#of having trouble catching up on everything I just feel overwhelmed all the time

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 7

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

Aftermath - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Aftermath - Chapter 5 Aftermath - Chapter 6 Master List

warnings & a note: this is mostly smut but like, emotional smut? idk but while this was a struggle to write, i think it's one of my favorite bits. so enjoy!! as @lestapiastrisgirl said, this feels like a sigh of relief, like a FINALLY moment. but don't worry, we still have a bit to go so this is a sigh, but not the end!!! pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.7k

When Max kisses you for the first time if felt like something in your soul slotted into place. Like you’d been holding your breath for your entire life and the moment his lips found yours you were finally able to breathe for the first time. He’s slow and unhurried with it at first, like he wants to savor that first taste of you for the rest of his life. Your hands clutch desperately at the fabric of Max’s shirt, a shudder zipping through your body at the way he works his mouth over yours like he’d been waiting years for this moment. You’re fairly certain he had been.

Every nerve ending in your body sparks to life when he drags his heavy calloused hands up your bare arms. Nothing has ever felt quite this good and he’s only just begun touching you. You lean into Max’s touch, needing the heat from his body as much as you need air in your lungs. Meanwhile, Max is trying to commit every curve and dip of your body to memory so he never forgets this moment. How he ever thought he’d be able to get over his obsession with you is utterly insane. The sound you make, a mix of a whimper and a sigh, when he licks into your mouth has Max’s hands gripping at your waist even tighter. 

Your hands find their way up into his hair, your fingers carding through the blond strands in a way that nearly sends Max to his knees. The strangled groan that rumbles through his chest when you tug at his hair sends a shimmer of satisfaction up your spine. He can’t get enough of the way you taste, the way you feel, the way your perfume overwhelms his senses. He’s fairly sure that he’ll never recover from this moment and he’s absolutely certain he’ll never forget the way you melt into him when he pulls you closer. His tongue works into your mouth, pressing against yours, licking against you in a way that has your breath catching in the back of your throat. You’re having trouble breathing against him you’re so overwhelmed with how he tastes and feels, warm and solid in a way you’ve never experienced before. 

It could be five minuets or five hours, you get so lost in the way he’s kissing you but eventually Max pulls back, blue eyes hazy with need. You should be embarrassed at the pathetic whimper that slips from your lips when he removes his mouth from yours, but the look that Max gives you tells you he feels the same. Your chest feels heavy with the weight of what just happened. Like the years you’ve known Max have all been leading up to the tension that crackles between you and the way it burns brighter when he touches you.  

Max lifts his hand to cup your cheek in his palm and you lean into the touch, sinking into the feeling of his warmth. You both can sense the weight of the moment, like there’s no going back to the way you two were before that kiss. Lines have been crossed and everything finally feels like it’s clicked into place. Like the thing that you two have been dancing around for however many years has finally been unleashed and you’re finally found the person to whom your soul belongs to. 

He drops his hands down your body before they finally grip your ass as he yanks you towards him. It’s  like you weigh nothing when he picks you up, strong arms cradling you against him. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, giggling as you bury your head in the crook of his neck. It feels so wildly satisfying to be with someone who clearly not only wants your physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.

Max takes a few steps towards the corner of your studio where the couch that converts into a day bed sits. When Max spots it though, he freezes. You crane your neck around, wondering what’s made him go still. “Max?” 

“Have you been sleeping here?” 

Panic surges in his chest as he observes the little nest you’ve built yourself. It usually is folded up, disguised as a full sized couch but lately, you’ve been using it as your bed. Piled on one end are several pillows while a pile of blankets are spread out across the cushions. It gets cold in your studio at night due to the large windows that take up one wall and the lack of efficient heating in the building. 

Max slowly sets you down, needing a moment to get the pain in his chest under control. Your eyes dart away from his, cheeks burning in embarrassment. You had totally forgotten you hadn’t tidied up the bed from last night. You hadn’t needed to as no one really came in here lately and it had morphed into your second home. 

“Yeah.” You whisper, taking a step away from Max.

“Because of me?” 

You shrug, knowing that he’s going to take on the guilt when he hears you confirm his suspicions. “It just seemed like you didn’t want to see me. I didn’t want to make it awkward if we ran into each other in the building.” You pause, noticing the guilt etched into Max’s features. “It was easier to just stay here.” 

Max takes a step towards you, crowding you against the edge of the couch. You can see how labored his breath is and you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. When you do though, Max flinches away from your touch, brows furrowing as his eyes drop to the floor. “Fucking hell.” He swears under his breath. “I was just like him, wasn’t I?”

He doesn’t have to say Lando’s name, you both know who he’s talking about. Guilt sits heavy in his chest as he looks down at you, your eyes wide and innocent starting up at him. You reach for his waist, desperately needing to touch him. “Max…” You sigh, knowing that nothing you say is going to ease the anger you can see he’s going to beat himself up with. 

“No, don’t try to tell me that what I did was okay.” He shakes his head but doesn’t pull away when you reach up to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. “You’re right, I took a page right out of his book. I gave you the silent treatment and ignored you for weeks because I couldn’t handle being honest with myself or with you.” 

“But baby,” You coo before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You know how hard Max is on himself on and off the track and can sense that he’s about to go down a road that’s going to end up being destructive. “Baby, listen to me.” 

Max drags his gaze up to yours and the pain in his eyes has the breath catching. “You’re not him. He used the silence as punishment, as a way to get me to fall in line with what he wanted. He was abusive with it, and that’s not what you were doing.” 

“It doesn’t matter though.” He argues. In a move that shakes you to your core, Max sinks to his knees in front of you. His hands drag down your body until they come to rest heavily on your hips. He looks up at you, brows knit together like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to be in your presence. “I hurt you and I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself for that.” 

“Well,” You run your fingers through his hair, tugging a bit to get his attention back up to you. “How about we start with the fact that I forgive you, oui?” 

“That’s not enough.” Max’s voice scrapes a rough path against your skin like sandpaper. “I need to show you how sorry I am. I need you to know that I’m never going to do this again.” From where he sits kneeling, Max gently pushes you towards the couch. The backs of your knees hit the edge and you’re forced to sit. Your knees part to allow him closer and he wraps his arms around your waist. Your hands sit at his shoulders, gripping desperately at his shirt.

“You’re safe with me, liefje. I need you to know that. Need to show you how much you mean to me.” 

“Then show me, Max.” You whisper. 

Max’s pupils blow wide as he stands, encouraged by the heavy rasp in your voice. The way he towers over you, staring down with eyes so dark you swear they’ve gone black has your stomach twisting in anticipation. 

“Lay back.” He orders and you obey instantly, scrambling back to where your pillows are stacked. “Let me show you how fucking sorry I am. How much I need you, how much I adore you.” 

“Max.” You breathe, breath coming in short bursts as he reaches underneath the hem of your shirt. 

The rough scratch of his calloused hands send shivers skittering over your skin, goosebumps erupting whoever he touches you. Your shirt is the first thing to be discarded on the floor, tossed into a corner as you fight the urge to squirm under Max’s heated gaze. It’s almost too much, the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s been waiting for this very moment for his entire life and his wildest dream is about to come true. 

Max swings his knee over you so he’s straddling your hips. He leans down, pressing heated open mouthed kisses to the slim column of your neck before dragging his tongue so tortuously slow towards your collar bone. You gasp when he nips little bites into the delicate skin at the hollow of your neck, his tongue immediately licking in soothing strokes across the heated skin. Your hands skate over the fabric of his shirt, clutching at anything you can use to ground yourself in the moment. You fear if you don’t, you’ll float right off the bed. 

Max continues his perusal of your body, an erotic discovery of the sounds you make when he kisses new pieces of skin that have been long neglected. 

“Look at you.” He murmurs right before his mouth closes over a lace covered nipple. The whine that leaves your lips is breathy and should be embarrassing but you’re long past caring. All you care about is never having to go without Max’s mouth on you ever again. “So pretty for me. Always so pretty for me.” 

You whimper as he sucks the lace deeper in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the already pebbled skin. His hands slip under your back, lifting you up just enough to get access to the clasp of your bra, and before you’re able to blink you’re bare beneath him, bra discarded somewhere on the floor along with your t-shirt. 

His gaze meet yours and the raw desire you saw in his blue eyes just moments before is replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He traces the curve of your breast with a trembling finger. “God, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I…I never want to hurt you ever again.” He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the fierce hunger of his earlier kisses. “Can I do this? Please?” He asks, his eyes searching yours for permission. 

The question hangs in the air, the vulnerability in his voice striking a chord deep in your chest. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his cheek, the rough stubble a familiar comfort to you now. 

“Max.” You breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. His name feels like a prayer, a plea for the connection you both crave. His eyes close briefly as your fingers graze his skin. He nuzzles his face against your hand, his breath warm against your palm. 

“Tell me.” He murmurs, his voice raw with need. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how I can fix this.” 

It almost sounds like he’s begging and that sets the fire stoking even hotter deep in your belly. The words are so simple but they carry the weight of everything that has happened between you over the last few months. All the hurt, the anger, the longing…it all boils down to this moment. You swallow hard, your throat tight with unshed tears. Looking into his eyes you see the man that you grew up with, the man that you thought was just a friend for so long, the man that would never love you because of who you were and who you were with. But he’s more than that now. You see the man that you love, the man that is asking for your forgiveness, for permission, offering you a chance to rebuild what he broke with him. 

“I…” You start, your voice trembling. You take a deep breath, trying to find the words to express the complex web of emotions and feelings swirling within you. “I want this…I want you, Max. More than anything but I need you to promise me you’re going to be gentle with me. I need you to be careful.” 

A flicker of understanding crosses his face. He nods slowly, like he knows you’re not only talking about tonight, here in this room where everything feels so heavy and at tipping point, but beyond this. You’re asking him to be more of what you need and more of what you’ve never gotten from anyone else. 

“I know.” He whispers. He leans down again, this time his kiss is feather-light and tender, full of promises he fully intends to keep for the rest of his life. “I promise I’ll be everything you need me to be. Do you trust me?” 

You meet his gaze when he pulls back once again, your heart aching with a mixture of fear and hope. You knew there were no guarantees, that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But this was Max you were talking about. You know more than anything that he’ll keep his word and will protect you with everything he has. In this moment, looking into the vulnerable depths of his icy blue eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in so many times over the years, you believe him. You believe in the possibility of healing, of rebuilding, of finding your way back to who you were before Lando had tried to destroy you. 

You nod slowly, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek. “Yes.” You whisper.

With a nod, Max reaches behind him, pulling his shirt off in one quick movement. You’ve seen him without a shirt before but this is completely different. The dim light of the room catches the subtle play of muscle across his chest and shoulders, a familiar landscape that suddenly feels both familiar and utterly new to you. You sit up on your elbows, breath catching in your throat, not just from the physical beauty of him but from something else. 

As his shirt falls to the floor, your eyes are drawn to a black smudge of ink on his side, right in the middle of his rib cage.

A dove. 

A thin black outline, its wings slightly outstretched as if poised for flight. 

The sight of it steals the breath from your lungs. You stare at it, transfixed, your mind reeling. The vulnerability you saw in his eyes moments before deepens as he notices your eyes fixed on his ribcage, becoming something more profound. This wasn’t just a fleeting desire of his, a momentary lapse of control. This was…commitment. A brand. 

“Max.” You breathe, heart pounding in your ears as he sits frozen on top of you, watching your reaction silently. You reach out, your fingers tracing the outline of the dove. Max shudders under your touch, his hips rolling into yours ever so slightly. “When…when did you…” 

Max watches you, expression unreadable. He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze locked on yours. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and husky. “Vegas last year.”

After he secured the championship, ending Lando’s title hopes.

His mind flickers back to that night. He had been drunk before he even left the track but not drunk enough to say no when someone on the team suggested tattoos to celebrate. No one on Red Bull had made the connection that night and at first, he had been able to reason with himself that it was just a generic dove, that it didn’t have any extra meaning. But watching you walk off with Lando that night, watching you console your boyfriend instead of celebrating with him had been a punch to the gut. 

“I guess drunk me knew I wanted you longer than sober me was willing to admit.” He chuckles lightly, but there’s a heaviness to his words that has your chest squeezing. 

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with regret and the weight of the past. You look at him, your heart aching with mixture of tenderness and a new sense of fear. This gesture, this permanent mark, it changes everything. It raises the stakes, making the possibility of future pain even more terrifying, but also making the potential for happiness that much more profound. 

You close your eyes briefly, trying to process the wave of emotions crashing over you. When you open them again, Max is watching you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that mirrors your own. He reaches down, his hand covering yours where it rests on his ribcage. His touch is warm, reassuring. And in that moment, you know that whatever the future holds, you’re not alone in this. 

Max leans down and kisses you again, this time with more urgency. His tongue traces the shape of your lips before slipping in side as he deepens the kiss, a silent conversation of longing and need. His hands move over your body, discovering curves and sensitive places that are now reserved for only his touch. He unclasps your jeans, the zipper whispering open, and you lift your hips against him, your own hands fumbling with the button of his pants. 

The air crackles with anticipation as he pulls back, eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, tone rough with need. 

He’s achingly hard and desperate to be inside you but he’d stop if you said the word, no questions asked. And you know that. 

You nod, your heart racing in your chest. “More than anything.” You murmur.  

He kisses you again, a deep, possessive kiss that leans you breathless and your hips rolling up into his, searching for more friction than ever. With a slow, deliberate movement, he slides your jeans down your legs, revealing the soft skin of your thighs. He pauses, his gaze lingering on your body, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. 

A blush creeps up your neck but the heat of his gaze quickly chases it away. You reach up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then move lower, to the pulse beating at the base of his throat. His skin is warm beneath your touch, his breath coming in short ragged gasps. 

With a shared breath you both move, the remaining barriers of clothing falling away, discarded somewhere on the floor. The contact of his bare skin against yours ignites a fire within you that’s been smoldering for years now, a burning need that’s been simmering for so long. 

Max pulls you closer, his body molding against yours. His touch is careful, as is he’s afraid he might break you. He kisses you agin, a slow and sensual press of his mouth to the crook of your neck. His hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, teasing at your skin. 

You moan softly, your own hands finding their way to his body, exploring the hard muscles of his back, the smooth skin of his chest. You trace the outline of the dove tattoo, a silent reminder of his commitment and vulnerability. 

Max shifts slightly, his weight pressing down on you and what a welcome pressure it is. His fingers dip below your waist, swiping at the wetness pooling between your legs. The growl that rumbles in his chest has your hips tipping up towards his cock that sits heavy and hard between your bodies. “So wet for me, my sweet girl.” He murmurs in your ear. “Are you ready for me?” 

