#not just for my long time tumble friends but for the new ones i made too!!! i hope u all have a happy new year and a GREAT 2024!! :D

[avastrasposts]

Memories made, memories lost

Plot: Before Pero Tovar and his friend William Garin set out in search of black powder, he found himself doing something he never thought he would - falling in love. But what waits for him as he returns from his adventure after all this time?

Mercenary!Pero x female reader

Warnings: Angst and grief, loss of virginity (it's all consensual and it's not the main trope of the fic), explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate.

Word count: 7.9k

This is written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Wiriting Challenge where I requested a trope for Pero Tovar and got Amnesia A big thank you to @i-own-loki for the lovely banner! What would I do without my Canva Pro friends!?

Marriage was not something that was ever on the cards for Pero Tovar. 

He left his hometown while he was still a young boy, and after that he never stayed long enough in one place to put down roots. Let alone find a woman who would want to throw her lot in with a mostly penniless mercenary soldier who relied on powerful lords always finding a new enemy to fight. Who would want a scarred battle dog with a permanent scowl and dangerous look to his appearance? And even if someone did, how could he care for a wife? A family? He moved from town to town, from country to country, seldom returning to the same place twice unless the pay was very good. 

But then, one autumn in southern England, when the fighting season was over and the mud was too thick for both men and horses to march in, something changed. He was no longer young but in his fighting prime, hardened, and hard, by years of fighting other men’s wars. He had no other plans than to spend the winter in this small English town with his friend William Garin, wait for spring and the call to arms for another war or rebellion or crusade. He was going to fill his belly, hone his weapons, train the younger men and spend his evenings with a whore or two, and that was it. 

Marriage was not on the cards. 

But fate wanted a different path for him. And you quite literally fell into his arms as you tumbled from your horse on the outskirts of the small town. 

“Curse that nag!” you yelled crossly, struggling to free yourself from his strong grip, “let go, I can stand on my own legs!” You pushed at his chest as the dark haired man let go of your waist, stepping back with a chuckle. 

“And what fine legs they are,” he said, his grin wide.  

You sneered at his comment, “Too fine for you either way.” 

You glared at him as you brushed your dress, “I should thank you, I guess. You saved me from a much greater fall, that stupid mare is spooked by the smallest twig and throws me twice a week at least.” 

With a sigh you looked at your horse who’d decided that the twig wasn’t an immediate threat and had begun to graze the last of the summer grass just a little while down the country lane. 

“If that’s the case, you best go and claim your horse before she decides one of farmer Ned’s cows has fangs and means to eat her,” Pero chuckled. He liked your spirit, and the way your eyes blazed as you glanced at him. 

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” you said with a shake of your head, “I best be off, thank you again, sir.”

Tovar gave a small nod and crooked smile at your retreating back. 

Later that evening, as he’d eaten and gone back to the room he shared with William, he wondered why the chance meeting on the country lane wouldn’t leave his head. He felt as if he might’ve been bewitched, one moment walking down the country lane on his way out to the smithy for a repair of his armour, the next he had a woman in his arms as her bay horse bolted down the road. You’d smelled of apples, a rich, sweet scent clinging to your hair as it brushed over his face when you both landed in the dust. The soft yield of your flesh under the rough linen dress, it was as if he’d put his hands on the softest down pillow, he’d wanted to grab hold of it and not let go. 

As you rushed away from him, scolding your skittish horse, he’d watched the way your hips swayed with each step, bright hair bouncing with frustration. You gripped the horse’s bridle and pulled it around, even at a distance he could see the way your nose crinkled in annoyance as you berated the poor animal. When your anger trickled out as quickly as it flared up, your face softened and you gently stroked the animal’s nose, giving its neck a pat before swinging yourself up into the saddle again. You caught him staring and gave him a quick smile, before turning again and nudging the horse into a slow trot. 

He’d made his way to the smithy and then back to the rooms he and William had rented for the winter. And when he laid down on his bed, the vision of you filled his head, soft curves, sweet smile, quick temper and a sharp tongue. He would very much like to see you again, be that close to you again.   

The next day was a Sunday and he joined William at the church for mass with the rest of the village. He let the familiar Latin incantations wash over him, the rituals the same here as in his hometown as it was in every other town he’d ever visited, irrespective of the country or the ruler. The power radiated from Rome and although the churches looked different, the rituals were the same and it brought a strange, albeit dull, comfort to him. 

When mass was over the congregation filtered out of the church, slow in leaving, catching up with neighbours and sharing gossip. Pero tried to scan the crowd surreptitiously but William caught his wandering eye. 

“Who are you looking for? The mysterious horse woman?” he asked, looking around at the villagers and the mercenaries who were wintering here just as they were. Pero had told him of the encounter, not being able to hide how you’d remained on his mind as he returned to the rooms. 

“I don’t remember seeing her here before,” Pero replied, trying to appear unphased, uncaring, as he continued to scan the open space in front of the church, but without success. When he couldn’t see her, he followed William back to their lodgings. The Lord’s day should be spent in rest and was not wise to anger the local priest. 

But Pero found himself too restless to sit still, fiddling with a troublesome chainmail. He left William to it and ventured outside instead, vying to find a secluded spot in the woods to get some practice in without being scolded by someone spotting him working on a Sunday. 

The autumn forest was golden, the air crisp and clear as the sky stretched endlessly blue above the trees as Pero wandered further in than he meant to. It felt good to be away from people, from the crowded town and the small rooms he shares with William. 

The clank of metal on wood reached his ears and he furrowed his brows, no one would be out here felling trees on a Sunday unless there was some strange business. He moved silently through the underbrush towards the sound, and came upon a clearing, drawing breath at the sight in front of him. You had stripped down to just your slip and a pair of men’s breeches, your arms bare and glistening with sweat as you raised the heavy sword and parried an imagined attack, and hit the thick beech trunk. The sword lodged in the wood and with a grunt you pulled it free, backing up a few steps and repeating the exercise. 

Pero watched you for a few minutes, your technique was good, someone has clearly taught you the basics, but the sword was too heavy for you. 

“You have some skills with that sword, señorita,” he called, just as you dropped your arm, letting the sword hang by your side as you took a deep breath. 

His voice made you jump and swing around, the sword quickly raised. 

“Do not worry, I mean you no harm,” he said, walking towards you with both his arms raised, “We’ve met before, with your troublesome mare.” 

“I remember,” you answered, the tone of your voice betraying your wariness as his sudden appearance, “What are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, señorita, I think,” he replied, “seeking a place away from unwelcome eyes to hone my skill on a Sunday.” 

Unclipping his cloak and satchel and placing them on a log near the edge of the clearing, he then turned and nodded at the sword in your hand. 

“You have some skill, but the sword is too heavy for you.” 

“What do you care?” you snapped at him, the sword still lifted as he approached. 

“I train the younger soldiers, when a sword is too heavy for the user, the technique suffers. And I hate to see a bad swordsman. Or woman.” 

With a fluid movement he pulled both of his swords from his back, the left one spinning in his hand, the handle held out towards you. 

“Let me show you, borrow my sword, it’s more lightweight.”

You regarded him with suspicion, not lowering your own sword. 

“Why do you want to help me?” 

“Why do I want to help a woman become a better fighter?” he countered, still holding out the sword to you, “Because those without swords can still die upon them. I learned that a long time ago. So better the women know how to fight too.” 

You regarded him with caution, the dark haired, dark eyed man with a strange accent and a menacing scar across his eye. But something in his face, the way he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow, encouraging you to take the sword he was still holding out to you, made your trepidation waver. Slowly you sheathed your own sword, and grabbed the handle of his. He gave you a crooked smile and a quick nod. 

“Good. Now show me what you can do.” 

With a quick movement he brought up his own sword and attacked, and you just about parried in time, the two swords ringing out through the empty forest as they met. 

Marriage was not something that was ever on the cards for him. But sometimes fate wills it differently. 

And before that Sunday afternoon in the forest, you’d never considered marrying someone either. At least not for any other reason than your father telling you that a man was needed to run the farm when he was gone. But the dark haired Spaniard with the scowling face, menacing and imposing, he was the one who made you see that marrying didn’t mean settling for one of the local boys. 

His dark eyes glittered with mischief as he taunted your sword skills, easily smacking your arm with the flat side of his blade as you failed to anticipate his next move in the early days of your training. But it was the way he smiled with pride when you managed to disarm him and put your blade to his neck, that smile made your heart melt. He was proud of you for a skill any other man you knew would shame you for, even attempt to lock you up for. It was like taking a deep breath of air for the first time, the way he treated you like an equal in a way no ever had before. 

It was mesmerising how a hardened soldier with such a menacing scowl could transform into the most handsome man you’d ever seen. It stunned you, and locked you in place, the first time you stood toe to toe with him, his back against a thick oak, your sword resting against his neck. Surprise flashed across his face first, then he smiled, his eyes shifting from the hard concentration of battle to soft warmth as his lips pulled up in a proud grin. 

“I knew there was a warrior in you,” he said, holding his sword arm up in defeat as you pulled the blade away from his neck, “with my training, you’ll beat almost any man.” 

“Almost any man?” you replied, your eyebrows lifting as you moved your hand and rested the blade against his neck again. 

Pero chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked down on you, glancing down his sharp nose as you made him tilt his head back again. 

“Any man, guerrera,” he smiled and again the pride in his voice made warmth and elation shoot through your body. 

Sweat was dripping from his forehead, you could feel the heat of him against you, the rise and fall of his chest, your own short breaths against him as an errant drop slipped over his lips and his tongue came out to catch it. Your eyes drifted to the pink tip as he licked his bottom lip, watching it disappear into his mouth again. When you looked up, his smile was gone, replaced by something more hungry, his eyes darker as they seemed to study your face. There was no need for you to be so close to him still, the fight over. But as he brought his hand up and carefully pushed your sword away from his neck, you only let your hand drop, not stepping back. You felt rooted to the spot with his eyes on you, the warmth of his body like a magnet to your own. 

“Señorita…” he almost growled, a half whisper from the back of his throat, as he slowly leaned closer, his eyes moving to your lips before his gaze fell on you again. Dark and warm, it was like being pulled in by the last of the dying embers of a fire. Pero glowed and burned hot under your palm as you put your hands on his neck and pulled him to you, your sword falling to the floor of the forest with a soft clatter. 

He wouldn’t let you go, and you clung to him just as eagerly, the dry leaves rustling as you pulled him down, he rolled you over, caging you in under his strong arms.

“Señorita…” he growled again, it was all he could press out before your lips found his, soft, pliant and sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted, addictive in the way they felt against his mouth, his jaw, his cheeks as you found new places to kiss him, your fingers winding through his hair, keeping him locked in place against your lips, taking as much as you wanted from him and he never once stopped you. 

He was lost. So utterly lost. And he’d never felt more at home. 

You plucked last year’s leaves from your hair and cloak all the way home that day. Pero followed you to the edge of the forest as always. But this time you pulled him behind a tree and made him press his hard body against you, pinning you against the trunk. The way he groaned into your kisses made your body heat up, your need for him growing with every slow roll of his hips, hands roaming to feel as much of him as you could, his hands kneading your hips and caressing your curves.

If your lips were swollen and your hair dishevelled, your father said nothing of it when you came home. When Pero came by one Sunday after church and asked permission to marry his daughter, he wasn’t surprised. 

There had been no war or rebellion to pull Pero away from you that year. William left, serviced under a local lord, but Pero stayed and put what little money he had left into buying the small farm next to your father’s. When the time came, the two could be merged and provide a good life for the two of you and any children that followed. When the small cottage was his by law, only then did he go to your father, who said yes without hesitation to the large Spaniard. 

“As if I could deny you the man you’ve clearly set your eyes on, even if he wasn’t a great, big hulking warrior,” your father had said later that same night after Pero had left, “With him in your house, I know you’ll be safer than with me. And if you truly love him too, well then I have no objections.” 

“I really do love him, with all his scowls and menacing looks, he is a very good man underneath it all, father.” 

There had been strange looks from the villagers, but that had hardly mattered. You’d always gone your own way, and marrying a dark haired outsider with a thick accent seemed to be something that the gossiping wives had expected of you. Either way, when you exchanged your vows outside the church on the intended day, you were surrounded by smiling faces, the old priest beaming down at you as you entered the church with Pero by your side to be blessed by by God.  

The feast lasted most of the day but by the late afternoon, you both left your father’s farm and was escorted by the priest, William and a few other villagers, to your new home, the cottage that Pero had worked so hard to turn into a home for you both. His first home since he left the place he was born, and now the place where he intended to live out the rest of his life as a happy man. When the marital bed had been blessed too, Pero closed the door to the cottage and you were alone as husband and wife for the first time. 

“Come here, husband,” you smiled at him as he turned back from the door. You didn’t need to beckon him, nothing would keep him away from you tonight, but you liked the sound of his new title - husband.

“Mi esposa,” he grinned as he crowded you against the sturdy oak bed he’d built with the aid of the local carpenter, “my wife, finally.” 

His eyes went soft, his mischievous grin replaced by a tender look as he cupped your face with his warm palms, “Never in my life did I think I’d call someone ‘my wife’, I never thought this was the way my life would be, and then I found you,” he ran his thumbs over your cheeks, leaning his forehead against yours as your breaths mingled, ”Te amo, mi amor,” he whispered. 

“I love you too, Pero,” you whispered back, your fingers finding his soft curls as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Gently he pushed you backwards, making you lay down on the bed, your bed, as he moved to cage you in under his arms and wide shoulders. Many training sessions in the forest had ended this way, time slipping away as you kissed each other breathless, but it had never gone further. You’d feel the thick weight of him pressed against your thighs, felt how he sometimes rolled his hips to seek a brief relief, but he'd always pull back.

“Amor, I won’t take you on the forest floor,” he’d muttered when you asked him to stop caring so much about your virtue, “I want you in a bed, our bed, when I’m your husband and you’re my wife.”

Now here you were, in your bed, and you called him husband as he slowly removed all your layers, caressing every sliver of skin that was revealed to him. He pressed kisses to your soft breasts, moaning as he felt them pebble under his touch, his strong nose trailed across the downy hairs of your belly, and when you giggled at the way his beard tickled, he nipped at the warm skin of your thighs. The thick slide of his tongue through your heated centre made you arch your back and gasp, your fingers scrambling for purchase in his hair. You could hear him chuckle against you, the tip of his nose circling the epicentre of your pleasure, he seemed to know this part of your body better than yourself and he soon had you moaning his name as you fought to catch your breath. 

When he had you drenched and dripping, he rested his head on your soft thigh and tapped your leg. 

“Amor, look at me,” he invited. Through half closed lids, clouded with pleasure, you watched him slide a finger through your liquid, coating it before he slowly pushed in. It slipped in easily, and when he curled it, caressing your insides, your eyes fell closed of their own volition. Suddenly you wanted more, more of his fingers, more of him and you whined, your hips rolling over his finger. 

“Please, Pero…” you whimpered, your voice hoarse and pleading. 

“What do you want, esposa,” he asked as he moved his finger gently back and forth, making you gasp again. 

“More…I think…more…” you mumbled and Pero smiled. Seeing you fall apart for him, slowly showing you how good he could make you feel, how he intended to spend every long winter evening, it filled him with a happiness he’d never felt before. It was like a hot burning fire inside his chest and it would keep him warm when he had to leave, he knew these memories would be the ones he returned to on long cold nights alone. 

“More?” he asked, “I can give you more, amor.” 

The smile in his voice made you look up at him as he moved to lie at your side, putting his arm under your shoulders and finding your lips with his own. As his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he gently pushed a second finger into your heat. He felt you arch up against him, whimpering into his mouth, your fingers digging into his arms as he slid his own in and out, setting your body on fire with every slow drag. 

He moved so slowly, it was like your body was turning into molten metal, heat flowed through you, all coming from where Pero’s fingers sunk into you. Your hips rolled of their own accord, your core clenching hard around him and a tension was building up inside you. But just as you felt as if you were about to snap, like a thread pulled too tight, Pero slipped his fingers from you and caressed your side, his hand leaving a sticky trail on your skin.

“Amor,” he mumbled, moving over your body so that he once again was caging you in, his warm, dark eyes glowing as he looked down at you, “Amor, I’m going to enter you now, tell me to stop if it hurts, you are so tight.”

You nodded and made room for him between your legs, you knew this might hurt, you’d heard the wives talk and the gossip. But no one had ever mentioned it feeling this good to be with a man, this aching need to be filled up by him. It had you panting with impatience, your core clenching around the emptiness left behind by his fingers. 

Pero kept his eyes locked on you as he coated himself with your silky liquid and lined himself up. Your brows furrowed as he pushed the thick head inside, and he dropped his forehead to yours, taking a deep breath. 

“Does it hurt?” he whispered, slowly rocking himself back and forth, just the tip moving inside you, and you shook your head. 

“No, it was just a little tight, I want more,” you replied, spreading your legs wider for him. He reached down and hooked your leg over his hip. 

“Squeeze me, pull me in if you want more,” he said, gritting his teeth as he felt your contract around him, fighting the urge to push in harder, “you feel so good, amor, so good to me.” 

Your legs wrapped around his waist and Pero rocked slowly, pushing in deeper with each short thrust. His face was pinched with concentration, his mouth half open as he licked his lips. With your arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead against yours, each breath you took was his and your world shrunk down to only Pero. Only his warm body above yours, his hips heavy between your legs, driving himself into you and creating ripples of pleasure through every fibre of your being with each thrust deep inside. Your eyes wanted to close but you forced them to stay open, to see your husband as he looked at you, his eyes hazy with lust, dark and burning, every movement making him groan as your body pulled him in. The tight string started to pull taught inside you again, your body moving against Pero’s, making him pick up his pace. 

“Amor, can you feel that?” he mumbled, his forehead still resting against yours, “can you feel your body getting ready to fall?” 

You nodded, it felt like a lightning storm ready to break, just over the horizon. Tightening your grip around his waist, you pulled him in and he understood, driving himself deeper, a little bit harder into your tight core. 

“Pero…” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he grunted in response, his hand grabbing your leg and finding a new angle. 

“Amor, let me feel you come around me, give me this…” he panted, “the first time…I want it-”

Before he’d even finished you cried out under him, gripping him tight, your body trembling as the string snapped and lighting coursed through you, Pero’s thick cock driving hard into you, pushing your pleasure higher as he gasped and grunted. With a cry he broke, a loud groan, and he spilled himself inside, your legs like a vice around his waist as he rocked himself deeper. 

He was heavy on top of you, the warm sweat of his torso gliding against your own chest as you buried your face against his neck and took long, deep breaths. 

“Pero…my love…” you whispered softly into his ear, his wet kiss against your own neck was his exhausted response as he slowly came down from his high. Your arms were still wrapped tight around him, as were your legs, locking him in place. Not that he wanted to leave, he would stay here, in this bed, between your legs, until moss grew on him like an old boulder that no farmer could move. 

He was home. 

Endless miles stretched out behind them, thousands if they cared to count them. Pero did not. All he could see was the white cliffs in front of the ship, like a beacon, a sign that their long journey was finally coming to an end. 

They returned, not as poor as they’d set out, but not as rich as they thought they’d be, but the only thing that mattered to Pero was that he was returning. He’d fought with his friend, felt betrayed by him, even abandoned him in the end, so strong was his need to return home. It had almost cost him his life, caught by the very army he was trying to escape as he left William behind, brought back and then thrown in chains. He thought he’d die there, locked up in a dungeon, never seeing you again. 

It burned in his chest as the chains gnawed at his wrists, to never see you again, to leave you behind in this world without a word. He could see your face as he closed his eyes, conjured it up in his mind and remembered the tears clinging to your lashes as he pulled back one final time and turned for his horse. Riches or not, he was a damn fool for leaving you, he should’ve been content with what he had. 

In the end it was only by the grace of God, or maybe by William’s good heart, that he’d been freed by the very friend he’d betrayed and allowed to leave and make the long journey home. 

Now he stood on solid ground again, readying his horse for the final stretch home. 

Home. 

A word he’d never thought he’d be able to say and for it to mean something worth fighting for. A woman he loved. A house where he could keep her warm and protected. A place to raise a family. 

Home. He was going home. He knew he never should’ve left. 

The last ride was easy and he drove his horse fast, the afternoon barely past its prime as he saw the cottage at the end of the path, tucked in among the heavy oak trees. It looked well kept, but the door was shut tight and no animals roamed around the yard. 

“Mi amor!” he called, spurring his horse on for the last few yards, “Mi amor!” he called again as he swung himself from the saddle. 

But the door was shut tight and wouldn’t budge and a lap around the small house showed him that it was indeed as empty as it looked. He mounted his horse again, not yet uneasy, and set a fast pace down the lane, towards your father’s farm a mile through the forest. 

Here there was life at least, chickens in the yard, a dog pulling on its leash and the door open. Again he swung himself from the saddle, throwing the reins around the gate post and striding forward. 

“Stay back!”

Your sword was raised. Your sword? No, his sword, the one he’d left with you. Held up by you now, threatening him to not take another step forward. 

“Mi amor, it’s me, Pero,” he smiled, spreading his arms wide and taking long strides to you, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and feel your soft body melt against his after so many months. 

“Stay back!” you snarled, taking a step back and settling into the fighting stance he’d taught you and Pero floundered, stopping in his tracks. 

“Amor…Have I changed that much? Don’t you know your husband?” 

“I don’t have a husband,” you replied, your sword still raised, “Now, leave before I set the dogs on you!”

Pero felt a cold dread rise in his chest, confusion clouding his mind, he didn’t understand why you didn’t know him and he dropped his arms, his face a pained mask. 

“Mi amor, it’s me, I left a year ago on a foolish mission, you were my wife when I left and I have fought so hard all this time to get back to you and…” he trailed off as your eyes showed no recognition, no flash of relief. Just a hard stare at him. 

“Tovar!” 

A voice called out, an elderly man coming around the corner of the cottage, his white hair in tufts around his ears and neck and his face concerned. 

“Tovar, it’s good to see you safe after all this time, my boy!” 

The man forced a pained smile at Pero before he reached you. 

“Daughter, lower your sword, he is a friend, he just hadn’t been past here in some time,” the old man put his hand on your arm and gently made you lower the sword, “Go inside and make sure the stew is not burning, I will speak with Tovar and join you shortly.” 

Pero looked on in confusion as you sheathed the sword, smiled at your father and turned back into the cottage. 

“John, tell me what’s going on, why does my wife not know me?” 

“Come with me,” he replied and gestured towards the edge of the farm yard, the low stone wall serving as a seat as he sank down. Pero remained standing, glancing back at the cottage. Part of him wanted to storm into the cottage and grab you, shake you and make you see him, see him, your husband. But John’s hand landed on his arm and pulled his attention back to the old man. 

“It began not long after you and William left, her memories have been slowly going and neither the priest nor the physician know why or what caused it.” 

“What do you mean, her memories are going? She doesn’t know me?” Pero gripped the handle of his sword, not a threat, just a comfort, to hold on to something familiar as he rubbed his thumb over the pommel, “I am her husband, she loves me, how can she forget me?” 

