerve ending came alive at her touch, his body reacting to her the way it used to over four years ago. The feel of her mouth was like coming home, so familiar and intoxicating that he had half a mind to wonder why he ever left her.

He grabbed her up, somehow finding his way to her bedroom and settling her down on her bed, hands slipping her out of her shirt. As he pulled it up over her head, he realized it was one of his old shirts from college. His heart clenched painfully, lungs refusing to breathe. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what Nesta keeping his things meant. But he wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t push just yet.

As soon as he had her completely naked before him, he pulled back to take in every inch of her. She was completely breathtaking; her sharp angles and curves were softer now, likely an after effect of giving birth. But it didn’t matter to him. This was Nesta, the one woman that he would never get over, no matter what happened between them.

He slid his hand over hip and up her stomach, watching goosebumps pebble her skin. Before he could reach her breast, she sat up and grabbed him, impatiently pulling at his clothes to get him on the same playing field. He chuckled, helping her get himself undressed. He leaned over her again but she surprised him by wrapping a leg around his hip and flipping their positions. She was now atop him, gloriously naked above him, her golden brown hair falling around her shoulders and down her back. Her face was vulnerable, open, her eyes already blown with desire. She was a goddess.

She leaned down to meet his mouth, kissing him long and deep. He groaned against her lips when her hand found his already hard length, stroking him softly. When she ran the tip of him between her folds, he was ready to lose his godsdamn mind.

“Nesta,” he breathed, her name coming out like the holiest of prayers.

She wasted no time in sliding down onto him, and he was already lost in pleasure that he almost missed the sharp gasp that left the woman atop him. She stilled, adjusting to him after so many years apart. His hands wrapped around her hips, thumbs caressing her skin as he met her steely gaze.

“Lost for words?” he quipped, the left side of his mouth hitching up into a smirk.

Her nostrils flared, but instead of shooting a venom-laced reply back at him, she moved her hips, effectively shutting him up and leaving him incapable of any cocky remarks. Her hands braced against his chest as she began to ride him, and he wondered if he was going to die from this. He hadn’t been celibate since he’d left her, but every single motion of hers was threatening to undo the very threads of his life. Coming together after so long was going to ruin him, but he didn’t care.

He watched her as she moved on him, rolling his own hips to meet her movements. She clenched around him and he swore, fingers digging into her hip as his other hand came down between her legs to stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves there. When she let out a breathy moan, he knew she was his again.

He continued his ministrations, watching in awe as Nesta started her ascent, writhing and moaning above him. He took over her movements, thrusting into her slow and deep, feeling every inch of her. When he knew she was close, he sat up, seated inside her at a dizzying angle. He captured her mouth, tongue invading her mouth as he picked up his pace, thumb circling her clit torturously.

Her back arched, chest pressing against his and then she was crying out his name and spasming around him, body shaking as her orgasm overtook her. He didn’t stop, continuing to stroke into her, his mouth on her neck as she trembled. He rolled them so she was on her back, his body resting against hers as he continued his pace, hips stuttering as she clenched around him one last time. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, pulling him even closer, her nails raking gently down his back until her hands were on his behind, urging him to go faster. 

He didn’t resist, bracing himself on his arms as he looked down at her, taking in her pink cheeks and glazed gray-blue eyes. She held his gaze, hands coming back up to slide along his jaw, pulling him back down to kiss him softly. Her kiss seared his mouth, and he sighed in content against her lips, savoring the way she tasted.

“I love you,” she whispered, the worst so quiet he wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her right. His eyes shot open, brows furrowing in surprised but she just kissed him again, holding him close.

Her lips found the juncture of his shoulder and when her teeth dug into his skin, he found release, choking out her name as he emptied inside her, all but collapsing on top of her sweat-slicked form. He couldn’t think straight, could only focus on all five senses that were overwhelmed by Nesta. Everywhere they touched was like fire, all he could smell was her and the evidence of what they’d done. His head was on her chest, listening to her heartbeat, and the memory of her coming undone kept playing in his mind. He felt no better than a house cat as she ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

When he finally lifted his head, it was to place a light kiss to her collarbone, to her jaw, to her swollen lips. Her eyes were already half-closed, trying to fight off sleep, but her mouth curved into the soft smile that had captured his heart all those years ago.

It wasn’t until she was sound asleep that he ran a thumb over her cheek and whispered, “I love you too.”

-

@werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @justgiu12 @westofmoon @legallyhermione @love-is-a-contradiction @shyvioletcat @oversizedbats @superspiritfestival @ladywitchling @disgreisful @empress-ofbloodshed @lovemollywho @highqueenofelfhame @rocky99 @sayosdreams @mynewdreamwasyou @whydoineedtowriteanamehere @charincharge @sjm-things @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @queenestarcheron @julemmaes @littlehoneyybee @throne-of-crescent-roses @sleeping-and-books @agentsofsheilds @that-golden-lyre @swankii-art-teacher​ @nessiantho @mythicaitt

[eggtoasties]

Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

.

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

[nostalgiahan]

Euphoria

word count: 4k (holy shit)

genre: smut

content/warnings: explicit sexual content, threesome, restraints, pillow humping, oral (both receiving,) anal (m receiving,) face sitting, consent, discussion of boundaries, aftercare :)

pairing: dom!chan x sub!felix x afab/switch!reader

a/n: it is heavily implied that felix goes into subspace at the end! however you can interpret it however you want <3

You never planned on having two friends with benefits at once, but it turned out to be better than you could have ever imagined. You were originally just looking for someone to take your emotions out on after a long day, break them down to the bone and then put them back together again. You found that in Felix, your perfect boy; always obedient and eager to please, even if that meant getting orgasm after orgasm cruelly denied or being overstimulated to the point where his lithe frame was shaking and his eyes were puffy and red from tears. In the end, though, you were always there to calm him down, to rub lotion into his sores and to kiss his bruises better, to run your fingers through his hair as he cries into your chest. That’s what makes it worth it for you.

However, soon enough, you became burnt out. Domming Felix was fun, but it was tiring, and sometimes you just wanted to be taken care of. This lead you to Chan; similar to Felix in some ways but entirely opposite in others. Where Felix was timid and obedient, Chan was outgoing and domineering; ready to degrade you and pound you into his creaky bed or call you sweet names and milk multiple orgasms out of you until you were relaxed; whatever you happened to need that day.

So here you were. You had thought for some time about introducing them to each other; after all, they would fit together perfectly. Chan was the Yin to Felix’s Yang; one unabashedly dominant and the other perfectly submissive. You would love to just sit back and watch their dynamic play out. However, you also felt that doing that would make things more than just casual, and you weren’t sure how either of them felt about it. That was, until after one of your sessions with Felix.

You two were in the bath, his back against your chest, and you thought he was asleep until he turned around to press a peck to the top of your breast, his favorite way of getting your attention.

“What’s up, Lixie?”

“Um, I’ve been thinking about… something. Lately.”

“Yeah? What is it, baby boy?”

You maneuver him so you’re both sitting up in the tub, facing each other. At that, Felix averts his gaze.

“What do you think about, maybe, bringing in another dom?”

It’s silent for a bit before Felix speaks again.

“I mean, it’s okay if not. It’s just… you’re a really good dom, but I’ve been thinking lately about how hot it would be to be dommed by… two people at once. I don’t know. I feel like it’s weird.”

You bring a gentle hand under his chin, guiding him to look you in the eyes.

“Sweet boy, it’s not weird. I’ve been thinking about it too.”

You pull him against your chest again, and your hand returns to his hair.

“I have another friend with benefits, you know. His name is Chan. He’s a really good dom, and I’ve been thinking about introducing you two for a while.”

Felix relaxes noticeably against you, nuzzling his face into your chest.

“How about I text him right now?”

“Mmm. Bath first.”

“Of course. We’ll finish our bath, and then I’ll fix you some tea, and then we’ll text him. Sound good, Lixie?”

Felix nods against your chest, and not five minutes later, he’s dead asleep.

About half an hour later, the two of you are in bed, phone in hand. You’ve already shown Felix Chan’s pictures, and he seemed intrigued, given the way he shifted in his spot and gulped a bit louder than he probably intended to.

“Alright, Lixie, what do you want to say? He already knows that you’re my sub, but not much else.”

“Uh, we should probably get straight to the point, I guess. Something like, ‘Hi, my sub and I want you to fuck us.’”

He giggles, a cute sound that makes the air in the room feel lighter.

“Okay, maybe that’s too forward.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Felix is still giggling slightly as you type out a draft in your Notes app.

“How does this sound, baby boy?”

Hi, Chan. My sub and I were talking about how we might want to introduce another person into the bedroom, and I’ve been thinking about introducing you two for a while. Is this something you’d be interested in?

Barely a minute passes before Chan replies. It’s short, but it’s all the two of you need to hear.

Of course

The three of you settle on a time and date, about a week later. You didn’t have the foresight to set up a group chat or anything of the sort, so you’re going into this completely blind. Whatever. It’ll be fine.

The first one to arrive is Chan, and he has a duffel bag with him. Expected, but a bit intimidating.

“We could’ve just used my stuff, you know.”

“Eh, it’s more fun this way. Then I get to surprise both of you.”

You scoff but walk across the room to hug him. He takes you in his arms and chuckles when he feels you practically melt against him.

“Long day?”

You just sigh and Chan pecks the top of your head, squeezing you even tighter.

“Don’t worry about a thing, baby. Just let go for tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes later, Felix walks in, carrying nothing but his keys and phone. He sets them down nervously on the table by your front door before latching onto your side like a shy child might with their parent.

“Hi, lovely.”

Felix makes a muffled noise into your shirt but doesn’t move to greet Chan.

“What’s wrong, baby boy? Nervous?”

Felix pulls away to nod, gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Chan coos before approaching Felix slowly, just trying to get a closer look at the boy.

“You’re more… intimidating then I thought you’d be.”

Chan smiles wide and giggles brightly at Felix’s statement.

“Don’t worry, Felix. We don’t have to go faster than you’re comfortable with. Besides, we still need to have a talk about boundaries.”

Felix nods slowly, seemingly pleased with Chan’s statement.

“By the way,” you say, the two boys perking up at the sound. “I ordered pizza, it’s in the kitchen. We can have dinner and talk, and maybe you two can get to know each other.”

Felix jumps up, nervousness seemingly forgotten as he rushes to the kitchen, a big smile on his face. He rips the pizza box open, grabbing a slice for himself and shoving it into his mouth unceremoniously, forcing a giggle out of you. As everyone gets their pizza and settles down, you turn on some soft music and invite everyone to sit on your couch. You figured it would be better to have this conversation on neutral ground. Felix immediately curls into your side, now staring inquisitively at Chan, who’s sitting on your other side.

“So, uh, I figured we should just establish some hard boundaries first. Lix, do you want to go?”

Felix nods and grabs his phone from the side table, seemingly opening something on it.

“I wrote down what I wanted to say so I wouldn’t forget.”

Both you and Chan smile at that.

“So, uh, I can’t really handle intense degradation. I can do it if you mix in nice words, but I much prefer praise. I like knowing I’m doing well. Uh, and no bodily fluids or gross stuff like that. And aftercare is really important for me. I need a lot of it.”

Chan nods, looking attentively at Felix.

“Pretty much anything else other than those things is fair game.”

Chan leans in just slightly.

“So what do you like, Felix?”

Felix looks back at his phone, the tips of his ears and nose turning a light pink.

“Uh, choking. And pain. And, uh, praise, obviously. I like being marked up, too.”