All you can do is nod, eyes pinching shut as the heat between you two grows needy and frantic. 

“Open those pretty eyes for me, I want to see how you look when I fill you up for the first time.” 

You whimper at the filthy words, heated pleasure pulsing between your legs as Max pumps his dick a few times in his hand. The spark that started all those months ago when he walked you home from the art show has  grown into an out of control forest fire, blazing it’s way through both of your souls to where it’s brought you here in this moment. 

When Max presses into you for the first time, your entire world narrows to that delectable stretch of him filling you. He moves slowly at first, leaning into you inch by maddening inch. You’re not sure if he’s doing it to drive you crazy or to make sure you’re not too overwhelmed with the size of him. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before and the way he stretches you has you crying out.

For a moment, Max freezes which has you shaking your head and scratching at his back. “No, oh my God, no. Please, don’t stop Max. Keep going.” You beg, lifting your hips up towards his in a desperate attempt to be so stuffed full of him. It’s the only thing on your mind, the way your world has completely narrowed down to the spot where you and Max are connected on the most physical level two people can be. 

The sensation, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure is almost too much to take. You arch against him, your breath catching in your throat. His name escapes your lips, a whispered prayer for friction that you so deseparely crave from Max and Max alone. 

And then, he’s bottomed out and you’re full of him. Every bit of your existence stutters down to his touch, the way he feels, the way his skin tastes as you latch your mouth onto his shoulder, muffling your cries of pleasure as he begins to move. 

Max answers with a groan of his own, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. The years of longing, months of dancing around each other, the mutual pining that you’ve both been too scared to act on since your youth…all of it melts away in the heat of the moment. It’s replaced by pure, unadulterated connection that you didn’t even know was possible to experience with another person.

Max feels the release building at the base of his spine but he’s determined to bring you along with him. “I want you to come with me, baby. Can you do that for me?” He murmurs, tongue licking at the shell of your ear. His hips stutter erratically as he struggles to hold onto some sense of control. 

Your eyes flutter closed as your entire sense of being sparks to life. This feeling of connection, of pure pleasure, of being so full of another person, of Max is so foreign you almost don’t know what to do. The pressure builds deep in your tummy and you know you’re not far behind Max in chasing down your orgasm. In a desperate attempt to glean more pleasure out of the moment, you reach between your two sweaty bodies, fingers swirling around your own clit as Max continues his slow, deep grind into your needy pussy. 

“That’s it, shatje. Take what you need. Come with me, sweet girl.” 

The words are exactly what you need and the first waves of your orgasm crash over you, threatening to drown you in the waves of pleasure. Seeing you come undone beneath him is all Max needs to follow you over the cliff. The low groan that rumbles from deep in his chest has you clamping down around him, his name tumbling from your lips over and over. 

It takes several minutes for you both to come down form the high that washes over you and several more minutes for Max to find the strength to pull out of your soft, warm center. He doesn’t want to, fairly certain that he could spend the rest of his life buried deep in you. The whine that scratches at the back of your throat tells Max that you feel the same. 

Outside, the sun has long set and the night has settled over the city. The lights of the harbor drift in through the bay windows that hover above you, casting a soft glow of moonlight over your naked bodies. Goosebumps pebble your cold skin, missing the warmth of Max being buried deep inside you already. Max pulls you into his chest, your back fitting perfectly against his front as he pulls a blanket over your exhausted bodies. 

For the first time in what feels like weeks, a deep sense of calm settles over you. Max’s steady breathing behind you lulls you into the sort of peaceful sleep you’ve been chasing for years. 

Max isn’t sure how long he falls asleep but it’s still dark when he wakes up. The first thing he notices is how cold it is. He’s still under the heavy blankets he tugged over your sleeping frame as you cuddled into his frame after the most amazing sex he’s ever had but there’s one thing missing: you. 

His eyes blink open, confusion pulling at the spider webs of sleep still clouding his brain. “Liefje?” He croaks, sitting up. The room is chilly and dark, the quiet of the night still settled over the studio. 

A soft glow burns across the room where a lamp sits switched on. Next to it, Max spots your frame, sitting on a stool in front of a canvas. You’re wearing his shirt form earlier, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, hem barely covering the tips of your thighs. Your hair is piled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, golden light from the lamp beside you reflecting off the shiny surface. You may be working on a painting, but Max is pretty sure you’re the prettiest masterpiece in the room. 

You turn to him then, soft smile playing on your lips. “Hi.” You whisper before turning back to the painting in front of you. 

Max gets up, tugging on his boxers, before padding across the hardwood floors to join you in front of the painting. His painting. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, lips finding the warm crook of your neck as he whispers into your skin. 

“I wanted to get this finished.” You murmur, leaning back into his solid frame. “I’m debuting several new pieces at Nessa’s gallery in a few weeks.” 

Max grips your waist as your words sink in. “Including this one?” 

“Is that okay with you?” You twist around so you’re facing Max fully now and he crouches down so you’re eye to eye. 

“Of course it is but it’s going to cause a stir, don’t you think?” 

The passion you’d poured into the painting of Max is undeniable. Anyone looking at it can tell your raw feelings for the man in front of you. 

“I think we’re about to give people a lot to talk about, so why not just get it started ourselves?” You shrug, a glint of mischief winking in the corner of your eye. 

Max chuckles before pulling you in for a kiss. “God, I love you.” 

You smile against his lips, “Love you too.” 

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[m--bloop]

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[urdreamydoodles]

Hello!!! I just found your page and yes I already I love your work!!

If it’s no trouble, may I ask for X-men characters with a Pregnant s/o headcanons? Like how they would be when you tell them you’re pregnant, how they are when you’re pregnant, and how they’d be during labor! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Could I also ask it be with: Logan, Scott, Gambit, Ororo, Colossus, and Kurt??

If not it’s totally okay! Have a great rest of your day 💖💖

X-Men x Pregnant!Reader

How they handle your pregnancy

Each X-Man reacts differently to your pregnancy, from initial surprise and joy to unwavering support during labor, reflecting their unique personalities and love for you.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner, Colossus (+ my personal addition : Erik Lehnsherr, Wade Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff)

Thank you for saying that, hearing that my work is liked makes me really happy, thank you ♡ And it's not a trouble at all — love the prompt! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

When you tell Logan you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is a mix of shock and silence. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his gruff exterior cracking just enough to reveal how truly taken aback he is by the news. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, and had so many regrets in his life that the thought of bringing a child into this world overwhelms him. But after a long, quiet moment, his eyes soften, and he gently places a hand on your stomach, the roughness of his calloused palm contrasting with the tenderness in his gesture. His voice, usually gruff and low, is quiet when he says, "I’ll protect both of ya… no matter what."

During your pregnancy, Logan becomes fiercely protective. He’s always been the protective type, but now it’s ramped up to an entirely different level. He doesn’t let you do anything that might risk your health or the baby’s, even if it’s something small like lifting a grocery bag. He makes sure you’re comfortable, constantly checking in with you—though he tries to act like he’s not worried. You often catch him watching you, eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. He tries not to hover, but you can see how much he cares. The moment you’re uncomfortable, he’s there, ready to do anything to help. His biggest fear, though he never outright says it, is that something will happen to you or the baby, so he keeps an almost obsessive eye on both of your well-being.

When labor begins, Logan is a mess of emotions. He’s usually the calm in any storm, but seeing you in pain makes him feel helpless in a way he’s not used to. He holds your hand, trying to keep you calm, though his own heart races. "I’m here, darlin’. You’re strong. You got this," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead, staying close, trying to mask his own panic. When the baby finally comes, and he hears that first cry, tears fill his eyes. He never thought he could experience something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Logan would quietly hold the baby, marveling at the tiny life you both created, knowing he’s going to protect this child with everything he has.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Telling Remy you’re pregnant is like lighting a firework. He’s always been a charmer, quick with a grin and a flirtatious quip, but when the news sinks in, his eyes light up with uncontainable excitement. "Mon dieu… I gon’ be a papa?" he says in disbelief, his signature grin widening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands immediately find your stomach, even if there’s no sign of the baby yet, and he plants a loving kiss on your lips. Remy is the kind of man who loves with his whole heart, and now, the idea of a family with you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Throughout the pregnancy, Remy is absolutely doting. He spoils you beyond belief, making sure you have everything you need. He constantly brings you little gifts—flowers, chocolates, or even things for the baby—and he can’t help but talk to your belly every chance he gets, whispering sweet nothings in French. "Cher bébé, you gon’ have de best life wit’ us," he coos. He’s also incredibly playful, making jokes to keep your spirits high during the more uncomfortable parts of the pregnancy. If you’re feeling tired or sick, he’s quick to comfort you, but he does it with his usual playful charm. "You look beautiful, ma chérie, even wit’ a lil’ bump," he teases, kissing your cheek. Remy’s energy makes the whole experience feel lighter, more fun, and less daunting.

During labor, Remy’s usual calm and collected demeanor falters. He’s still his charming self, but there’s a frantic edge to his words as he holds your hand. "You okay, chérie? I’m right here wit’ you," he reassures, though you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s not used to seeing you in pain, and it shakes him more than he thought it would. As the labor progresses, he stays by your side, whispering sweet encouragements in French and English, never letting go of your hand. When the baby finally arrives, he’s completely overwhelmed, tears of joy running down his face as he holds your child for the first time. "Our lil’ miracle," he says softly, his heart full to bursting with love for both you and the baby.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you tell Scott you’re pregnant, he’s stunned, standing still for a long moment as he processes the news. Scott, being the logical and responsible leader he is, has always thought about the future and the possibility of a family, but hearing it from you makes it real in a way that both excites and terrifies him. "We’re… we’re going to be parents?" he asks, his voice soft with disbelief before his arms wrap around you tightly. You can see the joy in his face, mixed with the weight of responsibility that’s already setting in. He’s already planning everything in his mind—how he’ll protect you, the future he’ll build for the three of you, ensuring that you and the baby are always safe.

Throughout your pregnancy, Scott is incredibly attentive and thoughtful. He’s the type to read all the parenting books, meticulously prepare for every scenario, and ensure that you’re comfortable and healthy at all times. He schedules every doctor’s appointment, makes sure you’re eating well, and insists that you take things easy. He’s also incredibly emotional during this time, though he tries to hide it. You often catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. "I love you so much," he says out of the blue one night, his voice filled with quiet awe. Scott takes everything seriously, and your pregnancy is no exception—he’s already planning how to be the best father he can be.

When the day of labor arrives, Scott is calm and composed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He’s a natural leader, but this is out of his control, and it scares him more than he’ll admit. He holds your hand the entire time, murmuring words of encouragement, but there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays his worry. "You’re doing great, we’re almost there," he says, though you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. When the baby is born, Scott is overcome with emotion. He’s usually so controlled, but in this moment, tears stream down his face as he holds your newborn in his arms. "We did it," he whispers, looking between you and the baby with a sense of awe and love so profound it leaves him speechless.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you tell Ororo you’re pregnant, her reaction is calm yet filled with quiet joy. She has always been a steady presence, and that doesn’t change even in a moment as life-altering as this. You watch as her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out with a smile that’s filled with nothing but love. "A child," she says softly, as if testing the words out on her lips before she steps closer, pulling you into a tender embrace. She kisses your forehead, her fingers gently brushing your stomach. "We will raise them together with the strength of the earth, the wind, and the skies," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet reverence for this new journey you’re about to embark on together.

During the pregnancy, Ororo is a pillar of strength and grace. She watches over you with care, making sure you feel supported and at peace throughout. Her connection to nature allows her to sense even the smallest changes in your well-being, and she’s quick to help ease any discomfort you feel. She spends hours talking to your growing belly, whispering stories of the world, of the sky, and the beauty of the elements. Her presence is soothing, and she brings you peace in moments where the discomforts of pregnancy are hardest to bear. At night, she holds you close, her hands resting protectively on your stomach, often saying a quiet prayer to the earth for your safety. "You and our child are my heart," she says softly one evening as you drift off to sleep, her love for you as powerful as the storms she commands.

When the time comes for labor, Ororo is a calming force by your side. Even as the pain begins, she stays with you, her hand in yours, reminding you to breathe, to focus on the world around you. "Feel the wind, my love, let it guide you," she murmurs, her voice steady as she helps you through each contraction. You find yourself drawing strength from her presence, her deep connection to the elements grounding you. When the baby finally arrives, she cradles the tiny life in her arms with such tenderness that it brings tears to your eyes. "Welcome to the world, little one," she whispers, her eyes filled with awe and love. Ororo knows this is a moment of great power, not just in the birth of your child, but in the creation of a family bound by love and strength.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

When you tell Kurt you’re pregnant, his first reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His golden eyes light up, and in an instant, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his tail curling around you protectively. "Mein Gott! You are serious, ja?" he asks, his excitement palpable. When you nod, he lets out a delighted laugh, teleporting you both into the air for a brief moment in his excitement before bringing you back down gently. He cups your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and lips, his happiness absolutely infectious. "I am going to be a papa?!" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it, but the pure joy on his face shows that he couldn’t be happier. He immediately begins to talk about your future together, about how he’ll be the best father, about how lucky the child will be to have you as their mother.

Throughout your pregnancy, Kurt is an absolute ball of energy and love. He’s always fussing over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re happy, and doing everything he can to make you smile. He talks to your belly constantly, telling your baby stories of his own childhood, sharing his love for adventure and his deep faith. "You will be loved, little one. So very loved," he whispers often, his tail lightly wrapping around you as he presses his head to your stomach. Despite his own rough upbringing, Kurt is determined to make sure your child is raised with nothing but love and joy. He’s so excited for every little milestone, constantly asking how you’re feeling, and making sure that you never feel alone or overwhelmed. He even starts knitting baby clothes in his spare time, determined to create something personal for your child.

When labor begins, Kurt is nervous but tries his best to stay calm for your sake. He teleports in and out of the room, fetching things, bringing you water, doing anything he can to help. "You are so strong, meine liebe, you’ve got this," he says, though you can see the nervous energy in him as he paces slightly. When things get intense, he stays by your side, holding your hand tightly, his usual calm demeanor replaced with pure awe at what’s happening. The moment the baby is born, Kurt is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears fill his golden eyes as he looks at the tiny life you’ve created together. "Our little miracle," he whispers in awe, his tail brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand as he cradles them carefully. His heart is full, knowing that this is the start of a new, beautiful chapter for your family.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

When you tell Piotr you’re pregnant, his first reaction is one of quiet shock. His gentle nature has always been a core part of who he is, but the idea of becoming a father leaves him momentarily speechless. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what you just said. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across his face, and his massive arms gently pull you into a warm, protective embrace. "We are going to have a child?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder. His metal form, cold to the touch, somehow feels comforting as he holds you close, his hands resting gently on your stomach. "I… I will do everything to protect you and our child," he promises, his deep voice filled with determination and love.