“I don’t know, Pero,” John sighed, rubbing his weathered hand over his face as he shook his head, “she just doesn’t. And it’s not just you, she seems to forget most new things from one day to the next, a new neighbour, the cow giving birth to a new calf, selling a few of the chickens, she just forgets,” he looked over at the cottage where a thin tendril of smoke rose slowly from the short chimney, “She remembers her childhood, her brother and mother dying, after that it all becomes hazy.”

John looked up at Pero again and Pero could see the toll the past year had taken on his father-in-law as pain flashed across his face, his usually bright eyes sunken and dark. 

“I’m sorry, son, she doesn’t even remember meeting you, nothing of your life together, and not you leaving.” 

It hits him like a dagger to the chest, piercing in its pain and wrenching his chest open; he left, she begged him not to, but he left and this is his punishment. Her mind is protecting her from the pain he caused. With a groan he turns around, sinking down on the wall, his head buried in his hands, it feels as if his throat is closing up, a sob tearing its way up, like broken glass cutting him open. 

“I left her,” he groaned, choking around his words, “She begged me not to go, that last night before I left, and I thought I had to and left her anyway. I broke her heart and this is my punishment, her mind has removed me from her so she doesn’t have to live with my betrayal.” 

“Son…” John said, his voice choking too, but he put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “We do not know the will of the Lord, you did what you thought was best.” 

The hand on Pero’s shoulder burned like fire, guilt over taking him and he stumbled to his feet, shaking off the other man’s grip with a shrug. 

“I’ll leave, it’s for the best,” he replied, striding towards his horse without looking back, his jaw tight around his words, “Take care of her for me.” 

“Tovar, wait,” John called after him and hurried to his feet. He grabbed the reins of the horse just as Pero swung himself into the saddle, “She loves you, still. I know she does, she just needs to remember you.” 

“Remember how I broke her heart and left her? What kind of a husband was I? No,” Pero shook his head and gathered the reins, making John let go of them, “Let her have a good life without me.” 

The door of the cottage creaked as he spoke the last words, making him look up towards it. You were standing in the opening, an empty water bucket in your hand, your eyes on him. 

“Are you really my husband?” you asked, glancing over at your father, but finding Pero’s eyes again. Pero felt his throat close up again as he saw the way you looked at him, a complete stranger, not a trace of recognition. 

He just nodded in response, not trusting his voice. 

“He is, my dear,” John replied in his stead,  “Do you remember me telling you about him when your mind first started to go?” 

You shook your head at that, your eyes still on Pero. 

“I’m leaving,” he said, a deep furrow in his brow as he ruefully shook his head, “I caused you both enough hurt.” He nudged his horse to turn around, walking it through the gate and out onto the road, avoiding John’s look of pity.  

“Wait!” 

The call came just as he was about to spur his horse on, away from your empty stare. 

“Wait,” you called, hurrying after him, stopping as he halted his horse and turned in the saddle. You came up to stand by its neck, looking up at him, “Stay at least the night, I…I know I lost so many memories, but...if you’re my husband then you should stay, maybe something will come back.” 

“No,” he shook his head, looking away from you and down the road, “I caused too much harm, I don’t want you to have to relive the pain I caused you.” 

“Please, my life has been cut in half, I can’t remember it, but I know something big is missing. I will gladly take the pain again if I can have the rest of my life back,” you put your hand on his horse’s neck, tilting your face up to him as you waited for his reply, “Please.” 

He couldn’t resist looking down at you and he felt his resolve weaken as your eyes met his. Such a familiar face, the one he loved so deeply. The colour of your eyes was seared into his mind, the small imperfections on your cheeks that he’d mapped with his lips so many nights, the shape of your perfect nose that he’d traced with his calloused fingers when you complained that it was all wrong. So many long, cold nights, picturing this face in his mind’s eye as he tried to do what he thought was right, the desperate moments when he thought he wasn’t coming back to you at all. Facing monsters from nightmares in overwhelming numbers, even as he fought for his life, this face was floating before him. You were the one he was fighting so hard to get home to. 

Now you were looking back at him, pleading with him, and he knew he had no choice. The last time he denied your request, he’d almost lost his life and you’d lost your memories of him. He would stay. The pain he would feel at seeing you look at him like a stranger would be a small price to pay compared to the pain he’d put you through with his greed and stubbornness. 

He gave you a nod, a short movement of his head as you held his gaze. He searched in vain for a glimmer of recognition, a flash of the woman you were before he left, but there was nothing. Just a small, uncertain smile as you dropped your hand from his horse’s neck and took a few steps back. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, glancing back at your father, “my father will be glad to have you with us too, he’s probably tried to make me remember you so many times.” 

Pero slid off the back of his horse and took hold of the reins as he turned to you. His rough fingernails dug into the palm of his hand as he clenched his fist, the familiar scent of your skin washing over him as he got closer. He could feel every bone in his body aching to reach out and pull you into his arm, bury his nose in the soft skin of your neck and breathe you in, feel your hands on him again. He could feel himself torn in two; the urge to bolt when you took a step back from him, the need to stay near and never leave again. 

“Amor…” he mumbled, tearing his eyes away from you as you took another step back, the pain and emotion plain on his face. 

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you whispered, “I don’t know what that means…” 

For a few moments you looked at him as he refused to meet your eyes again, his gaze wavering as his hand closed around the reins of his horse. His knuckles were pulled taught, the tension in his still form clear, and you took another step back. 

“Please, put your horse away and I’ll heat up water for you to wash. Father said you’ve travelled far, you must be weary. There's good stew cooking too,” you raised your hand and gently put it on the neck of his horse, “Come, please.” 

He followed you into the house once he’d put the horse away, your father leaving to bring the small herd of cows in for the evening. Water was heating over the fire and you mixed it with the cooler water from the barrel as Pero stepped over the threshold with his heavy saddle bags by his side. 

“You live with your father now,” he said, a statement rather than a question, but you nodded, wiping your hands and turning to the stew pot. 

“Yes, well, I don’t remember living anywhere else but he tells me the cottage down the road is where I lived before…” you trailed off, putting your hand to your temple as your brow furrowed, screwing up your eyes as if trying to search for a memory. Pero shifted by the door and you turned to him with a surprised look on your face. 

“I-I guess…that’s where we lived?” you asked and a look of anguish flashed across his face. 

“Yes….yes, we lived there,” he replied, still holding his heavy bags, looking like he was almost on the verge of leaving again. “We moved there on our wedding day and I… Do you ever visit it now?” 

You shook your head but hesitated, “Never…but maybe I have been back, but I forget from one day to the next, I know it’s there but if I see it now, it’s like I see it for the first time.” 

Pero dropped his bags on the floor and rubbed his hand over his face, his shoulders slumped as if under a tremendous weight. 

“Amor…” he said to the floor before looking up at you again, “I don’t know if I can do this. We lived there, you and me, they were the happiest days of my wretched life, and now it’s all been taken from us. You look at me like a stranger and I can’t stand it.” 

You didn’t know what to say, the man in front of you was a stranger, nothing in his voice or face was familiar. The only reason you asked him to stay was your father telling you he was your husband, and that feeling in your chest of something missing, that empty space in your mind, a big piece of your life’s memories missing. 

“I’m sorry…” you said again, but he shook his head. 

“Don’t. It’s my fault, I did this to you. And I’m staying until you tell me to leave.” 

“I might not remember you in the morning,” you said, “I often forget meeting new people.” 

New people

It cut through him like the sharpest blade. He’s ‘new people’ to you now, not your husband, or even a friend. Just a stranger in your house. 

He nodded at the large bowl that you’d filled with water, “I’ll get cleaned up now, do you want me to go outside?” 

The cottage was familiar, he’d spent much time here before the wedding, and not much had changed in the year he’d been gone. It had only two rooms, and he presumed you were sleeping in the bed nook against the back wall, your father in the other room. The small cottage didn’t hold much space for privacy. 

You shook your head and turned back to the fire, “I’ll keep my back turned, I need to watch the stew.” 

He stared at you for a beat, the achingly familiar shape of your shoulders, your hips and the way you cocked one out to the side as you leaned forward over the large pot. How many times hadn’t he come up behind you, run his hands over your soft shapes, pushed your hair to the side and pressed kisses to your neck as you giggled at the way his beard tickled your skin. Now you stood with your back to him to not see as he pulled off his clothes, something you’d done to him almost every night. Unlaced his shirt, pulled it from his breeches and caressed his skin with your soft hands. 

The dirty shirt dropped to the floor with a soft sound and you heard him wring the washcloth as you added the last of the herbs to the stew. You couldn’t help yourself, you glanced over your shoulder and stole a look at him. He was a stranger, but supposedly your husband, and either way, he was handsome. Under that layer of grime and sweat, he was a striking man, unlike any you’d ever seen. Or, at least, unlike anyone your mind would let you remember. So you glanced back at him and was struck almost dumb by the sight. Broad shoulders, a muscular back tapering into narrow hips where his breeches hung low as he rubbed the washcloth over his abdomen. 

The back of his neck was tanned golden, his back lighter and marred by a long scar that shone bright in the dim light. It looked like a painful injury, old and long since healed over, and you wondered if he’d ever told you what had happened to him. Had you run your fingers over as he told you the story? You realised you must’ve spent countless nights next to this man in your marital bed, his hands on you, your hands on him. This man, this stranger in your father’s house, would know you better than anyone else, every inch of your body and your most intimate secrets. 

As if he could sense your eyes on him, he glanced back over his shoulder and met your eyes, and he seemed to hold his breath for a moment. Then he turned fully to face you, the washcloth forgotten in his hand. 

“Amor…” he whispered and you bit back a sudden sob. His eyes were so hopeful, you wanted nothing more than to remember him, to have all the memories of him flood back into your mind as he dropped the washcloth and took two quick steps across the floor. 

“I don’t remember,” you sobbed as his arms wrapped around you, “I don’t remember anything about you.” 

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let you go. Instead he let you sob against his chest, holding you close as he rested his chin on your head. His heart was beating wildly, thrumming so hard you could hear it as you pressed your cheek against him, and even though he was a stranger, his arms felt safe around you, the scent of his skin comforting and soothing. 

With a small movement he rubbed your back, slowly up and down, “It will come back, amor, it will. And if it doesn’t, I will make you fall in love with me again and tell you about all the memories we have.” 

You nodded against his chest, your sobs subsiding, but you didn’t pull away from him, and he didn’t let his arms drop. He held you just as tight, reluctant to give up the feeling of having you in his arms again after all he endured to get back to you. 

“Although…I’m still not sure how I made a woman like you fall in love with a reckless mercenary like me, how will I manage that again?” he said, a small smile to his voice and you looked up at him. He’d lifted his chin from your head and was looking at you with a sad smile, tears clinging to his dark lashes. 

“Promise me you’ll try,” you said, your voice low and broken. 

“Every day for the rest of my life, amor,” he whispered, “I will make you fall in love with me again and then we can make all those memories one more time.” 

A/N - I hope you enjoyed this bitter sweet little story! Bonus points to anyone who caught the LotR reference :)

Tagging some of my fellow Pero lovers:

@nerdieforpedro @din-cognito @harriedandharassed @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @lady-bess @angiewatson @cozylittlepigeon @604to647

@survivingandenduring @for-a-longlongtime @gnpwdrnsnshine @wintersquirrel @grogusmum

[callilouv]

DHSJDHFIC GUYS ILY HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!🥹<333

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[tonycries]

Little Heaven

Synopsis. He’s just your friend-with-benefits, right? So why - in the still haze of the soft sheets and you, fúcking you so sensual and tenderly - does he feel like he’s found his own personal heaven?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, kinda fluffy, he’s both pússydrunk and in love, slow to rough, marking, mentions of marriage and kids, morning, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k

A/N. Probably the fluffiest smút I’ve ever written.

You were just his friend-with-benefits, right? No strings attached, right? 

So why was he here? Sinking into your plush mattress, quiet morning sun just barely peeking in through the curtains as he wraps his arms around your naked figure. 

God, he really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be laying you on your side, drinking in your soft little, “G’mornin’.” Both of your movements languid and still burning with soreness. Your hips pushing back desperately into his as he positions himself so that his leaking tip was just kissing your swollen folds. 

He shouldn’t be whispering soft kisses into the marks that littered your skin. Licking one, long stripe up the sinful trail of hickies down your neck. All sensual touches where it was bruising grips last night. 

That was rule #1, right? No marks. 

Or was it #4… 

Ah, right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Not when his greedy eyes wander the expanse of your face, fingers trailing along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Tracing delicate patterns across your skin, snaking down, down, down to leisurely lift your leg a little higher. 

Bare chest warm against your back, his voice is low and gravelly in your ear as he whispers, “I had a dream y’know.” 

Mind still thinly veiled with sleep, you lean into his warm touch, “Mhm?” 

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip. Smearing your juices with his thumb as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good. You almost miss the way he buries his face into the crook of your neck, murmuring a soft “Had a dream of us.”

Oh? 

Before you can overthink his words, he’s nudging in gently. So agonizingly gentle. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy and him. 

And it seems he was drunk on you just as much, because as soon as his hips are flush against yours, the words escape him. So quiet and groggy with sleep, that you almost don’t catch them.

“Had a dream that I made you my beautiful bride.”

Oh. 

That was new. His words hung heavy in the heady air. 

Shivers run down your spine - all the way to where he was buried in your dripping cunt. Your voice is slightly shaky as you let out a humorless laugh, “Oh yeah? Must’ve been a nightmare then.”

Soft lips press against your forehead, breathing in your scent. Absolutely searing as he mutters out a muffled, “No, was the best dream I ever had.”

And then, with the audacity of someone who didn’t just send your mind reeling, he pulls his hips back unhurriedly. Immediately fucking into you at a slow, sensual pace. Tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips languidly into yours, making sure you feel every bump and graze against your tight walls.

You don’t know what’s more maddening - his agonizing pace or the words that tumble out of his lips. “Y’looked so beautiful in white. So pretty walking down the aisle to me.” 

His lips brush against yours, hands dancing across every inch of you he could reach. Gently caressing the skin like it’s something divine, soothing over the marks from last night as if an apology. “Don’ think I’d want to see anyone else there.”

You glance back at him - only to find his eyes already on you. A jolt of electricity runs across your skin at the pure warmth in them. And you realize that, no, this wasn’t a joke. 

Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply grind your hips down to meet his, abs rubbing against your ass. Letting out a broken whimper of what sounds like his name as he moves down a hand to press rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. 

“Saw a little something else too.” he hums, a sly smile curling his lips as his other hand dances across your body to press down on your stomach. Hard. “Saw that I had some competition - two actually. Funny, right?”

“Hah- h-hilarious.” you manage to choke out as his thumb speeds up on your clit, hips moving a bit more purposefully. A bit more like you were used to. Rock-hard cock plunging into your quivering cunt in deliberate, sloppy thrusts that have you white-knuckling the sheets. 

“Though…” he trails off dangerously, pulling back all the way until his furiously hard tip was just kissing your waiting hole. “I wouldn’t really mind.”

And with that he’s sheathing his throbbing erection in your wet pussy completely. A gasp of delight leaves him at the way you take him so readily. Walls sucking him up so sinfully - perfect. You were always so perfect for him. 

“Dreamt we had a lil’ house with a big garden.” God, he can feel his cock harden so painfully at the fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your pretty lips each time his hip smack into yours. It’s music to his ears, such a shame he just can’t shut the fuck up right now. “And then you dressed the kids up while I made breakfast.”

“Then you made us do taxes and I didn’t even fucking mind.” His voice is strained now, words slurring together as he rams his cock deeper and deeper, glistening with your slick in the soft morning glow. 

“And finally at night, I say we should make a third one.” 

He looks at you, a sly grin stretching his lips, eyes half-lidded and a dangerous twinkle in them that has you wondering whether everything he said before was merely a ruse to fuck you silly. And it probably shows on your face - because he grins lowly in your ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we have till our wedding night f’me to fuck you slow.”

And oh he almost feels guilty. But he can’t bring himself to slow down at the way your swollen lips drop into such a pretty oh! at his words. Mewling at the sting of his heavy balls as they smack your ass. Walls clamping down desperately on his dick, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy as he focuses on making you lose your mind. 

He shifts his angle slightly, grinding expertly against your g-spot just right, and you throw your head back, releasing a low moan of his name.

“Shit. Yeah, say m’name, sweetheart. Jus’ like that.” he moans breathlessly. 

His name - soon to be yours.

Maybe.

You turn your head to face him, eyes fiery as you capture his in an equally scorching kiss. Cock slamming into your poor, abused cunt with an intensity that matches that of your lips.

Probably. 

Biting down on his lower lips, soft yet insistent. Humming deliriously against his mouth - and in the heat of it all, he feels you smile against his lips. Ever-so-slightly. 

Definitely. 

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure behind your eyes, walls clamping down so deliciously around his twitching cock. It sends him over the edge as well - whispering your name as if a prayer, voice hoarse with emotions neither of you could name at this very moment. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your trembling cunt white, milking the soul out of him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forming around his base as some truly animalistic part of himself fucks his seed into you - a promise, he likes to think.

“I’m serious about the dream.”

Almost as gentle as that one. 

As the haze settles, his thrusts slowing down to just shallow grinds, a fragile silence envelopes the room as neither of you speak. Because maybe no other words were needed. 

And right now, morning sunlight harsh on his skin, strong arms pulling you warm body flush against his, no one but you two in this quiet world - he doesn’t think he’d like to be anywhere else.

All is well in your little heaven.

- GOJO, GETO, Choso, SUNA, ATSUMU, Tsukishima, Kuroo, EREN

A/N. Bro it took longer to think of what to write than to write this. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[brainmuncher]

The emergency

A good number of members within the Justice League have children. Not all of those kids are biological or adopted but they are their kids nonetheless. Some of those kids are even old enough to be adult heroes of their own, but even then they are still their kids. And the other kids tend to take up heroism at a very young age to most people's chagrin. Although as shown by the original child hero, now going by Nightwing, it’s not as easy as telling the kids to stop.

It was learned through intense hardship that smothering the child heroes was just asking for trouble. Despite how much the older heroes wanted to stay close to their kids, it was seen as overbearing and a show of mistrust. They would act out with even less backup in retaliation, which would only bring even more stress.

So to satisfy the need for protection without stepping on any toes, two new emergency meeting signals were introduced.

One was for the kids to send off. Each one was gifted a small device that could be hidden in their person. The device had both a mic and a tracking chip that could be activated when they were in extreme danger. As soon as the device was active a signal would be sent to the league for an emergency distress signal with the details of who sent it. Due to an outcry from the kids, the device could not be activated by the guardian of the child. The mic and locator could only be activated from the device itself. It wasn’t nearly as protective as some of the more worried leaguers would like, but it was at least something. 

The second signal was one that the leaguer with a kid in danger could activate. This signal could be activated with a single code into the communicators that every member owned. If the member who sent out the signal didn’t specify what kid was in danger, every member would receive a generalized notification of the emergency alert for one of the kids. This wasn’t ideal, but it was learned early on that the guardian of the child was often too distressed to make the code more complicated. It was best to leave it simple and answer questions at the emergency meeting.

Which was great in all, until someone who doesn’t have a child involved with heroics in their care sends off a general emergency.

In places all over the globe, an emergency meeting signal message was sent by Hal Jordan, one of the lanterns. He didn’t include what child was in danger in the signal, meaning that it could be any of the underaged heroes. And considering he didn’t have a child in his care, that made multiple members panic.

When was the last time they checked in with the kids in their care? Who was the one he was sending the code for? What happened to the child he had noticed was in danger? Why is he the one that noticed? Where were their kids? Who was in danger?

Because of the nebulous nature of the call, it didn’t take long for multiple heroes to find the nearest transport to the watchtower and tumble in. What they didn’t expect was the absolute haggard appearance of their friend. He was standing in the meeting room looking like the world had been destroyed before his very eyes. The way he sat without even cracking a sarcastic remark made multiple members pause.

“Hal?” Wonder Woman called, her face pinched in concern. “What has happened?”

The aforementioned member looked over who had already arrived before settling on her face. It was at that moment she knew that he was only looking so collected through willpower alone. This wasn’t just any child of the league, this was personal.

“My nephew Danny has been captured,” He began, sending a wave of different emotions circling the room. “I’ve been trying to find where they took him for a week now and I can’t get any leads. I need your help.”

The unsaid questions and emotions were nearly palpable. Multiple members turned to one another or stared with a million questions. Nobody had known that Hal even had a nephew named Danny. Sure he mentioned someone named Jason at times, but he never indicated anything else. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned him or the fact that he’d been apparently searching for a week was strange.

“And why are you only telling us now? Why did you wait so long?” Superman asked, speaking up the question that was on multiple minds.

A fire of anger curled in Hal's eyes. It was fierce and protective. It was a mixture of appalment for being questioned on his decision and fury for the reasons why he had to do it in the first place. He stepped forward towards the center table, slamming his palms down and leaning into it.

“Because any person that goes against the group will be declared an enemy of the United States. I’ve already had my account and housing connected to Green Lantern seized,” He explained with a deceptively calm tone. “I also needed to make sure that they didn’t have any connections with the Justice League. They have their agents everywhere.”

Unsurprisingly, Batman appeared from the gathered heroes from seemingly nowhere. Despite the feud between the two of them, the Bat was completely zeroed in on the situation. While he had a decent amount of distrust in the lantern, mainly because of the parallax incident, he could tell that the man was genuine. And the Bat always did have a blind spot for children.

“Explain,” Was all Batman said, staring Hal down.

The lantern in question looked at him with a grim face. This was it. Now or never.

“They’re called the Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW for short. They hunt down and either exterminate or experiment on anyone they deem ectocontaminated or a ghost,” Hal started to explain, his hand curling on the table in frustration. “My brother Jack faked his death and ran off to be with another woman. Those fucks deemed my nephew as ectocontaminated and tried to take him from his home. He ran from his family so that they couldn’t be arrested for knowingly harboring an ecto entity. Told me that he remembered my face from a photo his dad tried to hide in the attic and sought me out.”

If the fire in his eyes were any stronger, they would probably become physical and burn down the room. It was undeniable that Hal Jordan was understandably completely pissed off. This situation was terrible from down to the very root.

“I tried to hide him but they somehow found him anyway. Now my civilian name is being heavily monitored and Green Lantern is being hunted down,” He finished his explanation. “If you join me in this, be prepared to lose everything.”

This was so much worse than anyone could’ve predicted.

[aklaustaleteller]

Might Fancy You

Y/n went from fearing Klaus, to studying in his studio, to then throwing Shakespeare insults at him while chasing after him to put paint on him; he'd started it. But what happens when she ignores his one warning and he has her cornered in a flash?

Warnings - few mentions of blood and some kissing. Word Count - 1.8k

I told you I'll have part two out in two days and here it is! You can read part one here, and well, I hope you enjoy both the parts!

“And you are?” Elijah asked the girl standing in the doorway of the mansion, clutching onto so many things that he worried all of it was going to fall out of her trembling hands any time now. 

“Um, I’m here to meet Klaus?” She said, an awkward smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “He’s helping me with an art project,” she continued when the original didn’t say anything.