Felix’s face gets adorably redder as he reads off the items on the list. You look over and notice Chan is trying to cover the outline of his half-hard dick in his sweatpants with a slice of pizza.

When Felix is done, Chan asks him another question which makes Felix choke on his own spit.

“What do you like to be called?”

After taking a moment to collect himself, Felix speaks up.

“Uh, I didn’t write that down.”

“That’s okay. If you remember later, just tell me.”

“Okay. Well, uh, Lixie and Lix are always good. And uh, baby boy, or any variant of that, really. And, uh…”

Felix murmurs the end of his sentence and although you already know what he said, you still lift his chin up with your hand and guide his gaze towards Chan’s

“Go ahead, Lixie. Tell him your favorite pet name.”

Felix looks away, and in a very small voice, says,

“Kitten.”

Chan’s eyes visibly darken and he shifts in his seat, clearly trying to restrain himself until the conversation is over. You smile contentedly, and decide to continue the conversation yourself in fear of Felix becoming impossibly more flustered.

Eventually, the conversation comes to a close, and the three of you stand up to head to your bedroom, Chan grabbing his bag which Felix didn’t notice until now. His eyes widen and he grabs your hand, squeezing hard. You squeeze back to offer him some reassurance as the three of you slip into the bedroom.

Turning Felix around to face you and taking both of his hands in yours, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Are you still nervous, baby?”

Felix nods and looks away again.

“You know we can stop any time if it gets too much for you, right?”

He nods again.

“I want to do this. I’ve just never done this before.”

“That’s okay, Lixie, just try to relax, okay?”

He nods and you let go of his hands, turning towards Chan.

“Is everyone good with using the traffic light system?”

The both of them nod.

“What is everyone’s color?”

Everyone says green.

“Alright. Lixie, why don’t you sit on the bed for me?”

Felix, ever obedient, sits with his hands in his lap, fingers nervously picking at the sleeves of his hoodie. You approach him carefully and take his face in your hands, leaning down to kiss him gently. He immediately reciprocates, falling into the comfortable rhythm that the two of you share. Chan watches from the sidelines until you pull away, beckoning him with a small tilt of your head. He pads over softly until he’s standing in front of Felix, running his hand through the younger boy’s hair. Felix tentatively places his small hands on Chan’s waist, and the older smiles before leaning in slowly to kiss him. It starts out slow and sweet, but soon Felix is grasping at the fabric of Chan’s shirt, letting out tiny whimpers into his mouth. It’s adorable, watching Felix fall apart like this.

You decide to sit behind Felix on the bed, wrapping your arms around him for a quick hug before dipping your hands under the hem of his shirt, letting them explore the skin there. Felix whines at the unexpected touch but keens into it, prompting Chan to pull back and pull Felix’s shirt off.

He’s flustered at first, covering his chest with his hands, until you pull them away and start brushing your fingertips over his pert nipples. He lets out a long, drawn-out whine, arching into your touch.

“Does my pretty boy like having his nipples played with?” Chan asks, smirking down at Felix. He nods frantically as you increase your speed, causing him to squirm even more in your hold. Chan hums appreciatively before motioning for the two of you to scoot back on the bed, and when you do, he settles in between Felix’s legs and starts to mouth at his cock through the younger’s jeans. Felix cants his hips up into Chan, but the older is having none of it and pushes his hips down violently, coaxing a gasp out of him.

“Stay still.”

Chan unbuttons Felix’s jeans and and pulls them down, along with his underwear, agonizingly slow, relishing in the younger’s sigh of relief. He’s already fully hard, and it must hurt.

“This worked up already?”

Felix nods frantically, just trying to get Chan to get on with it. Chan walks away, and retrieves a pair of pink leather cuffs from his bag.

“I’m told you look pretty in pink.”

When Felix stays silent, you lean up from where you’ve been sucking gently on Felix’s neck to murmur in his ear.

“Is that true, Lix? Tell him.”

“Y-yes, I look pretty in pink.”

Chan nods approvingly as he snaps the cuffs around Felix’s wrists, securing them behind his back. He assumes his position between Felix’s legs again, hands wrapping around his now bare thighs, shocked to find that his hands are big enough to wrap around almost halfway. He can feel his dick twitch at the thought of being so big that he can literally split Felix in half.

When Chan wraps his lips around Felix’s tip, he can tell the sub is using all of his self-control not to fuck up into his mouth. However, nearly as soon as he starts, Chan pulls off, leaving Felix whining for more.

“Tsk. Be patient, kitten.”

Chan’s ego swells when he sees Felix’s dick jump at the pet name. He looks towards you, where you’re still kissing all over Felix’s neck and shoulders, running your hands up and down his sides, and lifts your chin up, giving you a quick kiss.

“What do you think about helping out our y/n? They deserve it for introducing us, don’t you think?”

Felix nods, but tugs at the cuffs restraining his arms. He wants so badly to touch, but he knows Chan won’t let him.

“Go ahead, then. I’ll get you started, yeah?”

Felix can only nod as he watches Chan undress you to your underwear, rubbing his fingers lightly over your slit and reveling in the low groan you let out, completely opposite to Felix’s whining.

“Alright, go ahead, baby boy.”

Felix looks at Chan, confused. How was he supposed to get your underwear off if he couldn’t use his hands? Chan just shrugs and sits back on his heels, undressing himself and palming himself through his underwear as he watches.

Felix tries to be sexy and pull your panties down with his teeth, but he can only get them down an inch or so before he gives up. He eventually settles for just mouthing at your clit over your underwear, but it’s still not enough. He switches between your clit and nipples before just giving up for the second time and sitting back, looking at his knees dejectedly. Chan sighs before moving Felix aside and huffing in fake disappointment, pulling down your panties and unhooking your bra with his hands.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Felix whines, but he yelps when Chan delivers a harsh slap to his thigh. 

“No talking back.”

Felix sighs and huffs out a “fine” before leaning against you, signaling that he wants you to touch him.

“Poor Lixie. That must hurt, huh?” You gesture towards his cock, angry red and straining against his stomach. He nods and you hum, reaching out a hand to stroke him slowly.

“You remember what Chan said, baby boy?”

Felix nods.

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“Stay still.”

You hum approvingly and continue to stroke Felix lightly, squeezing involuntarily as Chan’s lips wrap around your clit and suck. You try your best to keep going as Chan licks up your slit, making lewd slurping noises that cause Felix to thrust up into your hand. He doesn’t process that he did until he feels another slap on his opposite thigh and your hand move away from his cock. He whimpers to try and get your attention, but both of your hands are tugging at Chan’s hair, and all Felix can do is watch.

Eventually, Felix’s helpless whines catch Chan’s attention and he grabs a pillow from the head of the bed, tossing it in Felix’s direction.

“You want relief that badly, huh? Be patient for us, kitten. For now, hump that. I’m busy. And don’t you dare cum until I tell you to.”

Felix whines but complies, situating the pillow between his legs and rutting into it as he watches Chan eat you out.

Meanwhile, your eyes are screwed shut as Chan picks up speed, letting out loud moans that only make Felix more desperate for you. You can feel your first orgasm quickly approaching, and you make sure to let Chan know. He just hums against you and sticks two fingers inside of you, making you nearly scream in pleasure. Your grip on his hair grows ever tighter as you beg him to let you cum. He pulls away just slightly to give you permission, and almost on command, you’re cumming all over his fingers and tongue. Chan just laps it up eagerly and shifts his gaze to focus on Felix, who’s rutting into the pillow faster and faster.

Chan lifts Felix’s chin up and kisses him hard, almost toppling the poor boy over with the force of the kiss. He slows down, and eventually comes to a stop, panting as tears line his eyes, threatening to fall from how desperate he is to be touched again.

“Come here, baby boy. You were so good.” Chan unclasps the cuffs and Felix takes a moment to stretch his wrists. Chan kisses the spots where Felix tugged too hard and left red marks, causing the younger to look away and blush.

As Chan is leaning Felix back on the bed, kissing down his body, an idea pops into the sub’s head.

“Hey, Chan, uh…”

“Yes, Lixie?”

“I was wondering if, uh.”

Chan cocks his head and rubs his thumb over Felix’s cheekbone as he waits for him to finish his sentence.

“Yes?”

“Uh, if it’s okay with you, I want you to fuck me.”

A short silence passes before Felix covers his face with his hands, trying desperately to backtrack.

“I mean, it’s okay if not! I know some people aren’t really into that, and, uh, it was just a suggestion, but if not-”

Chan silences Felix with a kiss.

“Sweet boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Felix sighs in relief.

“Y/N, why don’t you help prep our kitten?”

You nod and reach towards the bedside table where the lube and condoms are kept.

“Lix, is it okay if I fuck your mouth?”

Felix sputters out an overenthusiastic ‘yes,’ bringing his hands towards Chan’s thick thighs. The older just laughs and discards his boxers before situating himself on Felix’s chest, the sub’s mouth watering at the sight of Chan.

Chan has just started pushing gently into Felix’s mouth when you put your first finger in, slicked up thoroughly with lube. He moans louder than you’ve heard him all night when it’s fully situated, at which Chan groans and pushes in further. You can’t see what’s happening, but the sounds give you a clear enough picture, sloppy and wet and absolutely filthy. When you tease a second finger at Felix’s hole, he groans, causing Chan to buck forward into his mouth.

When Chan sets a steady pace, you push a second finger in, and then a third. You don’t purposefully aim for Felix’s prostate, but you must have hit it because a moan even louder than the ones before it reaches your ears and a gush of precum dribbles out of Felix’s slit. You decide to treat him and wrap your lips around his tip as you stretch your fingers out inside him. Chan just keeps fucking into Felix’s mouth faster and faster, and you can tell he’s getting close, but he pulls out right before he cums, much to Felix’s dismay.

Chan gets off of Felix’s chest and rolls on a condom as you decide he’s stretched out enough.

“Ready, kitten?”

Felix nods, whining desperately. There are tears tracks drying on his face, which must have been from Chan fucking his mouth just moments before.

At first, you just want to sit aside and watch as Chan takes your pretty kitty apart. You do for a bit, reveling in the way that Chan throws his head back as he tries not to cum right away from Felix’s tightness, or the way Felix bites on his knuckles and arches his back as Chan pushes into him. However, once Chan is fully settled inside Felix, resting a comforting hand on the smaller boy’s inner thigh, you have a better idea. Crawling towards the two of them, you give Felix a soft kiss before setting yourself over him, dripping heat right above his mouth. You’re facing Chan and he gives you a look, but when you say in a low voice that face sitting is Felix’s favorite, he nods.

You can feel puffs of air on your cunt as Felix tells Chan to start moving. Then, you lower yourself onto Felix and when his tongue starts circling and gently biting at your slit, you throw your head back in pleasure. Chan grabs the back of your neck and tugs you in for a kiss, and it’s more of an exchange of spit and clashing teeth than a kiss but it works.

Chan starts fucking faster into Felix and the younger lets out a loud, high-pitched moan, his mouth leaving your cunt as he lolls his head back onto the pillow. You reach behind you and grab his hair, pushing his face up into your slit rather forcefully. His licks and sucks get more frantic as Chan thrusts even faster, and he lets out moans into you, wrapping his arms around your thighs for purchase.

You can feel your second orgasm of the night coming on.

“Can you keep holding on for me a bit longer, baby? I’m close too.”