Throughout your pregnancy, Piotr becomes an even more protective and attentive partner. He’s already used to being careful with his strength around you, but now he’s even more cautious, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He spends hours drawing and painting, creating art that reflects the love and joy he feels for you and the baby. His gentle nature shines through as he constantly checks in with you, making sure you’re well-rested, eating enough, and not doing anything that could put strain on you or the baby. "You should rest, moya lyubov’," he says softly, offering you a cup of tea or a warm blanket whenever you look the least bit uncomfortable. He talks about the future often, about how he wants to raise the child with the same love and care his family gave him, how he wants to teach them to be strong but gentle, like him.

When labor begins, Piotr is a bundle of nerves beneath his calm exterior. His metal form shifts, and you can see the tension in his usually composed demeanor. He stays by your side, holding your hand gently, though you can tell he’s trying not to show just how worried he is. "I am here, love, you are so strong," he says softly, his voice a low rumble as he reassures you throughout the process. As the labor progresses, he’s there every step of the way, doing whatever he can to help. When the baby is finally born, Piotr is overwhelmed with emotion. He carefully cradles the tiny life in his large, metal arms, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you with pure love. "Our family," he whispers, his deep voice filled with awe and devotion. "You have given me everything."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you tell Erik you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is one of deep, contemplative silence. You watch as the weight of the news settles over him like a heavy cloak, and for a brief moment, there’s an unreadable look in his sharp eyes. He’s always been a man burdened by the past, his life filled with loss and pain. But then, his expression softens, and he reaches out to touch your face, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "A child," he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to believe it. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "We will give them the world," he promises, his voice low and filled with the intensity that only Erik can bring. Though you can tell the news has stirred up memories of his past, the joy he feels for this future with you is undeniable.

During the pregnancy, Erik becomes fiercely protective, bordering on overbearing at times. He’s always been a man who values control, and now that you’re carrying his child, that instinct is heightened tenfold. He monitors everything, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re comfortable, and making sure nothing threatens you or the baby. His magnetic abilities become almost a subconscious part of how he protects you, moving objects out of your way before you even realize they’re there, adjusting the temperature of the room without a second thought. Despite his intensity, there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks to your belly, as though he’s already trying to form a connection with your unborn child. "You will be strong," he says one evening, his hand resting on your stomach. "I will make sure of it."

When labor begins, Erik is calm but incredibly focused. He’s been through many battles in his life, but this is something different—a battle of a more personal kind. He stays by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly, though you can see the tension in his jaw as he tries to remain composed. "You can do this, my love," he says, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. As the contractions grow stronger, he channels his abilities to make the environment as soothing as possible, dimming the lights, adjusting the metal fixtures in the room to make everything feel more comfortable for you. When the baby is finally born, Erik is silent for a long moment, staring at the tiny life you’ve both created. Then, without a word, he takes the child in his arms, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability as he gazes down at them. "I never thought I would have this again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

When you tell Wade you’re pregnant, his reaction is, unsurprisingly, over the top. He stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open comically for a moment before he suddenly breaks into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" he shouts, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around in excitement. He grabs you and starts bouncing you up and down, all the while chattering on about how you’re going to have the coolest kid in the world. "Oh man, this is going to be awesome! Our little baby Wadelette, or Wadelino!" His excitement is infectious, and though his humor never stops, you can tell there’s genuine love and excitement behind his wild antics. He talks about everything from baby names to what kind of mini-costume the kid will wear, all while being completely and utterly himself.

During the pregnancy, Wade is a chaotic but devoted partner. He’s constantly hovering, making ridiculous jokes to keep your spirits up, and finding the weirdest ways to pamper you. "You’re eating for two now! Gotta keep that belly happy!" he’d say, handing you a tray of the strangest food combinations you’ve ever seen. Wade has a way of making even the most uncomfortable moments of pregnancy into something funny, but when the serious moments hit, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. He talks to your belly in exaggerated voices, telling the baby stories of his adventures and promising to be the best (and weirdest) dad ever. Though he can’t quite stop being himself, you know that beneath all the humor, Wade is completely committed to you and the baby.

When labor hits, Wade is... well, Wade. He’s running around like a madman, alternately panicking and cracking jokes to try and keep things light. "Okay, okay, I’ve got this! I’ve fought ninjas, I’ve blown up buildings, how hard can this be?!" he says, though the genuine concern in his eyes gives him away. As things progress, he becomes a little more serious, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement between his nervous ramblings. When the baby is finally born, Wade is struck speechless for once in his life. He stares down at the tiny bundle in awe, his usual mask of humor slipping as he gently takes the baby in his arms. "Holy crap," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "We made a tiny person." He looks at you with wide eyes, his usual bravado replaced with pure, unfiltered love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

When you tell Wanda you’re pregnant, her initial reaction is one of quiet, overwhelmed emotion. You watch as her eyes fill with tears, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch your face. "A baby?" she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. For Wanda, this news is a dream she never thought possible, a hope she had long since buried beneath the weight of her complicated life. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as she tries to process the enormity of what this means for the both of you. Her powers flicker around her, responding to her heightened emotions, but she calms herself quickly, pressing her forehead to yours. "I never thought I would have this chance," she says softly. "But now… now we can have a family."

Throughout the pregnancy, Wanda is a bundle of emotions—both excitement and worry. She’s incredibly protective, her powers always at the ready to keep you and the baby safe, but there’s an underlying fear that something could go wrong. Despite her concerns, she embraces the experience fully, surrounding you with warmth and love. She spends hours researching everything about pregnancy, reading books, and using her magic to ensure you and the baby are healthy. She talks to your belly every night, using her magic to create little illusions of what she imagines your child might look like. "You will be so loved," she whispers to your stomach, her hands gently resting over the growing life inside you. Despite the fears that linger in the back of her mind, Wanda finds joy in the journey, grateful for the chance to experience this with you.

When labor begins, Wanda is nervous but focused. She holds your hand, her magic swirling around the room in gentle pulses, trying to ease your pain and keep you calm. "You’re so strong," she says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "I’m here with you." As the contractions intensify, Wanda uses her powers to help as much as she can without interfering too much, guiding you through the pain with a steady hand and reassuring words. When the baby is finally born, Wanda is overwhelmed with emotion. She cradles the newborn in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she gazes at the life you’ve created together. "Our child," she whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it… they’re perfect."

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

When you tell Pietro you’re pregnant, his reaction is fast—literally. He zooms around the room at breakneck speed, his excitement palpable as he tries to process the news. "Wait, wait, wait—seriously? I’m going to be a dad?!" he exclaims, coming to a sudden stop in front of you with wide eyes and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He’s so thrilled that he can barely stand still, constantly moving from one side of the room to the other, muttering excitedly to himself about baby names, future races, and all the things he’ll teach your child. "They’re gonna be fast, I just know it!" he says, already imagining a little speedster following in his footsteps. His excitement is contagious, and though he can be overwhelming at times, you know that Pietro’s joy is genuine and heartfelt.

During the pregnancy, Pietro is both attentive and hilariously impatient. He’s constantly zipping around, checking on you, fetching things, and making sure you’re comfortable. "You need anything? Water? Snacks? Foot rub?" he asks at lightning speed, already halfway out the door before you can answer. His energy is boundless, and though it can be a bit much at times, you appreciate how much he cares. Pietro is always talking to your belly, encouraging the baby to hurry up and grow faster. "Come on, little one, we’re all waiting for you!" he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. Despite his impatience, Pietro is incredibly sweet, and he does everything he can to make sure you feel loved and supported throughout the entire process.

When labor begins, Pietro is a whirlwind of nervous energy. He’s constantly pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other, his speed betraying his anxiety. "You’re doing great, babe, really great!" he says, though his voice is tinged with nervousness. He tries to stay calm for your sake, but you can tell he’s on edge, desperate for everything to go smoothly. When the baby is finally born, Pietro’s world comes to a complete standstill for the first time in his life. The moment they place the baby in his arms, everything around him slows, and for once, he’s not in a rush to go anywhere. He stares down at your newborn child, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a look of pure awe and disbelief. "Wow," he whispers, his voice soft and reverent. "I… we made this." His hands, usually moving a mile a minute, are gentle as he cradles the baby close, eyes wide with wonder as he examines every little detail of their face.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 6

Summary: More battles and more bargains come into play as things go from bad to worse.

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Character Death (Unnamed); Mentions of Slavery/Assault/Incest (the twins are back)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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I’ve aged a decade in the time it takes to get inside the Imperial Palace. The blistering heat makes sweat bead down the back of my dress, every inch of heavy fabric feeling like it’s plastered to my skin. Everything feels too heavy on my body. I need to get home and into the tub, maybe with enough soap and water I will be able to purge the oppressive weight that clings to my skin.

Though I have my doubts. It’s not just the heat or the dirt, it’s this whole place. Everything I have known and loved about the city feels like it has been stripped down to nothing but the oozing, wretched thing that has been hidden beneath golden arches and layers of stark white marble. It reeks of a decay that has nothing to the crucified bodies hanging outside our doors.

Senators and Commanders mingle, wives dripping in expensive jewels hanging from their arms, laughing and talking about how magnificent this celebration for Amarantha is. I’d be shaking with the rage I feel clawing up my insides were it not for the way Rhysand still held me in his mental grip.

“Steady,” he warns for what feels like the fiftieth time today. I don’t know how he’s managed to stay so calm, especially when his men have been taken through the back streets of the city. There is a prison on the outskirts of the capitol, on the eastern wall, hopefully there will be less cruelty on the streets now that they’re away from the parade, but it is still a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It cannot be easy to be forced to stay here, with the enemy at every turn, while your men labor in a dungeon, yet he and Cassian, stand with their heads high behind me.

One of the guards untethered them from the back of my horse, but holding their chain in my hands is just as bad as leading them on horseback. Cassian gives me a wide berth, far enough away that if I take two steps ahead I’ll drag him by the throat. Azriel, however, hovers near my left shoulder, head down like he’s trying to hide, even as I watch his shadows slither down the back of his legs and scatter across the floor in search of something. One still remains coiled around my ear, hidden by my hair.

“Be careful around the twins,” I warn as my cousin catches my eye and makes her way towards us. She’d been too far behind us in the procession for me to see her reaction to the horrors, but, judging by the grin on her usually stoic face, I’d say she enjoyed it. 

Rhysand shifts so he’s standing behind my right shoulder, so I’m framed on either side by a towering Illyrian. Their presence is soothing, especially when Brannagh’s grin could peel paint. She obviously wants trouble. I’d be a fool to think the bloodshed outside was enough. She’ll need something to sink her fangs into before the night is over to be satisfied with the day. 

“There you are, cousin!” We have the same slate colored eyes and that is where the family resemblance stops. Everything about her is rigid and uniform and for so long being near her had made me feel like a lamb being watched by a lion. Yet, with the males at my back, I don’t feel so small anymore.

“I’m surprised you made it,” she says, eyes raking over Rhysand, then Azriel, then Cassian, sizing each of them up to see which would be an easier meal.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to punch in her teeth. 

“First the Games, now this,” Dagdan says as he abandons an attempt to woo one of the Senators with his bullshit war stories, and joins us. “Maybe we are related after all.”

Rhysand withdraws his mental presence from my head and I draw my mental shields back up to make sure I keep the twins out. 

Brannagh walks a slow circle around us, tongue running over her lower lip. “I really didn’t think you were capable of this.” Her bony fingers reach out to flick the chain looped around their throats. “It’s a little… what’s the word you always throw at us? Barbaric for you?”

“All it took was Mommy Dearest to lose her head for you to grow a spine, huh?” Dagdan sneers.

Azriel’s shadow hisses angrily in my ear as his head jerks up off his chest. The glare he throws over my shoulder could melt a glacier, the heat in it seering across my skin. 

“This one’s pretty,” Brannagh coos at him, her fingers reaching out to brush across his cheek.

“Don’t touch him,” I bite out through my teeth. 

“Careful, we bite,” Cassian snarls.

This only makes Brannagh grin further and my first instinct is to draw all three of them behind my back, as if they were small children in need of protection and not three fully grown warriors. As if I had not seen them kill a Giant and a handful of Wargs in the Arena just yesterday. 

“Were they fun?” Brannagh teases, making another circle so she can draw her nails over Rhysand’s nearly bare chest.

Red tints my vision. 

“They look like they’d be a good fuck.”

I clench my hands into fists to keep my power from erupting and taking out everything in the room. Rhysand can’t save me from this one, not without them sensing his mental presence. And if we are to play this game, I need to be able to stand on my own two feet. I might not be the most skilled fighter in this room, but I have plenty of other weapons in my arsenal. 

“How would you know? The only thing you’ve ever fucked is Dagdan.”

She flinches like I’d punched her right in the stomach. It was all rumors of course, but the whispers were there. The twins still insisted on sharing a room; still went everywhere together. They were toxically co-dependant and on more than one occasion they’d mentioned old practices of keeping bloodlines pure. I knew it was a sore spot, I didn’t care very much if it was true. As long as the blow landed; as long as I had something strong enough to cut her, so the bond screaming in my ears didn’t prompt me to cut off the hand still lingering too close to my mate’s skin. They were not hers to touch. 

Cassian chokes out a cough, trying to keep back a laugh as Brannagh’s face twists. 

Dagdan’s teeth flash in a snarl.

I merely grin as I give the chain in my hands a very subtle tug. “I think we’re done catching up, cousin. Do enjoy the rest of the celebration.” I do my best to leave them in the dirt as we head deeper into the palace. I’m sure she’ll find a way to make me pay for the remark later, but for now, I’ll count it as a victory. 

The exchange took place in the open foyer, the roof held up by pillars and the outside world only separated by billowing sheer curtains. I mount the steps that lead us into a secondary foyer, where bubbling fountains and a pool of multicolored fish take up much of the space. Standing guard atop the fountains are twin statues of our gods of war and victory; the golden bowls at their feet overflowing with coins left by worshipers as they come and go from the Palace. We need more than a little luck and victory on our side and I leave a handful of coins on Victory’s altar. I will go to the Temple later and beg the Mother for forgiveness for how blind I have been, and seek a Priestess to make an offering for her blessing in what is quickly becoming an act of outright treason.