But he did raise an eyebrow at that, making her even more nervous and bunch up her shoulders in a defensive shrug. “You know what? I’ll just leave,” her voice made a few tumbles as she turned around and began walking out the door she’d just come in. Her guard was high up because she had no reason to believe that this vampire wasn’t going to drain her of blood then and there for stepping onto his property without any permission. 

“Y/n!” She heard a voice call out and she flinched, her heart trying to make up for the missed beat and speeding up as a result. 

“Y- yes?” She stuttered, slowly turning to face him, fearing what’s to come. How stupid had she been to ask a goddamn original to help her out with some- some school work! 

“What did you say to her, Elijah?” Klaus glared at his brother on seeing his new friend so shaken up.

Elijah only turned towards him in a slight confused daze. “I simply asked her who she was,” he said, walking away from the scene to probably his reading chair, leaving as nonchalantly as he could’ve killed her. 

A smile creeped up on Klaus’ mouth, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest at how easily she’d been frightened. It was almost bordering on endearing. 

“C’mon love, follow me,” he urged her as he walked up the stairs, coming to halt when he didn’t hear her move. “Y/n?” he called her, looking back at her from midway up the stairs. and coming to a realisation that she might genuinely be scared of him. 

“I think I’ll go,” she said, looking very close to passing out. “Forget I asked you for anything.” She didn’t even look him in the eyes and turned back around to leave and get away from this mansion as fast as she could.

But of course, Klaus stood in front of her just as she turned, almost sending her heart flying out of her mouth. It was strange, to witness this completely new side of the girl who ferociously bit right back at him the most creative insults he’d ever heard in his long life.

“Why are you so suddenly terrified of me?” Klaus asked, his face creasing in confusion as his eyes showed her specks of hurt that could very well just be the mossy-green of his eyes deceiving her. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know maybe the sense that you’re an original who could rip me to shreds or drain me of all my blood right here,” she stopped herself like she’d done something insanely stupid and – ”finally knocked at my brain,” she trailed off very softly, almost as if cautious of making him angry.

“Y/n- love, you know I’d never do that,” he mumbled, cupping her face and almost flinching when she went stiff. “I mean I could do that but I never would!” he reframed his sentence when she narrowed her eyes, for some reason, desperate that she understood him.  

“What do I have to believe you wouldn’t?” 

“Because I do not have any reason to,” Klaus reassured her, not saying that maybe because he fancied her a little, just because this wasn’t the ideal moment for a confession like that. 

Y/n didn’t say anything at that. Standing still and looking into his eyes, searching his face for any signs of underlying betrayal but she didn’t find any – not that she expected to, he is a thousand years old after all, surely he’d know how to disguise his motives.

And yet, when Klaus grasped her arm and led her up the stairs, she let him. 

“I see you brought all of your stuff,” Klaus chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood as he took a million things out of her hold, placing it all on the rug and smiling when he saw her setting up the canvas for him. He could get used to this very easily. 

“I did, it’s my work you are doing after all,” she said softly, slowly coming out of her shell. “I didn’t want you to waste your supplies on it,” she continued. 

“I wouldn’t say this is wasting anything,” Klaus proposed, thinking that maybe this would be the topic for their discussion today, slight banter even? 

“I wouldn’t either,” she agreed with him, catching him a little off guard. “But the school people will tear this apart and throw it in the trash before I could ever get to it.”

Klaus shook his head at that, preparing the paints and the brushes. “And why would you want to get to it?”

Y/n had managed to make herself comfortable on the floor a couple feet away from him, her papers already scattered on the floor of his studio,  and Klaus only hoped that they could do this more often after this day.

“Well, I wouldn’t want it go to waste… you see? Maybe hang it somewhere in my house when it’s purpose in school is served,” she shrugged nonchalantly, taking the cap off of a pen by her mouth and Klaus wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and cup her face to kiss her. 

Which reminded him that she was quite fastly transitioning back to her usual self around him. He smiled at that, the scary thrill in his heart that had come at the thought of her fearing him slowly fading away. 

Neither of them said anything after that, getting to their individual works in silence. The soft sounds of Klaus’ brush against the canvas, mixing colours on his palette and rinsing the brush rid of the previous colours filled the room along with sounds of Y/n flipping her book, turning the pages in notebooks and changing pens. 

The sun peeked in through the windows, the lighting constantly changing as the clouds drifted calmly through the sky. 

While painting, Klaus began to worry about this girl who was so engrossed in her homework that she hadn’t moved once. He worried that she’d gotten so serious and quaint that she might just tumble into sadness. All that to say, he missed her laugh a little as well.

He tuned to just look at her while he was sure that she was unaware. Her hair was tied up, circular glasses that had a coppery rim slipping lower and lower on the bridge of her nose until she had to fix them. She looked cute, Klaus caught himself thinking.

Her lips were resting in a faint pout as she focused, her fingers picking at them while she jottled down something in her notebook with her free hand. His hand ached to trace its fingers over the highs and the lows of her face. The little frown that had formed inbetween her eyebrows made her look all the more cute and Klaus found himself walking over to her, his feet functioning on a mind of their own. 

He bent down to come face-to-face with her as she was sitting, and he almost cooed at the fact that she still hadn't quite registered the close proximity at which he was in front of her. Raising up his hand, he booped her nose – getting the very reaction he was hoping for.

She looked up at that, slightly startled, only to catch Klaus’ eyes widening a little themselves. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh, because there was something…” he panicked, his eyes frozen on the spot he had gotten yellow paint on her nose. “I removed it though, don’t you fret,” he smiled, brushing over his pants as he began to stand up straight. 

But she passed him a glare then, clutching the bottom of his henley to stop him. “Klaus,” she began. “Did you remove something or put something there?”

He shrugged at that, focusing back on the canvas and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her getting up. 

“Klaus.” She said his name with an underlying warning. She brushed her own finger over the very spot he had touched, and saw the paint.

“Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once a while, but you really abuse the privilege,” she was walking closer to him and Klaus knew exactly what was about to commence, making him cover his head with his arms when she pressed her hand against the paint on the palette. 

He howled with laughter when she dragged her hands across his neck, twisting and turning to get away from her. Still laughing at the insult she threw at him because it was a bloody good one, Klaus swiped his finger across her collarbone, earning a whine from her as she began chasing him around the studio. 

Stopping to catch her breath, she began shouting at him – “thou crusty batch of nature!” But laughter slipped past both of their mouths before they could even contemplate what she’d just said. 

“No way you just threw a Shakespearree insult at me,” Klaus laughed, standing on the complete other side of the room, opposite to her.

He feigned a growl when she began walking towards him, red paint almost drying on her palms. “Take another step, and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Klaus whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

And she ignored his warning, just like he was hoping she would. Watching her creep up closer and closer to him, Klaus felt a smirk pull up a corner of his lips. 

In a flash, Klaus had her pinned against a wall, her wrists held above her head in his hands. His face tilted to the side lightly, his eyes focused on her mouth as he felt her gaze on him heating up her skin. She tipped her chin forward, her lips not quite meeting his’, making him close the gap between them and connect their lips. 

Lips moving in a perfect sync, Klaus brought one of his hands down to snake it around her waist, her mouth opening with a gasp at the sensation and giving him the chance to kiss her further. The back of her head met with the wall behind her as they kissed with a passion that felt too heated. 

Detaching their mouths, both of them took in heaves of breath, Klaus pecking her lips once more before releasing her wrists. She was looking into his eyes, searching them for something and Klaus couldn’t help but smile at her, her lips very lightly swollen, looking like they’d just been kissed. 

“Think I might fancy you a tad,” he grinned, laughing out loud when she grabbed his face to kiss him again, making him lose his balance only for a second before he was cupping her face ever so gently.

"Never realised I wanted to hear you say it so much,” she let slip a breathy chuckle, looking into his eyes before kissing his lips once more. Lord, it was addictive – he was addictive. 

[pellucid-constellations]

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

~~

“What’s this punks name again?” 

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 

“Semantics.” 

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

~~

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 

“Fuck you, man.” 

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 

“Y/n.” 

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 

This was different. 

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 

“It was a big deal.” 

~~

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 

A good reason. 

You didn’t date athletes. 

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 

And you didn’t date athletes. 

You did not. 

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 

“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 

The arms atop your legs tensed. 

~~

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 

Definitely not. 

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 

“What?” you yelled. 

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 

“Yeah, but—” 

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 

~~

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 

And nothing at the same time. 

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 

“You’re being presumptuous.” 

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“You can do it again.” 

“Oh, I will, baby.” 

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 

“And is that true?” 

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

[pinkyqil]

Devastating Pain

Alexia putellas x reader

A/n:no summary cause it spoil the plot so you have to read the fic song suggestions to set the mood this a one part fic so no part 2 Hope you guys enjoy this and you aren't heartbroken feel free to send in feedback,requests or anything you want to know about this master piece so au revoir and have a great day 🫶🏿!

@ PINKYQIL

You we're meant to spend the last few days with your girlfriend but due to some circumstances you had gotten a call from work that needed you feeling back to spain.

But before you left, you had made a promise to alexia that you'll make it back in time for the teams final macht.

Not knowing that the day you would return back in her arms cease to exist.

Packing your bags as you we're on the phone with your significant other.

"Alexia I promise I'll definitely make it back in time before the bronze match you have nothing to worry about". Only if she knew there was a lot to worry about.

"amor are you sure about this didn't they tell you that you we're free for the month".

You were a nasa scientist and it wasn't everyday you got am off day and if you did they weren't that long so for you to have been able to spend that much time with your girlfriend without getting called back in lab until recently.

"Yes they did but you know how my work place is".

"Well I hope it nothing serious love you and have a safe trip". Only if she knew that would be the last time she would say and hear does two words from you

"Love you too don't forget to be that amazing person on the pitch like always". Just like that you ended the call between the both of you.

Days had passed and you were getting ready to borad you fight back to france and from there you would be heading to the stadium they were playing at.

But due to some technical issues your flight had been delayed. which had you worried hoping you could still make it to the match. No doubt that the event that accord would be taking away your precious life taking you away from friends, families and most importantly your loving fiancée

who wished you nothing but safety.

Alexia was getting worried as she couldn't spot you in the crowd full of fans supporting both spain and german.

She decided not to think much about what was going as she had a macht to focus on and a team to support.

But every nerve in her body told her something was wrong. The game was going smoothly on spain's side until it wasn't. Not only had German scored but the team sprite was off and alexia stil felt that something something was really wrong.

On your side the captain had been announcing a lot of tumbling from the aircraft but told passengers not to worry abou.t anything the only thing that you could wish for was the game should go well and your woman shouldn't be hurt.

As you were lost in deep thought was when all the chaos exploded. It seem like the pilot had announced that the airplane was going down and he had no control over this and was telling everyone to send in a message to their loved ones if they could.

Everyone panicking but all you could do was pick up your phone and dial alexia number as memories of you too flashed through your mind.

You knew her phone wasn't with but at least you could leave her one last voice mail.

"Alexia, mi amor, solo quería que supieras lo mucho que significas para mí, Estos últimos años contigo no solo han sido reconfortantes y tristes, sino que solo quería que supieras que siempre apreciaré cada momento que pasamos juntos, Espero que sepas lo mucho que yo-".

Before you knew the airplane crashed causing a huge collusion you couldn't even press to your voice-mail but could only hope that it sent through and she received it.

You and alexia had this information thing set that if one of you were to be hurt the other person needs to be informed as soon has possible.

And that's when alexia finds out the news of your passing.

She couldn't even process what she heard properly but knew she had to step up for the taking penalty. As the ball was set all she could think of you alive and well that's it just the universe playing a huge joke on her but it wasn't...

Set to kick the ball but the opposing goal keeper had stopped it. Alexia fell on her knees knowing right there that the universe wasn't playing a joke on her and that you were truly gone...

[grandline-fics]

I love love loooooove your work! If I may, I'd love to request a little friends to lovers scenario with Ace ❤️‍🔥 perhaps with a bit of meddling from the crew, perhaps with a hint of a drinking game/drunken flirting? No matter what, I'm sure I'll love whatever you write as much as I've loved everything else so far 🥰 Hope you have a wonderful day!

DESCRIPTION: Tired of you being 'just friends' some of the crew decide to interfere to get you both together

WARNINGS: Nothing, just the fluff that comes with the friends-to-lovers prompt

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,590

A/N: I honestly don't know where I was going with this half the time but I really hope it's to your liking and fits what you were looking for. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

From the day you and Ace met on the deck of the Moby Dick, your friendship was instantaneous and unshakable. After a week the crew had made bets on when you two would finally get together. Sadly for all of them, they were all unable to cash in on their guesses because still after all this time the two of you had yet to see the obvious. As far as you and Ace were considered the two of you were best friends and absolutely failed to see how utterly perfect you both were for the other. It was infuriating for the crew to see both you and Ace hook up with people on evenings the ship docked at an island. It annoyed them even more so to see that neither you or Ace would become in anyway jealous of those evenings. It wasn’t long before a new bet began to circulate around the crew about how long it would take for you and Ace to finally see what everyone else saw. Some were beginning to believe it was a lost cause for you both. Others however weren’t going to let that happen.

One evening you were sat on the railing of the ship, your back against Ace’s side with your head relaxed against his shoulder as you stared out at the ocean. This was your usual spot with Ace, one neither of you questioning how intimate it seemed as to the both of you it was just comfortable. Besides Ace was a naturally affectionate person so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to do this with anyone in the crew, it was just coincidence that you were the one he sought out most of all because you two were practically joined at the hip. Keeping your eyes on the calm waves you wordlessly took the slice of apple as it was being held out to you on the tip of Ace’s knife. As you finished chewing, the ship hit a rogue swell of the wave and lurched forward. Because you weren’t expecting it you tumbled forward, almost being knocked overboard. Thankfully you were saved by Ace’s arm bracing around your waist and pulling you back to safety.

“My hero.” You grinned up at Ace playfully, swooning fully into his arms as his laughs joined yours.   Your moment together was interrupted when Marco called for Ace. You yelped when he adjusted his hold on you and hauled you up onto his shoulder as he stood on the railing before jumping down onto the deck. Ace approached Marco who stared at you both with a practiced neutral expression. He was one of the members of the crew who was waiting for you and Ace to get together. This arrangement wasn’t anything new for Marco so he brought Ace into a conversation about the individual Division tasks needed to be done when they docked at the next island. Through it all you merely continued to be draped on Ace’s shoulder, enjoying being carried about the place. Just as you were getting comfortable in the position Izou called your name. With a sigh you expertly disentangled yourself from Ace’s hold while Ace also helped you back onto your feet, maintaining eye contact and his conversation with Marco through it all, his actions practically as natural as breathing. The sickening display of synchronicity only furthered Marco’s resolve that enough was enough. 

“Um, excuse me?” Izou and Marco turned to see a woman approach them not long after they all settled into the tavern. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself but that man over there. Is he single  or is he-” She moved to love over her shoulder at Ace but stopped when she saw you were now at his table, pulled onto his lap due to a lack of seats. “Oh…never mind. They’re a cute couple.” Together Marco and Izou shared a look and grinned. 

“This next round is on the house in honour of the newlyweds!” A voice shouted out from the bar. You and Ace cheered out with the entire bar at the prospect of free drinks, looking up in happiness in hopes of seeing who the married couple were but you couldn’t see them. It was a large building and already filled with groups. When Marco and Izou appeared with the drinks you sat forward in Ace’s lap to reach for your mug only to be stopped when Marco leant in to you both. “Thanks for the free drink you two-yoi.” He grinned before taking his seat. 

“Wait…what?” You laughed out slightly, glancing over your shoulder to see the bar owner smiling at you and Ace. Quickly you forced yourself to smile back and quickly turn your head back to Marco while Ace looked just as bewildered. “What made him think we were married?”

“That’d be my doing.” Izou answered smoothly, hiding his disbelief that even with you literally in Ace’s lap with his arm around your waist that either of you would find someone believing you two to be a couple to be confusing. “Marco bet me that I couldn’t wrangle free drinks from the barman and well, who can resist a couple of newlyweds?” 

The lie came from the Division Commander so cleanly and with such ease that you and Ace couldn’t even find anything in his demeanour to make you doubt his words. Together you and Ace shared a look, momentarily tense as you now really noticed your seating arrangement. Unable to help himself, Izou added more fuel to the fire. “I hope you two can convince him you’re actually a couple otherwise we could find ourselves in trouble. Remember we promised Pops we’d be on our best behaviour tonight.”

“Please,” you scoffed leaning back to settled against Ace’s chest and reached back to lightly cup Ace’s jaw while Ace tightened his hold around you, leaning into your touch. The both of your met Izou’s stare with mirrored confident smirks, never backing down from a dare. “There’s no way he’ll doubt us. Right sweetheart?”

“You got that right babe.” He chuckled before quickly pecking a kiss against your cheek making you laugh. Grinning, Ace placed another kiss against your cheek to draw another laugh out of you, finding this game to be enjoyable. He paused however when someone started to chant ‘Kiss’ at you both, drawing more and more voices into the chant until it was all you two could hear. 

Clearing your throat you turned in Ace’s hold until you were properly facing him, your hand remaining against his jaw while your other hand settled on his shoulder. You both met each other’s stare evenly and filled with trust and playfulness. To you both this was just a skilful ruse to avoid the owner of the bar from getting suspicious that you were both merely friends. Leaning in you let your breath ghost over his lips for just another brief enticing moment before the distance was closed and your lips met to the sound of whooping and whistles of the excited patrons. Not that either you or Ace were paying attention to the outside noise. 

All you two could focus on was the magnetic pull of each other, the kiss too dizzying and intoxicating to just stop right away but slowly and reluctantly you both parted. Sheepishly you both smiled at the other, eyes flickering down to the lips you couldn’t help but want to taste again. Both you and Ace didn’t truly know what to make of what had just happened but you knew something certainly had happened. Something that while it had been started because of a silly game, was something very real. Smiling softly, you turned in his hold to grab your drink and pass Ace his too, settling against him once more. Regardless of the kiss you felt no different in his arms, it still felt like security and home. A small smile played on your lips as you felt Ace’s hand remain on your hip and let his cheek rest against your head, showing he too didn’t feel uncomfortable with what just happened. 

When the crew began to scatter about the bar you felt Ace’s nose lightly nudge your cheek to get your attention and you turned your head slightly to meet his stare. Even with the alcohol in his system he still held a bright sharpness in his gaze. “I don’t know about you but that was one of the best kisses of my life…”

“Well it’s because of my kisses that you proposed, surely?” You teased before settling your hand on his arm that kept you anchored against him. “But seriously…yeah. One hell of a kiss.”

“I feel like if I ask for another it definitely wouldn’t be because we need to convince someone we’re together. It’ll be because I want us to be together.”

“So we’d have gotten married first, had our first kiss second, and now start dating third? A pretty weird order to do things.” You laughed, sitting up to wrap your arms around Ace’s neck and let your lips inch closer to his. “But you know what? It doesn’t feel weird at all.”

Ace nodded in agreement before eagerly closing the space against you once more to kiss you insistently and more heated than the previous kiss. 

Against the bar, Marco slid the large bundle of money over to the bar owner to cover the round of drinks that had been claimed as ‘free.’ “Worth every penny-yoi.”

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

[r0ttenhearts]

wasted on you |||

idol scaramouche x reader

part Ii

“ohmygosh, have you heard 4nemo’s new single?

“it’s sooo good (y/n!) you have to listen to it.”

“who’s your favorite one? mine would have to be scaramouche.”

your smile would always falter at the mention of his name. not like your friends ever knew you were acquaintanced with the idol group. “i don’t really like idol stuff, it’s not my thing.” you would always brush them off, refusing to take one of their earbuds to listen to the songs they wanted to show you.

hearing scaramouche’s voice again wouldn’t help you, not when you’ve gotten this far. not when you’ve moved on from him.

with college exams over and the end of your final year coming to a close you found yourself with nothing but time. with time came too many thoughts that would tumble around in your mind. too many what if’s and what could have been’s had plagued your mind since leaving scaramouche there backstage.

leaving him was so difficult, but being without him felt harder. you couldn’t help but sigh, now sitting alone in your room as the memories came back to you.

memories of splitting popsicles with him, after rehearsal drinks with his friends, smoking in a field together one of the rare times he was free from his filled schedule.

sometimes you couldn’t help but miss it. but then came the.. not so pleasant memories. the tears, the sore throat after screaming at each other, the way he’d always leave after an argument.

“please, scara! i just want you here with me. just this once. it’s been three years. give me this at least, please. i haven’t seen you in so long.”

remembering your own pleads to him never failed to make your heart ache. it still felt as if there was something unresolved, even after giving him his engagement ring back.

“i don’t wanna fucking see you (y/n)! id rather spend time with my friends doing something i enjoy than wasting my time with you.”

here comes the waterworks. tears would prick in the corners of your eyes when you remembered his tone that day. that angry look on his face.. he never looked so bothered before. it scared you so much that you still remembered it now, two years later.

it was strange seeing him on billboards and ads all across town and even on your own phone. in contrast to the angry glare he held for you, but an indifferent look to the public. would he still look at you that way? or would he look at you the same way he would everyone else?

curiosity got the best of you as you tapped on your phone, looking up his profile on instagram. there he was, looking the same as ever. maybe a little thinner but he still looked as beautiful as the day you left him.

a small smile graced your lips for a moment before it fell, seeing how much fun he had been having with his friends. you still kept in contact with kazuha, but never bothered to ask about him. you both knew it wouldn’t be good for you, so it was an unspoken rule.

“at least he’s doing well..” you mumbled to yourself before shutting off your phone. groaning internally, you knew this was a problem you had to deal with. this constant turmoil inside your head.

you decided you’d put an end to this. once and for all. you thought up a plan before texting kazuha, telling him what you wanted to resolve. despite his gentle warnings you wouldn’t listen. you just had to get through to him! make him understand your reasoning.

eventually kazuha gave in, and now you were standing in the pit to one of their concerts. it made you feel queasy remembering the last time you attended one. with your head hung low you waited for the group to start, they were opening for another up and coming idol group. it almost made you smile seeing scaramouche walk on stage with that glittery white outfit. the same glare on his features as before. he didn’t change, did he?

that sentiment making anxiety well up inside of you. you didn’t know how he would take it. seeing you again after so long. but you didn’t want him to know you were there to begin with, so you hid away from view, angled at a way that you could still watch them perform.

watching them now reminded you of one of the first concerts you ever went to of theirs, thanks to scaramouche getting tickets for you. that feeling of bubbling excitement and anxiousness when they were still so early in their career. you used to genuinely hope that they would make it, and they did!

his singing was stronger than it used to be, voice full of emotions as his eyes were fixated on the mic. a part of you missed this. coming to his shows, watching him give his all to the crowd of people that came just to see him and his friends.

as the group left the stage you sent a text to kazuha, walking away from the crowd and to the meeting spot he had told you about. it wasn’t like you didn’t already know where they were going, they always went to the same bar after every performance.

pushing open the grimy doors to the bar, you could see his back as you walked in. scaramouche was sitting at a table with his friends, drink in hand already as you walked up to them. you pulled out a seat next to scaramouche, crossing your arms over your chest as the guys looked at you excitedly, scaramouche not sharing the same sentiment.