Felix moans frantically, freely fucking himself back onto Chan, nearly screaming when Chan holds his hips up to more easily hit his prostate and wraps a hand around his dick. Chan hammers that spot over and over, Felix letting out helpless moans and screams as he approaches his high. Chan can tell that he’s close, but he knows Felix won’t be able to ask him for permission to cum in his fucked-out state.

“You can cum, Lix. Go ahead and let go for us.”

With a strangled scream, Felix cums hard onto his own stomach. Chan follows soon after, letting out a low, loud groan as he rides out his high inside Felix. You reach a hand down to your clit to finish yourself off, body convulsing as you fall over onto Chan. He pulls you against his chest as he stills inside Felix, the three of you breathing heavily. When you get off of Felix, you notice that he’s fully crying.

“Lixie, are you okay?”

Felix just groans, staring at the ceiling with blank eyes. Chan pulls out and discards the condom as you pull Felix’s head into your lap and stroke his hair. His entire body is limp.

Chan once again returns to his bag and pulls out a big fluffy blanket sporting a paw print pattern and a few extra pairs of clothes. He drapes the blanket over Felix, tucking it in around the sides and brushing some stray, sweaty strands of hair from the younger’s forehead.

Felix’s eyes flutter shut, and you lean into Chan, exhausted.

“That was… really good,” you say groggily.

Chan just nods, putting an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head tenderly. You busy yourself with threading your fingers through Felix’s hair and trying to get all the knots out. Chan reaches over for the clothes and tugs a shirt over his head, wiggling his legs through some sweatpants. The two of you work together to wipe Felix down and dress him in a similar outfit, before you pull on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants identical to the ones that Chan is wearing.

After a bit of maneuvering, you’re sandwiched in between the still asleep Felix and a very, very, tired Chan.

“Do you want to do this again sometime?”

You laugh hoarsely and nod. “We’ll have to ask Felix when he wakes up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t be opposed.”

You hum, and Chan wraps his arms around you even tighter then they were before, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Pancakes and bacon when we wake up?”

“Absolutely.”

[ofmythsandmadness]

pretty eyes.

you love diego hargreeves pretty eyes, sober and drunk off your rocker. only, when its the latter, it’s a little harder to hold back your eager compliments.

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WARNINGS & DETAILS: gender!neutral reader. mention of alcohol & drinking, some fighting later on in the chapter (it’ll make sense when it comes), idiots being idiots, mutual pining, a tad bit of angst. WORD COUNT: 6.5k NOTES: at the end (read please).

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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“DO YOU KNOW WHY THE SKY’S BLUE?”

Diego didn’t look back, but from the sounds of tiny pants and dull clunks of shoes hitting the ground, he knew enough to paint a picture. You, struggling to rid yourself of the coat he forced you to put on, dropping the heels you claimed you hated so vehemently, all the while probably grinning from ear to ear like he imagined little kids looked on Christmas Day. He knew you’d be waiting for his answer, just as you always did, expecting something greater than he could give you in his own flustered state.

Sometimes you were predictable. But he liked that about you.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“No, silly! I’m asking you!”

“Oh.” His tongue danced across his bottom lip, wetting the chapped skin before responding. “I dunno. Sorry.”

Only a sparkling laugh and a thump answered him. He whirled around to see you flat on your butt on the ground, staring up at him with drooping doe eyes. It would be an irresistibly pretty sight, if he knew it wasn’t from extreme inebriation and you were completely off your rocker at the moment.

Still, pretty.

“Help me up?” You laughed, waving your hands aimlessly towards him. “Puh-lease?”

Diego grimaced slightly but moved anyways. He grabbed at your hands (clammy, another symptom of your heavy drinking choices)  and yanked you towards him. Only he overestimated you and greatly underestimated his own strength it seemed -- instead of lifting to your feet like any normal person, you practically flew towards him, landing just under his chin and flopping against his chest.

And Diego froze.

Normally he would have pulled away and shrugged it off as a mistake. Neither of you would mention it again and would move on with your lives, forgetting how close your bodies had been and the way your gaze was intoxicating upon itself. He had rules for those things; never getting too close to a friend who made his heart beat in a rather unfriendly way was one of them.

But as you looked up at him, still smiling dopily and eyes almost crossed, he couldn’t remember a single thing about rules or precautions or anything of the sort. All that was on Diego’s mind, was you.

Your smile softened a tad, painted lips closing over your teeth and only hinting at the dimples he had stared at many-a-time before. Up close, he could see flecks of black under your eyes, staining flushed skin with ebony freckles that no one could believe was natural. He didn’t know the word for it, but guessed it was from you rubbing at your eyes and forgetting you had painted them hours before. Despite it, you still looked absolutely radiant.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

Diego blinked, startled by your giggled statement. “W-what?”

“Sooo pretty,” you gushed. One of your hands left his chest -- he hadn’t even realised they had been pressed there, but he suddenly missed the warm sensation -- and caressed his cheek. He shuddered at the touch. “Maybe the pre...prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen!”

If merely standing near you was heart-attack inducing, Diego was certain that all this was going to explode the vessel. Any second at that point, it would just burst and coat your grinning face with its guts--

-- he shook his head, ridding himself of both that image and the foolish thoughts flooding around it. You were drunk. Everyone said and did stupid stuff when they were drunk. Right? Like the time he lost a fight with a lamp post -- he wouldn’t do that sober, but alcohol made everyone a fool. You just chose compliments over actions, maybe.

The saying ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ lingered in his mind for half a second, but he pushed it away. That only worked in late night television or shitty rom-coms, not reality. Not with them.

“You should get to bed,” Diego said gruffly, pulling away from your fingers. He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment on your face, but tried to push it away for his own emotions’ sake. “You’re gonna want to, ‘fore all this hits.”

“You should smile more.”

Diego froze. He didn’t turn back to her that time, knowing it would only hurt him more, but he couldn’t bring himself to move another inch.

“Your eyes are fu...cking beautiful, but your smile?” Clapping echoed paces behind him; his jaw clenched with every smack. “Diego, you’re so pretty!”

He reached behind him blindly, scrambling and feeling stupid before finally launching onto you. Still avoiding your charming smile, he pulled you along, leading you out and into your bedroom. “I’ll be back to get you some Advil. Sit down.”

“I wish you’d smile more,” you said, completely ignoring every word he said. You fell down to your bed with a plop. “It lights up those pretty pretty, pretty eyes so much...so fucking pretty, Diego! I can’t even think of any other words, that’s how be-yew-tiful you are.”

“Okay, I--”

“-- and you always look so grumpy. It’s so funny!”

Diego should have been long gone, at that point. For his own sake and for yours, because you would hate that you rambled on so much, and he was going to pay for the emotional turmoil you were putting him through. But he couldn’t. He simply stood, still and awkward in your bedroom doorway, watching as you tried to twist your face to look like his own.

It didn’t work at all. Your lips fought angrily to smile again, and your eyelids just drooped, so far you looked stoned, or maybe like a zombie ready to bite. But even if you looked beyond ridiculous, his mind still screamed at how adorable it was, and despite himself, Diego smiled.

“See! See, there - there it is!” You pointed frantically at his own face, like he didn’t know it was there. “God, I wish I had a mirror to show you how pretty you are! Lil...lil sunshine boy!”

Okay, ‘sunshine boy’ was new. It took a little bit of the piss out of everything, and he was able to grumble and walk away finally from your singing self. Calls of his name paired with nonsensical titles followed. Diego tried his best to ignore them, but he knew the coos would haunt him later. Even as he searched for a glass, the sounds bounced through his head like injured bats in a cave; no way out and too blind to escape, forced to flit around endlessly until someone ended their suffering.

But Diego, unfortunately, did not know how to do that. So he simply bore the weight of your compliments knowing that they were nothing but sounds and syllables made up by a confused mind, trying to push through the night with as little baggage as possible.

As he walked back to your room, he sighed. This wasn’t how he planned things to go. It had been a good night -- sure, he might not have had as much fun as you looked like you were having, dancing and drinking and laughing, but at least he was with you. And he liked that, and the lax nature you took on when you drank, making him feel less pressure about constantly being the best version of himself. He hadn’t felt like he needed to put on a show, he was just Diego, for better or for worse. And somehow, you didn’t mind that.

He only wished that he could have more than that and all the time.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat after the word came out garbled. “Uh - got you this, you’re gonna want to drink it and take these now. Okay? And I’m putting these here for tomorrow morning, so you can take that as soon as you’re up. You got that?”

Your head bobbed up and down excitedly, but he knew you didn’t take in a word he said. So as you swallowed the tablets and gulped down the water, he scribbled out a note to remind you of what definitely went right over your head.

Diego paused, pen slightly trembling in his hand, before jotting down two more sentences. Thanks for last night. Had a good time being with you, as always. He hesitated, hovering over the slip of paper before cursing and scribbling out the lines with added violence. He tried again, being a little bit more poetic (which wasn’t much, but words really were not his thing) only to be disappointed again, pushing down on the pen so hard he was sure it would burst. Once he was sure nothing but scribbles could be made of the mess, he put the note under the Advil bottle and stepped away.

“You wanna change out of that?” He asked, gesturing to your clothes. “Doubt that’s comfortable.”

“Nah,” you drawled. You smiled up at him and even dared to wink (it was more of a sloppy, half-assed blink, but it still made his head swim). “I’m just comfortable. Do...you…’re you comfortable?”

Diego chose not to answer that. He pushed you back gently, deciding not to fight with you on changing and instead just going with sleep. You didn’t fight him much. If anything you leaned into it, holding onto his hands for seconds longer than you should and mumbling sweet nonsense up at him.

“You know,” you sang, “you know what, Di...Diego?”

He didn’t pause. “What?”

“I would do anything...and everything...in order to make you smile forever. You know? Anything.”

Those were the words that weighed heaviest on Diego’s conscience as he drove back to his place. It was as though they had erased everything else, anything that had happened that day or any time before and just left that in its place. He didn’t know why, but they stuck, and as he wove through the dimly lit streets, your voice floated about like a bodiless apparition, set to destroy his mind and drive him mad.

Diego had had his heart broken several times before. It happened almost easily in his childhood, normally by the hands of his vindictive father. He had learned how to patch it up, sew up the cracks and try to make it so it wouldn’t happen again, and eventually he got better at that. But it shattered again when Ben died, and he realised that they were just kids, forced to play heroes in a horrifically gruesome world they didn’t belong in. That took a while to mend, but he did, until he screwed up at the police academy and Patch left him too. After that he had let the fragments just sit in piles in his chest, digging at his ribs and leaving him winded after long nights in the cold darkness. He hadn’t cared; he thought that was what was expected of him. Nothing but a broken heart to hold him when the nightmares got too bad.

But when you came along, he didn’t have to stitch himself back together. You did it for him. Somehow without him noticing you had snuck into his chest and unravelled the poor stitchwork and blotted out the stains left that he hadn’t bothered to clean up. Over time, you had managed to make it almost brand new again, and it was a whole new experience of smiling and watching as you failed to finish your joke again, only because you were already laughing too hard. Of getting wasted on Wednesday’s when your job sucked more and dancing down the streets up to your apartment, uncaring of those who watched. Of you chiding him for the cuts and bruises collected from his vigilante expeditions, but always being there to wash them out and make a fresh pot of tea. Of you, merely existing, and allowing him to bask in your sunshine a while longer.

But hearing those soft words leave your drunken lips, spilling out like tar from someone so angelic, hurt. Diego didn’t think that was possible with you.

He sighed, turning down the street towards the gym. It would be a sleepless night again.

YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING CONFUSED AND ACHING.

Not as much as you normally would be, which was a nice change of pace -- you assumed you had enough common sense to take premature headache meds, knowing how bad the hangover got for them. But your drunken self did not have the thought of changing out of your stiff, uncomfortable going-out clothes, instead draping yourself across the mattress smelling like the shitty bar you had careened in and leaving every part of your body pissed off. Sweaty fabric clung to your skin, leaving you feeling soggy and misworn and eagerly wishing you could have made better choices earlier.

You groaned and slipped out of the comforter, already missing its heavy warmth. Slowly you staggered over to your desk where you must have left the Advil for that morning. “Thank you, past me,” you sighed, twisting open the cap with a grimace.

A paper caught your eye, small amongst the stacks of work files you had yet to comb through. Downing one pill, you grabbed it, taking in the scribbled letters through tired, squinting eyes.

Leaving this for you because you’re too drunk to remember what I said. Take these and drink water before you die of a hangover. I’d hate to find your body that way. Also left your things on your kitchen counter, they’re not stolen. Also left your burrito in your microwave -- you insisted on buying one last night, so don’t forget about it. Take care.

Underneath were two lines of thick black scribbles, covering up whatever was written under that and leaving only a scrawled ‘Diego’ as your final clue. But, despite whatever mystery the pen covered up, you smiled and pinned the note to your bulletin board.

“Thanks, bud,” you grinned, speaking like he was there to hear. “Hope I wasn’t too annoying last night.”

You went about your morning with a smile despite the pounding pulverising your muscles, and enjoying the lazy Sunday hours spent cleaning up. You even spoiled yourself with a long shower, eating up your hot water minutes with joy, knowing you’d hate yourself for it two weeks later. After an hour of cleaning up, washing your face free of the makeup smudged across your cheeks and devouring that burrito left for you, you finally felt refreshed and better about things.

You glanced up at the time. Diego would be up, probably manning the desk for Al as he did most Sunday’s (the facet of his job he hated most). But, at least that meant he would be available to take your call. You missed him, even after seeing him just the night before, and selfishly craved the distraction of his low rasp. Maybe you could even make him laugh, cheer him up during his boring shift.

But five minutes later, you were left disappointed when none of the three calls went through. You tried not to think too hard on it -- he was a busy guy, and was either working or doing his other line of work, and ignoring your call meant nothing. Course, it probably didn’t look good for a boxing gym, but...you’d settle.

You would just call back later. He would definitely be available to talk then.

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU LAST TALKED TO DIEGO, which was the longest either of you had gone without even speaking to one another in the history of your friendship.

On its own, the fact wasn’t so troubling. You were both working adults who had their own lives to sort through, jobs and bills and other friends that you didn’t like half as much as each other, grocery shopping and patrolling the streets alike, filling up both schedules easily. But the two of you were closer than that, and definitely more than just friends that saw each other every other week. You didn’t care about those friends like you cared about Diego.

And it hurt, that he was going to such lengths to avoid you.

Every time you stopped by his gym, Diego was gone. Al simply shrugged off your questions with a non-committal ‘I don’t keep track of the shithead’ and even when you went to knock on his door to check if he was lying, you got nothing. No regulars knew either, which was strange; he always liked to spend his afternoons training with a couple people, sometimes you if you showed up at the right time. You considered doing just that and waiting for him to show -- but even after hours of sparring, the man was nowhere to be seen.

You had tried everything, to the point where Al was annoyed and you felt like you were losing your mind. Surely Diego hadn’t just disappeared off the face of the earth. That didn’t seem right or possible and you knew you hadn’t made him up, because you had the pictures and notes to prove it. You could see his face, disgruntled and sometimes smiling in the photos you had snapped of him -- so why couldn’t you find it anywhere else?

With all options exhausted, you gave up for a few days, allowing yourself the chance to catch your breath. However, with that came the exhaustive process of trying to figure out why on earth Diego was avoiding you. And unfortunately, all that linked back to your last night spent together, and the bitter realisation that you must have fucked up the night somehow and left him not wanting to see you again.

And that thought broke you.

Thursday night was spent crying alone on your couch, trying to push past the depressing thoughts and failing miserably. You couldn’t remember half of what you did that night, but you knew he hadn’t been drinking as much as you, and alcohol always rendered you a ranting, rambling fool that he must have had to deal with. He had got you home, but for what? And what if it was all in that stupid note he had left you, scribbling out the real reason he was leaving you high and dry?

You threw the note out that night, staring down at it in the trash with tears pooling in your eyes. If only you could know why.

The issue was, Diego was more than just a friend to you. Sure your relationship had been built on totally platonic foundations, but it soon blossomed into so much more. He was a companion, your partner, the man who made you feel comfortable enough to wheeze into laughter-induced tears with, or just sob against his shoulder without feeling judged. He was the guy who brought you fast food when you forgot about dinner when work ran late, and the one who let you sleep over when you didn’t want to be alone. He made you smile by just being there -- like, you would open your door (or window, usually) and just grin like an idiot at the mere sight of his face. He was just Diego, but that meant more to you than you had ever been able to say.

Maybe, hell, you loved him. Was that so bad? It hadn’t been intentional to fall -- one day you had just been eating pizza on your countertop way too late in the night, and you looked over and realised your heart had only ever fluttered so violently for him. That he was the guy you could imagine spending the rest of your days with and never getting bored. Of course, you didn’t act on it, knowing that it was a platonic relationship and admitting such would destroy it completely -- but that didn’t mean your official break-up didn’t hurt any less.

You skipped work Friday, something you never did.

When your coworkers called, you wrote it off as illness related, while still drowning in the sorrow of being left high and dry.

Friends hit you up to make some ‘end of the week’ plans, but you ignored them.

You fell asleep at nine that night -- the earliest you had in aeons.

You stayed in bed for most of Saturday, staring at the ceiling or the photos pinned to your walls of the two of you, wondering if this was all just a weird dream you were going to wake up from.

Six hours later, you hadn’t woken up from your dream, but you had made up your mind.

One hour after that, at almost ten o’clock at night, you were rolling up to that same boxing gym you had haunted for that week, dressed in dark activewear and parked a ways away from the actual space. Steely-eyed and with your jaw clenched, you marched out the vehicle and into the building, knowing full well what you were going to find. You had a plan, and whatever it took, you were going to put it into motion.

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest plan, and maybe you had only just come up with it, with barely any time to consider it’s workability and whether or not you were just throwing words together, but nevertheless, you persisted.

You were going to get Diego back.

“DIEGO FUCKING HARGREEVES,”

The man, back turned away, stiffened and immediately went to move,

“run and I will end you, boy,” you growled, stomping towards him with force; he could practically feel each stomp echoing in his chest, cracking him down to the size of a pea. Somehow, he couldn’t move, frozen in place by your command. “Okay?!”

“H-hey, I--”

“--why the hell have you been avoiding me?!”

His eyes were wide and panicked and frantically, he searched all around for a way out. Unfortunately, your body in front of him blocked his only exit, leaving him stammering for answers you knew he didn’t easily have. “Look, I--”

“--I have been worried and scared and sad and out of my mind this entire week,” you snapped, jabbing a finger into his tank top, pushing him back in his steps. Your anger dug deep into him, thorns grabbing onto every bit of vulnerable flesh -- and the worst part was, you were absolutely right.  “You know that? I have called everywhere I could -- I even called the police, wondering if you were in custody and I just missed that news drop. But no, you were just gone, avoiding me for who knows what reason!”

“I didn’t--”

“--what did I do, Diego? What happened, what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing.”

“Then why won’t you even look me in the eyes?” you hissed back, staring up at him in hopes he would catch your gaze. But he didn’t; his eyes still looked far away from yours, searching for something to give him a way out with. “You won’t even look at me, that’s how pissed off you are at me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I get if I did something wrong, but you can’t just pull away from me like that -- this friendship isn’t built on shit like that. I can’t cope with this void left by you deciding you don’t like me anymore!”

“That’s not what happened,” he insisted, his own voice raising in volume. “I swear!”

“Then what, Diego? What possible reason could you have that isn’t related to me doing something wrong? Because that’s all the evidence I got out of this and unlike you, I have zero detective skills so I’m working on one freakin’ theory here!”

His eyes averted to the ground, staring down at the both of your feet, one pair tapping angrily and the other shuffling in hopes of escape. He felt himself folding in, a habit he had broken a long time ago with you, one he thought he had killed off forever. But apparently it hadn’t. 

“You can’t even answer me,” you shuddered. Your sneakers squeaked against the shiny linoleum, leading you back a step. “You - I don’t understand this. At all. And you can’t even give me an answer why? D-don’t I deserve a reason for why I hurt you, Diego?”

“No, c’mon. I…” he hesitated once more as expected. Whatever he was planning on saying died in his mouth and thickened his tongue, leaving him once again stumbling for an excuse. He felt your eyes on him as well as his father, reproachfully clicking his tongue at once again, his stuttering, bumbling fool of a son. “I did...I didn’t…”

“Forget it. Screw this.”

“W-wait, don’t leave--”

“--I’m not leaving!”

He froze, holding onto your bicep in an attempt to stop you. Slowly, his hand fell away, “w-what?”

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, and slowly he watched as a devilish smile stained your cheeks, pulling away the angry lines of before. “I didn’t come here to leave, I came here for answers. And I guess I just have to fight you for ‘em.”

At that point, Diego’s head had been through the wringer so much, he felt like it could just pop off if he wasn’t careful. And yet still, his eyes bugged out and he stared at you in complete shock, unsure just how he was supposed to process that last sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

You shrugged like it was nothing at all, “c’mon. I know you’re better with the physical stuff and I wanna catch you off guard, finally get an answer out of you. I’m gonna, like, fight you for the truth.”

He watched as you toed off your shoes and shrugged off your thin jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with little care. You seemed ready, like you had planned this all along -- and had you? What was the reason behind all this? Was there something that he just wasn’t getting, in his state of emotional disarray? Or were you just losing your mind because of him?

“L-look, I’m s-sorry, but I,” he paused, trying to form the syllables in his mouth so they weren’t so thick and jumbled. “I can’t just fight you.”

“Sure you can. We spar all the time.”

“But w-w-why?”

Once more, your shoulders lifted and fell; ever the nonchalant dramatic. “Call it a bet. I win, you tell me why you avoided me for so long. And if you win, which you probably won’t but if you do…” you grimaced. “I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

Diego baulked. “I don’t want that.”

“Clearly you do,” you jabbed back. “Right?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

You huffed; clearly you didn’t believe him, but you also seemed set on the idea that you were definitely going to win, so he wasn’t sure where he stood in that. “Fine, pick your prize and keep it to yourself. I don’t care.”

Diego still hesitated, hovering to the side as you wrapped your hands. There seemed no way out of the situation, but surely there had to be - surely you weren’t just going to hop into the ring for an explanation.

Was this some ill-fated revenge?

You must have noticed his expression, because he heard you laughing from a whiles away. “I’m not looking to hurt you, Diego. Trust me, no matter what you do, I’d never want to do that.”

His heart fluttered.

“It’s just,” you cocked your head, thinking over your words before smiling again, “like you said when you first started training me. Freestyle, baby.”

You had deepened your voice tremendously to mock his own -- and while it was a horrible impression, it did call back to the one you did before of him. Not that you seemed to remember that, you had been piss drunk, but the thought still made him cringe.

All this, because of him. He screwed it all up and for what?