I feel Rhysand’s violet gaze on me as I make the offering. 

“The twins really are… like that?” Cassian asks as we round the fountain. It has to be morbid curiosity that prompts the conversation, but the fact that he’s speaking to me at all makes my heart race in my chest. I’ll take whatever scraps he’ll throw my way, if it only means he doesn’t hate me as much as he did yesterday.

“I’d be more surprised if they weren’t than if they were,” I say, unable to suppress a shutter when thinking about it. “They’ve always been… together… and weird about it.”

“Sure, and we’re the animals.”

I can see the back of Amarantha’s blood red head as the inner circle makes its way towards the atrium for food and whatever entertainment could be dragged into this den of vipers for the afternoon. Servants carrying goblets of wine drift through the clusters of visiting dignitaries and soldiers. There’s more than a couple armored gladiators, acting as guards for their sponsors, in attendance. I try to keep track of who belongs to who as we go, in order to give us an edge for the next match. Senators Beron and Tamlin, former lords from Prythians courts, now given new titles within the Empire for merging their kingdoms, both have sponsors shadowing them. The males have to be half Giant, with arms and thighs thick as tree trunks. Their armor has to be custom made to be able to fit them. I don’t know the names of either males, only that they’ve been employed long enough for their conditions in the Arena are they don’t fight Amarantha’s Attor. Too much money has been put into them to let them get torn to ribbons by that beast. 

I slide my way through the throngs of people to get closer. To play this game, there is no doubt that they will have to go back into the Arena a couple times. I need to start finding ways to give them an edge. I can start by seeing up close just how much taller they are then Cassian. If they have to go hand-to-hand in the future, I want to see how they compare next to each other so I can plan to get around it. 

The gladiators have at least two feet on Cassian, which makes me basically an ant in comparison. I already have to tilt my head up to look my mates’ in the eye, these males make me have to keep distance between us to be able to see anything other than they’re stomachs. 

Cassian is fairly nimble, from what I’ve seen so far, as long as the wound on his leg is healed by the next match, he can use that to his advantage. But the thought of having to watch him fight males this size makes my stomach twist. I’m going to need to do more than size up the competition. 

Beron is accompanied, as always, by several of his sons, but it is always Eris by his side. The well dressed male turns a grin in my direction when he catches sight of me. “Highness,” the bow is graceful, fox-like in a way that reminds me of Lucien, wherever he is in the crowd to avoid his Father. It’s not like him to leave Tamlin alone in these situations, they’re usually joined at the hip.

“It does me good to see you outside,” Eris continues, as he reaches out to take my hand and press a chaste kiss on the back of my knuckles.

Azriel’s shadow hisses in agitation in my ear as something hot flickers down the bond.

“It’s been too long since you’ve graced us with your presence.” I’ve known the Vanserra’s for a long time, Eris is not quite the flirt Lucien is, but he has no shortage of sway over females, males too for that matter. It had always surprised me that Father hadn’t tried to arrange a union between us. Eris was known, from time to time, to share the same savage brutality the Emperor valued in his court; it should have pleased him to have Eris for a son in law. 

“Are you finally feeling better?”

“It took longer than I expected to recover,” I say honestly. Better to not oversell anything; all lies have a little truth woven in. “But getting some air has been good.”

His russet gaze jumps to the males behind me, and the grin I’ve known for decades turns serpentine. “And profitable, I’d imagine?”

“For the Empire, of course, all earnings will go to aid the far reaches.”

“So I heard,” he nods, still studying them. “You always did have a bleeding heart, Highness. It is good to see it benefit you.”

The compliment feels underhanded, but so do most things around here. 

“When will we get to see them in action again?”

Talking about them like they’re not standing here makes me want to start smashing things, but I reign in my temper. “I was just about to ask you the same about your Father’s gladiators.”

He glances back at the male and shrugs. “Felix is always ready, but we’ve gotten no summons.”

Interesting. The Gamesmaker should already have a match-up in place, even if the Arena will be closed for repairs for a few days still. 

“How unfortunate, it’d be quite the fight for Cassian.”

I feel Cassian shift a little closer, the scent of sandalwood and snow-capped mountains invading my senses. It is an effort not to step back and lean into him, he’s never dared be this close before. 

“It would be quick,” he states.

Eris huffs a laugh. “For your neck to be broken, brute? Yes, we’d be in agreement.”

There’s a snap as Cassian’s wings ruffle and whip closed again, his agitation so clear I can taste it. The frayed edges of our bond simmer, but I can’t tell if the rage is his or my own. We are alike in that aspect.

“Who was summoned, then?” We can’t linger too long here, especially not for information I do not yet need. Rhysand still needs to get a better look around and we’re starting to linger on the stairs, people clustering behind us.

“Not Tamlin’s man either,” Eris says with a shrug. “I’m as in the dark as you.”

“You?” I force a teasing smirk to my features. “I thought you knew everything around here, Eris?”

His russet gaze darkens as his perfect teeth dart out to bite his lower lip. It’s a move I’ve seen thousands of people swoon over. “I’ll happily find out for you, Highness.”

Azriel’s shadow snarls in a language I can’t make out, but it is Rhysand’s side of the bond that ripples with promised violence. Is that jealousy I feel? I try to shove the thought aside; hoping that they feel this thing between us is too much to ask for. I will only hurt myself if I start to hope that I am more than a means to an end.

“Please do. I’d be indebted to you.” That’s all it takes for the Autumn male to bow and disappear into the crowd.

Senator Thessian and his large entourage of guards pushes past us on the stairs, the armored guard slamming into Rhysand from behind hard enough that he stumbles forward, hands reaching out to catch himself on my hips before he can take both of us to the floor. My whole body freezes under the contact, the warm press of his body against mine enough to make all rational thought fly out of my skull.

He leans in, like he might offer an apology, breath ghosting over my neck as his lips brush the shell of my ear. My whole body shivers in anticipation. “Clever, little vixen.”

The low baritone of his voice makes heat rush between my legs, something hot coiling in the pit of my stomach. Now the citrus and jasmine scent of him invades all my senses and I really, truly have no thoughts left in my head. 

My knees wobble as he gives my hip a squeeze, even as the bond roars at the loss of contact as he steps back. Maybe it’s just been awhile since I’ve been intimate with anyone, but that small amount of contact feels like an electric current beneath my skin. It is an effort to keep moving up the stairs and not turn and do something foolish, like press my lips to his and slide my fingers into his hair. 

The atrium is a wide, open room with tables piled with food lining the far walls. On the left are floor to ceiling windows, thrown open to let in the warm summer breeze, a few Praetorians standing at attention amidst the billowing curtains.. There are low couches along the walls, some of which are already taken. If not by anyone with a gladiator, I don’t linger on who sits where. 

A servant with a tray of wine passes and I snag one to try and calm the sizzling beneath my skin. I didn’t realize one of today’s many battles would be trying not to throw myself at my mates. 

There is a raised dais against the far wall, the couches and lounge chairs far more plush and ornate than the rest. Father has found his seat, a slightly less gaudy throne than usual, and reclines as a servant fans him with a palm frond. Amarantha has taken her usual seat on his right, reclining against one of her pleasure slaves. The male wears little but a strip of crimson fabric between his legs, every inch of bare skin lean and smooth. There’s another perched on the armrest of her chair, holding a goblet of wine for whenever she needs it; a third sitting at her feet, running idle fingers up the side of her calf. All that attention, and yet her dark gaze still tracks the males behind me with enough hunger I debate how much trouble I’d be in if I threw my own wine glass at her head.

She is not the only one who pays such close attention to the Illyrians. A couple dignitaries’ wives and high ranking soldiers gawk blatantly at how much skin they have on display. More than one head turns to get a better look at Rhysand’s ass in this get-up.  He neither cowers or preens under the attention; it’s like he doesn’t even register it. I can’t help but wonder if that was the point: Everybody is so busy ogling him, they’re not really paying attention to what he’s doing. It’s a good mask, it shields his intentions and lets him observe without it being obvious, but the way they look at him, like he’s a piece of meat makes me wish I had claws to scratch out their eyes. 

I take another sip of wine, trying not to look too desperate for the emptiness it’ll bring as I head in the direction of the dais. 

“You’ve surprised me,” Father says as we approach. It’s the first real acknowledgement he’s shown me all day.

The shadow curled around my ear burrows a little deeper under my hair to avoid detection, the soft ether brushing against a sensitive spot on my temple that has me gripping the wine glass a little tighter to keep from reacting.

“As I said, I am trying to do better, Father.”

His gaze flicks to the chain in my hand, down the length of it like he’s inspecting the strength of each wrung before finally arriving on the occupants tethered to it. He grins in triumph as he takes in their attire. Maybe they were right to ignore what I’d brought out. It certainly looks like I’ve intended to humiliate them by dressing them in the same attire many of the Senator’s slaves are sporting. 

“Tell me how you managed to bring the three of them to heel when Amarantha couldn’t?” 

Amarantha bristles in her seat, her perfect teeth flashing in her pale face.

Another small victory. 

“Tell him you instructed the healer to give us a sleeping drought in our wine.” The twins haven’t reappeared and his sudden return in my head nearly makes me jump out of my skin. “And faebane in the water this morning.”

I repeat his instructions as I move to take the seat that is mine on his left and force myself not to think about how it’s a couch instead of a chair like his because it used to be shared with my Mother. 

“You’re hoping to acquire mirthroot in the city to keep us docile until the next match.”

I repeat that too, making a mental note to ensure that I follow through with it. He will monitor my every move in the city, if I don’t follow through, he’ll know it and then we’re dead. An issue that seems far less pressing when Rhysand’s hand brushes over my wrist. Watching him in the Arena did nothing to show just how agile he is, not when he expertly maneuvers my hand towards his chest, the chain blocking his part in this. The next thing I know, I’m moving to sit and he’s falling into the couch behind me so it looks like I pushed him down into the seat so I could recline against his chest. The motion takes him seconds, it looks like he rehearsed it down to the exact placement of the chain to hide the fact that he’d been the one moving me and not the other way around. 

Azriel seats himself on the armrest wordlessly; Cassian grunting as he sits on the floor with his back against the couch. I get the distinct impression he is only keeping his shoulder against my knee because being any farther away would mean his wings were in reach of Father’s hands. 

It takes me a minute to find my bearings again as my brain short circuits over how close they all are. Rhysand’s heartbeat is steady against my back, his skin warm even through the fabric of my dress. He lets his head lean back against the back of the couch, feigning exhaustion or maybe repulsion from being “forced” to be this close to me. I’m close enough that I could run my hand up Azriel’s thigh if I wanted, and damn me do I want to. Or close enough to Cassian that my fingers itch to brush through the thick strands of his hair. It is a cruel trick of fate that my mates are close enough for me to touch and I can’t.

At the mention of the mirthroot, one of Amarantha’s males leans around the Emperor to offer a rolled cigarette, even dried the hint of mirthroot is obvious. The male’s eyes are glassy, shining under the effects of it himself, the grin on his features lazy and unbothered. Far too soft a male to be shackled to Amarantha. 

I tap Cassian on the shoulder to prompt him to take it. A mistake because he flinches like I hit him and I think I might have undone any effort I’d made to get him to at least tolerate my presence. He snatches the offered cigarette, and the liter that follows and passes it back to me with a huff.

The Emperor watches the exchange with more interest than he’s ever shown me in my life. “What would you have done, Amarantha?” He asks.

“The same,” she says through her teeth. 

I take a deep breath through my nose to keep from making a disgusted face at her. “Ember said that’s what she used to do for Amarantha’s slaves before she came to my keep, so I simply took a page out of her book.” 

I pass the cigarette and liter to Azriel, and pray the sight of the flames doesn’t cause the same reaction it had when he’d been branded. He grits his teeth, but there is no angered flash down the bond or hiss from the shadow to indicate it’s anything other than a show as he lights it and takes a long drag. 

“I’m glad to see that in your seclusion you’ve finally grown half a brain,” Father says. “I was beginning to worry that your Mother’s poisoned tongue had gotten to you.”

I flinch despite myself and all three of the males tense around me. Cassian’s jaw ticks, the flutter of movement brushing across my knee. For the first time all day, his hazel gaze flicks to me, and  maybe it’s a trick of the light, but I swear I see a flash of pity there.

“No, it didn’t,” I whisper, unable to put any feeling into the words. I haven’t been back here since the execution. I’d found every reason to avoid it. Being back feels like peeling a scab off the wound and letting it bleed all over the floor.

Azriel takes another drag and I wish more than anything to take a hit of it myself and numb this feeling in my chest. What I would give for the empty numbness that had filled me in the early months of my grief. There are so many tangled emotions here, between the loss and my mates and the horrors of what we just witnessed outside. I cannot pick just one to focus on; can’t find some outlet to expel the building pressure. It all tangles and lodges itself in my throat like it's trying to drown me.

Rhysand’s fingers brush over my arm as he draws his hand up to take the cigarette from Azriel. To an onlooker it looks accidental, maybe it is, maybe I’m just reading into it, but even that faint brush drags me back to the surface for a bit of air again. At least I am not alone in the water anymore. Mother had always been emotionless, nothing got to her. I was always the one that felt too much. At least now the emotions can be shared.

“Your actions yesterday inspired me,” the Emperor says after a beat. 

Apprehension licks its way up my spine.

“I haven’t taken a champion of my own in a long time. It’s become dull, betting on someone else’s man.”

Shit!

Azriel’s shadow dares to peek out around my bangs, observing the crowd as they begin to settle in their seats with plates of food, as if on some silent command. Brannagh and Dagdan join us on my left, on the seat closest to the dais, the stare they level at me hot enough to melt glass. So much for Rhysand being in my head the rest of the evening. 

With a wave, the Emperor motions over a creature I have no name for. It walks on two legs like a man, but is covered head to toe in thick, brown, fur. Horns curl from the top of its head; a beak with a hooked tip jutting from its face. Its hands end in talons like that of a bird, but there are five on each hand instead of three. Its tunic has been folded down around its waist, leaving its chest bare, revealing a spider web of scars gouged through the heavy layer of fur. A thin, whip-like tail ending in a spiked tip flicks back and forth behind it as it walks, each step sending a shutter through the Palace. 

My skin pricks with goosebumps. Some strange sort of alchemy made this thing.

“I was hoping to test it in the Arena, but with the repairs in order, I thought a smaller show would do just as well.”