“hey guys, long time no see.” heizou laughed loudly, patting scaramouche on his shoulder as they left the table. now it was just you and scaramouche.

he held this look of shock on his face, like he’d seen a ghost. his mouth slightly opening and closing, almost like a fish.

“hey.” you said softly, putting your hand on his arm. “are you real?” he asked you, now looking directly at you rather than trying not to meeting your gaze.

“of course i am, what do you mean by that? have you been dreaming about me too?” you ask, half joking but half serious as he had been plaguing your dreams for the past few months.

“don’t say things like that (y/n)..” he spoke quietly, taking a sip of his beer. you nod silently, watching him take a sip of his drink.

“i know, this is kind of weird. especially since i’m the one that left you but, it’s been haunting me. and i just want to talk.” you admit to him, looking down at your hands. suddenly your nails seemed much more interesting than to look at him.

“yeah, i think we’re due for that.” he said before sliding his drink over, taking your hands in his without warning. “look, (y/n). i know that back then i wasn’t great to you, far from it actually. i’ve thought about what you said to me that night ever since. i’m not asking for your forgiveness, nor am i asking you to get back together with me. but i just want you to know that i’m sorry. i regret wasting us, wasting what we had. i do love being an idol, but it doesn’t give me the same satisfaction as i got when i was with you.”

you nodded silently at his words, looping your arms around his neck as you hugged him. the words you had longed to hear were now finally being said. “that’s all i wanted.” you spoke quietly in his ear, your voice cracking with tears. “i just wanted that from you scara.”

you wiped your tears away as you pulled back, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “i want to be in your life again, not as lovers, not yet. but as friends. i’ve missed you all this time.” scaramouche nodded, taking his free hand and placing it on top of yours. “i can work with that.”

what you both didn’t see were the rest of the boys from 4nemo watching the scene unfold from the bar window. heizou’s loud cheering being shushed by xiao as both of your heads whipped to the window, red covering your faces in embarrassment.

taglist: @lemons4u @foxkunwoof @s-h-i-r-o-8-1 @felixilations @kaxukaxu @angelofdarkness2 @trxshhsstufftatsumimiko @ycugtf @nervouseaglelover @whorerificstuff @samarill

[feeder86]

Selfish

“Why are you arranging to go out with the boys? You know we’re going up to help my parents with redecorating this weekend!” Lucy complained, standing straight up and looking down at Ryan, laid out on the couch.

“We’re doing what?” Ryan asked, completely perplexed. “We were there last weekend!”

“Yeah, and I told my dad you’d give him a hand with the wallpapering this next weekend as well,” Lucy continued in her whining tone.

“Their entire lounge?” Ryan shot back. “Nobody told me!”

“Well…” Lucy mumbled, suddenly realising that Ryan was right. “I’m telling you now.”

Ryan huffed in frustration. He hadn’t had a night out with the boys in months. He’d thought, when he married Lucy, that he was setting himself up for a good life. She didn’t want kids, she wasn’t crazy about him visiting the gym all the time and she was a fully qualified chef! However, two years in and Ryan had never had so little time for himself, endlessly fixing up their apartment just as Lucy wanted it, then constantly heading out to see her parents; always being signed up for some tedious maintenance tasks now that Lucy’s dad was getting on a bit and living off his retirement income. “Fine,” he sighed, deleting his planned message to the group chat with the boys. “I guess I can see my friends when I’ve got a couple of weeks off next month.”

“Oh, yes!” Lucy nodded, making Ryan instantly regret reminding her about his time off. The cogs in her head clearly rolling into action, imagining all of the jobs he could get done in that time.

“Ryan!” cheered his buddies a full nine weeks later, amazed that he had actually made it out. “We haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I’m only here for one of two drinks. I dropped Lucy off in town to do some shopping,” he explained to them, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“You’re not coming to the club?” Adam asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise after giving him the biggest hug.

“No… no. I wish I could, but…” he grumbled, considering the best way to explain how much Lucy was monopolising his time; how frustrating and demanding she had become since they got married. . “...I’ve got commitments,” he simply stated, deciding not to poison his time with his friends by complaining about the person who had kept him away from them for so long. 

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Jack jumped in, filling the silent void that was killing the mood. “Life happens.”

“Jack!” Ryan exclaimed, seeing his high school best friend and doing a slight double take. The guy had altered quite a bit since Ryan last saw him. Where had that double chin come from? How was he filling that shirt with all that padding in his stomach? What the hell had happened? “How long has it been, buddy?”

“I saw you at Ginny and Fran’s house warming, about four months ago,” he answered. “I introduced you to my new girlfriend, Michelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” I remember, Ryan nodded, thinking back to how drunk Lucy had been that night, and how early they had had to leave. But Jack hadn’t looked so overweight back then. They’d tried out their friends’ new swimming pool. Jack had been one of the first ones in. He definitely wasn’t out of shape. Not like he appeared to be now.

As luck would have it, when the guys all went to grab seats, Ryan ended up next to Jack, right on the end of a long, rectangular table. Back in their high school days, the pair of them had been the best of friends, and that old rapport immediately came back every time they met; even after months of separation. Jack had always been the bad influence that Ryan’s parents had never approved of. He’d been banned from hanging out with the guy on multiple occasions when he was growing up and, even now, he still felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t, giggling away at the crude jokes that tumbled out of Jack’s mouth with ease. 

“So, things are going well with Michelle?” Ryan asked, spotting that Jack had already referenced her several times in their conversation.

“Things are going great!” Jack beamed. He leaned in a little closer, clearly not wanting the other guys to hear. “We’ve even talked about getting married!”

At this, Ryan’s eyebrows flew up. “Married? After four months?” he whispered back, knowing that Jack didn’t want this broadcasting. He remembered how promiscuous his friend had been during his college days. If Ryan had been asked to pick any one of the guys here who was least likely to ever settle down, he would have chosen Jack without a second thought.

“I know!” Jack beamed, leaning back and placing his hands on the top of his stout little paunch, which jutted out into a proper shelf as they sat down. “I’m so ready for it though,” he smiled, seeming to rub his stomach mindlessly. “I’m actually really excited about the idea.”

Round and round Jack’s hands went, rubbing that tight ball of stomach fat, pulling Ryan’s gaze into it. “I’m happy for you,” he mumbled back.

Jack looked around, checking that no one else was listening in, then he turned himself a little more into Ryan, about to divulge even more private information. “Michelle’s super kinky!” he whispered.

Ryan chuckled and leaned in as well. His own sex life was so monotonous these days, he was actually quite ready to hear about someone else having a good time. “Oh yeah? She certainly looked pretty flexible when I met her that one time,” he grinned, settling into dirty ‘guy talk’ with enthusiasm.

“Oh, buddy!” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes and giving a huge exhale. “You would not believe it. She has me wrapped around her little finger. Absolutely anything she wants, I do for her.”

“That doesn’t sound too dissimilar to me and Lucy,” Ryan quipped, chuckling at his own joke.

“No, I’m not talking about boring shit, like decorating,” Jack shot back, having heard all about Ryan’s grumblings. “I’m talking about really kinky, submissive stuff.”

“Really?” Ryan smirked. “I never thought she’d be the dominant type.”

“No,” Jack agreed enthusiastically. “No one else knows. She hides it really well.”

Ryan had to admit that he was getting a little turned on. “So, what type of stuff does she make you do?” he asked next; his eyes twinkling with boyish interest, just as much as Jack’s were.

“All sorts,” Jack answered, his hands slipping onto his gut again. “When we started going out, I was still trying to act like the playboy I used to be. Michelle was having none of it. She’s put guys like me in their place before. Trust me, I’ve seen the pictures!” he smirked.”But her biggest turn on is making sure I overeat and get bigger.”

“Seriously?” Ryan asked, now understanding why Jack kept on holding his stomach. “I thought girls hated it when guys put on weight?”

“It’s an absolute fucking dream!” Jack replied, lowering his voice even further. Just the fact that he had sworn showed Ryan how turned on his friend was, simply by talking about it. “I get home and she’ll sit me in my gaming chair and set everything up for me. Then she brings me endless snacks and beers; a few sodas, cream cakes. Michelle won’t even let me get up. I do nothing around my apartment at all! No washing, no cleaning and certainly no cooking! She gets off on controlling my entire lifestyle when I’m at home. Then rewarding me for it.”

“Dude, that’s amazing!” Ryan had to agree, feeling surprisingly jealous. He’d been up until almost midnight last night, fixing a new shelf for Lucy’s candles, whilst his buddy Jack had been gaming, eating and getting pleasured the entire time.

“You see why I’m so keen to marry her now?” Jack joked back. “Can you believe it? I’m actually living out our dream that we used to talk about in high school.”

Ryan looked a little perplexed, trying to remember what they used to talk about ten years ago.

In turn, Jack seemed a little surprised that Ryan was struggling to recall. “You remember? Mr Hanson was such a bad gym teacher, we used to joke that we would just find some girls who liked fat guys and never have to put on a pair of itchy gym shorts again.”

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan chuckled. “That worked out well for me,” he sighed sarcastically. “I ended up marrying a professional chef, but I’m now ten pounds lighter than I was when we married.”

“Dude, there are other girls out there,” Jack went on enthusiastically. “Believe me! My eyes have been opened in these last few months! If you want the life that I’ve got…” he proclaimed, rubbing his stomach once more, “trust me, you can have it!”

Ryan nodded. No one else had dared to suggest he thought about a life beyond Lucy. Whenever he raised his concerns or annoyances about their marriage, people were keen to stamp them out, reminding him, in their accusatory tones, that marriage was all about compromising. Now, here was Jack, actively encouraging him to imagine being with someone else instead. It was the reason why Jack was, and always would be, Ryan’s very best friend.

Ryan looked at himself in the mirror a couple of weeks later. It was Sunday night. He should have been well rested, and yet he looked nothing but tired. The dirt under his fingernails from digging up Lucy’s parents’ garden all weekend was still visible in places, despite scrubbing for so long in the shower. His ribs were showing in his chest and, although he was built with plenty of muscle, he’d never looked so lanky and slim in his life. He thought of Jack and his life of pleasure and luxury. This… this tiredness and exhaustion was not what he wanted for himself. He looked almost ill.

Life had to change.

Ryan raised his cell phone to the mirror and took a picture of himself. This would be his lowest point, he decided with determination. From now on, things were going to change. He never wanted to see himself like this ever again.

“What’s all this?” Lucy complained, slipping into Ryan’s truck on their way to the supermarket. She held up several pieces of packaging, wrappers from fast food places and sugary snacks. “Is this what you’ve been eating when you’ve been in work this week?”

Ryan nodded without shame. “I feel like I’m too skinny. I’m trying to put on a few pounds.”

“Since when?” Lucy blasted back indignantly. “I’ve never told you you’re too skinny. I like the way you look.”

“I don’t,” Ryan shrugged. “I’ve never liked being skinny. I was always bigger than this growing up. In fact, I was actually quite chubby when I started high school.”

“Well, no. Sorry,” Lucy stated, without compromise. “I’m your wife, and I say no.”

Ryan looked at her in disbelief. “It’s my body,” he declared. “And I want to feel good about it.”

“I said no!” Lucy spat, brushing all the packaging into the footwell and sitting herself down. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”

Ryan got in, sat down and slammed the door shut, neither of them speaking for the entire ride.

‘Fastest ways to gain weight’ Ryan typed into the internet search that evening after Lucy had gone to bed. He quickly skipped through anything that dealt with muscle gains and focused solely on those that promoted increases in fat. He may have married Lucy, but she didn’t own him. In fact, she was the one who needed to learn that more than anyone. This was one ‘no’ that he wasn’t about to cave into.

“You’re looking well,” cried Ryan’s aunt as he stopped over to fix her leaking tap.

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “I feel quite well,” he agreed. “I’ve been trying to put some weight back on these last few weeks. I was starting to get far too skinny.”

“I was saying that to your mom, but she didn’t agree with me. You had gone dreadfully skinny.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. He had always been much more on his aunt’s wavelength than anyone else in his family. “I found some recipes online and I buy in these little calorie shakes that seem to work well on me. I’ve put on about 20lbs altogether,” he explained, raising his shirt briefly to show that his stomach was indeed a little thicker. “Lucy isn’t too pleased about it. But she’s never happy these days.”

“Well, you were never skinny growing up, were you?” his aunt nodded. “You always had a sweet tooth, I remember. You used to eat me out of house and home when you came over!”

“That’s why I’m so tall,” Ryan laughed. “I was always so well fed growing up.”

The pair of them laughed and Ryan packed up his things. In the old days, he would have headed straight home to his wife, but now he was feeling the need to be much more selfish, heading istead to the fast food place he had grown quite attached to and determined that he would at last defeat the Mega Monster Meal that had, up until now, eluded him.

“Come on, we’ve got to go!” Lucy complained, checking the time as Ryan rushed about after his shower. He’d been late home, getting caught up at a job, sending his wife into a tailspin as she tried to get him ready for her friend’s engagement party. She’d laid his suit out on the bed, his underwear, shoes and socks; knowing exactly how she wanted him to look.

Ryan hated being rushed. So what if they missed the first twenty minutes? Was the world really going to end? It was the side of Lucy he hated most, struggling to pull his socks on as his feet were still so wet.

“Oh,” Ryan mumbled, sucking in his stomach and trying to button up the suit pants. He tugged and pulled, holding his breath as much as he could. “I’m too big for them!” he chuckled with amusement, remembering that he had bought the suit for a wedding less than a year ago, when he was much skinnier. “What a waste of money, these were!” he joked lightheartedly. “I only got to wear them once!”

Lucy stared on in horror. She’d told him again and again to cut down on his eating. Couldn’t he see how bad he looked? Wasn’t he ashamed of how his stomach was starting to develop into a little paunch.

“Relax,” he whispered back, trying to calm her down. “I’ll just pair the jacket with my jeans and then we can head straight out.”

However, Lucy’s face had flushed with anger. “No,” she declared, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m going by myself. I’m not being seen with you, looking like this.”

Ryan stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t have words, listening as she stormed down the stairs and threw the front door closed. He heard her car start and he peeked out the window as that too stormed off down the street; out of view. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Ryan threw himself down onto the bed; still dressed only in his underwear and socks. How had he married someone so fucking unreasonable? She was just so… 

But then a thought came to Ryan, making his brain tingle into life. Had he actually just been given the night to himself? The whole house? Just him? All evening?

He looked down at his thicker stomach and smiled with delight at it. “Thank you!” he laughed aloud, managing to pinch a little and jiggle it in happiness. He felt a twitch in his groin, realising that with the night to himself, he could watch porn or do anything that he wanted. He could order food in. Lots of it! “Yes!”, he nodded, getting more excited and turned on now. This was his night. Free reign to be as selfish as he liked.

Ryan proceeded to indulge himself in every way possible, looking down at his bloated stomach a couple of hours later. Maybe this was it, he thought to himself. Maybe this was the way out of his miserable life with Lucy. He could seize upon her dislike of his weight gain and run with it. Why stop? He’d certainly gone beyond the point of denying himself for the sake of her ideals. There was a path in front of him, the exit sign shining brightly and a new life within his reach. He just needed to have the courage to reach for it.

“A Saturday night to yourself?” Jack laughed, surprised that Ryan had actually followed up on his promises and made it out for a drink. “You must have been a very good boy!” he teased.

Ryan hugged his friend and stood back to admire him slightly. Jack had grown wider since he’d seen him last, his hips and love handles spreading. Teh guy’s face was bigger, cheeks blooming large. And underneath his t-shirt, Ryan could see that the man’s nipples had become pointed, pressing outwards from his puffy former pecs. “I can see that you’ve been having a very good time of things!” he joked, being in the know about how Jack’s kinky sex life worked with his girlfriend.

“I could say the same about you!” Jack smirked back, poking Ryan in his tight little paunch. “Have you and Lucy been having your own kinky fun?” he teased.

“We’re not really talking at the moment, dude,” Ryan explained straight away; keen that he didn’t have to spend the entire night talking about her. “I want out. I’ve reached the end.”

Jack winced sympathetically. “I can’t say that I’m all that surprised after the way you were talking last time. But that still doesn’t explain this,” he pointed back at Ryan’s middle, smirking.

Ryan laughed, having forgottem how quickly Jack could lift his spirits with his cheeky humour. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied coyly, smiling with just as much mischief.

“Yes you do!” Jack laughed back, patting Ryan’s paunch properly now. “Did you do it on purpose? Is this to piss Lucy off?”

Again, Ryan laughed. He shruged his shoulders. “Yeah,” he nodded in surprise at Jack’s bluntness. There wasn’t anyone else in the world he could imagine himself admitting this to. “I guess I did,” he smiled, resting his hand over his thicker middle like it was his new prized pet.

“Dude, that’s so awesome!” Jack blasted; his face lighting up with all the enthusiasm Ryan remembered when the pair of them used to get up to mischief in high school. “You love it, don’t you?”

Ryan felt like he was dealing with an excitable puppy, but the interest was infectious. “Well, I can’t say I’m against it,” he replied diplomatically.

“Michelle is going to love this when I tell her,” Jack pressed on, ordering them both a couple of beers. “She said at the pool party that you would make a good fatty.”

“She did?” Ryan asked, surprised that Michelle would talk about other guys in that way.

“Absolutely,” Jack nodded. “She said you’re like me; a similar build; perfect for fattening up, apparently.”

“She really is a kinky one, your Michelle, isn’t she?” Ryan chuckled, feeling strangely aroused by the idea of her talking about him like this.

“How far are you planning on taking it?” Jack pressed him.

“The weight gain? Um, well. I’m not really thinking about anything really. I’m just having some fun,” he answered honestly.

“Dude, if you’re ever going to grow a gut in your lifetime, getting a divorce is one of them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan asked, only half listening now as he tried to work out why there was so much blood pumping into his groin.

“A divorce is like a free pass for so many things. No one will bat an eyelid if you start getting properly fat once you two separate.”

“Well, we’re not quite there yet,” Ryan backtracked, wincing slightly as the word ‘divorce’ came up so casually in their conversation. Lucy hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, and neither had he to her. 

“Just imagine it though,” Jack encouraged him. “You, sitting in your own apartment somewhere, drinking as much beer and eating as much pizza as you want after work. No Lucy complaining in the background and telling you off. No massive list of jobs to be completed at the weekend.”

“That does sound pretty sweet,” Ryan admitted; his dick now inexplicably full of blood.

“I just can’t wait to tell Michelle,” Jack said again, more delighted than ever as the pair of them settled in to watch the football game on the big screen.

The realities of splitting from his wife were somewhat different from the fantasies that Jack tried to portray, Ryan soon realised. Divorce was quickly turning into the most expensive thing he had ever done. Lucy’s parents, who had been too impoverished to hire a gardener, or a decorator, or a maintenance guy the entire time he had been married to Lucy, suddenly stumped up the cash to pay for the most cut-throat, killer lawyer for their daughter. With his head in his hands, Ryan soon realised that he was going to have to start from scratch: no home, no pensions, not even his truck for work. The only place that he could afford to live was a room in an apartment downtown, sharing with two students from the local college. Twenty nine years old and here he was, right back at the starting line.

Of the two guys he now lived with, Ryan didn’t see much of Paul, the computer science major. He was often out in the library, or hiding out in his bedroom. That worked fine. With his life turned so upside down, Ryan wasn’t exactly wanting to be dragged out to parties midweek when he had work the next morning. No, the only real pain in Ryan’s ass was Ash; the smart-mouthed literature student with a carefree attitude to life that frustrated Ryan to no end.

“You know, when you get a real job, you’re not going to be able to sit up until 3am watching a movie marathon with your waste of space boyfriend,” he complained at the guy one evening, tired from an exhausting day in work, having been constantly woken by the pair of young lovers laughing so hard at the screen.

“Fine. Whatever,” Ash huffed. “I’ve had a stressful day, okay. I don’t need this.”

“Stressful?” Ryan parroted, feeling the rage bubbling up inside him. “You want to know about stress?” he growled. “You’ve been sitting inside all day typing up an assignment on a computer screen. That’s not what real stress looks like. You’re in college - you have absolutely no idea about the real world; about trying to actually earn a living!”

Ash rolled his eyes. He’d heard it all before. 

Sure, Lucy knew how to press Ryan’s buttons, but this boy was on a whole other level. “You graduate with your masters in nine months!” he blasted. “What the hell do you expect to do then? You’ve got no idea, have you? How can you just wander so aimlessly through life?”

“What does it matter?” Ash sighed. “Things always work out in the end.”

“It matters because, trust me, your twenties will be over in a flash and you need to start getting somewhere in life. Not just watching movies until 3am! And certainly not with someone like Ben! You’re just setting yourself up for failure, and it pisses me off!”

“Like you, you mean?” Ash shot back, visibly annoyed. “You’ve done the whole marriage thing, the house, the cars. Yet, you're back here, sharing a shitty apartment with a couple of students. You did everything right, everything the grown-ups told you, and now look at you! Sometimes life is just like that. So stop taking out your frustrations on me and start focusing on yourself instead!”

Ryan didn’t respond. He stormed off to his room and threw himself onto the bed. Then he took a few breaths and considered what Ash had actually said to him. The guy had been right: he was taking his anger out on him. Ash was young, more academically bright than Ryan had ever been, good looking and full of personality. He had his whole life in front of him without any major mistakes under his belt yet. So why did Ryan feel the need to be such an asshole to him?

Despite not officially apologising, Ryan did make an effort to be nicer to Ash over the coming days. He still didn’t care for Ben, the guy's boyfriend, feeling that Ash could do much better. But he was polite and courteous, never failing to put in his earplugs when he knew they were going to be watching TV until late.

Ryan’s weight had not been a priority for him since he’d moved in. Any erotic fantasies he’d indulged himself in last year were thoroughly dampened by the divorce. Yet, his weight continued to climb, spurred on by the cheap, high carbohydrate diet he fell into whilst living in the apartment.

When he was with Lucy, Ryan had indulged himself in sugary treats and even high calorie supplements that he would now consider an eyewatering drain on his monthly budget. He was having to to work harder than ever to bring in the money and his paunch seemed to lose that fluffy softness of his early gains, solidifying into something firmer and more rounded as it continued to push itself out from under his chest.

New clothes were also a luxury that Ryan could ill-afford. His t-shirts fitted awkwardly around the swell of his stomach and there were many times in work when he felt a cool breeze on his butt crack. Beer was the only luxury he allowed himself in those early days, especially on the weekends, when Paul usually went back to visit his family and Ash was generally out partying with his boyfriend. In those few, blissful hours, he could guzzle down his beers whilst sitting in his underwear in front of the shared TV screen, appreciating exactly why he had given up his marriage. Life was hard, but it wasn’t always awful.

Through word of mouth, Ryan had started picking up more work on some of the other rental properties for students that littered this area of town. Desperate for the work, Ryan had been undercutting people quite dramatically in order to guarantee an income for himself. However, trying to get an early start on these types of properties was never as easy. Students were inherently lazy, he decided, whilst banging on the door of one apartment, trying to get someone to let him in. After a full five minutes, a groggy looking guy crawled to the door wearing only his underwear and a t-shirt that was back to front.