“Rules are the same as always. First person to pin the other down for more than five beats wins. No serious hits, so like, don’t break my nose or anything.”

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, even as he stepped into the ring. “We don’t need to do this. We can just talk.”

You sighed and looked back at him. There was a fierceness in your eyes, a determination for something he wasn’t quite sure of -- like there was a plan in motion, only he couldn’t figure out where the steps lead. “I didn’t come here to walk away, Diego. I’m here to win a bet and get my friend back, and also kick his ass if I have to because I’m desperate. You can’t convince me to leave, so wrap your hands and let’s get this going!”

“But-”

“-it’s either this or I just stare at you until you crack,” you said, no longer smiling. “And I doubt you want that typ’a torture, do you?”

He stared at you askance. “Really?”

You didn’t answer him with words that time.

The fight was fast, and almost evenly matched -- you had a slight advantage with your eye on your prize, and he was faltering with every other blow knowing he couldn’t bear to hurt you. But the pace picked up and soon it was like you were one fluid being, predators locked on and desperate to claw the other away from them while simultaneously, drawing them back in. Fists flew and every so often he saw the sparks fly from the fire in your eyes, catching on everything he turned from and leaving him surrounded by the flames you spilled.

For a moment, Diego thought he had it. He had managed to pivot away from your last onslaught and pulled you away from the centre, edging into the corner where he could finally pin you down. His arms outstretched and for a moment he was actually smiling because it felt like the good old days -- sparring way too late into the night when he should have been working with the girl he secretly loved and the stars watching from way above, admiring the gruesomely pretty sight.

But in a flash, everything switched.

He lunged, you slid.

When he fumbled, your legs wrapped around his own, pulling him back and flipping over one another like beetles rolling in the hot sun.

You were everywhere, smothering his smoke with your body, forcing him down before he even realised what was happening.

Diego blinked, and suddenly you were on top of him, legs on either side of his waist and your hands holding his own up above his head. Your expression edged on feral as you grinned down at him, straddling him and fighting everything he pushed back with.

But he couldn’t fight back. Not when you were on him and everywhere and he could smell your shampoo as your hand dangled around him, dripping your scent around him like he was in that poppy field from Wizard of Oz, ready to give into the toxin and be one with the flowers. Your hands held his own and he wished he could slide his fingers into the clasp, holding them to him and kiss each bruised knuckle with tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Your hips, legs, chest pressed against his own, both heaving and waiting for the other to move and interrupt the tension rising with every passing second.

“One,” you began, voice low and teasing. Did you know what you did to him? “Two…”

Diego writhed in your hold, but it was no use. You had him. He was yours and he would be satisfied to be so for the rest of your days, if only you never let him go. His gaze flitted across your face, tracing the way your eyebrows furrowed and relaxed with the numbers, eyes still wide and filled with emotions he didn’t quite know how to read. Sweat beaded on your brow and stained your cheeks and yet still, he thought you were as perfect as you could be, mere inches from his own darting eyes.

“Four...four and a half…” your smile grew and you got a little closer, almost touching his face with your own. “Five…”

He didn’t dare to breathe.

“I win, Hargreeves.”

But despite the hushed declaration, you did not move. Your body stayed over his, hands pushing his own down with gentle force but keeping him locked under you. Your eyes remained on his own, locking them in place as your face grew nearer. Soon enough your nose was just touching his own, nudging softly and turning so it fit better against his lips, which were parted and so close to pressing against your own-

-but you pulled away.

Just as Diego’s eyes had shut, your weight left his and he was left to sit up confused and watch you stomp away. You slipped out of the ring and down to the ground with a soft thump. He watched you unwrap your knuckles and to his surprise, he saw your hands shake with the movement. 

“This was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear. “This was stupid, I have to-”

“-don’t go,” he mumbled. In one swift movement Diego had jumped back to his feet and pulled after you. You stumbled back a few paces; he raced after, hurrying to your side with an aggression he didn’t know he possessed. “Don’t go.”

“Diego, I-”

“-I pushed you away because I screwed up,” he said, all in one breath and so fast he wasn’t sure if you could understand him. “I messed this up. We’re only supposed to be friends, I know that, but I-I can’t not be in love with you, not when you’re that perfect and so beautiful and you make me smile e-even when I feel like the shittiest sh-sh-shit and-”

“-kiss me.”

“What?”

You stepped forward, angling yourself just under his chin. Your chest heaved. “Kiss me, asshole.”

And slowly his hands moved on their own accord, cupping your cheeks and holding you to him. His eyes darted down once, staring at the pink lips before reaching your own again for a silent affirmation. When you nodded in his hands he acted, pulling you to him quickly and pressing his lips against his own, finally.

It was fast and passionate, both beings pulling at the other, urging the other closer than the skin they already pressed against. His one hand left your jaw to hold your neck, angling your face so he could better caress it, smudging himself across your lips with little care. He felt your own touch against his back, sliding down to his hips and pulling -- without even thinking, he moaned, feeling your lower body roll up against him and leave his mind in overdrive.

You pulled away for air finally, gasping only to be pulled in again for a softer, gentler kiss. He pecked the corners of your mouth before finally taking your lower in between his teeth, biting softly before sucking on the tender swollen skin. He pulled away then, dropping his forehead to your own as you both took another breath.

“If…” you paused to inhale, grinning through the gasp of oxygen, “if I knew you were holding all that back, Diego, I would have kissed your ass a lot sooner.”

“I’m...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmured. He felt your hands leave his waist, pulling up to the one he still had cradled against your cheek. Your head leaned into the gentle touch. Even as your fingers held his. “I just...is this why you stopped talking to me?”

Diego shook his head softly against your own. Once more his heart faltered and threatened to burst, but he ignored it. “No, I just...I realised that I was-”

“-sorry, I don’t - you have an eyelash.” He froze as your fingers stroked his cheek, pulling away the evidence that had caught your attention. Your eyes darted up to his for a moment, and he watched as they widened and brightened under his perplexed gaze. “Your eyes really are pretty.”

His heart stopped for a beat.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s why I stopped!” he exclaimed. He pulled away from you then, gesticulating wildly around like the air was going to supply you with answers. “That’s why!”

You frowned, cocking your head like a lost puppy. “You...because of your pretty eyes?!”

“What? Wait, no, that’s not why.”

“I’m so confused right now, bud, and I just--”

“--last week,” he rushed, cutting you off before he could lose momentum again. “I took you home. You were wasted, and you kept talking and - and you told me I had pretty eyes.”

Still, you looked bewildered.

“I-I have been obsessed with you since the day I met you,” he said, soft and unsure if any of the words would come out right. Or if they themselves were the right ones to say. “I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t let myself act on it because I knew that it wouldn’t wo-wo-work out, you’d get mad and I’d lose you. I rathered having you as a friend, then losing you cause I was in love with you.”

“Love?” you questioned, barely a breath of a sound lingering between them.

“But that night, you went on and on and I realised then that I was too gone to keep it in. And I realised that you wouldn’t feel the same...and I didn’t want to hurt you, so I left. And…”

“Diego Hargreeves, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

His brow furrowed low, anger mingling with befuddlement on his flushed skin. “Hey, I-”

“-first of all, you really think I would just hate you because you thought of me as more than a friend?! Even if I didn’t like you - which I do, by the way - I wouldn’t do that, I value you too much. But second of all, you’re telling me that you never noticed how much I liked you back?!”

“I-”

“-I have felt like an idiot for the past year, holding in my feelings for you and wishing you could feel the same way. And when you left, I thought - I thought that was it, and that I screwed things up when I was drunk, which I guess I did but-”

“-you didn’t screw anything up, I did!”

“No you didn’t, I did! I’m the drunken initiator!”

“I shouldn’t have just left!”

“Okay, so we both screwed up!” you shouted, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. “But dammit, Diego, I have loved you for ages, and you - we - this is what it came to?!”

“Well, I-”

“-I can’t believe this!” you chortled. “All this time?!”

“I guess so,” he said, voice catching on the ‘so’. “I guess, yeah.”

“Holy crap.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

“I love you,” you giggled, breathless and still flushed, messy and beautiful in the shitty gym lighting. “I love you, Diego Hargreeves.”

His heart didn’t break. It didn’t even crack. Diego instead felt the slight twinge as the organ settled in his chest, content and buzzing with the panted cry. The breaklines of before didn’t feel so harsh, mended by your shiny eyes and swollen lips that he wanted to stare at until the end of his days. For once, his heart actually felt whole.

“I love you too,” Diego mumbled, smiling like a little kid. The muscles in his face, rusted over with age and disuse, groaned at the extreme grin but he kept it on anyways, smiling down at you with the strangest feeling of happiness coursing through his body. “A lot.”

And you beamed. “Have I ever told you, your eyes look like, a thousand times prettier when you smile?”

A/N: WHY DO I KEEP WRITING ALCOHOL BASED IDIOTS TO LOVERS FICS?? Have I any other creative thoughts?? Does this make me seem like that’s all I think about?? These are the thoughts that now run through my mind as I rush to post this...and truthfully, I don’t have an answer. I swear I’m a little more creative! I just...have a hankering for these things. Oops.

I wrote this weirdly super super fast and it’s super nonsensical, especially the middle bits? But I weirdly like it. I’m not sure. The plot is a ~little~ wonky but I’m rolling with it!

I’m open to make more stuff on here, I’ve gotten quite bad at it but I like writing these things as practice pieces. So, if you want to read more, requests are open and you can find a list of prompts (if you want them) in my masterlist. I’m putting out an updated list later on in the month, but I also am just open to have any sorts of requests. xx

(also as always - if you enjoyed and you want more, follow, reblog, and consider buying me a kofi! linked in my bio bc tumblr doesn’t like direct links on posts, please check it out if you’re feeling generous because I’m recently unemployed and any bit helps. but sharing this post and showing others the work is appreciated a great deal and i love you if you do!)

[yanderecandystore]

Can I request a soulmate thingy with the bullies and delinquents?

Hi! Well, I got a little confused about your request but I think I got it, although I normally do one pair of ocs per post (or all ocs at once-) I guess I could do about both delinquents and bullies-

Especially since soulmate conundrums can be such a complex thing that it would take a long time to write one single post with every single OC lol-

Thank you for requesting!

TW/Tags: angst here and there // long as fuck // Soulmate shenanigans // not so great relationships (bullying) // cursing // delusional expectations/ideas // gender neutral reader

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Soulmate issues lol [Yandere!Bully OC/Yandere! Delinquent OC x Soulmate!Reader - Scenario]:

🎇 Let me set the stage for a quick sec!🎇

In this timeline, let us just say that something very specific happens to make it possible for two or more people to realize that they may be soulmates (cause I don't know how else I could create this universe boo XD). I think that two people that are soulmates would not be aware of it until they would be able to see each other's birthmarks, kinda like a magical symbol that is stuck on your skin ever since you were born.

In a reality where you are aware that you have a destined loved one possibly waiting for you and that it would be treason of you to not search for them, you could imagine how high your expectations were.

Well, not only your expectations but also the expectations of the entire society surrounding you, expecting you to simply accept whoever carries the same exact birth symbol as you.

Even if having a birthmark that dictates your future love interest is a common thing in your society, it doesn't mean that people just go around showing each other's birthmarks. It's believed that there is no need to rush things and that if you did find the love of your life, it's not because of the birthmark itself, but rather the spiritual connection between you two that brought you together unconsciously.

As I said before, your expectations were just as high as your hopes, as you wished to be able to meet the person who would "complete" you, the person carrying the soul of someone that had loved you through life and death, carrying the soul of the person YOU loved through life and death!