My stomach hurdles into my throat.

“Why don’t we pick one of your champions to break it in, daughter?” The Emperor suggests as if this is a thought that just came to him and not something he’s been planning from the beginning. 

I take another sip of wine as I turn to look at him, trying to steady the rapid pounding of my heart. I can’t let one of them fight this thing! Its maw opens and snaps shut with a clack as it stands before us, growing impatient.

“I’d personally like to see Cassian’s thick skull get crushed like a watermelon,” Amarantha chimes in from her seat.

I’m really going to throw up right here in front of all these people.

“A splendid idea from our woman of the hour, don’t you think?” He grins like he’s caught me, like he knows I’ve been playing games and have walked right into his trap.

“Nothing can be as bad as listening to you speak, Amarantha,” Cassian snarls as he gets on his feet, effectively making the decision for me.

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, wings ruffling behind him, but before he can step into the center of the room, he turns to face me, much to my surprise. Hands scarred from swordplay reach out to give the chain around his neck a little tug. “Mind letting me off the leash, Princess?”

One of the Praetorian steps forward to unchain him but I stand and snag the key from his hand instead. I’ve seen enough males get stabbed or injected with something right before a fight to give the opponent an upper hand to know I can’t trust anyone near him. And, maybe, just maybe, the act of giving him a little relief from the chain might make him not hate me so much.

My hands shake as I reach up to his neck to unclasp the chain. I know better than to take the whole collar off while there are so many people watching even if I wish I could. His breath is warm on my face as he watches me, waiting for his moment of freedom. The urge to stretch up on my toes and kiss him for luck is overwhelming; maybe in another life we could have. 

I step back with the chain in my hand and return to my seat before I can follow my impulses. 

Cassian turns to face his opponent and even though I saw him perform yesterday, I can’t shake the sinking feeling that I have just sent him to his death. The creature sizes him up like it's calculating the best spot to take a bite out of him and its beady eyes settle on the bandage tied around his bare thigh.

Rhysand leans forward, resting his chin on my shoulder to watch, arm loosely looped over my waist. It looks casual. No one bats an eye at the gesture, but I am pretty sure he’s done it so he can keep me from jumping off the couch.

Azriel leans forward, bracing himself with his knees on his elbows, hazel gaze tracking the steps of Cassian’s opponent as he also calculates its weak spots. 

“Let’s make it interesting, shall we?” The Emperor asks, leaning over to be heard over the rush of excitement the audience gives to the challengers.

I tear my gaze away from where I’m trying to memorize every line in Cassian’s wings, every curve of tattoo over his back and shoulders, just in case. “How so?”

“Cassian wins and I’ll let you pick their next opponent in the arena,” he suggests. 

I like the offer; it gives them a better chance at surviving. 

“Cassian loses, and you give Rhysand to Amarantha.”

The world flips and spins and the roaring in my ears has me clutching my hands in my skirts to keep a surge of power from destroying the room. My power singes the fabric, only the smoke from the mirthroot hides the smell. 

There is no way in Hel I am making that kind of bet!

Rhysand stiffens behind me, heartbeat skipping for half a moment before he pretends to be unbothered by the comment and takes another drag of the mirthroot. 

I’d rather throw myself on a blade than chance that. Cassian is an exceptional fighter, but I cannot take that risk. I am already risking his life by letting him fight like this, how can I risk both of them?

My chest aches. There are too many opportunities to lose them. Too many things that can go wrong. 

“And let our people think I am weak and incapable of following through on the deal we made yesterday?” I challenge. My voice trembles as I fight to hold his gaze steady. 

Azriel’s shadow hisses what sounds like a warning in my ear.

“You know if we split them up now it makes me look as if I can’t handle them.”

“Attached, are we?”

“No, but I am tired of looking weak,” I hiss. “If Amarantha wants them, she can challenge me for them herself.”

Rhysand stiffens behind me. The twins are too close for him to slip into my mind again, but I can practically feel him shouting at me down the bond.

She huffs a laugh around the other side of him, “As if you’d stand a chance in that!”

I ignore her as I hold my ground with my Father, “You have always thought so little of me.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“So if you really want to make this interesting, then fine. If Cassian wins, I pick when and who all their matches are with. And if he loses, well, you’ve already chosen a husband for me I’m sure, so you can speed up the process and I’ll provide them the heir you so desperately want by the end of the year.”

The bond shakes so hard in my chest it feels like Azriel’s screaming in my ear. Rhysand has gone still as death behind me and I didn’t think I said it that loud, but Cassian’s head whips in our direction, eyes wide.

Father throws his head back and laughs at that. “This new found confidence is amusing. I will allow you to pick the next two fights, but not all.”

Better than nothing.

“Deal.”

I think I can hear Azriel’s teeth grinding together beside me, so I force myself not to look at him. The bond thrums like he’s in physical pain and I hate that I have caused it, but I will not barter with their lives.

“To first blood!” The Emperor calls to the room.

“To the death!” Brannagh chants instead. 

When this whole Empire goes up in flames, I’m pushing her in first.

The crowd begins to murmur to themselves, debating. “I’ll put some money on it if they fight to the death,” Tamlin tosses out. 

“As will I!” Shouts a commander whose name I’d never learned.

The motion goes around the room in a full circle, by the time the Emperor concedes, I’ve drank my full glass and abandoned it on the couch. Didn’t we just do this?

The Praetorians provide blades for the two males, but the Emperor’s creature can’t hold the blade with its claw tipped hands and tosses it to the ground with a screech. Its barbed tip tail draws back behind it as it drops into a defensive stance. 

I forget how to breathe as Cassian drops into his own.

Time slows in a familiar sensation of undiluted horror as the creature moves first, striking forward with its tail like a spear. Cassian pivots back a step, rearranging his feet as he blocks with the sword.

The crowd cheers excitedly and I distantly recognize coins changing hands as they take bets, but cannot tear my eyes away enough to watch who is participating in it. Cassian remains on the defensive as the creature rears its tail back and attacks from the other side of its body this time, testing the Illyrian’s reaction time. When the strike is blocked a second time, it switches tactics and goes for a punch, talons extended towards Cassian’s face.

While the creature is taller, it is not as agile, and Cassian side steps out of the way of the blow, using the momentum to lunge into the next step and strike the tip of his sword across his opponent’s stomach. Its ear shattering screech shakes the room as the blade makes contact, drawing black blood. If it wasn’t for Brannagh, the challenge would be over, Cassian would have won. It would have been easy for once.

Enraged, the creature strikes with its talons again, missing a second time, but catching Cassian in the jaw on the backswing. The whole room can hear Cassian’s teeth clack together as he stumbles backwards.

It takes everything in me not to squeeze my eyes shut, not to wince and react to every blow. I have to keep telling myself that this is part of the game and I cannot give them away, but by the Mother it is harder and harder with every passing second!

Rhysand remains with his chin propped up on my shoulder, the bulk of his weight keeping me in my seat. I so desperately want to reach out and take his hand, give myself something to ground in, but I can’t. I have to accept that this might be all we’re ever allowed to touch, especially after today.

The creature strikes again with its tail, once, twice, a third, each like a punch. The third blow shatters Cassian’s sword into pieces and my heart plummets into my stomach as he dodges a fourth assault. He’s not so fast on the fifth and that barbed tip punches right through his bandaged thigh! Blood splatters as the tips hurdles through muscle and sinew until it pushes through the back of his leg.

One of the dignitaries' wives reaches for a bucket and wretches as Cassian’s roar of pain rattles my teeth. 

Azriel flinches, looking like he might just jump into the fight and stop it, but then catches himself. 

The bond screams and bashes against my insides as my powers flare again, singing more of my skirts as I hold them in a death grip that only worsens as the creature yanks the barb back out of Cassian’s leg, bringing him to the floor. Blood pours from the wound from both ends, cascading down his calf to make a puddle on the stark white tile.

There’s enough of my skirts to hide the motion, Rhysand buries his hand beneath them to hold onto my hip tight enough to bruise. I don’t know if that’s to keep me in place or himself. 

The creature snarls out a noise that sounds like triumph as it pulls its hand back, aiming to use its claws to sever Cassian’s head.

Not again! Not again! Not again!

I have to stop this! I have to do something!

At the last second, Cassian throws himself out of the way, knees tucked to his chest as he rolls out of reach, right to where the creature’s discarded sword lies. He snags the blade with a grunt, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his thigh as he pushes himself back onto his feet. His face twists in pain at the slightest movement, but he manages to stay upright. 

Rhysand breathes a little easier behind me, but his grip on my hip hasn’t let up.

The Emperor frowns beside us, displeased with the outcome thus far no doubt. He really expected this to be easy. 

The creature strikes again, sticking to what it has found successful, and it becomes a mistake. Cassian twists at the last second, blade raised so when the strike comes, he doesn’t need to block it. At this angle, not only does it miss him, he has a height advantage and he brings the sword down as hard as he can, cleaving the tail in half. The barbed tip hits the floor twitching as the creature reels backward and wails.

Holy shit! I’ve seen a lot of warriors in my life, but I don’t think I’d ever describe them as beautiful until now. Each move is calculated, backed with training and muscle. His tattoos seem to come to life with his body as his muscles shift and strike. 

He doesn’t let up as his opponent stumbles back either, he uses the distraction to his advantage and plunges the sword into the creature’s shoulder. He might have been aiming for the heart, but the wound in his leg gives him too great a limp to lunge far on. The blade catches in bone, the resounding crunch deafening in the domed ceiling, and when he reels back to pull it out, he twists it just enough to make his opponent’s arm absolutely useless.

With two of its preferred methods of fighting gone, the creature bends at the waist and charges with a roar, hoping to use its horns like a battering ram into Cassian’s chest.

An otherwise horrifying sight, if Cassian didn’t laugh and step dramatically out of the way so the creature rams right into the wall. “Is that really all you’ve got?” He taunts as a rain of dust falls on his head. 

The creature screeches as it yanks itself free from the wall and shakes its head, clearing the debris from its beady eyes. 

Cassian spins the blade in his hand, adjusting his grip, and I think it might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

He can’t crouch with his leg, but he doesn’t need to. The creature tries to ram him again and he dodges and brings his hilt down on its neck, knocking it to the floor. He wastes no time in rearing back with the blade and bringing it down, easily cleaving the creature’s head from its shoulders. 

Amarantha throws up her hands in a huff at the sight.

I finally take what feels like my first breath in an hour as Cassian tosses the blade on the floor. He did it! He won!

Azriel removes his elbows from his knees and reclines back against the armrest, clearly satisfied with the outcome. 

“Excellent! Excellent!” Praises the steward as he goes about helping anyone who placed bets collect their proper earnings. 

I tear my gaze away from the carnage to the nearest guard, “Find him a healer, now.” Before he bleeds out on the floor or Father decides he has another champion he wants to test. 

The Emperor takes a long drink from his goblet, eyes narrowed on the severed head the staff has to now clean off the floor. Around him, his dignitaries drink and argue over why they bet the way they did. It is business as usual, completely unbothered by the blood around them. 

When he finally turns to me, I have to brace myself against the anger simmering in his eyes. This is usually the part where I put my chin to my chest and try to make myself as small as possible. Usually. But not today. 

“It seems I’ve underestimated their talent for bloodshed.”

Cassian hobbles back over to us and I make a show of telling Azriel to help him before he gets blood everywhere, so no one thinks I just let them wander off on their own. 

“The Games will continue at the start of next week,” the Emperor continues.

That gives us days. I try not to look at the gaping hole in Cassian’s thigh. Thank the Mother it looks like it missed bone, but how is he supposed to participate with that? There’s no way it heals in time, even if I have Ember work twelve hours a day on him.

“I expect you to have their opponent picked out by the Senate meeting in the morning. You still have that end of your bargain to uphold.”

This victory will not be without repercussions, but it is still a victory nonetheless, and we have to take what we can get.

--

Managing to procure the mirthroot I need to trick my Father into thinking I’m following through with the regime I’d given him, as well as finding horses for the Illyrians to ride back on takes longer than usual, given the massive partying happening in the streets. We have to take the backroads home to avoid being pelted with more rocks, or outright mobbed. Compared to the rest of the day, the journey is uneventful, spent mostly with the others ensuring Cassian doesn’t pass out on the horse. 

The sun is already changing colors by the time we return to the River House, but I know if I try to prepare for bed now I’ll never sleep. Instead, I leave Anise with instructions to look into potentially safe opponents in the Arena, so when I see Eris again tomorrow I can compare their notes, and then set out for the Temple built on the edge of the property. 

I doubt there are enough blood offerings and animal sacrifices to cleanse the sins of this Empire, but I offer as many as I can in apology for my part in it. I don’t know how I’ve been so blind to all of it. I can’t stop seeing it now, it should have always been so obvious to me.

The Priestesses do not ask why I linger for over an hour, praying long past the time it takes for my offerings to burn atop the altar. I’d hoped that, if I said them hard enough, the weight of the day would slip off my shoulders. I’d thought, with enough sacrifices, the guilt would ease, but I can still feel my mates’ agitation and pain clearly through the bond. 

I return to the House as weary as before. Tomorrow will be a whole new set of problems. I cannot put it off by lingering in the Temple. 

The walk doesn’t clear my head, or loosen the tension, and I climb into the tub with that same heaviness still clinging to my skin. I heat the water as hot as I can, hoping it might cleanse me in a way my sacrifices couldn’t.

Exhaustion creeps its way in as I scrub and scrub and scrub until my skin is pink. Every time I close my eyes I can see the crucified bodies, gasping for air as they slowly suffocate under the weight of their own body pinned to the wood. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sight; I can only imagine how it would feel to know each of those males before this. The bond still swirls beneath my skin, heavy with agitation the hot water can’t touch. 

I wish there was a way to take that from them, but how can I do that without calling attention to the mating bond? 

I give myself a few extra minutes in the blissful heat before dragging myself out and tossing a silk robe over my waterlogged skin. My brush is on the vanity where Anise left it this morning and I have just started to brush the knots out of my hair when I hear the bedroom door open. My hand stills halfway through my hair; it is unlike Anise to not announce herself when it’s this late. 

The door clicks shut again, the eerie silence that follows enough to make my heart drop into my stomach. The darkness of the room makes it hard to see beyond the candlelight that fills the bathing chamber and my hand goes instinctively into the vanity drawer, where my Mother had always kept an extra knife. The blade is cool in my fingers, the handle smooth and undamaged from never being used. The benefit of having constant guards is you usually never see the threats against you, though there are always exceptions.