“Your landlord sent me to see your air con,” Ryan eventually explained.

Without a word, the exhausted guy simply opened the door further and let Ryan get by. “You’re not going to be noisy are you?” he eventually asked. “My boyfriend is still asleep.”

Ryan looked at his watch. It was almost 10.30 in the morning. Why would anyone still be asleep now?

“It’s okay. I’m getting up anyway,” yawned another guy, waddling sleepily from the bedroom and giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. It was only then that Ryan clocked him. It was Ben, Ash’s obviously cheating boyfriend; the guy’s face suddenly looking considerably more alert as he too recognised Ryan.

“You’re not going to tell Ash, are you?” Ben shouted, having followed Ryan out of the apartment the second he had finished up; safely out of earshot of his second boyfriend.

“Of course I am,” Ryan replied simply, continuing to walk away, without stopping.

“You’re just going to make him miserable,” the guy shot back. “Is that what you want?”

At this, Ryan laughed. Guilty people always seemed to have such a terrific way of turning things back around on the other person. “Trust me,” he sniggered. “He’ll be way better off without someone like you in his life.”

“Do you think it was easy for me with Ash?” Ben started next; his tone shifting to something nastier. “It’s not exactly easy trying to feel special when your boyfriend has a massive crush on the pot-bellied daddy bear he shares an apartment with. How do you think that made me feel?”

“What are you even talking about?” Ryan laughed, surprised at how far Ben was going with his bullshit. A daddy bear? He was only six years older than Ash.

“Oh, come on. You know exactly what you’re doing,” Ben snapped back, getting more viscious as he realised that Ryan wasn’t willing to compromise with him. “You’re always there, or strutting about in just your underwear, drinking your beers in the living area and being overly friendly. You’ve been trying to fuck things up for the two of us for ages.”

Now Ryan did stop, turning to face Ben properly. “What planet are you living on?” he asked, completely flabbergasted. “I just try to be pleasant. I’m not trying to do anything.”

“Prove it then,” Ben shot back, seizing upon an opportunity. “If you’re really not trying to fuck things up between us, you’ll let this one little indiscretion slide.”

If Ryan hadn’t just had the hardest year of his life, dealing with some of the most despicable, bullying lawyers out there, he may have fallen for Ben’s game. As it was, he wasn’t afraid of standing his ground. “Tell him by the time I get home later. Or I will.”

Ryan crept into the apartment later that evening, finding Paul in the kitchen. “You missed some drama today,” he sighed. “Ash and Ben broke up. I walked in on it all before. It was so awkward.”

“Is Ash okay?” Ryan asked, relieved that Ben had listened to his ultimatum and done the deed himself.

“He’s in his room,” Paul nodded over to the bedroom door. “We’d best leave him be.”

Ryan nodded in complete agreement, deciding to hide out in his room that evening so that Ash didn’t need to see anyone when he would inevitably have to come out for a glass of water, or to use the bathroom.

The evening was slipping away and Ryan had just finished a TV series that he had been charging through for the last two weeks. There was still an hour until he would need to get to sleep; enough time for one last beer, before the inevitable daily grind would start all over again. He strutted out of his bedroom and made for the refrigerator, pausing only briefly to crack the can open and chug a little of it. He burped quietly, finding that the first few mouthfuls of fresh beer always made him the most gassy. Then, suddenly, he heard the door to Ash’s room opening and he stood there, feeling completely caught out.

“Hi,” Ash whispered, not making any pretenses that he was here for any other reason than to see Ryan.

Feeling incredibly awkward, Ryan now regretted coming out of his room without a shirt on; his bloated pot belly on full display. Before today, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but Ben’s words had planted an unpleasant seed in his mind that made him question everything he did a little bit more. “I’m sorry to hear about Ben,” he stated straight away. “How are you doing?”

Ash sighed and began to pour his heart out. He knew all about Ryan’s discovery earlier that day and he thanked the guy for doing the right thing.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Ryan nodded, swigging the last of his beer and crushing the can for recycling. He shouldn’t have really had another one. His stomach felt quite painfully bloated and tight after it.

“Oh, and about those things that Ben said to you,” Ash quickly jumped in, seeing that Ryan was heading back to his room. “I hope it’s not going to make things awkward between us.”

Ryan had to think for a second about what Ash was getting at. The crush? Was Ben actually telling the truth about that? “Um, no. Not at all,” he mumbled back, rubbing his hair with a little embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, finally making his escape.

An evening out with Jack was exactly what Ryan needed a couple of weekends later, as Ryan’s divorce was at last finalised. Unlike Ryan’s months of hell, Jack’s appearance was symbolic of a life of sheer indulgence and pleasure. Unlike Ryan, his body was pure softness, with blubber beginning to creep its way into the guy’s neck and upper arms. His stomach had swollen quite considerably and his butt had a surprising width to it that Ryan had not expected.

“Listen, I didn’t want to message you about this. I kind of feel pretty bad asking you in some ways, knowing what you’re going through,” Jack started after Ryan had finished explaining how the divorce had eventually played out. “I wanted you to be my best man.”

Ryan smiled brightly. “Of course I will,” he beamed, getting up to hug his old friend warmly as he stayed sitting in his chair.

“Thanks,” Jack smiled. “It’s not going to be a huge wedding. Not everyone approves,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“How do you mean?” Ryan asked, sensing that Jack needed to offload.

“Well, Michelle’s parents aren’t coming,” he huffed. “They’d watched Michelle do this to her old boyfriend,” he explained, rubbing the quite substantial shelf of belly fat under his sagging nipples. “So when the same thing started happening to me, they told her they wanted no part in it.”

“Bonus!” Ryan joked, trying to remain upbeat. “My marriage certainly would have gone a lot smoother without the in-laws.”

Jack nodded, seeming to be somewhat in agreement. “Michelle’s not too cut up about it,” he whispered. “Then, well, you remember my dad. He still goes out running three times a week. So he’s not been all that in favour of Michelle and her wholesome home cooking..”

“You can’t live your life for your parents,” Ryan jumped in. It was a lesson he had learned somewhat bitterly when his own church-goin parents had taken Lucy’s side in the divorce. It made him think back to how much they had pushed him to get married in the first place, and he began to resent them, quite justifiably in his opinion.

“I know, I know…” Jack nodded. “And I wouldn’t change a thing. She’s it for me, y’know?”

Ryan raised his beer and they drank to that sentiment.

“What about you?” Jack asked next. “Is there someone new you’ve been holding back from me?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, not at all,” he stated. “Well… I mean…” he hesitated for a moment. “No. No one.”

But Jack’s interest had already been piqued. “Oh, come on. You can’t give me that and then say nothing!” he teased.

Ryan sighed, realising that he had dug himself into a bit of a hole. “It’s nothing,” he huffed at his own stupidity. “It’s just, one of the guys I live with has a bit of a crush on me.”

“Your first chubby chaser!” Jack laughed wickedly.

“Well…” Ryan conceded. “It looks that way, yes. His ex-boyfriend told me off for strutting around the place in just my underwear. He said I had a pot-belly and told me his boyfriend thinks of me as a hot daddy bear!”

Jack chuckled again. “Well, he’s not wrong. You do have quite the pot-belly!”

“Isn’t it a bit weird though?” Ryan asked his friend.

“Being referred to as a daddy bear when you’re only twenty nine?” Jack asked, simultaneously nodding in agreement. “But once you put on a bit of extra meat, that’s just the way people see you. It’s much more arousing to lean into it, rather than try to fight it.”

“Lean into it?” Ryan asked. “That’s your best advice?”

“Just enjoy the attention,” Jack smirked. “So what if he’s a twenty-four year old gay guy? You don’t have to be into someone to appreciate their admiration,” he nodded knowingly. “Trust me on this one. You’ll come to see that I’m right.”

With the divorce at last over with and all lawyers paid off, Ryan began to feel the financial strain starting to ease. Lucy hadn’t been quite as successful in getting all that she wanted from him. The worst case scenario was, thankfully, avoided. A few more months of living with the boys and Ryan would soon have saved enough money to rent his own place instead. With the ties that bound him to his ex-wife now finally disappearing, Ryan began to remember why he had fought so long for this freedom.

“I’ll have the Monster Meat bucket,” he declared, walking into a fast food place and not feeling guilty about the cost for the first time in months. He sucked in the smell of all the greasy goodness and knew that this was a freedom he would never again take for granted. Now he could gorge on as much as he desired and never have to explain himself to anyone. He could literally get as fat as he wanted now he was divorced and single, with no one to please but himself.

As he settled down into a seat, Ryan felt the bliss of devoting all his attention just to his epic meal for a full 20 minutes. It was all the stress relief he had ever needed. No one in here was particularly slim and it seemed, in those moments, that he had taken himself out of a world that so frustrated him, and into one that he felt comfortable in. Sure, he could probably join a gym and drop this weight in a relatively short amount of time. He could train his body hard and attract some beautiful girl to make his ex jealous. But Ryan knew that he had moved beyond that now. He didn’t care what his ex thought of him, or anyone else for that matter.

Or was Ryan just kidding himself? Was this really a moment of clarity? Or would he soon go crawling back to a diet plan the second things started getting rough? He was desperate to believe that wouldn’t be the case, but no one could ever be totally certain when it came to the future. It was only the present he could master. And so, armed with that knowledge, he went back to the counter, even though he felt almost too stuffed to even think about food.

“I’ll have the triple burger, please,” he stated, adding another milkshake to go with it. “He felt his hardess start to tingle, like the old days when he used to do this. Back then, he’d assumed it to be some twisted excitement about pissing Lucy off. Now he realised that this was so much more. This was about taking himself to somewhere he had never allowed himself to imagine going..

“Is this for you?” Ash asked, handing Ryan two boxes of pizza. “The delivery guy was coming up the stairs as I got home.”

“About time!” Ryan sighed, taking the boxes from him and settling back into the chair in front of the sofa. Two pizzas were a necessity for the Friday night baseball game and he was already four beers down. It would have been a perfect night but for the sticky humidity that had loomed over the city for the last few days; making him strip to his boxers as soon as he got home. “Do you follow baseball?” he asked Ash politely, nodding to the couch to see if he wanted to join him; knowing that, with Paul gone for the weekend, Ash would be on his own otherwise.

“No. Watching sports is not really my thing,” Ash replied unenthusiastically, despite continuing to linger around.

“Do you mind getting me another beer then?” Ryan asked,deciding to put the guy to work if he was so free to just stand about like this. 

Ash hopped to his task with remarkable speed. “Here you go,” he smiled delightedly, heading straight over and handing it over to him, not seeming to realise that he was blcoking part of the TV screen. “I’ve got some chips and dip if you want some?” he asked next.

“Sure,” Ryan nodded, hoping that the guy would at least sit down then and stop getting in the way.

Once again, Ash went to his task, presenting the chips and dip much better than Ryan ever would have. He placed them on the coffee table and then finally sat himself down on the couch. 

“You not having any?” Ryan asked five minutes later, noticing that it was only him actually eating.

“No, thanks,” Ash simply replied, pretending to be interested in the game. “They’re for you. Do you want another beer?”

Ryan felt the remaining liquid in his beer can and nodded, surprised by how diligently he was being looked after. Even when he asked Ash to fetch him the ice cream from the freezer later on, he was surprised that the young guy hopped to it, bouncing off the couch with an enthusiasm he had never seen before.

At the end of the game, Ryan took himself to the bathroom to relieve himself after the seven cans of beer he had ended up consuming. He looked in the mirror and marveled at the reflection he saw within it. Bloated and stuffed, Ryan had never seen his stomach looking so round and tight. Although he had upgraded his underwear a little while back, already these were looking worn and stretched, pulling the waistband down so that a good couple of inches of butt crack were on show. His muscular chest had started to build up with fleshiness in recent weeks and he placed his hand there to feel just how soft it was starting to get under his arms. He pulled the scales out with his foot and wondered just how much he weighed in this overfed state. He stepped on, waiting for the numbers to settle: 256lbs; the biggest number he had ever seen by quite some margin. It was, quite frankly, the cause of an almost instantaneous erection.

“I was wondering, if you’re still hungry, I could make you some pancakes?” Ash asked next as Ryan finally made it out of the bathroom. “I’ve got all the ingredients in.”

Ryan sat himself back down with a grunt and rubbed the shelf of his tight stomach, surprised that Ash was still hanging about the living area. Couldn’t he see how full Ryan was? Was he completely obvious to the heavy breathing and occasional grunt when he had to move, even slightly. He knew that the guy had a little crush, but what on earth was he possibly getting out of all this?

“Go on,” Ash pressed, actually trying to persuade him now. “Just a couple of them; nothing too big.”

Ryan looked up at the guy, already making his way to the kitchen and just waiting for that final nod of approval from him. Out of little more than curiosity, he agreed; watching with interest as he spied Ash settling to his task. Was he really using that much oil to fry the batter mix up? Was he actually rubbing butter into them? Did he really need to pour on that much syrup?

Despite tasting amazing, Ryan knew that every mouthful he was taking was completely and utterly packed full of calories and fat. As if desperate for his approval, Ash had watched him consume every bite of them. A sweat had begun to pour off Ryan’s forehead, but he wasn’t entirely sure that this one was caused by the humidity. “I am absolutely stuffed!” Ryan declared, grunting and rubbing the stretched out ball of stomach fat. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages,” he chuckled. “Not since I was trying to piss off my ex-wife after she told me she liked me being skinny.” “You were putting on weight on purpose?” Ash asked, quite startled by the comment.

“I was going for it, like you wouldn’t believe!” Ryan nodded. “Unless you’ve been through it, it’s hard to comprehend how petty you can be towards the end of a bad marriage,” he grinned, suddenly noticing that his hands were all over his own rounded stomach. “I was even taking this special calorie supplement shake you can buy, just to speed things up,” he laughed, thinking back.

“Oh!” Ash exclaimed knowledgeably, suddenly naming the exact brand .

They both went quiet. What a strange piece of trivia for Ash to just know, thought Ryan. The guy seemed to sense that too, suddenly looking a little sheepish. 

“Do you still take them?” Ash asked next, trying to look a little less interested than his excitable voice made him sound.

“I don’t need to,” Ryan grinned, tapping his fully grown pot belly. I just weighed myself twenty minutes ago. I’ve put on another 40lbs since I moved in here. It seems that I just can’t stop these days!” He yawned, standing up and stretching. “Anyway, buddy. I need to head to sleep,” he declared, seizing upon the fact that his erection from the overeating had at last subsided.

“Do you think there is a way to tell if someone is like your Michelle?” Ryan asked the next time he caught up with Jack at the very hastily organised stag party.

“How do you mean?” Jack asked, only a little worse for wear as he and Ryan gradually fell to the back of the crowd of friends taking them to the next bar.

“You know… Someone who is into the idea of helping someone else gain weight,” Ryan explained, trying to keep his voice fairly low.

Jack chuckled. “Oh, trust me, you’ll spot them!” he nodded. They’re not exactly subtle. “They’ll find ways to ensure you’re eating and they’ll probably want to watch too. If they’re anything like Michelle, they’ll probably try to keep your activity levels low and complement you at the weirdest times; like when you’re bloated from overeating.”

Ryan nodded, taking it all in and finding a striking resemblences to Ash’s more recent behaviours. “Anything else?” he asked.

Jack considered for a moment. “The compliments,” he added next. “They’re totally bizarre. If they’re praising you for overeating, that’s a pretty sure sign. But sometimes they may try to convince you that you look better, or more masculine, or whatever it is they think you want to hear. When the reality is, you just look fat.”

Again, Ryan nodded, keen to match Jack’s thoughts to his own observations of Ash. “You see, I think I might have…”

“Come on!” shouted their drunk friends up ahead. “The night is still young. Stop waddling behind and get your big butts up here!”

Jack and Ryan smirked at each other. Despite Jack’s rather considerable extra weight, Ryan had been lumbered in exactly the same category. The pair of them were, for better or worse, the fat guys on this trip.

“You’re back!” Ash smiled late the next day as an exhausted Ryan made it home. “Did you have a nice time? Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat?”

Ryan looked again at the time. “You’re still up!” he asked with surprise, knowing that Ash always had an early class on Monday mornings.

“Well, I wanted to check that you got home okay,”Ash replied, heading to the kitchen and renewing his offer to make something for his roommate.

Smirking at the fact that he was being fussed over and mothered by a good-looking twenty-four year old, Ryan had been disappointed that he hadn’t had more alone time to discuss this situation he was in, with his buddy, Jack. “Okay,” he nodded, deciding to just let Ash do his thing. “Sure, that would be nice.” He headed for a shower, returning to find an enormous, steaming hot lasagne, glistening with grease and cheese, sitting there on a plate, ready to be eaten. “Did you make this from scratch?” he asked Ash.

Ash nodded. “I remembered you saying that lasagne used to be your favourite dish growing up. I’ve never made it before, but I made a whole bunch of them and portioned them up in the refrigerator for when you get hungry.

Ryan smiled at the effort Ash had clearly gone to for him; a whole new level of care and attention. He opened his mouth to try some and nodded in approval. The lasagne really was delicious, although it was more than obvious just how much oil, cream and several different types of cheeses had gone into it to make it really quite extremely high in calories. If all the beer and fast food hadn’t ensured his pants would be tighter tomorrow, this little calorie bomb sure would.

“How was the weekend, anyway?” Ash asked, sticking around for the show and watching Ryan devour every bite.

“Pretty good,” Ryan nodded. “I had a couple of jibes from some of my old school friends about my weight. But we all turn thirty this year, so the dad-bod is definitely where most of them are at now anyway. I’m just the one who has already graduated from that stage,” he winked at Ash, tapping his gut.

“What did they say?” Ash asked with surprising interest, placing a cushion over his crotch.

“Oh, you know,” Ryan went on, deciding to play up to whatever kinky fantasies he thought his roomate may be having. “Just pointing stuff out to me: telling me how tight my clothes are, how slow I was when we were walking to different places and calling me out on how much I was eating when we went for food.”

“They’re probably just jealous,” Ash shot back straight away.

Ryan smirked. There was no way any of the guys were in the least bit jealous of his sprouting pot belly, making him all but invisible to the many hot girls they bumped into that weekend. This was clearly just another one of those bizarre compliments that Jack had told him to look out for. “Yeah, you’re right,” he lied to Ash, rubbing his bloating gut as he chugged down a few of the sodas Ash had supplied with his late night meal. “I’m sure they are jealous, deep down.”

Stepping on the scale was not something that Ryan did all that often. He could feel his stomach’s rounded shape starting to swell even larger, and he knew, from the fit of his underwear and pants, that his thighs and butt were also bearing the brunt of all that he was consuming each day. Still, as he stepped up, early one Sunday morning, after a particularly gluttonous take-out weekend of having the apartment to himself, Ryan’s eyes widened in shock: 278lbs! “Fuck!” he blasted in shock, before laughing to himself at how fast the latest few pounds had slipped on. He really weighed that much? He didn’t feel that heavy! He strolled over to the mirror inspecting his shape. Sure, his gut was pretty well developed by now and all the extra eating had sure softened his chest up rather a lot. He spun, noting that his butt’s width was quite considerable now, with back fat bulding at his sides and folding under his shoulder blades. Yet, he still didn’t feel like he should weigh 278lbs! Somehow, he had always imagined a guy that size being much bigger than this. What Ryan actually felt as he saw himself there, was very small still; acting as a licence for him to continue to indulge.

Jack’s wedding was fast approaching as the weeks rolled by. After being fitted for their suits, Ryan and Jack headed out for something to eat.

“That tailor seemed pretty pissed off that we left it this late to get ourselves measured for the wedding outfits,” Ryan noted as they sat down and grabbed the menus. “I guess we’ll have to cross our fingers that they can get those pants in for you in time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack shrugged. “I put on weight every week, so there would have been no point in going any earlier. I would just have outgrown them. “I’m almost 350lbs these days.”

Ryan nodded. Jack did indeed look impressively large, yet he was only 60lbs or so bigger than he was. And Ryan still felt tiny in comparison. “I know what you mean,” Ryan agreed. “I split some pants the other day. I’d only bought them four weeks before.”

“It’s weird, isnt it. When you’re gaining weight, you’re so tuned into how your body feels and looks. Yet, at the same time, you’re completely oblivious to it as well; how tight your clothes are getting, or how large you seem to other people.”

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. He felt so glad that Jack noticed this as well, sparking a lively conversation between the pair.

“You’ll be getting your own place soon, I take it?” Jack asked. “The two students you're sharing with must be graduating soon?”

“A couple of months,” Ryan nodded, suddenly realising that he had been a little lazy in his hunt for a new apartment. 

“That’ll be nice!” Jack smiled. “Your own space at last!”

“Well, it’s not too bad as it is,” Ryan explained. “Paul is never there at weekends. And now he’s got himself a girlfriend, he’s not there much in the week either.”

“And what about the other one? The one you used to fight with loads?”

“Yeah, he’s there a lot, but… we don’t argue so much these days,” he admitted; suddenly feeling the desire to say so much more about kinky little Ash.

“Before I foget,” Jack jumped in. “Michelle wants to know who you’re bringing as your ‘plus one’ to the wedding next week.

“I’ve got a ‘plus one’?” Ryan asked, genuinely surprised.

“Dude!” Jack grumbled. “Seriously?”

“I’ll find someone,” Ryan replied hastily, seeing how stressed Jack was getting.

“What about that girl you were hinting at when we briefly chatted during my stag party?” Jack asked, clearly keen to get a name locked in.

Ryan thought for a moment. Had Jack assumed he had some potential hot chubby chaser girl on the go? He pondered the idea, realising, quite suddenly, that he didn’t really need one. In the most unexpected way, everything that he had yearned for in life had already arrived. “Hey, Jack,” he asked thoughtfully. “How did you know that Michelle was the one for you?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Jack shot back with a sly grin.

“Besides that,” Ryan insisted. “How did you know that you guys were meant to be together?”

Jack sighed. “I guess…” he began softly, “...it was the way she made me feel: so loved and cared for; admired and adored. I’ve never felt that from anyone before.” He seemed moved, just by talking about her. “Plus she dominated me and forced me to pack on over 150lbs of pure fat; which is one of the kinkiest fucking things I could ever have imagined!” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ryan laughed and nodded. He made a crack about how much fatter Jack might be after he got home from his honeymoon, but, really, his mind was elsewhere; with someone else entirely.

Ryan arrived home to see a large crate of beers resting on the kitchen counter tied up with a ginormous red bow. He laughed, seeing that it was his favourite brand and noticing that a large tray of assorted doughnuts lay beside it.

“Do you like your present?” Ash asked, coming out of his bedroom with a huge smile on his face.

“You bought these for me?” Ryan asked, feeling his mouth watering at the sight of the doughnuts, even after how much he had eaten with Jack that afternoon.

As if psychically linked, Ash began unpackaging the doughnuts for him, leaving them open for him to stuff one into his mouth. “They’re to say thank you. I just had my novel manuscript accepted for publishing.”

Ryan nearly spat out his doughnut. “You’ve been writing a novel?” he blasted in shock. “Since when?”

“Since you kept reminding me that I need to do something with my life; back when you first moved in.”