Now, how badly can this beautiful idealized narrative go?- I mean, consider your soulmates that is.

🍒Bullies🍭:

→ Alexandra Coldwell:

Alexandra is not exactly a patient person, you can imagine that the idea of having someone that would instantly fall in love with her was a really interesting idea, almost too good to be true.

Don't get me wrong, she believed this whole shenanigan to be unnecessary and dictating. She thought it was stupid to just start loving someone she doesn't know, and it's not like she is going to kiss some stranger's ass just because they have the same birthmark as her.

Ugh, that thing almost felt like some sort of bad tattoo she should have thought twice about having. It was a beautiful symbol, an elegant C' on emblem surrounded by thorns. Doctors believed that Alexandra could possibly be the reincarnation of one of her ancestors, since her birthmark is coincidentally similar to the old Coldwell family symbol used in the middle ages.

Although there isn't any evidence left of who was the "original owner" of the birthmark, neither of the people who they were destined to be with, which doesn't really matter to her at all, since she still thinks this "tattoo" was only a reminder of something stupid that she did that she doesn't want to be a part of it anymore.

Even after knowing that the possibility of seeing her "sOuLmATe" walking around town was possible, Alexandra never really cared about finding them. She preferred to have fun with as many people as she could instead of following her heart or whatever, she doesn't need anyone after all.

That's what she thought before noticing your birthmark. That symbol, that same exact symbol was placed on your skin, on YOU of all people. She has been bullying you ever since you entered the university but she had never EVER considered the possibility of you being her soulmate.

Even so, it does make a lot of sense! Ever since you entered the institution, you two had a weird connection that kept bringing each other closer although unconsciously. It felt like somehow she couldn't stop picking on you, and to you, it felt like there was no escape from her.

And it seems that your interpretation of your situation was correct, considering that now you are apparently bound to her with the same stupid destiny tattoo or whatever-

The fact that you are the one person she is bound to eternity is extremely humorous to her at first. It's both insulting and ironic that a nerd like you got the chance in a lifetime to be her soulmate, don't you feel lucky?

She will continue her bullying because obviously this is a great opportunity to show you your place, which is by her side no matter what you say or do. Alexandra believed that this was either a well crafted joke by the universe or just a cruel punishment to her, having someone like you be tied to her by love sounds so absurd…

And pretty fitting, in a way.

As time passed Alexandra started to grow closer to you, her bullying and general mean attitude had seemed to tone down as long as it was towards you. She seemed to have found a soft spot for you in her heart, but sadly, things don't always work like we plan them to.

You were disgusted by the fact ever since you realized it, how can you be stuck with her, of all people in the entire world? The soft feeling you get when you stand next to her doesn't help your case at all!-

Why of all people here, your bully has to be your soulmate? Maybe it was foolish of you to believe that when you finally found the one and only you would feel happy, maybe it was foolish for you to believe that the person you had fallen for once would be a actually gentle and caring person.

While Alexandra tried to get closer to you, you made your best efforts to get away from her as fast as you could. You didn't want to be near your bully specially when you just discovered that the reason you have continued to endure it for so long was because of the entire soulmate thing! Curse the stupid feelings that she gives you every time she is playful or soft towards you.

If you two had known each other in different conditions, this could all be a lot easier to deal with.

→ Adrien Coldwell:

Adrien may look pretty unbothered on the outside, yet that is nothing but a facade to keep his reputation from instantly falling as he squeals in excitement. This is perfect for him.

Differently from his sister, who has a symbol that is almost reminiscent of the old Coldwell brand mark and that has granted her the "special sibling of the dual" statues, Adrien has a somewhat weird birthmark. Is quite simply a shield with cherry on top. Is simple, pretty basic even.

There were no data associating his birthmark to anyone in his family, so presumably he isn't a possible reincarnation as his sister is, which lead the family to favor her over him since his birthmark has no resemblance of anything related to the family's history or is it intriguing or fun to look at.

It's a simple mark. What's so good about it?

And that's exactly what they got wrong, it was the exact opposite of a simple mark. It had a great meaning to Adrien, it meant something so important to him that he has sworn to search for his soulmate because of it. Because no one seemed to take his birthmark seriously he felt compelled to actually understand what it could mean, and how could he use it to get closer to his special someone.

His sister seemed to be the only one who noticed how the neglect affected Adrien to the point he decided to put up a mask and hide his need for even a little bit of attention.

I wouldn't bat an eye if he was the one to actually find out about you two sharing the same birthmark first. He has been stalking you and harassing you for so long, it would make sense as to why he feels so good when he is in your presence or interacting with you.

Granted that your earlier encounters were just him being an ass and being pretty rude to you in class, but now it's different you know??

He is so glad to have found you, finally- He got too excited to even show you that you two had the same symbol glued in your skins, he just started acting differently one day.

One day, while you were at the university he literally just gave you a small gift and called you out on a date. It was pretty frightening seeing someone who doesn't smile a lot trying to express fondness through their menacing looking grin, you had instantly thought it was some sort of elaborate prank yet you couldn't stop yourself from simply following with his plan.

You just felt compelled to go with him, despite the fact he has been nothing but a childish bully towards you. You can imagine the surprise on your face when he actually came to pick you up and have a great time chatting over a simple meal at a expensive ass restaurant you could never afford-

While you were being paranoid and trying to see where the "punchline", the "climax" of his prank was, he was enjoying his time with you not even noticing the fact you looked at him with suspicion written in your face.

You ended up spelling out your confusion and distrust of his person, claiming that you didn't know what he had in-store for you, but if this was some sort of prank he should just get it done with because you needed to be back home soon.

He was so shocked at your statement that he almost felt his heart breaking at your words, the sudden realization that he hasn't shown you why he was acting so kindly towards you in the first place.

And that's when the whole night went from confusing to horrible. You felt genuinely bad that the truth about his kindness wasn't because of a genuine change of heart, but rather because of your soul connection.

But that revelation wasn't as bad as when you actually notice you catching feelings for him throughout this time he has been a douche with you. You realized the exact reason why you came here, HE had realized the exact reason you came here.

You felt yourself panicking, leaving the restaurant immediately, how can you be his soulmate even if he is such a jerk with you??

How can you tell if these feelings are due to a genuine interest or just the connection through souls?

Why does it hurt to think he is only being kind because of the effects the birthmark has on him?

Even if the birthmark represents a strong bond that can't even be broken by death itself, you felt genuinely concerned for this being a disingenuous love. Yet that brings the question: Why do you care so much? Isn't he just an asshole you met in your class?

While you left crying confused of the sudden wave of questions clouding your mind, Adrien was feeling that our void consumed him.

Apparently he was wrong about his expectations, he shouldn't have thrown a bomb at you so suddenly. Or maybe, you don't really love him at all, and don't want anything to do with him.

There is nothing left but a poor foolish man crying while making no sound in his fancy table.

🍋Delinquents🐛:

→ Jackson Macnee:

Not exactly the most obvious romantic lover in the world, Jack can be pretty "whatever" when it comes to these things. He didn't really believed in the idea of love at first sight, although he is the type to get instant crushes really fast-

Jack's birthmark it's surprisingly cool looking, a snake coiling itself on a branch. It's so funny how it looks like a natural tattoo, he even decided to not hide it at all since he liked the look of it. It's not uncommon for people to leave their birthmarks visible, but in the case of Jack he used to wear it in public as a real tattoo rather than a soulmate birthmark.

Whenever someone asked about it, he would lie saying it wasn't the real deal, and when it came to people asking "which one is it then?" he would tell them to fuck off. It's none of their fucking business, it's supposed to be a intimate thing, isn't it?

Jack believed that the symbol was something way too important to be shared out as a talking subject, so much so that he has considered many times covering his birthmark in public due to the prying eyes looking at it. Yet he wore it as a tattoo so he could find someone who would recognize it as their own symbol, and whoever didn't recognize it, didn't deserve to hear the truth.

Yeah, maybe he did take this a little too seriously. I mean how couldn't he? It's something that dictates whoever the fuck he is supposed to be with, yeah people can go around and sleep with or date whoever they want, yet he felt compelled to wait and see what would happen.

To see if someone in the crowd would recognize it and talk with him, so he could see how this whole shenanigan works. And of course, his plan did work out eventually, as he caught you staring at him for way too long.

He thought you were confusing him with someone else, but having someone like you stare at him for so long was starting to annoy him- So of course, he rudely asked you what the hell did you want.

You were surprised by the harsh tone, yet not completely taken back by it. You seemed confident that his "tattoo" was clearly the same birthmark that you had.

You… Surprised him. You were so confident and comfortable with telling a total strangeville that you two were destined to be together or whatever. It's not everyday that you see someone so straightforward, so he decided to see how far this would go- He asked:

"- And…?"

"- I don't know- I haven't thought about it to be honest-" You said looking at him deadpanned. You were telling the truth though, you didn't really expect to find not only a person with a similar birthmark to you but to legit be right about them being your soulmate. You had met so many people with the "snake coiled in a branch" tattoo that you almost thought it was some sort of joke from the universe (it shouldn't even be possible for so many people to have the same coincidental tattoo!).

You started to introduce yourself and ask for his name and where he was going- It felt weird to be receiving so much attention out of nowhere by someone he doesn't know- Well, more accurately someone he had just met but still feels like he knows for years.

If you're so interested to know him and… I don't know, do whatever soulmates are supposed to do- He can totally do that right about now-

I mean, he doesn't have anything to do right now, and although he may not show it he is kinda interested to see how this will work out. It's clear that there is something that connects you two yet he would prefer to get to know what type of person you are. Even if he is low-key already digging this nonchalant attitude from you, he is a little worried that you may be a little gremlin in disguise.

Jack acts so careful around you that sometimes it's hard to tell if he is enjoying himself or if he just genuinely doesn't trust you for some reason. Even if he is loving every second of getting to know you, the lack of affection being expressed from his part makes you question if this is really what destiny has instore for you.

Hopefully he'll be able to open himself up before you think this won't work out at all.

→ Janette Sartorius:

Janette is a hopeless romantic woman. It doesn't help that her whole entire life she grew up dreaming about this moment.

Her birthmark is simplistic yet it meant the entire world to her-. A sword stuck on a rock as the laces that decorate the sword fly in the wind. It really did look like a tattoo, some people had even questioned her if that was her real birthmark or just a tattoo she made to look cool.

To some it may seem like a cool little symbol to have on her skin, yet to her it feels like there is something more to it. A meaning, a dream, a memory perhaps?

Ever since she was young she loved the stories of knights and princesses, she started to associate that image of the sword with that dream of being someone else's knight. It was charming to her and it seemed like she hasn't grown out of that phase ever since.

The first impression is the one that lasts, right? So the only way to meet her darling is to have a big entrance. It's not like she isn't ready at any time, it's just that she hoped that for all the good luck in world to not make her look stupid infront of whoever had the same birthmark as her.

Fortunately for her, her wishes were granted as in a brilliant moment of pure fucking convinient plot coincidence as she not only managed to impress you, but to also feel like the knight she so badly wanted to be.

She got her glorious moment after defending you from another classmate that was harassing you, to which she only got to enjoy after she looked over at you and not only instantly thought you looked pretty hot in her eyes and also saw that familiar image on the back of your hand.