There’s no footsteps on the carpet, but I can practically feel movement next to my bed. 

I’m a sitting duck here among all the candlelight, but if I step into the darkness beyond I’ll be totally blind. Better to wait for something to make itself known. 

I suppose there’s enough guards around, I can always start screaming for help if it comes down to it.

A heartbeat passes before something dark and snakelike comes slithering across the floor. The ether loops itself around my ankle and crawls up my thigh like a purring cat before the shadow takes its perch behind my ear.

I set the knife on the vanity with a sigh of relief as Azriel steps into the light. “You scared the shit out of me!”

His shadow caresses the back of my ear in apology, far more expressive now than it was earlier. “Sorry.”

He side steps out of the doorway, but not in my direction, which is odd until Rhysand steps out of the shadows behind him.

“How did you two get in here?”

“Found the lever on the door to your secret tunnel,” Azriel says as his eyes trace up my bare legs, brazenly taking in all the damp skin I have on display.

Heat flushes up my cheeks and I have to look away from him. The candlelight and the hour of the evening makes this feel more intimate than it should, given the way Rhysand looks like he might burst out of his skin. I certainly shouldn’t be entertaining the idea that Azriel would look at me as anything other than a means to an end. Hope is too dangerous a thing to have right now. Just because we agreed to do this, doesn’t mean they’re anxious to accept me as anything other than help. Besides, I need to remind myself that it will be even more dangerous for us than it already is if we were to acknowledge the bond.

 “We were careful, no one saw us,” Azriel assures.

I should be relieved that they’re being safe about it, but the frown on Rhysand’s face makes me rethink it.

“What the hell were you thinking back there?!” He snarls.

Normally, that kind of outburst from a male would make me jump back in surprise, but at this point I’m too exhausted to move, let alone figure out what the hell he’s referring to. “I’ve had a lot of thoughts today, Rhysand, you will have to be more specific.”

The chain rattles around his neck as he steps further into the room, like it's fighting to hold back his powers. “Your bet with Hybern!”

Ah, right. That. “What of it?” Is he really still upset about that? Cassian won, nothing was lost.

Azriel winces and the shadow at my ear hisses in warning. 

“What of it?” He repeats, his voice rising to an octave just shy of shrill, like he can’t believe he heard me right. “You can’t just offer yourself up like that!”

“And what was my alternative?”

“He gave you an alternative!” He seethes. “All you had to do was say yes!”

I fold my arms over my chest in irritation, but I don’t miss the way both their eyes dip to my chest at the motion. “Oh so it’s ok for you to put your body on the line, but I can’t do the same with my own? Seems a little hypocritical, if you ask me.”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

He’s inched his way into my space step by step, until I’m very aware of the jasmine and citrus scent of him. Sometime after he returned home he’d changed into the clothes I’d had laid out for him, the swirl of ink along his chest just barely poking out around the dark collar. Even hidden, the urge to reach out with my hands and trace the swirls with my fingers remains. 

“Because,” he says through his teeth. “It’s not a deal I can live with.”

“You don’t have to live with it because Cassian won anyway,” I retort, tearing my gaze away to look at Azriel. Rhysand is too close to me like this. I can barely think past the urge to touch him, let alone hold the argument like I need to. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

Azriel folds his arms over his chest and frowns. “He’s not. You shouldn’t have made that deal.”

I throw my hands up and push past Rhysand, trying to give myself room to breathe. “You two are impossible!”

They follow like I’m still holding onto their leashes, footsteps somehow impossibly silent despite their size.  

“You’re honestly going to stand there and tell me you’d rather I offered you up to Amarantha?”

“If it meant you were safe,” Rhysand snarls. “Yes.”

I find myself gritting my teeth, a snarl working its way up my throat. “Well that’s not a deal I could live with, Rhysand.” 

Their legs are a hell of a lot longer than mine, Rhysand manages to snag my arm and turn me back around to face him before I make it more than three steps into the darkness of my chambers. 

His face looks strained, eyes rimmed red. He has to be exhausted. The bond feels fragile, strained from all the emotions that have been blared down it today. “I need you to find a way to deal with it,” he says, voice verging on pleading. 

I hate myself, but I can’t help but wonder what the hand holding onto my bicep would feel like travelling down the rest of my body. 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, whatever you have to do, I… We need you to find a way to live with it.”

Azriel comes to stand on the other side of him, so they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder. “If Cass had lost and you had to…” even in the dim light coming from the bathroom I can see the heaviness in his eyes. 

I glance back and forth between them. “You’ve all suffered enough, I can handle myself. I knew what I was doing.”

Rhysand shakes his head, “I can bear a lot of things, but not that.”

Hope is a cruel bastard, and I’ve never learned to master it. “Why? What does it matter to you?”

He lifts the hand not holding onto my arm, fingers just barely brushing over my damp cheek and my heartbeat is suddenly very loud in my own ears. His mouth opens like he might say something, and then he clamps it shut again, debating with himself over the words.

While he can’t seem to find the words, Azriel’s scarred hand reaches out to gently grab my chin and tilt my face in his direction. “It matters,” he huffs, voice low and rich and the reverberations of it send shivers down my spine. “Because you’re our mate.”

------

Author's Note: Hehe was gonna wait for the reveal at the end but couldn't bring myself to do it. Let me know what you thought about it! And as always, if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

@sirenpearldust, @saltedcoffeescotch, @littlemissfix-itfic, @waka-babe, @raisam

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@hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd, @urfunnyvalentin3, @mack234-blog1, @kissfromnovalie

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@marrass , @lia-h-r, @celestialzdiviner, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @tenshis-cake,

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@of-outerspace, @erencvlt, @corvusmorte, @lindsayjoy444,

[reidmarieprentiss]

Better Late Than Never

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends, but then you get put into witness protection. Will your friendship (and love) survive the years apart?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Warnings/Includes: hackers, insecurity, being in witness protection

Word count: 3.2k

a/n: if he doesn't wait for you like this then he isn't worth it tbhhhhh (i can't talk i make horrible dating choices)

main masterlist

Spencer Reid's first few days at the BAU were overwhelming, to say the least. He had already endured the skepticism of his new colleagues, felt the weight of the cases on his young shoulders, and faced the quiet stares that seemed to ask how someone so young could be trusted with something so important. It was in the midst of this uncertainty that he found a lifeline in you, someone who not only treated him as an equal but made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

You had been with the BAU long enough to know how intimidating it could be to start fresh. Spencer’s brilliance was evident from the start, but so was his anxiety. His nervous, rapid-fire explanations of cases, his reluctance to make eye contact, and the way his hands would tremble slightly when he first met Hotch and Gideon. It didn’t take long for you to notice how uncomfortable he was.

On the third day, when he had already poured over files for hours and the rest of the team had gone for lunch, you saw him sitting at his desk, too focused—or too nervous—to step away. You didn’t ask him to join you for lunch. You just brought a sandwich and sat down across from him, setting it on his desk without a word.

Spencer looked up, startled, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I—uh—I didn’t ask for—”

“I know,” you cut him off gently, smiling. “But I figured you might need it anyway.”

He blinked a few times, taken aback, and then nodded, his gratitude hidden behind his usual quiet demeanor. “Thanks,” he mumbled, already returning to the files in front of him.

From that moment on, you became the one constant in his chaotic world. The two of you worked on cases together, shared late-night dinners after grueling fieldwork, and sometimes just sat in comfortable silence when Spencer was overwhelmed and needed a break. You never pushed him to open up, knowing that he would come to you when he was ready.

It wasn’t long before he started relying on you for everything. Whether it was asking for help with an obscure task he had trouble with in the middle of a case or just quietly sitting next to you when the weight of the job felt too heavy. You were his anchor in the storm, someone who made the BAU feel less intimidating, less isolating.

One night, after a particularly tough case, Spencer leaned on your desk, his expression tired and pensive. You gestured for him to talk without a word, pushing aside the report you were working on. He didn’t speak right away, just sat down like he had so many times before.

“I feel like I don’t belong here sometimes,” he finally admitted, his voice low. He ran a hand through his hair, staring down at his lap. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep up with everyone else.”

You leaned forward, catching his gaze. “You’re already keeping up, Spencer. You’re more than capable. You’re brilliant.”

He smiled faintly but didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“And for what it’s worth,” you continued, “you belong here just as much as anyone else. You’re a part of this team now, and we’ve all got your back. I’ve got your back.”

That seemed to resonate with him. Spencer exhaled slowly, nodding as if trying to let your words sink in. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The depth of his gratitude hung in the air between you, and though neither of you said it outright, there was an understanding that you had become more than just colleagues. Spencer had found a sense of home in you, a place where he didn’t have to explain himself, didn’t have to prove his worth. He could just be.

From that night on, your bond only grew stronger. You became the person he turned to when he needed to vent about cases, share his excitement over obscure facts, or simply take a break from the pressure of the job. And in return, you found comfort in knowing that you were the one person Spencer trusted completely.

Late-night phone calls became a regular occurrence—sometimes it was work-related, other times it was just Spencer calling to talk about something random, like the history of chess or the nuances of a particular poem he’d been reading. He’d share these little pieces of himself with you, and you’d listen with unwavering patience, no matter the hour.

One evening, after another case closed, you found yourself sitting on the floor of the bullpen, legs tucked under you as Spencer sat next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He was uncharacteristically quiet, though the comfortable silence wasn’t new between you.

“Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you didn’t join the BAU?” Spencer asked suddenly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” you admitted softly. “But honestly, I can’t imagine it any other way now. And I’m glad it turned out like this.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Me too,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as… at home as I do with you.”

—

The day everything changed began like any other—ordinary, filled with the hum of work, the shuffle of case files, and the comforting presence of your team. But it didn’t take long for that sense of normalcy to shatter.

You had been in danger before. In the BAU, it came with the territory, and you'd faced it head-on more times than you cared to count. But this was different. It was personal. A hacker, targeting you specifically, breached the walls of your life, exposing every facet of who you were to the world—your address, your personal emails, your medical history, even your family. Every private detail had been thrust into the public eye. Spencer had been the first to see the news reports, his heart dropping into his stomach as the headlines flashed across every screen in the bullpen.

"BAU Agent’s Life Leaked to the World," the words blared out. It wasn’t just your job at the FBI that was exposed—it was everything. Things no one but you knew. The fallout was immediate. Your life was suddenly on display for anyone with a computer screen, and that meant you were no longer safe. Witness protection was the only option.

The team scrambled to help, and Spencer, in particular, was beside himself with worry. He was the one who tried to reassure you as the reality set in, even as his own fear crept up on him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. The idea of you disappearing, of your presence vanishing from his life, was unimaginable.

"Spencer, I have to go," you had whispered, your voice shaking as you stood in the bureau, knowing it was only a matter of minutes before you were escorted away.

He was pacing, his hand tugging at his hair in frustration. “This isn’t fair,” he said, his voice tight. “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to leave because of this.”

You watched him, heart breaking at the sight of his anguish, knowing there was nothing you could do. “I don’t have a choice.”

His steps faltered, and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with desperation. “But what if I never see you again? What if… what if something happens and I can’t find you?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you. “You won’t,” you said quietly, your throat tightening with emotion. “I can’t contact anyone. It’s safer that way.”

Spencer stared at you as though trying to memorize every detail of your face. “I could go with you,” he whispered. “We could go away together right? They might—”

You didn’t let him finish. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a fierce embrace, burying your face in his chest. He held onto you like you were his lifeline, his arms trembling as they circled around you. The two of you stood there for a long time, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your breathing and the distant noise of the bustling bullpen.

“I’m going to miss you,” you finally said, your voice barely audible against his shirt.

Spencer pressed his cheek against the top of your head, his breath uneven. “I’ll miss you too. More than you know.”

But even those words felt inadequate. What could he say? How could he capture the magnitude of what you meant to him in that moment? There was nothing. So he just held you tighter, his fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket, refusing to let go until the last possible second.

When you were finally pulled away, Spencer watched as you were taken out of the BAU for the last time. He stood there, helpless, unable to do anything but watch you leave, knowing that your absence would echo in every corner of his life from that day forward.

—

The next years crawled by in slow, painful increments. At first, Spencer clung to the hope that he might somehow find a way to track you down, but witness protection was thorough. You had vanished without a trace, and the team was under strict orders not to make any attempts to contact you. Any breach could put your safety at risk, and Spencer couldn’t do that to you, no matter how much he missed you.

He threw himself into his work, burying the ache of your absence beneath the mountains of cases that piled up. He kept a photo of the two of you in his desk drawer, a quiet reminder of the life you once shared, the bond that had defined his early years at the BAU. He would pull it out on the hardest days, staring at it as if willing you to walk through the door.

He missed everything about you—your laugh, your calming presence, the way you always seemed to know exactly what he needed without him having to ask. You had been his best friend, his person, and without you, everything felt just a little colder, a little emptier.

The team noticed, of course. They saw the way Spencer had changed after you left, the way he became more withdrawn, more guarded. But none of them could bring you back, and so they let him grieve in his own way, respecting the silence that surrounded your name.

And of course, it wasn't until you were no longer around that Spencer realized his love for you ran deeper than platonic. It hit him in the quiet moments—the ones where he’d instinctively reach for his phone to text you, only to remember you were gone, or when he’d hear a joke that would’ve made you laugh, and his heart would ache with the weight of your absence.

He struggled with this realization, the gnawing knowledge that he had lost something precious before he ever fully understood what it meant to him. There was nothing he could do now. You were gone, out of his reach in a way that felt so final. He couldn’t tell you, couldn’t whisper the words he had only just found within himself, couldn’t hold you close and say what he should have said long ago.

All he could do was hold onto the memories, the moments when you were his constant, and wonder what might have been if he had realized sooner.

—

It was a Wednesday, just like any other. The BAU was humming with the usual buzz of casework, papers rustling, phones ringing, and agents talking quietly amongst themselves. Spencer sat at his desk, flipping through files, his mind half-occupied with the details of an ongoing case, when the door to the bullpen creaked open.

He didn’t look up at first, too immersed in his thoughts. But then, a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime, cut through the air. He froze. His heart stopped. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the papers in his hands and looked toward the entrance.

It was you.

There you stood, looking just as you had all those years ago, but somehow different. The years had changed you in subtle ways, but your presence, the way you carried yourself—it was unmistakable. Spencer felt like his entire world had been thrown off its axis, spinning in a way that left him breathless.

For a moment, he didn’t know if he was dreaming. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms dampening as his mind raced to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. After years of silence, of wondering where you were, how you were—if you were safe—you were suddenly there, standing in the middle of the BAU like no time had passed at all.