“I was being an asshole,” Ryan confessed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“You gave me the kick up the ass that I needed,” Ash threw back with a smile. “You always told me how clever I was and that I could do anything.”

“You’re an amazing person,” Ryan marvelled. “In fact, you’re the best person I’ve ever met in my life!” For weeks now, he had worried that his behavious around Ash, indulging his little feeder tendencies in subtle ways, had only brought the guy to fetishize him. Their relationship was merely one of a simple exchange: Ryan would enjoy being overfed and catered for by his roommate, and Ash would get to enjoy the subtle art of ensuring a guy that he found attractive, continued to pile on a few pounds. Now, however, every sense felt strangetly heightened in this moment of celebration. He couldn’t believe that Ash had been secretly writing away for months when Ryan had assumed the guy to be inside his bedroom, playing games. Just how blind had he been this entire time?

Ryan took a step forward and Ash did not retreat. He grabbed the much smaller guy’s shoulders and held them firmly. Again, Ash did not stop him. Then, seeing the inviting, warm look on Ash’s face, Ryan took the biggest risk of his life, going in for a kiss and desperately hoping that Ash’s lips would move to meet his.

Unbelievably, Ash was kissing him back, moaning gently, as if luxuriating in something he had never wanted more in his life. The kiss became intense, very quickly. With his shirt lifted off him, Ryan felt the handsome guy’s hands rubbing all over his stomach. Before he knew it, Ryan was being guided into the living space, his sweatpants ripped down and then his body pushed with surprisingly kinky force, back into his usual chair in front of the TV. 

Ryan looked up at Ash with startled arousal. The guy seemed so naturally suited to taking charge. He would have known that this was Ryan’s first gay experience and he led the way with ease, erasing any opportunity for awkward fumblings to slip in. He cracked open one of the chilled beers and fetched the tray of doughnuts from the kitchen counter. Then, when he was sure that Ryan was settled, he plunged his whole mouth down onto the fat guy’s crotch.

Ryan’s whole body twitched.This wasn’t a blow job, he thought to himself, feeling the intense stimulation straight away. He found himself moaning, even when he was trying not to. Was this intense pleasure what it was supposed to have been like all along? Lucy had never made much of an effort with anything in the bedroom, but Ash’s mouth was doing things to him that Ryan could never have dreamed of. He supped on his beer and ate a doughnut, feeling Ash’s hands rubbing the spherical shape of his stomach, clearly getting off on making this moment all about him.

Barely two doughnuts in and Ryan felt his body lurching as it wanted to climax. Ash worked his pace even more, feeling the throbbing in his mouth. Then, when the moment came, he pushed his mouth even deeper, sending Ryan’s hardness all the way down his throat. The pleasure; the orgasm; that intensity. It was unlike anything Ryan had ever experienced in his life. 

There was no going back.

Over the following week, Ryan discovered that Ash had a whole arsenal of tactics to please him. Not only did the guy continue to fuss over him with his cooking and snack deliveries, but his tight, energetic little butt seemed determined to outdo every single previous sexual experience that Ryan had ever had. They spoke at length about their attraction to each other and how smitten they both had become. Ryan had no hesitation in inviting Ash to be his date for Jack’s wedding. And, in fact, spending so much time with a now professional writer, really helped Ryan to produce the best speech he could have wished for. Rather than feeling sick with nerves as the big day arrived, he felt excited and pumped, heartily stuffing himself on the big breakfast Ash had so lovingly prepared for him.

“Your friends really aren’t keen on Michelle, are they?” Ash commented later that evening, as the pair of them were reunited after Ryan’s time sitting at the top table and the endless photographs that needed taking.

“Um, no,” Ryan nodded. “Not so much.”

“I had no idea that your friend, Jack, used to be so slim before he met her,” he whispered, fearing that one of their families might overhear. “Your buddies seem to think she’s the devil incarnate!”

Ryan chuckled. He’d heard it all before. “She’s lovely really,” he tried, looking over at the pair of them as Michelle spoonfed her 350lb husband a large piece of their wedding cake. “She just… knows what she wants.”

“I think everyone here can see exactly what it is she wants,” Ash joked back as Jack’s full, swollen belly was patted with approval by his new wife. “It makes me wonder what your friends are going to say about me eventually.”

Ryan pulled Ash into him by holding his slim hips in his chubby hands. They had decided that it was best to go easy on the public displays of affection, considering that this was their first time out together as a couple. However, Ryan simply could not help himself.  “Oh, yes?” he asked keenly.

“I certainly don’t have any plans to put you on a diet,” Ash grinned, fingering the skin between the stretched buttons of Ryan’s beer swollen gut.

Ryan growled in lustful approval. His hands slipped onto Ash’stight, toned butt and pulled the guy in even closer.

“In fact, how come you’re not eating a big slice of wedding cake for me right now?” Ash teased.

Ryan moaned lightly. This was exactly what he wanted. He knew how much scrutiny he was under today. He could feel the judgemental eyes upon him, for his shocking weight gain, the fit of his tight shirt, and the fact that he was dating someone none of them had ever expected. He should have been nervous or self conscious. However, with Ash in his arms, Ryan had never felt more free to be himself. “But won’t that make me even fatter?” he teased back.

Ash smiled. “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that,” he joked, accepting the kiss that Ryan soon bestowed upon him.

Ryan felt Ash’s hands feeling his big, broad butt as they kissed; the pants he had been measured for only a week ago, starting to feel rather uncomfortable after only a week of dating the handsome twenty-four year old. The kiss ended and both of them laughed, realising how ridiculously long it had taken to get to this point. 

“Is this along the lines of what you had in mind for me?” Ryan asked moments later, pushing out his stomach as far as it would go and stretching those buttons even more.

Ash seemed thrilled, looking around the room in surprise that Ryan was making himself look so large in front of everyone that he knew at the wedding. He smiled, rubbing the underside of Ryan’s ball-like gut and then leaned in to whisper. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he teased.

Ryan growled in lustful appreciation, then took his boyfriend’s hand and led the way to the wedding cake.

Exactly one year to the day, Ryan and Ash were sitting in that same room, together with Jack and Michelle, celebrating a year since the wedding. They reminisced fondly, thinking about the perfect day it had been and laughing about how shocked everyone had been after Jack came back 30lbs heavier from his two week honeymoon. 

“You can’t be far off the weight I was this time last year,” Jack noted, surveying his buddy’s hefty appearance.

“Possibly,” Ryan nodded, rubbing his large stomach. “I still  don’t feel big yet though,” he replied, as if he was oblivious to the enormous ball-shaped gut and the groaning of the chair, supporting his wide butt and mostrous 347lb body.

“Unless I ask him to do something,” Ash jumped in comically. “Then he always says he’s too fat to do anything!” he joked, making everyone chuckle.

“I’m actually going to be pushing Jack to five hundred pounds this year,” Michelle explained, taking her morbidly obese husband’s hand as if this was an announcement that thay had been planning for some time.

Ryan noticed Jack staring at his face for a reaction; perhaps some surprise that his old school buddy was so ensnared by his beautiful wife that he was willing to take his weight gain to such extremes for her.

“He’s going to be a lot of work for you at that size!” Ash grinned conspiratorily at Michelle. “I hope you’re ready for that?” he laughed.

“Oh, I’m counting on it!” Michelle smirked, rubbing the 430lb man’s knee under the table.

“You’re a very lucky guy,” Ryan nodded at his friend in approval.

“There you go, Ash,” Michelle smirked. “It sounds like we may have another willing volunteer to join the five hundred pound club,” she nodded towards a jealous looking Ryan.

“You’re joking aren’t you?” Ryan laughed. “Ash is heading off on his second book tour in March. “I won’t be gaining anything for almost two months whilst he’s gone. I’ll probably just wate away!”

“You liar!” Ash teased him back. “Last time I was away, you pretty much lived on takeout and put on almost twenty pounds in a month,” he chuckled.

“I don’t remember you complaining,” Ryan smiled back; his voice dripping with affection and lust.

Michelle looked at them both, clearly wanting to cut through their mushy meanderings. “So, five hundred pounds?” she asked again, trying to circle the conversation back. “I’m getting the impression that you boys are kinky enough to enjoy seeing that on Ryan,” she pressed; ever the bad influence.

Ryan and Ash looked at each other with a wicked excitement in their eyes.

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Ash stated diplomatically. Unlike Michelle, he liked to be a little more discreet about his kinks and fantasies when it came to enjoying Ryan’s large body.

Ryan smirked and winked at his old buddy Jack. He knew exactly how to read between the lines of whatever Ash said. There was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to get Ryan to that size. And so, just like his high school best pal, Ryan was as good as setting sail for five hundred pounds. How insanely arousing was that?

“Eat up, my friend,” Ryan smiled competitively at Jack. “I’m coming for you, Fat Boy!” 

[yourdarlingalina]

is it new years yet? | jack hughes

synopsis: y/n's new years kiss is the last person she expected, her former fuck buddy pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader word count: 2.7k warnings: slightly steamy, heavy making out, mentions of sex, a bit angsty, not properly proofread is it new years yet? - sabrina carpenter

What's the best way to forget about your fuck buddy who broke things off with you a week before Christmas? Who you definitely don't have feelings for and who definitely didn't find out about said feelings by accident?

From a responsible person's point of view, it was the correct decision. I fell for someone who just wanted no strings attached sex. He doesn't want a relationship, and it is supposed to save me from being hurt even worse in the future. But I am not a responsible person. A responsible person wouldn't have been talking about their feelings with friends when they knew that the person they had feelings for was also in the same bar.

Which is how I ended up in my current situation. A glass of champagne in one hand while the other holds onto a random guy's shoulder as we sway and grind to the upbeat tempo blasting through the club's speakers. The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one, right? At least, that's what my friends were telling me as they convinced me to go out with them for New Year's Eve.

"Start the new year off with someone new."

And start the new year off with someone new I will. The guy in front of me is decent looking, he's no Jack but he'd do. His hands were at least doing all the right things, one gripping my hip to pull me closer as the other was pushing my hair out of the way of my neck so that he could leave sloppy open mouthed kisses to my skin. Hands roamed down my body as I brought the champagne flute closer to my lips, this night would require copious amounts of alcohol if I am to make it to midnight. He pawed his hands down from my hips to my ass, gripping and squeezing in ways that should be making me want to push my body harder against his. His mouth trailing from my neck down to cleavage, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh.

He was doing everything right to my body, but it just didn't feel right. I wanted it to be Jack who was brave enough to handle me this way in the middle of a crowded club, not ashamed to be seen with me, but it wasn't. He made it very clear that he only wanted me in private, with no one knowing that I was his on those nights and that he was mine, even if it was only for a short time. It was like he knew my body better than I did, knew what buttons to press to make me cry out his name. How he made me come undone again and again. The kisses that gave me full body shivers and touches that left my skin feeling like it was set alight.

I was not getting those feelings with the man attached to my body. He seemed like he'd be a great lover for a night, but not in the way I needed. Perhaps if I met him before everything, I could be happy with him but it felt like I had been ruined.

A party popper would end up becoming my hero of the night when one went off right next to my ear causing the glass in my hand to tumble down, splashing champagne on the man as it made its way down to shatter on the floor.

"Oh God! I am so sorry!" I profusely apologize as the man whose name I can't quite remember jumps away from me.

"It's alright, suppose I was gonna end up sticky tonight anyway. I'll be back." He shoots me a wink as he makes off in the direction of the bathrooms. I take the brief moment to escape to the bar, being careful to not slip on the alcohol or broken glass scattering the floor.

I push past the glitter and sweat coated bodies, pushing myself into a corner where I don't think my former dance partner will find me. One of the bartenders comes over to take my drink order not long after I get into my seat.

"What can I get for you?" The man asks quickly, obviously on the verge of losing it due to the new year's rush tonight.

"She'll have a vodka cranberry and I'll have a beer." A voice says from behind me, a voice I know extremely well. I didn't know he was going to be here tonight. Not a single person thought to mention that to me? The bartender makes a move to speak but the man behind me continues, "Brand doesn't matter, just whatever you have." The bartender just nods then scurries off to get our drinks.

I slowly turn on my stool to face him.

"Jack." I say, acknowledging him.

"y/n." He says back, sending shivers down my spine with just how he says my name. He moves closer, keeping me between the counter and his body. Leaning over his body almost touches mine, he keeps his eyes on me, his face getting closer, and for just a second I think he's about to kiss me, but his fingers wrap around the beer bottle that was placed on the counter and suddenly he's back where he was originally standing. "You seem to be having fun tonight."

"You've been watching me?" I blurt out before I could think. Instead, grabbing my drink, putting it to my mouth before I could say anything else.

"Hard not to when you're basically letting whoever that was fuck you in front of everyone." He bitterly spits out. He's jealous? He's not allowed to be jealous. He doesn't want me, I got that loud and clear.

"So? Why do you care?" His eyes snap to me. "I'm not yours, I never was." I break my eyes away from his, suddenly thinking about how interesting my drink looks. He smirks at my sudden movement, his fingers grip my chin and force me to look at him. His face is so close to mine again, I can feel his breath on my face, can smell the alcohol off his lips. He's intoxicating. I clench my thighs together at the small act. Even like this he still has so much power over me. I am undoubtedly his.

His eyes flick from my eyes down to my clenched thighs to my eyes again to the countdown clock behind me and finally back to my eyes. "Thirty minutes till midnight. Meet me on the balcony upstairs in fifteen?" He's asking but it comes out as more of a command.

"Why would I do that?" I push back. I can at least hold onto a little bit of my dignity during this. Can't I? Might be debatable.

"Because I made a mistake two weeks ago." He whispers against my lips. My eyes flutter shut, he's gone when I open them.

◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈

Fifteen minutes went by quicker than I would've liked for them to. I still haven't made up mind on if I should talk to him or not, but my body decided that I'd still go. I slowly made my way up, giving myself more time to collect my thoughts. I hadn't talked to him properly since that night.

It was a night out after a big win, Jack had invited me and some friends to go out with him and the team. Teasing remarks were thrown at me about how I look at Jack like I was in love. I never did hide my staring well. He had noticed too, how when he looked over at me, my eyes were already on him. Adoration was obvious in my eyes when they were on him. When I got quiet and didn't make any attempt to shoot down the accusations they all got loud. "You love Jack!" They shouted over and over. My cheeks flushed, embarrassment flooded up veins, I had to get away from it.

He heard. I turned to leave the group and he was behind me, eyes wide and jaw slack in shock. He was frozen, a deer in headlights. Me whispering his name snapped him out of his daze causing him to walk off in the opposite direction. I made the mistake of going after him.

"We said no strings attached." He said after the door slammed behind me, his back still facing me.

"I know." My words came out whispered, I was terrified of this. This was never meant to happen. Feelings were never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to find out that one of our few rules were broken.

"We can't continue like this." He finally turned and faced me. He showed no emotion, he was so goddamn hard to read. His blank facial expressions would be the bane of my existence.

"I know." I whispered again, the only words I could get out. I fucked up, by catching feelings, by continuing this when I knew I caught feelings. I tried to push them down and pretend that they didn't exist, but it just wasn't enough.

"I don't love you." I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears start to well up and not daring to let them have the chance of escaping. I knew how he felt, but hearing it was a completely different feeling.

"I know." I sobbed out. He was gone by the time I opened my eyes.

Here I was, yet again, going after him. I somehow made it to the top of the stairs and through the crowd of dancing bodies. There he was, standing on the balcony, leaning over the railing and looking out at the Hudson. I stood there for a good minute, just staring at him, debating on if it was even worth listening to him. Did he really make a mistake or was he just feeling guilty that he didn't reciprocate my feelings?

"What was the mistake?" I finally ask.

His head whips around so fast that I almost think that he's about to give himself whiplash. A small laugh like huff comes out as I walk further out onto the balcony.

"I almost thought you weren't gonna come." His voice is softer, careful, like he was actually scared of the thought that I wouldn't meet him. I look back at the countdown clock on the wall, ten minutes to midnight.

"I like to be fashionably late." He lets a small laugh escape at my comment. God, I love that sound.

"You always have." He turns away again, hands gripping the railing, knuckles turning white from the tension.

"You still haven't answered my question." I say, waiting for him to finally tell me what the mistake was. Was he regretting ending us or how he spoke to me?

"That night." He starts to say before cutting himself off, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Yes?" I nudge his leg with the tip of my heel. He looks at me, eyes scanning my face like he's trying to read my thoughts. Trying to get any idea of what I'm thinking.

"I lied to you." No. "I said I didn't love you." No. "I lied." No.

I should be wanting to hear this, but I don't. I never thought I'd be the type of person to run back to a man just because he gives me a pretty apology and I will not start now, especially when I know it's not true.

"You don't love me, you just miss the sex. Don't worry, you'll find someone else to suck your dick." I move to walk away before I feel this hand come up to grip my arm. He was not going to make this easy for me. All I want to do is go home and crawl under my blankets, forget that all of this even happened in the first place.

"Please, just hear me out." I turn my head to look at him and goddamn those eyes that make me want to melt. He's looking at me so sweetly, I've never seen him look at anyone like this.

"Make it quick." I brush off his hand and lean back towards the railing.

"Oh come on, you know I don't do quickies." He attempts to make a joke, a playful smile pulling on his lips. It quickly fades though as he get serious again. "I broke our rule before we even made it." My head snaps up at his words. What?

"I loved you before we slept together that first time." He can't be telling me the truth. No, our first night together was a drunken mess that was just meant to be a one night stand. The relationship that came after was just mutually beneficial, he didn't have to worry about someone running to the tabloids and I got someone who touched me in a way I didn't think was possible.

"Stop lying to me." I choke out. I don't need a pity confession from him, especially when I just want to leave him behind next year which is in, I quickly check the clock, three minutes.

"I'm not!" He counters back just as the words leave my mouth.

"If you loved me you wouldn't have reacted like that." My eyes are brimming with tears, this is not how I wanted my night to go. I just wanted to find a new guy to kiss at midnight to make me forget about Jack.

"I never thought you'd feel the same." How he could think that is astounding. I don't think he realizes just how magnetic he is, and not just because he's Jack Hughes, hockey star. No, he was much more than that. A good friend, a shoulder to lean on, someone that listens when you really need it, a respectful person who makes you feel like you're floating when his attention is on you. "I'm not good at expressing my emotions."

"Yeah, no shit!" I nearly scream at him. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"I want to start fresh next year." He admits, his eyes lock back onto mine. "If you gave me another chance, I promise, I won't fuck it up again." He's not lying, he's being genuine. I can see it written all over his face, the softening of his eyes, the breaking down of his walls. He's having a hard time even attempting to be vulnerable about this.

The shouting from the party starts to get louder. "Ten!" Maybe I should give him another chance. "Nine!" If I get hurt again then it's on me. "Eight!" He is who I want to be with. "Seven!" Why not? Is this not what I wanted just hours ago? "Six!"

"Kiss me." I tell him.

"Five!"

"What?" He sputters out.

"Four!"

"You heard me." I say, giving him a soft smile so that he knows I truly mean it.

"Three!" He shifts his body to be parallel mine. "Two!" His hands cup my cheeks. "One!" His lips meet mine as literal fireworks go off. "Happy New Year!" People shout around us. But my mind is just on him. As he's pulling me as close as humanly possible but it's still not enough.

My hands snake up with his abdomen, fingers gripping at anything they can. His hands move to my hair, to my neck, down my chest, caressing softly down to my hips, pulling and pleading to get as close as possible. My body was being set alight, the familiar feeling I've been yearning for. He's pulling sounds out from me that I've never made before. It's from the feeling that he's fully mine now, no hesitancy in his movements, he's confident and proud in what he's doing. 

My fingers move up to curl around strands of his hair, pulling his face fully flush to mine, lips melding and moving against each other at a fiery pace. We break away unfortunately to catch our breath, our smiling faces still touching, neither one of us making an attempt to move farther away. In fact, he's nuzzling his face even closer into mine, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do with me now?" I ask against his lips, looking up into those beautiful, mind melting, ocean like eyes.

"Start the year off right, by apologizing in so many ways." He says then capturing my lips again before dragging me through the crowd of bodies, down the stairs, and out of the door.

[theoriginalkaminari]

Attention span of a squirrel

Shoto Todoroki with an S/O who is very silly

Also seriously pls do not repost or reblog

Warnings: swearing sorta? Uh reader is GN and stuff.

Also the reason I call this 'Attention span of a squirrel' is bc squirrels have the attention span of uhhhhhh

Shoto was hanging from a rope, ankle first and upside down. The rope made him spin around the room very slowly as he felt the blood go to his head.

To make things worse, Shoto was dangling over a pit. It was foggy down there, so he wasn't able to see the bottom.

You both were chosen to go against Aizawa for this project, to see how well you did in a real villain situation.

So far?

Not so great.

Shoto was beginning to feel lightheaded, so he called out to you to try and bring your attention back to the situation.

"L/N." He calls, making you jolt out of your distracted state and back at him. "Hm?" You look up at him. "Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot." You laugh nervously, scratching the back of your neck.

"Okay...so..." You tap your chin in thought as you stare at the rope wrapped around Shoto's ankle. "If I were me...which I am...then how would I get Shoto out of here?" You jut out your bottom lip slightly, narrowing your eyes as if it would make you think harder.

"I don't mean to rush you," Shoto begins in his usual monotone voice. "But Mr. Aizawa could be approaching." He says, spinning slowly as the rope clings to his ankle.

You don't seem to hear this, as you're staring down at the pit. "Aha! I've got the situation!" You grin confidently, stumbling slightly as you take off your right shoe. Shoto raises an eyebrow, confused to what you were doing.

Then you suddenly throw your shoe into the pit. "One..." And you begin counting. "Two...three....four.....five..." You continue. Shoto feels confused as he stares at you. What the hell were you doing?

"L/N. What are you doing?" He finally asks, eyes still trained on your every move.

After you count to ten, you beam proudly, like you made a shocking discovery. At least, you thought you did.

"Well my icy friend," You begin as you point down into the pit. "We have discovered a bottomless pi-" You were interrupted by a soft 'thud' of your shoe finally hitting the bottom of the pit.

"Oh. Nevermind. Not bottomless, just ten seconds deep."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Shoto asks, tilting his head as best he can. You just turn back and grin at him.

"Well, if I cut you down from there, at least I know how long you'll be falling for!" You beam, like you've solved all world problems.

"Okay, now hold still." You try to reach for the rope, but stumble and almost fall into the pit. "Whoa!" You yelp lightly as the dirt crumbles beneath your feet. Luckily you got out of the way in time.

"Okay! New plan." You clap your hands together. Then, to Shoto's dismay, you begin to pace around the pit. After a while, you grin. Its not an innocent grin, but a mischievous one. Almost Bakugo like.

You suddenly run backwards. Shoto sighs in disappointment, thinking you've given up on him. "How do I-" He stops himself when he looks back at you, now charging at him. "L/N! What are you-"

You grin as you jump off the ledge of the pit, jumping up to grab him. You use a pocket knife to cut the rope in the process so you both don't get stuck.

You and Shoto tumble onto the otherside, landing into a pile of eachother.

Sort of a 69 position.