It was pretty much love at first sight, which was literally bound by the universe to happen. I mean, can't you see this?? This perfect scene, the fact that she didn't need to look at your birthmark to see how gorgeous you were and to even be able to help you get up-

It was perfect! It felt perfect, it was even better than what she had dreamed of. The only thing to spoil this sweet moment between soon to be lovers was the bell ringing and you turning your back and running to class after whispering a shy "thank you bye". She couldn't even say her name, or ask your name, or even show you her own birthmark!

The only thing you left was a tiny notepad you forgot to pick up. There were scribbles here and there talking about some class assignments and source material for your studies.

It felt like you were Cinderella running away and leaving the crystal heel so she could pick it up and find you later on. It made her heart flustered at the comparison, it was all coming along so well.

She recognized which was the subject that your notepad was referring to, and soon went to find your class where she could hopefully find you and give it back.

But when she reached your class at lunchtime she didn't find you anywhere inside, only a couple of your classmates were there. She asked everyone she could to see where you were, like she was interrogating them over a crime scene because of how desperate she looked.

It felt like an endless chase to find you, people had given her vague or useless information over and over again. Some were playing a prank on Janette and others genuinely didn't know enough about you to know where you could be.

From the information she gathered around, you were a silent study all day type of person. She heard that you didn't enjoy it at all but you felt the need to try your hardest to be able to pass in your exams. Janette heard that you were shy and tended to keep yourself away from genuinely getting involved with people, which led to people considering you a weirdo and to bullying you over this.

It was a terrible reason to treat someone so loveable so badly yet it didn't surprise her since the institution was an absolute mess, if delinquents like her can go around and burn shit down, then clearly that was something wrong with the educational system.

Yet she didn't give up even for a second, she needed to find you, she needed to talk with you and tell you about your destiny together (and trying not to sound so desperate as she was-). Her efforts were compensated by finally finding you and being able to give you the notepad back.

It was so heartwarming to hear you say thank you again and being able to introduce herself properly, yet there was something different about this conversation. You seemed… worried of her presence, disturbed by it, concerned of her being so close and breathless next to you.

She thought you were startled by the sudden approach, after all you were a shy ball, right? That's why- That's why you got so shocked when she said you two were meant for each other, right? That's why you seemed so surprised after she showed you her birthmark.

O-Of course you weren't distancing yourself out of fear, right? Even if your eyes look so freaked out, it was probably because of how sudden the situation was right?

You didn't actually fear her, right? She knows she can be a bit intimidating, but-

But there is no way you're afraid of your own soulmate, right? There is no way she is scaring her own darling away, that was impossible…

You didn't mean it when you said you were "too busy with studying to think about getting a relationship", did you? She- She must had heard it wrong-

What type of fuckin excuse is that?? What moron says that to a person who they're literally bonded with forever?!

Janette was visibly shaking, her expression was of pure anger which didn't really surprise you as you expected her to get mad at such a terrible excuse. You didn't lie about being busy studying, you lied about not wanting to date her because of it. You were afraid of her because of her reputation, you didn't want anything to do with a delinquent, or a leader of a biker gang, or anyone so hot headed for that matter! It was ironic how your soulmate was literally the one person you wanted to be away from, even if you did feel a little more protected in her presence.

Actually, you would be lying if that encounter wasn't so… Romantic, in a way.

Yet it doesn't help that just the idea of getting rejected is making her look so violent, she hasn't even spoken anything or even raised her hand, yet there is a clear "nope" flag hanging over her head- You didn't say no! You just- You just don't know how you feel about this, is too sudden-

You fail to find the right words to tell her and hopefully calm her down, instead you just cowardly distance yourself and slowly slipping your back against the wall so you can make yourself seem smaller, unconsciously trying to showcase how terrified you were and how you you literally regretted every word that had ever come on out of your mouth.

Of course she was mad, but more because of the situation than of you actually- I mean, she has been waiting for this moment her whole life! How… How can anyone say something like that to their own soulmate for fucks sake?! How can you not feel the same spark that she feels by just talking with you? Is she in the wrong for wanting to jump straight to the "Happy ever after" of your story together? Maybe she is coming off way too strong about this, is this why you're being so stubborn?

When she manages to calm herself before saying something she would regret it, the look that you give her tells her that she really, really messed up this introduction part.

It hurts her to think you're scared of her, yet what hurts more is the fact she almost screwed this whole up for you two, you just need… some time to know her, right? To understand her, and so she can understand you.

She'll try to comfort you, yet is clear that she isn't the best at comforting people, but- But please! Please let her try!!

Let her try to be your knight in shining armour, dearest.

Even if you don't like the idea of spending time with her, I think you don't have a say in the matter. You'll stay by her side and you will see how you two were made for each other, you'll see.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[procrastinatorimagines]

Secrets

Fandom: Chicago Med / One Chicago

Characters: Ethan Choi x Reader

Warning/s: inappropriate sexual comments, sexual harrassment

Word Count: 1,374

Request:  Hi there, can I get an Ethan Choi x reader imagine, please? Where the reader is a nurse and they keep their relationship a secret as reader is afraid of being accused of favouritism until one of the patient's she was treating gets rude and aggressive and Ethan loses it when he finds out. Thank you x

You took your own car to work when you left Ethan’s in the morning, you always did. He didn’t see why you needed to bother going through all the trouble of keeping your relationship a secret, but he respected your wishes. 

You’d tried to explain it, he was a doctor, you were a nurse, if people knew about your relationship he’d be accused of playing favourites whenever you took a case, and it would be hard for your achievements to ever be taken seriously, especially since you were the woman too.

So you drove to work, noticing Ethan’s car occasionally in the mirror, wishing it didn’t have to be like this, but you loved your job, and as much as you cared about Ethan, even if your relationship ended, the reputation you would gain would stick with you.

Pulling in to the car park you saw Ethan get out his car on the other side, smiling at him briefly as you spotted Doris nearby, giving him one last look before greeting your friend and heading in to work.

“Morning Y/N, Doris,” Maggie smiled to you both as you approached the nurses station. 

“Hey Maggie,” you replied, taking off your coat as you watched Ethan come in, eyes on you a little too long as he wandered past and headed for the doctor’s lounge. 

“Oh hey, April’s out sick today, do you mind taking this patient in two with Halstead?” Maggie asked and you shook your head, letting her fill you in briefly before heading to the treatment room.

“Ah nurse Y/L/N, morning,” Will said as you entered, introducing you then to the middle aged man on the bed. “Mr Anderson, this is nurse Y/L/N, she’s a pro trust me, you’re in good hands, I’ll go check on your labs now,” he excused himself and left you with the man as he grinned at you.

“Hi Mr Anderson, how are you today?” You asked him in your professionally friendly tone, checking his IV as he continued to watch you.

“Doing okay sweetheart, pleasure to meet you,” he said and you resisted the urge to grimace at his tone, keeping your face neutral and pleasant.

“That’s good to hear,” you replied. You never wanted to judge a person so quickly, but given his suit and demeanor, you figured was one of those rich corporate types, entitled and privileged if his tone with you was any indicator.

“You been a nurse long darling?” He asked.

“A few years,” you replied, trying to keep your answers as short as possible so that you could leave, this guy was making you a uncomfortable, though you hoped you were just being paranoid.

“If you ask me you’re wasted in here, too pretty to be working in a hospital,” he told you with a grin, like he’d just offered you an amazing complement, when in actual fact he was making your skin crawl. 

“Everything looks good here Mr Anderson,” you said instead, brushing off his words like he’d never even said anything, “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” you smiled tightly, turning to leave when he dropped his phone. It slipped to the floor but didn’t sound like it had broken, he shrugged apologetically, clearly expecting you to pick it up. 

With an internal sigh you bent down to retrieve it, feeling a hand grab your butt as you did. You jumped back up, whirling around in shock to first the patient with a slimy smirk on his face. “You should stay a while baby, you look like all the medicine I’ll need to feel better,” he said suggestively as your face screwed up in disgust, swatting his hand away as he reached for you again and running out of the room.

You were disgusted, angry and upset, you just had to get out of there. You were in such a rush that you didn’t even see Ethan walking past until you barrelled straight into him. He caught you as you stumbled, still shaking from the interaction.

“Hey- hey what’s wrong?” Ethan’s face changed in an instant as he took you in. You swallowed, unsure of how to answer as your eyes darted back to the room.

“I- er-” you fumbled, trying to get out the words. Ethan’s hands were still on your forearms, keeping you steady as you took a breath. “That patient- he dropped- and I went to pick it up- and he grabbed my ass and said-” you told him in broken and messy terms, noticing that Maggie and Doris were listening now, heading over to you.

Maggie reached you, putting a hand on your shoulder as you watched the anger rise on Ethan’s face.

“He did what?” Ethan practically growled, moving away from you and towards treatment two, the purpose in his steps clear. 

“Ethan-” you tried to stop him, knowing he’d be the one to get in trouble in this situation. But Ethan was determined, pulling away from your hand, only stopping when Will got in front of him.

Will looked confused, having just got back, he must have got the tail end of the situation, or maybe he just saw the look of murder in Ethan’s eyes. 

“Get out of my way Halstead,” he demanded but Will shook his head, looking back to where you were stood being comforted by the other nurses, still puzzled, “he assaulted Y/N. Now move.”

Will blinked in shock, caught enough of guard for Ethan to start to walk past him, but you moved quickly and grabbed his arm. “This isn’t the way,” you pleased, “please Ethan, let’s just talk to Goodwin.”

He looked back to you, “Y/N he-”

“I know what he did,” you cut him off, speaking softer now as you continued, “but the right person has to get in trouble, and that isn’t you,” you tried to explain, uncomfortable with all the attention you were now getting. 

Ethan sighed through gritted teeth, but you didn’t back down, hand still on his arm as he finally, but reluctantly, nodded. “Are you alright?” He asked, realising that he hadn’t even asked.

“Not really, but... thank you for not doing anything,” you squeezed his arm, temporarily forgetting where you were as you drew back. Before anyone could say anything, Goodwin appeared, someone must have called her.

Ethan left to cool off in the doctor’s lounge as you went to talk to Goodwin, aware of the stares and raised brows around you about that public moment with Ethan.

But you had bigger things to worry about right now, so you pushed that aside in your mind and followed Goodwin into a more private room to talk.

-

You welcomed the cool air as you sat with your legs to your chest on a bench outside. Goodwin was handling it from here and you’d given a statement to Burgess when she arrived, now you just needed a minute to collect your thoughts and feelings. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you said to the shadows approaching, Maggie and Doris taking seats on either side of you on the bench. They looked like they wanted to say more on the matter but respected your wishes. 

Maggie smiled, trying to change the mood. “Any reason why Ethan took that very seriously?” She asked instead, Doris nodding her agreement as you felt your cheeks go red. 

“He was just looking out for me,” you attempted, never having been a very good liar.

“Uh huh, is that all?” Doris chimed in, neither women looking convinced. 

“Come on y/n we’re not blind,” Maggie added, nudging you as both woman laughed.

“Oh shut up,” you shook your head, knowing you weren’t fooling either of them. Ethan’s defensiveness of you earlier had made it very obvious that there was something going on with the two of you, not that your grabbing his arm had been subtle.

“You and Ethan...” Doris teased and you gave her a soft shove.

“Shut up!” You told them as you all laughed. 

You’d think about what it meant that your relationship with Ethan was out later, but right now you were just glad to laugh, and glad you had friends who knew how to make you feel better.

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Merging Timelines (Lucifer/MC)

Summary: Your nightmares become less frequent the less you refer to the other timeline as ‘yours’ and the more you convince yourself that this timeline is the only one that exists.