You smiled, a tentative, cautious smile as you stepped further into the room. “Hey,” you said softly, almost as if testing the waters. “I’m back.”

Spencer stood abruptly, the file slipping from his hands and scattering papers across the floor. He didn’t care. All he could see was you. His voice failed him for a moment, his body torn between rushing to you and staying rooted in disbelief.

“You’re… back,” he finally stammered, blinking as if you might disappear if he looked away for too long.

You nodded, stepping closer. “I want to get back into my normal life, or whatever that is now. I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore.”

Normal. The word didn’t seem to apply to the way Spencer was feeling. There was nothing normal about this moment. After years of grieving your absence, of thinking he’d never see you again, of realizing too late how deeply he loved you—here you were. And he didn’t want to waste another second.

In a sudden, impulsive rush, Spencer crossed the room toward you, his heart hammering against his ribs. Without thinking, without any semblance of a plan, the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Marry me.”

You blinked, your smile faltering for a moment as your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Marry me,” Spencer repeated, his voice stronger this time, filled with a hint of desperation and determination. “I should have told you years ago. I should have done something, said something—anything—before you had to leave. I was in love with you back then, and seeing you now? I still am.”

Your lips parted in surprise, a laugh escaping you, not out of malice, but sheer disbelief. “Spencer… are you serious?” You chuckled nervously, shaking your head as if to clear the fog of confusion. “You can’t—this has to be a joke.”

But Spencer wasn’t laughing. His eyes were wide, earnest, his heart laid bare in front of you. “I’m not joking,” he said softly, stepping even closer until he was standing just inches from you. “I’ve spent years regretting not telling you how I felt. I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, but it felt surreal. A million emotions swirled in your chest, and you let out another shaky laugh, trying to find your footing in the whirlwind of his sudden proposal. “Spencer, I—I just got back. I’m still figuring out how to… exist in my own life again.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gentle but unwavering. “And I don’t want to rush you. I just… I had to say it. I had to let you know. I don’t want to miss out on what we could have. I love you.”

Your laughter faded as you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and it struck you that he really was serious. You didn’t know what to say. All those years apart, all the changes in your life, and now Spencer was standing in front of you, asking you to marry him as if no time had passed.

A part of you wanted to laugh it off again, to brush it aside as a product of the intensity of the moment. But another part of you, the part that had missed him just as much, felt the familiar warmth in his words, the truth in his gaze.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of uncertainty. “I… I need time. I can’t just—”

He nodded quickly, cutting you off before you could finish. “I understand. I do. I just needed you to know. I don’t want to scare you off. Take all the time you need.” His expression softened, his hand hovering just shy of yours. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

You smiled faintly, your heart a confusing mess of emotions. Spencer was something you thought about countless times over the years, getting back to him and being with him. But you never imagined he felt the same, and now that you were faced with the reality that he did, the gravity of his words hit you hard.

Spencer nodded slowly, his heart still racing but his mind catching up with the reality of what he had just done. As he turned to head back to his desk, hoping to salvage at least a little bit of his pride, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Spencer?” you called softly.

He turned back to face you, his expression still holding anxiety and hope. Your lips curled into a gentle smile, your eyes soft as you looked at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” you said, the words slipping out with such ease that they caught Spencer completely off guard.

His entire face lit up, his eyes widening as if he hadn’t heard you right. “What?” he breathed, his voice full of disbelief and cautious excitement.

You nodded, a slight blush rising to your cheeks. “Mhm. I love you too. But…” you bit your lip, your smile turning a little playful. “Maybe we should go on a date before we walk down the aisle, yeah?”

For a moment, Spencer stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as if the world had suddenly righted itself after years of being off balance. He blinked, trying to process what you had just said, and then a wide, genuine grin spread across his face.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, his voice filled with relief and a newfound joy. “Yeah, a date. That… that sounds like a good place to start.”

You laughed softly, your heart warming at the sight of his happiness. “We’ve got time,” you assured him. “No need to rush things.”

Spencer nodded eagerly, his mind already racing through every possible date idea, every opportunity he had missed in the years you were gone. But now? Now he had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

As the two of you stood there, the tension between you easing into something lighter, more hopeful, Spencer couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He had waited years to hear those words, and now that he had, he knew he wasn’t going to let you go again.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said, still beaming, unable to contain his excitement.

You grinned, shaking your head affectionately. “I’ll be ready.”

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

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[narumi-gens]

I would propose this very instant if you brought back the yakuza kita fic.

this has been floating around in my mind and will somehow find its way into an eventual yakuza!kita follow-up.

ink | yakuza!kita shinsuke x f!reader

note: mini follow-up to traditional values (but can prob be read on its own) warnings: yakuza au, arranged marriage, hint of yandere, mentions of masturbation and orgasm control, reader is a brat lol

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not like, reblog, or comment

"I want a reward."

Kita has only just closed the front door with a mild "tadaima" when you plant yourself firmly in front of the genkan. He hasn't even had time to slip off his shoes.

"Do ya deserve one?" he asks simply, seemingly unperturbed by being so suddenly confronted by you.

"I haven't gotten into any trouble. I've played nice with everyone. I've stayed here in the boring countryside with only my phone and the TV for entertainment. I've been good," you whine with a pout.

You've been in Hyogo for almost two weeks by this point -- at Kita's insistence of course. He said a visit was important to help you acclimate to what your life would look like after you were officially married. However, you have doubts about this "visit" considering you have yet to hear when you'll be returning to Tokyo.

"What kinda reward do ya think you've earned?" His tone and expression are both calm and your hopes begin to rise.

"A night out in Osaka." A quick flash of danger passes in his eyes and your hopes come crashing back down.

"No." With just a single word, you feel like you've had the back of your hand slapped away when trying to reach for something you shouldn't have.

"But Shin-kun, I've done everything you've asked and we're not even married yet! I've been good! It's not fair!" You can't help the way your arms fold across your chest or your pout deepens. You do manage to keep from childishly stomping your foot.

"If ya keep behavin' like this, ya won't be getting any reward." As usual, he doesn't need to raise his voice for you to know that you're toeing a line that it would be in your best interest not to cross. You relent with a huff.

"Fine. Then there's something else I want," you say and he gives you a flat look.

"I already told ya yer not coming until we're married."

You roll your eyes. You've heard that enough by this point in your engagement to know that it's an exercise in futility to even bother pleading asking.

"No. Something else."

He raises an eyebrow and it's all the permission you need to continue. Your posture straightens and your arms unfold to hang down at your sides.

"I want to see your tattoos." Although his expression doesn't change, there's a momentary hint of surprise in his eyes, clearly not having expected such a request.

You wonder if your own expression betrays your eagerness. While you've seen his tattooed forearms from afar when he's rolled up his shirtsleeves, it's only ever been a small taste of what's etched upon his skin and hidden beneath fabric.

Lately, when you've found yourself in bed with your fingers buried in your pussy, your walls clenching around them and your clit swollen the overwhelming and months-long need to come, all you can imagine is what he's chosen for the centerpiece tattoo that dominates his back.

Nothing you envision ever seems to fit the strict and traditional image of the Inarizaki's kumicho. A dragon seems too cliché. A tiger seems too egotistic. A samurai is too aggressive and an oni too vulgar.

So, when the corner of Kita's lip twitches briefly upward, your breath catches with excitement. Wordlessly, he steps closer to where you stand on the edge of the genkan. With the height advantage of the step, you're almost able to directly meet his gaze without looking up.

When he slips off his black jacket and hands it to you, you carefully fold it over your arms. You can tell that something in the gesture pleases him -- whether it's the submissiveness or domesticity, you're not sure. You're not inclined to offer any protest as he begins to unbutton his white dress shirt with nimble fingers.

With every inch of skin that's slowly revealed, you can feel yourself growing wetter, the fabric of your underwear beginning to cling uncomfortably to your slick folds. When the final button comes undone, you clench your thighs together, pitifully acknowledging it's the only taste of satisfaction that you'll see.

As the shirt slides down his arms, he passes it for you to take and you mindlessly hang it over the jacket already on your arm. Your eyes greedily drink in the expansive swaths of color that cover almost every inch of his skin.

Aside from an inch-wide strip of unmarred skin extending from his neck past the waist of his pants, his entire upper body is etched with traditional yakuza imagery of swirling black clouds and blossoming flowers. You don't miss the rice stalks interspersed throughout the designs.

You find yourself entranced by the design of the fox that stretches from over his left shoulder to cover his heart. It mirrors the traditional ukiyo-e style, only it remains uncolored and you instantly know it's meant to portray the divine white kitsune. Your gaze follows its form back up to his shoulder where it disappears from your sight.

When you finally lift your eyes to meet his, the hunger that you see in them is almost enough to make you moan aloud. Your thighs clench together again in a pathetic search for what little relief you can find.

"I want to see the back," you eventually tell him, your voice breathless.

"Do ya deserve a second reward?" His own voice sounds deeper to your ears and you wonder how many nights he's denied himself pleasure between your thighs in service of controlling yours.

The implied threat that he may put his shirt back on and deny you the chance to see the centerpiece of his tattooed body is almost as bad as his denial of your orgasms. Your desperation drives you to your knees and you fold your legs beneath you in a traditional seiza.

"Please, Shin-kun," you beg as you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "I've been good!"

A hint of affection briefly crosses his face and he leans down to give the top of your head a gentle kiss. His hand then grabs your jaw and he firmly guides you back to your feet.

"Yeah, ya have been good, ain't ya?" he hums thoughtfully and something almost nearing amusement tugs at his lips when you nod your head eagerly in his hand in response.

Deciding to placate you, he slowly drags a thumb across your plush bottom lip, letting the tip of it dip into your mouth and brush against your tongue before he drops his hand altogether.

And finally, finally, he turns around so that you can see what he's chosen to have permanently inked across the skin of his broad back.

When you see the artwork, you can't help the grin that grows on your face at your own foolishness. How stupid you are to have ever thought it could be anything else.

Painted in shades of black, green, yellow, blue, and red is the figure of a woman with two uncolored foxes at her feet standing in a lush field of rice that's ready to be harvested.

Of course traditional Kita Shinsuke, head of Kansai's most powerful yakuza group, who comes from a long line of rice farmers, and shuns the city to spend his evenings in the Hyogo countryside, has a tattoo of Inari Ōkami -- the kami of foxes and rice.

[miniimight]

Hiiii idk if you’re doing requests rn but I just ADORE how you write Izuku and katsuki like omg-

Anyways- my meds are causing me some crazy nightmares lately and I was wondering how they would handle you waking up from a nightmare???

If you don’t take requests then forget this ever happened :’)

Have a nice day byeeeeee!!!

NIGHTMARES you wake up in a start and wake them up in the process

with izuku & katsuki

notes guys i know ive been away for way too long im so sorry!!! :( i'm in the process of moving so it's stressful T-T thanks for the request, anon, hope those nightmares got/get better :( <3

it was so vivid. your mind sunk into an alternate reality that captured all your senses. you felt yourself spiraling deeper and deeper, faster and faster—

your body jolted upright with a breathless yell and a sharp gasp, the world stilling for a mere second...

and then you leaned over your knees, your lungs racing to catch up with your need for oxygen. your chest felt tight and you squeezed your eyes, remembering that your boyfriend was laying peacefully beside you.

you peeked to your side and found him staring right back—wide, bright eyes piercing into your own—sending a shock through your body.

IZUKU

"god, izuku, you scared me—" you sighed, your hand pressing on your stomach as if that would make the uneasy feeling disappear.

"i scared you?" he sat up further, scooching closer to your side. "you scared me, angel. are you okay? you're out of breath, honey. let's do it together, okay?"

you whimpered softly as you tried to follow his guide. izuku could tell you were in distress and it took everything to stop himself from overwhelming you with questions. he just laced his fingers with yours and squeezed.

"good job, honey." izuku praised you ever-so-softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "feeling a bit better?"

you nodded, frowning. "m'sorry for waking you—"

"angel." he whined, letting his eyes do all the talking. "don't do that! please, don't do that." he actually sounded offended.

you looked away from him, your throat hurting from holding back tears. "it's been happening all the time, though, and you need your rest. maybe i should take the guest room?" you were more talking to yourself than anything, but izuku refused to let you entertain such an idea.

izuku's shoulders slumped, the shock fading as drowsiness began to overtake him. he smiled lazily, fighting a yawn. "y/n, even if i knew you would wake me up every night for the rest of time, i'd still choose to be here beside you."

you turned to face him, the horror of your nightmare slowly fading to the back of your mind. "really?"

"really." he confirmed.

you smiled, letting your head rest on your knees as you stared at him lovingly.

the rustle of sheets and whistle of wind reminded the both of you that it was indeed the middle of the night. izuku tugged you closer by your waist, pulling you back onto the bed. he groaned softly, stretching a little before he relaxed against you. "did you wanna talk about it?"

you pursed your lips. curling into his embrace, you immediately felt warmer. "...not right now."

he kissed your forehead. "don't worry, i'll always be right here to protect you from anything your head throws at you. you just tell me and let me at 'em." he kissed you again before wrapping both arms around you.

his steady breathing and soft snores brought a fond smile to your face. you found yourself falling asleep despite the night's events.

KATSUKI

you both stared at each other for a good few seconds before you spoke up.

"sorry for waking you," you mumbled, still having trouble managing your breathing. you turned away from him, pressing your palms into your eyes.

"no," he whispered with a softness reserved for you only. "you didn't wake me."

you stared at him through the darkness and could see him so clearly. "katsuki—"

"shh, it's okay, baby." he gave you a soft smile, once again reassuring you. "come 'ere."

you sniffed as you inched closer. katsuki gently took your arm and pulled you the rest of the way right into his arms. his hand fell to your waist, tracing little shapes and lines as he allowed you time.

"wanna talk about it?" he asked.

you shook your head.

"okay." he squeezed your shoulder, kissing your cheek. he figured you'd tell him when you were ready—the last thing he wanted to do was stress you out even more. it was hard, not to get all the answers on what was bothering was you... it was in his nature to want to make all your problems go away. "what do you need?"

you hand wound around his torso, hugging him back. "um..." you shuddered as you breathed in. "just you."

he smiled against your skin. "yeah? promise you're not holding back on me?"

you giggled. "yes."

"cuz you know i'd do literally anything—"

you sat up slightly, turning to face him with a swat to his chest. your face burned and it was a struggle to recall the images of your nightmare. "katsuki! oh my god."

"what?" he scrunched his nose. his eyes never left you. "it's true."

you returned to your spot between his arm. "just you."