Quickly, you both pull away and stand up.

Shoto feels embarrassed, looking away from you and not knowing what to say.

That is, until you clear your throat. "So...here." You hand him a small amethyst rock. Maybe you collected it a while ago, or you found it somewhere. Eitherway, you don't really remember.

Shoto tilts his head, looking at the amethyst in your palm, then back at your face. "Whats this?" He asks.

You smile softly, finding his confusion amusing. "A gift! See? Its pretty, like you." You beam. Shoto swears he sees light emitting from you as you smile at him. Shoto gives a small smile in return, and takes the amethyst. "Thank you, L/N." He says, his voice soft.

You laugh softly and place your hands on your hips. "And since I gave you a gift, we're friends now. Is that okay?" You say, even though Shoto doesn't have a choice in the matter.

Shoto puts the amethyst in his pocket. "Okay."

You grin and give him a small thumbs up. "Great! So you have to call me by my first name now, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, Y/N."

"Atta boy!"

Shoto smiles softly. He feels a sudden feeling in his chest, snapping him out of his thoughts. He places a hand on his chest, suddenly very confused.

Did my heart skip a beat? Do I have heart problems? Perhaps I should see Recovery Girl after this.... He thought.

Eventually, the day ended, and everyone was heading to their dorm rooms to finally get some sleep.

All except Shoto. He stayed on the green couch in the lounge, staring blankly at the wall, lost in thought.

"We're friends now, so you have to call me by my first name!" Your voice rang in his head like a lullaby.

A week passed, and you and Shoto stared hanging out more. You would say things like:

"Shoto! Do you ever thinks ants get lonely?"

"Shoto! Did you know worms have an asshole?"

"Shoto! Whats your least favorite animal?"

Things that would make him smile, or things that would make him confused. Things that would make him think, or things that would make him surprised.

Every little thing you did made him have a soft and warm feeling in his chest. Shoto, completely oblivious to these feelings, decides to confront his friend, Izuku. One night, everyone is staring to head to bed, when Shoto approaches Izuku.

"Midoriya." He says, staring the conversation. "I need your help."

Izuku tilts his head, looking up at his friend. His green eyes fill with curiosity. "What is it, Todoroki? Is everything okay?" He wonders.

"I think I have heart problems." Shoto says, in earshot for Mina and Ochako to hear.

"WHAT?!" Mina gasps, suddenly very interested to Shoto's conversation with Izuku. Mina and Ochako rush over to them, their eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay, Todoroki? Should we get you to the hospital?" Midoriya asks, standing up as his expression turns to one of concern.

Shoto thinks for a moment, before speaking again. "No. I just feel a warm feeling in my chest, and sometimes my heart skips a beat. Sometimes my face gets hot, even though I try and cool myself down with my left side."

Mina and Ochako's eyes widen. The two beam, leaning ever so closely to Shoto. "Do you feel this way around a certain someone?" Mina says, her voice giddy and excited.

Shoto nods. "Yes, it happens around L/- I mean, Y/N."

Mina and Ochako squeal, while Izuku sighs in relief, glad his friend isn't suffering from any heart failure.

"What? What is it?" Shoto looks at them all, very confused. Did he really have heart problems...?

"Its love!" Mina grabs Ochako's hands, the two of them bouncing around in circles.

"Love..?" Shoto tilts his head. "Yes, Y/N is my friend. I care for them deeply." He nods, confused to why Mina and Ochako were makeing a big deal about this fact.

"No, Todoroki!" Mina looks at him in the eyes as she stops bouncing. "Romantic love." She corrects.

Something in Shoto's brain clicks. "Oh." He says quietly, a soft dusty pink tainting his cheeks.

Shoto began to hang out with you more, staying by your side as you ramble about silly things, or smiling as you show him silly things.

Until one day, Izuku encouraged him to confess.

Shoto asked you to meet him at the courtyard after school, and you did. Shoto took a deep breath, trying to gather his nerves before he spoke to you.

"Y/N." He says softly as he looks into your eyes.

Your beautiful eyes...the ones he could get lost in for hours. The ones he loved staring into.

"I have feelings for you. Romantic ones." He finally says after a moment of silence.

You, being the person you were, holds up a hand for him to high-five. "Dude, no way, that is awesome sauce!" You say.

Shoto looks at you in confusion and disbelief. You suddenly cover your mouth in embarrassment, muttering quiet apologizes.

"Oh god, I'm really sorry, Shoto! It just popped into my head and then my mouth talked and then it all fell apart but what I ment to say was..." You take a deep breath, and look at him in the eyes.

"I love you. Like a lot." You hold out your arms as far as they could go. "If I was able to, I would stretch my arms pur way further but this is as far as they can go. But I really do love you!" You beam.

Shoto chuckles softly at your antics. He suddenly feels...complete.

You smile as well, and lower your hands. Then, you slowly extend your hand out to him to take. Shoto's eyes light up slightly. He slowly take your hand, and you intertwine your fingers with his.

"Now I get to tell people I have my own furnace AND my own cooler!" You grin brightly, making Shoto chuckle again.

He kisses your cheek gently. "Your pretty." He whispers.

And so doofus and doofus 2.0 relationship begins.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.  

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man­. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 8

Pairing: Eddie Munson X fem!Reader

Summary: "We were friends for a long time... and then we weren't."

Word Count: 4.3 K

Divider was created by @hellfire--cult ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

New Years Eve, 1983

There was always so much noise at Granny’s house.

People were everywhere. In the kitchen, in the bedrooms, in the den, even outside in the cold. There was no escaping from the noise no matter where one went in this house.

So why, then, as you sat on Granny’s little gossip bench staring at her pale yellow phone, did you feel completely suffocated by its silence?

“Are you expecting a call?” 

Startled, you looked up at your grandmother and answered, “Yes… maybe…” you looked down at your lap, feeling utterly childish as you tumbled through your sentence. “He didn’t say when he would call, exactly. Just said that he would.”

Granny watched you with understanding, nodding her head as if you were making complete sense and not ignoring what an entire week of silence from that phone must mean. 

“Well dear,” Granny said softly, “the way I see it, you have two options.” 

You listened intently, worrying the telephone cord between your fingers as you had been for who knew how long by now. 

“-Ether you risk missing that call- which I’m sure any sorry soul who waits a week to call a girl as pretty as my granddaughter would understand- and spend some time with your family,” you didn’t miss the knowing smile she gave you or the raise of one near translucent gray eyebrow. “-or you can sit by the phone for the rest of your time here letting some boy take over your entire holiday.”

You cringed, looking back at the phone for one more longing second before smiling at your granny as you stood from the chair. 

“Need any help in the kitchen, Gran?” 

She grinned, hooking your arm with her own as the two of you made your way to the already crowded kitchen to find something to occupy your mind other than some boy. 

However, you still chanced a look over your shoulder at the telephone before it disappeared from your sight. Eddie said he would call. It’s been a week, why hasn’t he called? 

He said he would call.

Eddie was staring at the phone too.

He’d been staring at it ever since Robin had told him what happened with Alan. Been staring on Christmas Day, been staring every day after that, stared at it on New Years Eve when he wondered if he’d ever get to claim your New Year’s kiss one day. Fantasized, more like. He knew it wasn’t a possibility now. 

He’d already made up his mind, and that was why he wouldn’t touch the phone.

For the best, he told himself. It’s for the best. 

The radio silence continued for far longer than you’d thought it would. 

Eddie knew when you were coming home- you’d told him that he could see you as soon as you got home the Friday after New Years’. He’d said the two of you could make up for the lost holiday time over the weekend before school began. 

But there was no call from Eddie. And even though you knew he was in the wrong, there was a part of you that was laughing at yourself for being so naive that you’d expected this to actually happen. Dating Eddie Munson… who were you kidding? He didn’t even want you wearing his jacket around school; for a moment you had thought that he may feel the same way about you as you felt about him, but even if that were true he wasn’t about to let the whole of Hawkins know that. Now, you weren’t even worth a phone call.

You shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.

These were the thoughts that plagued you as you crossed the frigid parking lot of Hawkins High on the first day of the spring semester. It felt strange to drive yourself to school again… it had been almost a year since you’d done that, since your usual ride was a 1971 Chevy Astro. You couldn’t help searching the lot for that very brown and yellow van, and weren’t sure if it was relief or disappointment you felt when it was nowhere to be seen.

You didn’t see him in Latin class. Or History. Or Pre-Cal. You were beginning to think he’d just cut school for the day when you walked into the cafeteria and saw him sitting at his normal spot, head of the table as always. 

Your face started to get hot, palms sweating and heart racing- you thought about sitting at a different table since he obviously didn’t want to see you. Let yourself down easy, let the memory of him fade from your life, let him have his way. 

But then he saw you. 

For a split second, he looked as ghost-white as you felt. The next second, he was smiling and laughing at something one of the guys was saying. 

As if you weren’t even there. As if the elephant- the mammoth- in the room wasn’t even there. 

Maybe… maybe everything was fine? Maybe he had simply forgotten that he’d said he would call? What if you had remembered the conversation you’d had wrong, and it was you who was supposed to call him, and he was only avoiding you because he’d thought you were mad at him. 

A thousand possibilities were running through your head as you made your way to the lunch table, setting your things down and sitting in your usual spot beside Eddie. 

You received a couple of greetings from the guys, but not from him. That wasn’t good.

Your heart was racing; you must have done something, said something. There was some kind of misunderstanding, but you would work it out. You just had to extend an olive branch. 

Nudging Eddie’s elbow with your own got his attention, but not how you’d wanted. Instead, he flinched away as if you’d burned him. Flinched. His eyes were wide, surprised and slightly skittish as he looked at you for the first time since you’d sat down. 

Why is he so jumpy? You thought, What did I do?

“How- ahem,” your voice was surprisingly hoarse, and it dawned on you that you’d hardly spoken since you’d told your parents goodbye that morning. “-how was your break?”

He stared at you for a moment, blinked, then donned a mask of indifference as he turned his attention back to his meager lunch of pretzels and a Slim Jim and shrugged. “Good.” 

His voice was light, airy. Noncommittal and monosyllabic. The tone of voice someone used when speaking to a person they’d rather not be speaking to. You’d heard that tone from him before, but never directed at you. 

“You…” you stuttered the end of that word, struggling to make up your mind about which words would follow it. “...you said you would call, Eddie…”

If you’d thought his face was white before, you knew it was now. You noticed his chest heaving underneath his layers of jackets, and for a split second you wondered if maybe everything would be okay after all. Maybe you were just in your head, and this was all some big mistake, that everything was fine and you were just being dramatic. 

“Yeah, I…” Eddie gulped, and suddenly he was indifferent again, aloof and uncaring. “...I was busy. Sorry.” 

Nothing about this made sense. Not a single thing about this interaction made any damn sense. Eddie was never aloof with you. Never uncaring. 

“You were busy?” You repeated, and the edge in your words must have been stronger than you’d intended because the conversations around you were starting to taper off into silence in favor of listening in on the quarrel at the head of their table. 

Eddie narrowed his eyes on you, annoyed. “Yeah, I had a busy week, I already said I’m sorry.” 

“So busy you didn’t have time for even one phone call?” you whispered, keeping your voice down. You were upset, but giving the boys a show wasn’t on your agenda. “Eddie, I… we… I had a good time before we left, I thought it…” you were feeling so many emotions right now, a cocktail of embarrassment, anger, frustration, everything but sureness of yourself was swirling in a cyclone behind your eyes, and Eddie saw all of it in only one glance. It’s why he looked away and searched desperately for something else to train his gaze on. 

“...Eddie, I thought we-”

His eyes refused to meet your own, but his tone was biting when he interrupted your whispered plea with a bitter mumble. “It was one date, you’re acting like we’re married or something. Don’t be so dramatic about it.” Then he bit down on a pretzel, breaking it in half with a single crunch. 

You felt like you’d been slapped across the face. “I…I- you…” What were you trying to say? What could you say? Nothing came to mind. You didn’t have words for what you were feeling, and your brain was already moving a mile a minute. You’d thought things would be different now, but not like this. Not worse. That one date hadn’t just made things weird, it had apparently caused irreparable damage to your friendship. It was too late to take anything back. You couldn’t go back to normal after this. You didn’t want normal after this. Not when you knew what what could have been felt like, and especially not now that you knew he wanted absolutely nothing to do with what could have been. Nothing to do with you.

The thoughts were swirling, and the cyclone was growing louder and more dangerous. Suddenly your eyesight was blurry, and something wet was falling down the slope of your cheek, and your heart felt as if it was clawing its way up your throat. So up you stood, snatching your unopened lunchbox from the table and crashing through the exit door. You didn’t care that it was freezing out and that you had nothing but your cable-knit red sweater for warmth, you ran anyway. You ran until you reached the black cherry tree, collapsing against its steady bark as you finally let the tears fall. 

Your heart finally found freedom from your throat when a sob wrenched its way out of you, shaking your shoulders with a violent gasp. How did this happen? How had you gone from being completely and totally sure of where you stood with him one week, and weeping over him the next? You had whiplash, you felt like you were dreaming. This wasn’t your Eddie; he was acting like a different person, why? What had you done to upset him like this?

You heard footsteps crunch across the dry, dew-frozen grass behind you, and you didn’t need to look to see who it was. You also didn’t want this particular person to see your tears; they would only serve as proof that he was right about you being too dramatic. You stared daggers into the trunk of your tree and tried to sound as unfeeling as he had. 

“I want to sit out here today.” you said, cursing the hiccup that escaped you in between sentences. “You can go back inside.” 

Eddie just stood there, silently. He didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t in his nature- being hateful. Being mean. It killed him to do this, to know he was even capable of hurting you. Yet here he was, doing it anyway.

“Okay.” he mumbled, “If you’re sure.” 

Every fiber of his being was fighting him. No rational part of him wanted to go along with this twisted plan that the darkest part of him had created- the side of him that knew deep down that he never deserved your friendship in the first place. The side of him that knew if he stayed on the path he’d been on until last week, you would get hurt again- people like Alan would make sure of it. He would drag you down, he would hold you back, and you would stand by him taking hit after hit for him all the while like the perfect angel you were. 

Simply put, he hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve you, and you didn’t deserve the shit that came with having anything to do with Eddie Munson. So here he was- righting the balance. 

He turned to walk away from you, leaving you shivering and sobbing in the cold, and just when he didn’t think he could feel like any more of an asshole, he heard your soft quavering voice from over his shoulder and his heart just about shattered.

“What did I do wrong, Eddie?”

He was glad his back was turned, or else you would have seen his expression crumple for a moment before he regained his composure. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

He had to make it hurt. He had to be brutal, he had to be heartless. If you thought there was a way to talk this out, you’d take it, and he’d be weak enough to let you. Then all of this would be for nothing.

He had to hurt you now; it was the only way he could make sure he never hurt you again. 

“I mean, come on. You’ve had a crush on me from day one, if I’d wanted anything serious I would have acted on it before now.” Eddie was facing you now, but he couldn’t look at you. His eyes were staring at his Reeboks with such intensity, he wondered if he might burn a hole through his toes. “I only asked you out because I felt bad for you. You were so desperate for attention… I mean, we had some fun, yeah, but that was all it was. Girls like you are just too easy to be anything serious.”

He saw your head snap up out of his periphery, and despite his better judgment, he lifted his gaze to get a better look.

Your eyes were red and wild, tear stained cheeks grayish from your makeup and upper lip slick from what your sniffles couldn’t quite catch. 

“Girls like me?” You repeated; he felt a chill run down his spine at the tone of your voice, and he knew it wasn’t due to the cold. It was low, eerily quiet and foreboding. He couldn’t help but feel like he may have gone too far, but it was too late to take it back now. 

“Well since you’re an expert on girls like me, Eddie Munson, let me tell you a thing or two about boys like you.” The tears were still flowing down your face, but the look in your eyes was anything but sad. He’d seen that look on everyone important in his life but you up until now. 

Disappointment. 

“Boys like you,” you said, “are liars. Because the way I see it, either you’re lying to yourself and to me right now, or you’ve been lying to me every day since we met and you’ve finally decided to show your true colors.”

You hiccupped through a breath, stifling a sob as your composure threatened to crinkle in on itself. 

“I can’t reconcile that the person I’ve known this whole time and the person you’re being right now are the same guy! I don’t know if you’ve always been this way and pretended you weren’t or if you’re lying right now for some reason that you aren’t telling me… But Eddie, you’re a liar either way.” 

You saw right through him; he’d almost hoped that you would. He couldn’t do anything about it, though- he wouldn’t deny nor confirm, because if he spoke he might break. He just stood there, eyes lowered to the ground like a scolded child.

You marched toward him, and his heart felt as though he’d put it behind bars. He’d silenced it, shoved it in a cell and locked the door. Even when you were standing within arms reach, he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “I know when I’m not wanted, and I’m not going to fight for something that means so little to you that you’re willing to throw it away without even telling me why.”

You reached down to pick up the lunchbox you’d dropped during the onslaught of your sobbing, and caught his eye contact on the way back up. You held it menacingly and without question as to who held the authority to break it and who didn’t. “You want to let this lie? Fine. I’ll let it lie. It can lie right under a gravestone for all I care.” You shook your head slightly, face crumpling into bitter disappointment. “Bye.”

Then you walked right past him, and he did nothing. 

He didn’t chase you. He didn’t argue, he didn’t fess up about how all of this is an act meant to convince you not to spend another minute associating yourself with the likes of him. He didn’t even say ‘bye’ back. He stared at the ground and prayed to whatever god was listening that it would swallow him whole. 

It was surreal how quickly a routine could change when necessary. 

One day, Eddie was an integral part of your life. He was the reason you were excited to go to school every day. He was the source and recipient of nearly every smile you gave. 

The next day, he was gone. His presence in your life had disappeared into thin air, and while there was a part of you that had started out hoping that Eddie would come back to you with apologies and explanations, that part was never satisfied. 

It was like the last year had never happened. Eddie hung out with his Hellfire friends and you hung out with Robin. You gravitated back into your old social circles and never overlapped.

You had explained everything to Robin immediately, reeling when she told you what she’d divulged to Eddie about the incident with Alan and wondering if somehow, that had something to do with Eddie’s sudden shift in behavior. But in the end, it didn’t matter- he’d dropped you this quickly, and no reason could justify that to you. You wanted nothing to do with someone who didn’t care enough to try harder to keep you.

Winter subsided to spring, and when the time came to think about college you set your sights on schools as far away as possible- Hawkins might have been your home, but there were so many pockets of your small town that reminded you of Eddie. The lake, Benny’s, the Starcourt mall… so many places were haunted by memories of him, preserved like flowers that had begun to mold because they hadn’t been pressed quite right. 

You passed your exams in the spring easily. Despite your better judgment, you worried about Eddie doing the same without you to help him study, and that worry proved it wasn’t in vain when you heard down the grapevine that he had failed enough of his core classes that he wouldn’t be graduating with the rest of you. Funny, you thought, how you had spent so much time helping him figure out his learning style only for him to forget all of it the moment you were gone. 

If you could have seen through Eddie’s eyes, however, you would have known that he remembered everything. Painfully so. He wished he could forget, that way he might not feel so guilty when deciding not to try anymore. At a certain point, graduating just didn’t feel like something he deserved anymore.

And graduation came and went without him. You moved out to New York for college at the end of the summer, and Eddie stayed in Hawkins. You remembered hearing a rumor that he planned on dropping out. You tried not to feel responsible. 

You resolved to remember your friendship with Eddie Munson as a strong, but short lived connection. You told yourself that’s all it was ever meant to be- a powerful connection with an expiration date. With time, the pain would begin to numb and you would learn to forget about him. 

All it would take was time. 

~ 10 Years Later ~

“Okay, how about this- I take the monstera, but you get to keep all of the succulents.”

You sighed, keeping your new wireless telephone wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you worked your way through unloading the dishes from your dishwasher. It was a quaint, compact appliance designed to fit perfectly in one-butt-at-a-time kitchens such as the one in your New York City apartment. 

“Kate,” you started, wondering if she was ever going to drop this or if you were going to have to force her to take all of the plants with her when she moved out. “You have always been the one that takes care of these damn plants. You know me- am I ever going to remember to water these things?”

Her voice was quiet for a moment before you heard her defeated “...No.”

“Correct.” you confirmed, nodding sagely as you lined thrifted mismatched water glasses into a cupboard. “Do you want a single one of your precious babies to die while in my care, Kate?”

“But maybe you’ll decide you want to take care of them because they make the apartment so pretty!”

“I will not! You know that I will not, and that is why you are taking all of the plants.”

You snorted when you heard her disgruntled sigh garbled through the phone. “Don’t you want at least one of them? They brighten up the place so much, and I’m sure your new roomie would appreciate the extra oxygen it would bring-”

“-Then he can bring his own plants.” you countered, drying off your hands after unloading the last dish. 

“I still can’t believe I’m moving out…” Kate’s voice took on that nostalgic, mirror-glazed tone that you’d heard so many times this month already. It broke you down a bit- always did. You and Kate had lived in this little apartment together for the last five years. You’d seen each other through college graduations, new jobs, good dates, bad dates- and now, new living situations. 

“Kate,” you warned, “if you were going to talk yourself out of moving, it would have been a lot more convenient before you signed a lease across town and I found a new roommate.” You let yourself fall into the worn out corduroy sofa under a window where your cat, Icarus, liked to perch on the sill and soak up the sun. You reached up to scratch between his ears absentmindedly. “He’s on his way here now, so it’ll be pretty awkward if I have to tell him to get lost.”

“You’re sure this guy isn’t some weirdo?” Kate sounded concerned, which was typical of her. While she may be two years younger than you, she still worried about you like a doting big sister. “You haven’t even met him, and he’s already moving in.” 

“Well if he is,” you said, gazing at the door to what used to be Kate’s bedroom. “Then I just don’t resign the lease with him. He’s only subletting until the end of the summer anyway, so there’s nothing binding that’s keeping him here. And besides, he’s friends with one of Cathy’s brothers’ girlfriends.”

You could practically hear Kate rolling her eyes through the phone. “Right, he’s basically family at that point.”

A knock at the door caught your attention, Dun-dun-dudun-dun… dun-dun.

“Well he’s here now, so if you don’t hear from me by tonight you’ll know he’s an ax murderer.” 

“Not funny!”

You chuckled, finding it very funny. “Love you!”

“Love you too. Seriously, call me tonight!” 

You hung the phone up on its wall mount as you made your way to the door. You were curious who this mystery roommate was. When your coworker had heard you talking about how Kate was taking a job that would relocate her across town, she’d raved about this person who she’d met at a Christmas party back home who would be moving to New York and needed a place to stay. She went on and on about how he was the nicest guy, easygoing and down to earth- you’d initially wondered why Cathy wasn’t inviting him to move in with her before you remembered that she was married. 

You plastered on a welcoming smile as you turned the knob of your front door and swung it open.

You saw the eyes first. They still looked the same, sweet chocolate brown eyes framed in lashes that a Covergirl would envy. You noticed traces of eyeliner around the edges- that was new- but the eyes were the same.

The hair… there was so much more of it now. It was longer, it was shinier… it fell over his shoulders in waves and matched the scruff that dusted his cheeks and jawline. You saw light glint off an earring somewhere in all that hair. 