Alternatively: After waiting for you to come back, Lucifer goes searching for you to bring you back home.

Alternatively 2:0: what’s better than one Lucifer? TWO Lucifers!!!! But it really isn’t :(

Word Count: 2k+

Notes: Gender neutral reader (”they”); *throws angst at you* like leaving behind the original timeline wasn’t bad enough; I don't actually remember what Barbatos did to the other timelines-- if it was destroyed or if we just broke off into another junction, but I’m leaning towards the latter theory... yknow, for the angst, (had to repost this because tags weren’t working :’((( )

--

Every time you encounter something that was different or uncomfortable for you in the Devildom, you adapt. Just as you adjust to being in a timeline you had no intentions of being a part of not out of complacency, but out of desperation.

You scramble to make new memories with the seven demon brothers.

You go along with every antic Mammon or Levi pull you in and drown yourself with face masks and new lotions with Asmo. You cook your favorite recipes for Beel and discuss your favorite genres with Satan. You even help Belphie rekindle his relationship with his brothers; it’s familiar, easy for you to forget what you have lost when you’re busy helping others, even though every time he looks at you, you remember the feeling of his hands on your throat.

Your gaze lingers on Lucifer more, trailing after him. Before he notices, you’re already looking elsewhere, pretending like you don’t imagine time and time again when your hands were on his as he bared his heart and finally allowed himself to be vulnerable around his brothers-- around you-- before you were swept to the past you had no right to meddle in. Still, like with the other brothers, you do what you can to make up for lost time, even though you feel a sense of dread that you’ll never be able to have the same relationship with the brothers that you had when you bound together against Diavolo for Belphie.

(Especially not with Lucifer, who had vouched for you to find the truth and save Belphie, who let you embrace him in the catacombs and allowed your hands to give him the reassurance he needed to speak, whose concern was etched on his face as you declared that you would go to the past alone.)

Your nightmares become less frequent the less you refer to the other timeline as ‘yours’ and the more you convince yourself that this timeline is the only one that exists.

And it gets better (as it must) when you spend time with all of them, building your relationship to a point that you slowly begin to truly believe that things will be okay. It starts to actually feel that way when you attend Diavolo’s birthday party, pleasantly surprised at the presents that you are given. You’re warmed by the thought that went into each of them, flushing at the way Lucifer looks at you and pins the brooch right above your left breast with a gentleness you have always known he was capable of (even if he doesn’t realize it himself).

You meet Belphie outside, where there are lights above like stars, at the rocky pavement nearest the lake and accept his present. His pact burns onto your skin like all the other five, and he tells you he has never thought of you as Lilith as neither do the other brothers. Like a bad habit, you think about your other timeline, wondering if you had stayed if this scenario would have happened, and what would have changed otherwise.

“Hey-y-y, whaddya think you’re doin’ over there?! Did you forget who’s the guest of honor tonight?” You hear Mammon’s voice call out from a distance. You laugh when he huffs loudly, “Get back to the party, on the double!”

“Coming!” You reply back, grinning at Belphie who only grimaces at Mammon’s shouting.

“Why are you all the way over there,” Asmo whined, hugging you the moment you reached them.

“Sorry,” you say, returning his embrace gently. (Inwardly, you vow to make sure he has your full attention when asked, though you know he has no idea why you would do such a thing.) “Belphie was just giving me his gift,” you explain, smiling lightly when Belphie flushes at the sudden attention. He gravitates towards Beel as Mammon leers at him and Levi rolls his eyes at how ‘dramatic’ everything was.

“Oh, did he now,” Satan remarks, amusement laced in his every word. Belphie glares. “I understand the need for privacy, but the distance seems kind of excessive, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t you have preferred Lucifer to be more than a few feet away when we made our pact?” You tease, watching as the blond raises his hand to his face and similarly tries to hide his blush.

“W-Well, that was a different time--”

“You’re not exactly wrong,” Asmo comments, pointing to the marble pavilion out on the lake. “Lucifer’s not really that far off when these sort of things happen.”

At the sight of the eldest brother approaching with his black coat billowing behind him, Mammon swears. “Oh crap,” he says, starting to nudge you towards the Demon Prince’s castle. “C’mon, we should scram before he comes and yells at us for leaving the party.”

You laugh. “You say that like it’s something we can avoid,” you tell him, letting yourself get pulled regardless even as you glance back with a twinkle in your eyes at the familiar sight of Lucifer storming up to them in a huff.

That is, until he calls out your name.

There is something wrong.

You’re aware that Mammon and Satan are looking at you in concern when you stop walking, but you don’t have the heart to reassure them when you’re not sure if everything is okay. Lucifer calls out your name again, and you’re startled, heart beating a mile a minute as his voice wraps your name in a flurry of fear and desperation.

You didn’t realize Lucifer could ever sound like that.

Without thinking, you start to walk toward him, mind racing with every worst scenario you can think up of. “Lucifer,” you start to say, concerned, “Lucifer, what’s wrong--”

Lucifer gives you no chance to finish your sentence as he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly, leaving no space in between the two of you. Almost instinctively, you reach up and hold him, confused and worried but happy to provide him with an embrace if that is what he needed. (You wonder if he hugs like this every time, intimately close and comfortably tight, and for a moment you wish you had a chance to do this with your-- the other Lucifer.)

You hear some murmurs and strangled yells (probably Mammon) in the background, but you find yourself more focused on the warmth of his arms around your body and the way Lucifer’s eyes seem to glean in the light of the dark when he reluctantly pulls away.

You open your mouth to ask again when he beats you to the punch.

“Where have you been?” Lucifer asks-- no, demands of you, hands gripping your shoulders. His eyes search over you, as if checking for injuries or ailments.

You blink. “Oh, I was just with Belphie for a moment,” you tell him slowly, unsure why his eyes widen. You bite your lip. “Sorry, I know we’re supposed to be at the party and all but--”

Lucifer shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter,” he says, and hesitates for a moment before brushing his hand across your face gently. “Let’s go back home,” he tells you softly, dropping his hand until he is able to grasp yours.

“Home?” You echo, following his lead with worry. “What do you mean? I thought you’d be mad that we’d leave the ball, but you want to go home?”

At this, Lucifer turns his head with brows drawn together, mirroring your expression of concern. “What do you mean?”

You stop in your tracks, and Lucifer has no choice but to drop your arms as you stand at a distance. “Lucifer,” you start to say, “I don’t understand. Today is Diavolo’s birthday party-- you made me a guest of honor and everything. Are-- are you sure you’re okay?”

Before Lucifer could reply, you felt a hand on your shoulder pull you back. You look behind you to see Beel guiding you behind him, like Lucifer was someone to be protected from. The thought makes your stomach churn.

“Hey, you’re being pretty weird right now, Lucifer,” Mammon retorts, coming up beside you. “Where do you think you’re going right now, anyhow? The castle is that way.”

Looking at Mammon, Lucifer falters, but after glancing back at you, something in him resolves and his face sets.

“We’re not going back to the party,” he says with a tone of finality.

Mammon sputters, “Wh-What--?!”

“Diavolo’s birthday party was months ago for me,” Lucifer tells you even as this statement makes you reel. “I understand this may be confusing, but please trust me. Come back home with me,” he says, this time more gently, holding out his hand again. “To us.”

“No one is going anywhere.”

Your heart jumps at the sound of the familiar voice, and with growing dread, you turn away from Lucifer-- gentle, desperate, firm, and casually cladded-- only to see another Lucifer in his demon form, wings bristling and eyes burning with a dark ember as he sees himself right before him..

The last month comes back to you all at once: the nightmares, the paralyzing grief, and the slow and steady tread to the life you had before in the Devildom. And you suddenly feel the sharp pang of loss again when you see all that you have built up, all this time convincing yourself that you had left no one behind, come crashing down.

There were now two Lucifers: one from the timeline in which you left and the one in which you came to.

The original Lucifer (your Lucifer, your mind croons cruelly) glares at his alterself, giving no quarter. “We,” he says darkly, transforming into his demonic form, “are going to be leaving. Whether you allow it is not of my concern.”

“What is happening?” Levi cries out, glancing between the two Lucifers, indiscernible from each other. “Why are there two of them?”

“That doesn’t matter,” says Mammon, growling. “What’s the deal, huh, Lucifer-- if you really are him.” He puts his hands on his hips and glares. “‘Cause if you really are him, you’d know how important--”

“Trust me,” your Lucifer replies coldly, “I know how important they are. I don’t need anyone telling me.”

The other Lucifer-- the one who pinned the brooch on for you-- steps forward and puts an arm to obscure his counterpart’s view of you. “Then leave,” he demands. “They’re not going with you.”

You can see your Lucifer’s wings spread wide in anger, but he sees you and is once again quelled. (You don’t remember having such an effect on him, but it hurts your heart trying to wonder why you do now.) He says your name again, and steps forward despite his alterself brother’s raising hackles. “Did you ever want to get back home to us at all? Did you ever think of us?” asks Lucifer, putting a hand on his chest, eyes soft. “Of me?”

“Of course!” You cry out before you could think of doing otherwise. You step forward, stopped only by the other Lucifer’s arm blocking your path. You squeeze your eyes against the tears that stung them. “Of course I did! How could I not?”

“You were gone for months,” your Lucifer tells you, voice strained. “No sign of you coming back whatsoever. I held hope that maybe someday you would return to us but--” His eyes flashes with something unfamiliar, something you hoped to see for as long as you have been in love with him. “I will not lose you. Even if it’s to myself.”

“I love you,” your Lucifer says with a voice as sincere and vulnerable as it could be. “Truly and deeply. Please-- come back.”

“Lucifer, I--”

You jump at the hand that grabs your wrist, and you look up to see the other Lucifer look at you with a deep-seeded fear that made your heart clench.

“I will not lose you a second time,” he says quietly to you, and your heart stutters. He glares at his counterpart with an intensity that rivaled even the hottest fires. “You’re outnumbered, you know,” he says coolly.

You’re unsure if the other Lucifer actually means it-- that he would have his brothers fight himself, even from another timeline. The way the brothers shift behind you tells you that this is and never will be an easy decision-- nor it was for you.

“I agree with Lucifer for once,” Satan comments, smiling with a sharpness that didn’t reach his eyes. “Brother or not… it’s a fact that you don’t belong here, and we don’t take kindly to other demons taking what’s ours.”

“Looks like you’re selfish in every timeline, huh, Lucifer?” Belphie goads unkindly, stepping up next to Lucifer with Satan flanking his other side.

Instead of flinching, your Lucifer looks at you before gazing at his brothers, half of whom was hesitant to fight and the other half desperately trying to find reasons to justify it. “Say what you want of me,” your Lucifer says quietly-- dangerously. “I did not come here to go back empty-handed.”

HIs alterself looks at you, searching for something in your face, before pushing you towards Asmo who holds you back. (And you wonder if there was something in his eyes that could rival what your Lucifer had or if you had only conjured up something you hoped to see.) With a flourish of wings, the other Lucifer remarks dryly, “Then I suspect... you will not return at all.”

It’s ironic to think that the two men ready to fight each other to the death are the only ones whom you have not made a pact with. You wonder if you could have. You wonder if both Lucifers would let you.

But as of now, you can only drop to the floor, wallowing in the turmoil of seeing the man you love destroy himself, screaming until your throat is hoarse even though your words go unheard.

In some ways, Barbatos was right. There could only be one timeline-- and you never had a choice in choosing which one it would be.