Your eyes zeroed in on the bats before you could focus on any of the other tattoos that now littered his arms. They were more faded now, patchy and fuzzed at the edges. Yours didn’t look too different- it looked pretty much the same, minus the bluish tint that his had taken on from too much sun exposure. 

He dressed a little differently; seemed taller too- but it was him. There was no mistaking those eyes.

On one side of your doorway, you stood in complete and utter silence. On the other side, a ghost stood in equal silence with a suitcase in one hand, a beaten guitar case in the other, and a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. 

The irony of it was funny, really. The person who had shut you out all those years ago, standing at your door, waiting to be let in. 

It just had to be you, you thought bitterly, didn’t it, Eddie?

It had to be you.

Part 9

Taglist: @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan , @stylesxmunson , @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21 , @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs , @writinginthetwilight , @ghost-proofbaby , @hellfire--cult , @nix-rose , @chaoticgood-munson , @3rd-conchord , @aphrogeneias , @definitionwanderlust , @aheadfullofsteverogers , @artsymaddie , @mopeymopeymouse , @alwaysbeenfamous

[munsons-hellfire]

Happiness in the Heart | Eris Vanserra

SUMMARY: You were in love with Azriel for as long as you could remember. But things changed when Elain joined your family, everything changed. Then you met your mate and suddenly you found everything you ever wanted. But you couldn't have had it had it not been for Azriel.

PAIRINGS: Eris Vanserra x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: No smut, Eris is nothing but sweet in this, angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of blood, nothing to graphic, mentions of heartbreak.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had plans to make this a lot more sadder than what is actually written. But I like the way it turned out for the most part. I wanted to write a good sweet side to Eris and this was it. I enjoyed writing this very much and I hope you enjoy it as well.

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

You’d been a part of the inner circle since you could remember. For a long time you truly felt like one of them but everything seemed to change when the Archeron sisters became a part of the inner circle. Suddenly everyone whom you’d assumed was your friend had disappeared. Azriel was your best friend and the two of you were inseparable and then Elain came into the picture and just like that you lost him.

You didn’t blame Elain, you understood. You knew that maybe you were better off alone. Your thoughts got the better of you telling you that maybe things would be better if you disappeared. Especially when Azriel started spending more time with Elain. You loved him, but had always been too afraid to say something. Though now it seemed like you no longer had a chance.

You were drifting from the inner circle, becoming less and less. Though you would still go out on missions, but for the most part you’d ask Rhys to send you out by yourself. As you started to lock yourself inside your room and away from the people you cared about they didn’t seem to notice. That hurt the most, that you had just disappeared from their lives.

Currently you were in the autumn court, Eris had become the new heir of the Court after his father’s untimely demise. Your friends were around but you paid no mind to them, you had drink after drink until you were drunk enough to hopefully not remember anything the following morning. You looked around the court, Azriel was in the center smiling and dancing with Elain.

Right then and there your heart had officially been torn to pieces. And to make the blow worse you believed that everything that had happened between you and Azriel had been your fault. You had waited too long and now you’d never get a chance to tell him how you felt. Taking a long exhale you grabbed another glass of wine and exited out of the room heading outdoors.

You tumbled down the steps slightly eventually sitting down on one of them, then you dropped your body the rest of the way and stared up at the stars with nothing but a blank gaze as tears cascaded down your face and into your hair. You had tried so hard not to cry but seeing Azriel happy with someone who wasn’t you made it that much worse. A figure stood in front of you glancing down at you.

“I would’ve thought that everyone from the Night Court liked to party.” Eris Vanserra’s voice ran through your ears. The newly appointed High Lord was staring down at you.

“I guess I’m not in the mood for a party.” You mumbled, staring past him.

“Pity.” He paused, wanting nothing more than to stop the tears falling from your face. Eris had known since the High Lord meeting to fight against Hybern that you were his mate. When you had walked into the room and looked at him he had felt the golden thread of the bond tie his soul to yours. But it seemed nothing had snapped for you. It had been 5 years since then, 5 years too long in his eyes. “You look rather divine if I say so myself.”

“You’re compliments won’t do anything to cheer me up.”

Eris moved down the steps, then he held his hand out to you. “Walk with me, my darling fox.”

You grabbed his hand but held a glare on your face. “I’m not your darling fox, don’t call me that.”

The male only smiled as the moonlight highlighted his features. “You say that now, sweetheart.”

You released a groan walking past the High Lord. No matter what you heard about Eris, you couldn’t seem to hate him and you didn’t understand why. When the two of you were far enough from the party Eris shrugged off his cold exterior.

“Why don’t you come stay in my court for a while.” Eris said, showing his compassionate side to you. Shock seemed to wash over your face as you stared at him.

“What? Why?” You rushed out.

“Do those you consider friends really care about you?” He asked a serious look in his amber eyes. “Do they know that you're struggling, that you feel so alone, that the male that you love is not interested in you?” The way he had mentioned Azriel was off putting to you. Like he was upset that you were in love with another male that wasn’t him. But why, is what you wanted to know.

“My burdens are not theirs to bear, they are not yours to bear. We barely know each other.”

“I don’t need to know you to feel your pain, little fox.” Eris lifted a hand and moved a strand of your hair behind your pointed ear. The touch was enough to cause your heart to stutter in your chest,

“How can you feel my pain?”

He sighed, looking away. “You’re my mate, Y/N.” The words were soft and so low you almost didn’t hear him speak it.

“What?” He could hear the confusion in your voice as you stared at him.

Eris didn’t want to repeat himself because he needed to get it off his chest, he needed you to know even if you hadn’t felt the bond, even if there might be a chance that you’d reject it. He couldn’t wake up everyday anymore and feel your pain. He wanted to help, he wanted to be there for you to show you that you're not alone no matter what you think.

“You. Are. My. Mate.” He had paused in between the words and had also stepped closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat when he grasped your fingers and held them between his. And as if he had spoken it into existence you felt the gold thread tie you to Eris. When he gave a tug on the bond a choked sob left your mouth.

You surprised yourself when you wrapped your hands around the male’s waist and pulled him into a hug. More tears had started to roll down your face as he hugged you back just as tightly. When you pulled back slightly to look up at him he lifted his hand to wipe away the tears.

“What does this mean?” You asked.

“You can stay in the Night Court if that’s what you wish, I won’t force this on you. But I’d like a chance for you to get to know me better. To know the real me and not the cold distant male you’ve met a handful of times.”

“Okay.” You paused, staring into his beautiful eyes. “And when I’m ready to accept the bond?”

“When you’re one day ready to accept it we can hold whatever ceremony you’d like. But I’d only request that you come stay with me here in the Autumn Court. Only after will you be my High Lady. You’ll rule with me by my side, I will not force you to bear my heir, all of that will be your decision. All of this will be yours to choose.”

You nodded your head. “I might need a few days to think about the offer.”

“Very well my little fox.” You rolled your eyes at the male.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

You had traveled back to the Night Court, after that night. Upon returning you felt a little less alone. You thought that the idea of Eris being your mate would scare you, but in truth it excited you. Looking at the supposed friendships, you started to think that maybe it was time to leave. You wanted to know Eris more and eventually accept the bond. You just needed time to adjust to the idea of leaving.

In the weeks that you’d returned home no one had made an effort to see where you’d gone that night. Not even Azriel. Suddenly you no longer felt sad about him not loving you. But it still hurt. The way they had all treated you had hurt. Currently you were on a mission by yourself, Rhys had sent you to a village to see if any danger lie there.

In hindsight you should’ve brought someone with you. But that mistake cost you everything. You’d swore to yourself to keep the village safe from whatever danger loomed over it. But when the fairies appeared and took you out, they had killed every villager. Silence surrounded you, you had blacked out and managed to winnow back home.

Eris could feel your panic, sorrow, fear, and sadness down the bond. You landed in the center of your room, blood covered the entirety of your body and you don’t remember what had happened. All you knew is that whoever had killed the villagers were dead. Screams of pain left your mouth, but to you they were muffled. This mission has truly broken you. The door to your bedroom opened, there stood Azriel.

Rhys and Feyre right behind him. While they were trying to get you to calm down and stop the screams that fell off your lips. All the while you started to call for your mate.

“Eris please.” You had whispered in your mind.

“I’m on my way little fox.” He whispered back.

When Azriel got close enough that he could touch you, you flinched, backing away from him. “Don’t touch me.” You had angrily whispered. You could see the hurt on his face but you didn’t have the mental capacity to focus on that, your mind was still on all the children who had died on your hands, all the parents that had been slaughtered, all the elders that were killed. They were all on your hands.

“Y/N, tell me what happened.” Azriel said, hoping he could get something before Rhys or Feyre entered your mind.

“Now you care.” Those were the only words that came from your mouth before Rhys entered your mind. Your shields were down and he had been able to discover everything. You tried to push the High Lord out of your mind but it had been too much. So much so that when he left your mind you collapsed to the ground. You feel asleep the nightmares of what you witnessed following you.

Rhys had shown both Feyre and Azriel what had happened on the mission. He however refused to show Azriel that Eris had been your mate. He would respect your privacy on that. As for everything else, he should’ve seen the signs that you were pulling away, and after this mission he knew you’d leave and never return. They had all pushed you and now they had lost you.

Cassian appeared, Eris standing with him, a scared look on his face as he looked down at you unconscious. Azriel clenched his jaw, staring at the male.

“What’s he doing here?” Azriel went on to ask.

“I’m here to take my mate home.” Eris answered as he walked towards your body that was still covered in blood.

“You’re her mate?” The words left Azriel’s mouth before he could stop them.

Eris only ignored him, he picked your body up and held you in his arms. Then he turned back to Rhys, a glare on his face. The stone cold looked never leaving even as Rhys spoke to him.

“You can do the one thing that we all failed at. You can take care of Y/N and be there. Just promise that she comes to visit.” Rhys said, his voice broken as he said it.

“I will try my best. But you all betrayed her. You know she shouldn’t have gone on a mission in this state and yet you sent her anyway, now look where it’s gotten her.” Eris turned to look at Azriel. “And you, I didn’t want to tell her that I was her mate because I thought she deserved better than me. I thought maybe Y/N would be good with you, she loved you. But you broke her heart and now you’ve lost her for good. I will make this very clear shadowsinger. You are only allowed in my Court if your High Lord or High Lady is present, if not you are banned from entering the Autumn court even if you try to talk to Y/N. If you step foot on my court without either Rhys or Feyre present you will be killed.”

Eris looked at Rhys and Feyre who gave him a nod of understanding. Before Azriel could argue Eris winnowed out heading back to the Autumn Court to clean you up. Azriel looked at his High Lord and Lady.

“You’re going to honor what that male said?” Azriel asked, staring at the two.

“It’s not like we have a choice in the matter. I told you that she loved you, we all did and you ignored her when she was hurting. We all did, and none of us will ever be able to make up for that. But you should’ve told her that you didn’t like her that way. Instead you dragged her on like she was a lost puppy.” Rhys paused, taking control of the power inside himself. “I sensed that Eris was her mate and that’s why she came to the coronation for Eris. I shouldn’t have sent her on that mission but she needed to be with Eris and this was the only way, the only way for her to be truly happy. Because if she had done something I would’ve never forgiven myself and Eris would’ve never forgiven us. We would lose an ally for any future war. So yes, Feyre and I will be honoring what he has asked. You will not step foot on Autumn land unless one or both of us is with you. If you go against our orders your fate will be left in Eris’ hands.”

“Fine.” Azriel stormed out leaving to figure out what had just happened.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

You woke up a few days later. When you came to you looked around the room until your eyes fell on your mate. He was sitting in a chair, asleep. You groaned slightly as you lifted yourself up from the bed. Eris opened his eyes and found you staring at him.

“Hello, little fox.” He whispered, a smirk gracing his lips.

“How long have I been out?” You asked quickly, smiling internally at the nickname. You still weren’t ready to accept it but it was starting to win you over, especially after he had rescued you.

“A week. I had a healer take a look at the injuries you got on that mission. They were healed.” He answered. You eyed him as he stood from the chair and walked over to the bed, he sat down on the edge and reached for one of your hands.

“I’m sorry.” You looked away from him as the words left your lips.

“No. What happened is not your fault. Don’t apologize, I will always come to rescue you no matter what.” For the first time in 5 years you finally understood what it was like to have someone in your corner.

“What, um, what happened after I passed out?”

“Rhysand wants you to still visit. I told him I’d try my best but I know right now that’s not the best for you. I banned Azriel from my court, our court when you’re ready to run it by my side. He’s only allowed to step foot in this land if Rhysand or Feyre is with him. I will not let him hurt you again, ever.”

Your lips trembled, how could someone you’ve barely known done so much for you. Eris had done just that, had done enough to make sure you're safe and secure in your new home. You wished he’d show this side more to the other high lords, either way you were so lucky to call him your mate. Even if you hadn’t accepted it yet.

“Thank you.” Eris nodded his head, eventually he rested his forehead against yours and the two of you closed your eyes and enjoyed each other’s company.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

It had been a year since you’d left the Night Court and joined the Autumn Court. You became a part of the Autumn Court a month after your arrival, it had been tough to get used to but you eventually found peace. You had picked up a part time job as a librarian to keep you busy when Eris was away for his High Lord responsibilities.

After some time you and Eris had alone time. You had cooked a meal for him and that had been your way of accepting the mating bond. Two weeks later you had a mating ceremony for the Court. You married Eris and became High Lady of the Autumn Court. Word had been spread to the other courts, and you had received plenty of congratulations.

Even ones from those you used to consider friends. For the entire year you had managed to heal yourself with the help of your mate, your husband. And you were ready to forgive all of them including Azriel. Especially now that you would be a mother. Currently you sat in the bathing waters with a hand on your bump, you were 8 months along.

You couldn’t be more excited to get closer to the due date, to be able to welcome your child into the world. Eris was afraid when you had first told him. He was afraid he’d be like his father and torment the babe rather than love it. But you had constantly reminded him that this child would come into the world loved by two parents. You had made it clear to Eris that he was nothing like his father and he had shown that by changing his persona and being there throughout the pregnancy so far.

“How are my girls?” Eris questioned from the bathroom door. You pulled your attention from your bump and looked at the male you were happy to call your husband and mate.

“We’re fine. Very happy.” You paused, sending him a smile and a large amount of happiness down the bond, he of course smiled at you. Then he walked towards you holding his hand to you. You took it and he helped you from the tub. “Must I remind you that we are going to have a son.” Your smile only brightened. You were certain you’d have a son first, where Eris was certain you’d have a daughter first.

“We shall know when our child comes into this world.”

“And it’ll be the happiest day to be able to hold him or her in our arms.” Eris rested his head on yours. The two of you take in each other's emotions. Finally you parted and helped you get changed into a dress that had been altered to fit your growing bump. You two stood in front of the mirror, Eris had his hands resting on your stomach, yours were on top of his.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, concerning washing from his lips.

“I am. This is a great way to announce the pregnancy of our first heir. And it’ll be good for me to forgive them. It’s the last step in my recovery and I need to do this.” You explained to him.

“Okay. If at any point you get overwhelmed-”

“I know, tell you and we can leave.” You said cutting him off.

“Exactly.” He watched as you turned around in his arms and stared up at him.

“Azriel is no longer banned from our Court.” Your words caught him off guard but he knew to expect them.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes, if he wishes to visit without Feyre and Rhys then he should be able to. I don’t love him anymore and I’m no longer bothered by the way he treated me and the fact that he didn’t love me. Without him I wouldn’t have found you, I wouldn’t be growing our child. I wouldn’t have the family I was always supposed to have. It’s because of him that I get to love you and will continue to love until the Mother decides it’s my time to leave. Azriel is the reason behind all of this and it’s not fair to keep him from our Court.”

Eris smiled at your words. “Very well. My High Lady has a say in his punishment and if that’s what you are okay with then I will stand by your side as you tell them.” You gave a small shake of your head. “Now we have guests waiting for us, I don’t think we should keep them waiting.”

“No we shouldn’t.”

You interlaced your fingers with your husband’s and the two of you walked out of your chambers heading to the throne room where the other High Lords and High Ladies waited. You’d even known Tamlin would be there. He was still making amends for what he did in the past but a few months ago you’d learned that the Spring Lord had discovered his mate.

She had been helping Tamlin with his recovery and helping him to be a better male. Lucien had been able to build his friendship with the male again, and you were there to help. You were also there when Lucien found out that Helion was his father. Everyone was healing and you couldn’t be more proud of the things all of you had accomplished since Eris had taken over as the High Lord in Autumn.

With you by his side things were moving in the direction they needed. The doors opened for the two of you, instantly eyes fell onto you and Eris. Your grip on your mate's hand got tighter as the two of you walked past your guest heading towards your throne. He squeezed back, assuring you that everything was okay.

Keeping your head held high, you had a hand resting on your bump protectively as the other High Lords and Ladies and the guest they might’ve brought with them stared at your bump. After making it to the steps you and Eris turned looking at everyone.

“My wife and I wanted to thank you all for being here. Please enjoy the food, drinks, and have fun dancing.” Eris said, a smile on his face. Everyone was still getting used to this new side of Eris but they trusted you, and because they trusted you they could trust him.

Eris helped you sit down on the throne, then he took a seat on the armrest next to you. Rhysand and Feyre walked up with Azriel behind them but at a distance.

“Y/N. It’s so good to see you again.” Feyre stated with a smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“You’re glowing.” Rhysand added.

“Thank you. Eris and I are so excited to meet our little bundle in the coming weeks.” You said, briefly glancing at Azriel. He was staring at you.

“How have you been?” Feyre proceeded to ask.

“I’m doing better.” You looked to Eris, he gave you a nod and squeezed your shoulder softly. You reached for his hand and held it in your hands. Azriel took note of the wedding bands that were on your left hand. He noticed Eris had one too. “I actually wanted to discuss the banning of your Shadowsinger from our court.”

“We apologize if this has caused any discomfort for you.” Rhysand said, his violet eyes switching between you and Eris.

“No it hasn’t. Firstly I’m sorry that it’s taking me so long to speak with all of you. I was in pain and was trying to heal. Eris, he’s helped a lot in my healing journey. And so has our child. I’d like to have family dinners with you again, as long as Eris is welcome.”

Feyre and Rhysand glanced at each other, you know they were having a silent conversation with each other. Finally they looked back at you and Eris.

“We’d like that very much.” Feyre said with a soft smile on her face. You released a breath, Eris sent a wave of love down the bond. You knew he was proud of you and it was showing.

“Secondly, Azriel, could you please step forward so that I may speak with you.”

He gave a nod and moved in between Feyre and Rhysand until he was in front of them. His shadows were moving around his body, he seemed happier as you looked at him. Maybe some kind of change had come his way after you’d left. You knew he wasn’t with Elain because she was with Lucien right now.

A few months ago she had accepted the bond between them after she herself had found what made her happy. She learned to accept the bond and with it Lucien. You’d hoped that maybe Azriel had found his mate too.

“I know that you were never in love with me the way I was. I only wished you’d told me how you felt. That being said, thank you.”

“Thank you?” Azriel asked, hazel eyes narrowing in you as confusion filled his normally emotionless face. Feyre and Rhysand also stared at you with confused looks.

“If you had told me that you loved me I would’ve never found my mate. I wouldn’t be married to Eris, I wouldn’t be High Lady of Autumn, it’s still a shock even now. And I wouldn’t be carrying our child right now. Because of you I found everything I needed. I found my home, my purpose. I learned to heal myself even after everything I’ve gone through. I hope that you find a mate one day.”

Azriel took a moment to process your words. “I have, she’s wonderful.” He said. He turned slightly looking at Rhys. Then he looked back at you and Eris. “She’s here, would you like to meet her?”

You nodded enthusiastically, years ago you would’ve been sad and jealous that he hadn’t noticed you but now it was different. Now you were happy and you could see that he had to.

“Will you help me up, dear?” You asked, looking at Eris. He smiled at you.

“Of course, little fox.” You smiled at the nickname as he helped you from the seat.

The two of you walked down the steps. When you were close enough you pulled Feyre into a hug. She hugged you back tightly. Then you moved over to Rhysand and hugged him tightly. Seconds later Azriel came back with a female by his side. Cassian, Nesta, Amren and Mor were also with him.

“They wanted to see you too.” Azriel mentioned. Hugs went around quickly, then your eyes landed on the female Azriel had brought over. You took a closer look at her and noticed the bright blue eyes. “This is Gwyneth, my mate.” The smile that broached his face made you happy. Lucien and Elain joined at some point, he sent a nod towards you and Eris.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from everyone.” She said, holding her hand out towards you.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You told her your name as you shook her hand. “Eris is my mate, and this is our little bean.” You said holding onto your bump. Eris was behind you with a smile on his face.

“A happy reunion. Does this mean you’ll come visit now?” Mor asked eyes on you.

“Yes it does. And you are more than welcome to visit here as much as you like.” You paused looking at Azriel as sadness seemed to cross his face for a brief moment. “None of that.” You said.

“What?” Azriel asked you.

“Azriel, Shadowsinger, you are hereby welcomed back to the Autumn court whenever you please. You’re no longer banned from our home.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Azriel asked, looking at the High Lord.

“My High Lady’s word is power and if she grants it then we are to follow it.” Eris answered.

“Very well.”

Relief washed over you when Azriel accepted your request. “Let’s enjoy this party, shall we?” You said pulling your husband towards the dance floor. The others followed behind you. As you danced with your family you looked up at Eris.

“Are you happy?” He asked spinning you around and pulling you back to his chest.

“So happy.” You answered, resting your head on his chest.

“Good. You deserve it.”

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

A few weeks later you and Eris welcomed your son into the world. Currently you held onto the sleeping babe as your friends started to arrive at your home to meet the newborn. You looked down at your son, truly content with the life you had right now. You could hear the laughter in your home and it had been so long since you felt a part of it.

Azriel made his way up to you first, Eris allowing you time to talk to him. You looked at the Shadowsinger when he came to a stop next to you. A smile graced your lips when he looked down at your son.

“Would you like to hold him, Az?” You asked, using a nickname you hadn’t used in a long time.

“I’d be honored, Y/N.” He smiled brightly. You leaned forward shifting the babe into Azriel’s arms. His scarred hands tightened, as he held onto the babe. His shadows moved towards the babe, almost as if they were protecting your son.

“I think you’d make a fine Uncle.” You said, lifting your gaze to Azriel. He was staring at you with shock in his hazel eyes. “I don’t want what happened in the past to define our future. Nova, he deserves to have a happy family. And I want you to be a part of that just as much as everyone else that’s here.”

“As long as I can teach him how to fight.” Azriel said excitedly.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, but Nova has a few years before he’s ready for that.”

“Very well.” As the night moved on and everyone met Nova you realized that it had been so long since you felt this content, this happy. You had your new family and your old family.

“You deserve to be happy, don’t forget that my love.” Eris said in your mind as a wave of love flew down the bond.

“How can I forget when you're constantly reminding me?” You remarked with a smile.

“And I’ll continue to remind you until the Mother decides to take me away from you. But I promise that I’ll find you in every lifetime.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”