"whatever you say." he pressed his lips to your temple before he got comfy. he sighed. "goodnight, pretty. wake me when those stupid nightmares bug you again, okay?"

your heart fluttered and your smile grew out of your control. "okay."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[nmakii]

everything is blue!

— what colors do kunigami + bachira + kaiser + rin + nagi + otoya + nanase love in?

u guys can argue that they see love differently, but i j thought this was cute. tried another format for this btw lmk wyt

the deep maroon shade of the roses he buys for you; the scarlet stains you leave on his lips. rensuke kunigami sees love in red. yes, it’s pretty boring— maybe even expected from a good guy like him. but, it’s what he grew up associating love with, so why should anyone expect anything different from him? his scars and cuts all bleed red, the color of his love for you. it’s a fiery color that expresses all of his affections and desire to be your one and only in one simple shade. every piercing sun rise that overwhelms the gloomy dark sky with a burning red as he takes his morning jog reminds him of his passion for you. it also reminds him to work out, just so he’s strong enough to be your man— someone who’s strong enough to keep you safe from the world’s troubles, and be your hero. every valentine’s day, the corridors of his school are filled with red cut out hearts, and the only thing he can think about is you; the owner of his heart and body. to kunigami, red is love, and love is you.

the gentle flutter of a monarch butterfly landing on your nose after the two of you went butterfly catching; the orange juice that spills on to the plate after you had asked him to peel your orange. meguru bachira sees love in orange. he’s never had a friend he can trust will stay before. so when he falls for you, he falls hard and fast. no one else besides his mother has understood what he meant by his monster. so, it left him unbelievably jaw-dropped and star-struck when you told him of a similar monster that haunted you. his eyes shone a bright marigold to learn more about you and your monster; an imaginary friend that made life just as exciting for you as his has made soccer fun for him. all of a sudden, all he could think about was you, and how much he wanted to know everything about you. his mind— once filled with only hope for the next day to come, so that he could play more soccer, was suddenly overflowing with excitement for the next time he could talk to you again. just imagine— the lonely, weird kid finally meeting his match. but hey, misery loves company, right? who cares if the world is against him? fitting in would be too boring anyways. he’d rather have one person who understands him, than a world that supports him. they say that the color orange isn’t rare in nature. but, it isn’t common either. the same could be said for bachira. people who tolerate and accept him such as isagi, nagi, or aryu are a dime a dozen amongst geniuses such as himself. but, to find someone like you who can understand his eccentricity and what he means below the surface-level— you’re his one of a kind gem. one that’s his, and his alone.

the champagne blonde strands of hair that flow through your fingers; the gold rays of sun that shone on his skin after another win as he ran to the stands to kiss you. michael kaiser sees love in yellow. he really didn’t expect to fall in love with you. he kept trying to push you away by any means— undermining you, ignoring you, even physically pushing you away! but, your stubborn ass never got the point, and just thought that he’s always like that. that’s how he treats ness after all, so he just teases people he likes! your persistence eventually wore off his walls, and he finally allowed himself to be vulnerable. he finally let you into his life, and against his better judgment, told you about his mental scars. now, you were simply just too dangerous of a person to push away now, he’s told you far too much. well… he doesn’t see himself pushing you away anytime soon though. he’s found himself to be much more fond of your presence. when he’s with you, everything feels okay. he doesn’t question if he’s worthy of all this happiness— you make him forget all of it. after the cold winter of his childhood, spring has finally came. it’s why he buys you daffodils, instead of the roses he loves so much. while roses, blue ones, represent the impossible becoming reality, daffodils represent a new beginning— one where he hopefully doesn’t need to cling relentlessly to the past to evolve, and instead evolves to become a man you can proudly say you’re dating.

the sound of your footsteps on a football field after he practiced into the night for the nth time; the cute cactus plushie he won for you after you told him how cute it was. rin itoshi sees love in green. he knows that after his big brother abandoned him, he hasn’t been the kindest of people. which is why he was so confused as to why you still stayed. you were amazing— you could certainly have any other guy. but, you still wanted him! why is that? why do you want sae itoshi’s stupid little brother? after another night of questioning himself, he’s found his answer when you talk him through his emotions, and help him sort out his problems. it was because you actually cared for him. you knew rin isn’t as indifferent as he pretend to be. there was more to him than that. but, he’s wrapped that part of himself in chains and spikes, making sure he doesn’t get hurt again. he wasn’t sure if he could ever love the same way again. but, just as a plant needs tender care to grow, he needs you to be patient with him to let him heal and carefully take down the walls he built ever so meticulously.

the denim jeans you wear when he takes a nap on your lap; the stone color of the usually bright sky when it rains, which makes you have to stay the night in his apartment again. seishiro nagi sees love in blue. just like how he can rely on the sun to rise again the next day, nagi knows that he can always rely on you to be honest with him. his trust with you runs deeper than skin and bones. he knows he isn’t the most ideal boyfriend, he’s always afraid that you might leave him for someone who’s more outgoing with him one day. but, he always manages to remind himself that you’d tell him if he was lackluster in a certain way. but just because you’re saying he’s doing nothing wrong, it doesn’t mean he’s gonna remain the same lazy genius. for you, he’ll always try to improve and evolve to be someone whom you can rely on as well. like the bright blue sky that wakes everyone up in the morning every day without fail, nagi will never forget the moment you jumped into his life and promised that you’d stay until the end of times.

the bright mauve lights in the karaoke room whilst the two of you sang ‘i wanna dance with somebody’ by whitney houston; the vibrant violet takis bag carelessly dropped on the floor after the two of you fell asleep marathoning the harry potter series during the weekend. eita otoya sees love in purple. even though he was quite the lover-boy, he found relationships quite exhausting. having to date a high maintenance girl that needed to constantly go on dates and be given gifts was something that killed his vibe; very unenjoyable. so, he enjoyed it when he finally found you; someone who didn’t need the high life to have a good time. whether it’s the both of you speeding his car at 1 AM with some of your friends after blowing through 3 weeks worth of allowance money in one night, or staying over at your place and just doing whatever little arts and crafts sounded fun that day, you always had fun as long as the both of you were together. sure, at first, he just wanted to have some fun until the next one came along… but, he finally found himself to be enamored with someone. it isn’t so bad if he just doesn’t tell you that, right? all’s well that ends well..? either way, he finally feels fulfilled in a relationship, and like he might actually stay for a while this time. it’s fun, fresh, but still deep with an unspoken connection— just like the royal eloquence, yet playfulness, of purple.

the rosy blush of his cheeks when he saw you for the first time; the cherry blossom kitkats he shaped into a heart for your first valentine’s as a couple. nijiro nanase sees love in pink. being from the countryside of japan, he’s a stereotypical country boy. he was raised well by his grandparents, he’s been taught well in the likes of chivalry, and he’s unbelievably naive. oh, to be looked at the same way as the way nanase’s eyes gleam— star struck, at the sight of you. now, he doesn’t know what to do! his hearts’s all… what’s the word…? thumpy thumpy..! he can’t help, but get jittery whenever you’re around. this is what love feels like? it feels good! he wants to feel this fluttery feeling all the time. and to have that, he has to be your boyfriend. nothing can compare to the feeling of first love— slowly falling deeper and deeper into a pit that swallows him from the inside out. he feel like he’s drowning, but at the same time, it’s so gratifying, he can’t help but get addicted to the sound of syllables falling from your heaven-sent lips. he can tell you’re new at this too. you’re nervous— maybe even more nervous than him. but, hey! that’s alright. the two of you will go by this whole relationship thingy step by step. like how a pink rose is so delicate that it falls apart when crushed by the fist, he’ll make sure to be careful with your heart. as long as you promise to be careful with his.

[moonstruckme]

Hii! First off, I love your writing!

Could i request poly!marauders x reader who normally is very upbeat/sunshine-y but is feeling down and is really overwhelmed by school (like homwork or exams or smth) and they comfort her and help her study?

Don't worry if you don't wanna do it it is just an idea that popped in my head<3

Thanks for requesting!! Here you go sweetness <3

poly!marauders x (overwhelmed)sunshine!reader ♡ 998 words

“Hi, dovey.” Remus drops a kiss on your head as he comes to perch on the edge of James’ bed. You’re probably the most concentrated he’s ever seen you, lasered in on your homework as James pouts beside you. 

“Hey,” you say, and from anyone else your reply might sound normal, but Remus stops short. There’s none of your usual animation in your voice, no “how’s your day going, handsome?” and no jumping up to wrap your arms around his neck. From his own bed, Sirius shoots Remus a look. He’s noticed, too. 

“How’s your day going?” he asks probingly. 

“Good.” 

Remus nearly flinches, not that your tone is sharp. But it feels limp and lifeless compared to what he’s come to expect from you. He wants desperately to set you right, and from James and Sirius’ distressed expressions they feel much the same, but they’re in uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how to deal with you when you’re not your usual upbeat self. 

Remus decides on a roundabout tactic. “Everything alright, Prongs?”

James looks at him with giant, long-lashed eyes. “Y/N doesn’t want to go on a picnic.” 

Your eyes dart to James momentarily, and Remus thinks something like regret flashes across your face, but then your attention is back on your work. Sirius cocks his head as he watches you, trying to figure you out. Remus hopes he’s doing a better job than he is right now. 

You reach up to pet James’ hair absentmindedly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I just don’t have time today.” 

“It’s only going to be nice outside for so long,” James whines. 

Your sigh is deep and tired, and Remus feels like all the air goes out of his lungs with it, a dull ache blossoming in his sternum. “I’m sorry,” you say again. 

“Maybe we can all go tomorrow,” Remus says placatingly, reaching behind you to rub James’ shoulder. You don’t say anything, but he sees doubt and guilt flit in quick succession across your expression. “What’re you working on there, love?”

“Charms.” 

“Isn’t that due today?”

“Mhm.”

“Dove.” He infuses his voice with some sternness, and it works; you look up. “Why are you doing that so last minute?”

Remus is used to everything moving fast when it comes to you. You’re a sprightly thing. You’re there one second, gone the next; your smile sparks to life quicker than he can blink; your kisses are enthusiastic and rapid-fire, little pecks all over his face. But he isn’t expecting it, the way your eyes are looking at him dully, and an instant later they’re full of tears. 

Your voice comes out choked, and Sirius leans forward in his chair almost instinctively, like he’s lunging for you. “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean, darling?” Remus asks gently, cupping your face. You won’t let yourself lean into it like you usually do, but a tear escapes your eye, racing down your cheek where Remus catches it with his thumb. “Are you having trouble studying?”

“I’m not—” Another tear follows the first, and you swipe at it, shaking your head with a high-pitched laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

“It’s okay,” Sirius says, voice uncharacteristically soft. He looks as pained as Remus feels, at a loss for how you like to be treated when you’re upset. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I just can’t do it all as easily as you guys.” The words seem torn from you, each more scratched and fragile than the last. “I can’t keep up.”

Remus wants to ask again: What do you mean? but he holds his tongue. 

“I don’t get this.” You shove at the paper in front of you as if it will go away. “I’m not good at essays and I can’t keep track of what we’re doing in class. I’ve never had a problem before so I don’t understand why—” you take in a gasping, ragged lungful of air, and the sound tears at Remus’ heartstrings “—why all of a sudden I feel so dumb.” 

“Whoa, hey.” James takes your homework off your lap, pulling you in for a hug. “You’re not dumb, angel. Everyone has trouble keeping up sometimes. It’s a busy time of year, yeah?”

“It is,” Sirius confirms. “Flitwick seems to have forgotten we have other classes, with all he’s been assigning lately. And the potions essay due next week has been kicking my ass.” 

“Mine too,” you say miserably into James’ chest. 

“Is this why you’ve been so quiet lately?” James asks, his hand stroking a path down your spine and back up again. “How long have you been this overwhelmed?”

“I don’t know.” Your sigh is muffled by his shirt. “Since last week, I guess.” 

“Dove, you’ve got to be exhausted.” Remus shakes his head, stunned you’ve let this go on so long and vexed with himself for not realizing. “Take some time to rest. We’ll help you study when you’re ready to start again.” 

You turn around in James’ arms with a sniffle, your eyes red-rimmed but your features a bit less tense than they had been. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. You guys have your own homework, you shouldn’t waste your time helping me with mine.” 

James laughs, giving you a firm shake by the shoulder. “We don’t mind, silly. A lot of it’s the same stuff, we can just talk through it together.”

“Yeah?” you look at him hopefully, and Remus is more relieved than he’ll ever admit when he notices some of the brightness coming back to your expression. 

“Uh, yeah.” Sirius says, the duh implicit. “Honestly, sunshine, if you think any time spent with you is wasted, you’re more sleep-deprived than I thought. To bed with you.” 

You grin, but do as he tells you, laying your head down on James’ pillow. 

“Thanks,” you tell Remus as he lays a throw over you. “I really appreciate the help.” 

Remus smiles at you, his sunny-faced girl restored. “Anytime, dove.”

[act-nat-ural]

@madlyney: Hii! Hope your day’s been good!! Could I request for smth cute with Akaashi Keiji? Preferably in a time skip!

word count: 883

The warm, inviting scent of old paper and freshly printed pages filled the quiet bookstore, where the soft hum of distant music made the atmosphere all the cozier. You had wandered in during a rainy afternoon, hoping to find a peaceful escape from the downpour outside. You pulled a few novels from the shelf, their bright covers and intriguing titles inviting you in, and you tucked them under your arm as you navigated your way through the aisles, looking for a place to sit and start reading.

But as you moved toward the quiet reading nook, a catastrophe struck.

A precarious stack of books beside you teetered dangerously. Before you could catch it, the entire pile tumbled forward, scattering across the floor with a loud thud. You cringed at the sound, knowing you had disrupted the peace of the little bookstore.

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks as you quickly crouched down, gathering the fallen books and trying to make as little noise as possible. But as you reached for a particularly heavy hardcover, another hand appeared beside yours, picking it up before you could.

You looked up to see a young man with dark hair, a calm expression, and intense deep blue eyes. He was tall and well-dressed, with a hint of curiosity in his gaze. The stranger didn’t say a word, only offering a small smile as he handed you the book.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble, your cheeks still burning. You took the book from him and started stacking it with the others, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he crouched down beside you, silently helping you collect the scattered volumes.

Once you were both finished, you stood, brushing imaginary dust from your knees. “I’m so sorry for disturbing everyone,” you said, giving him an apologetic smile.

The young man shook his head slightly. “No need to apologize. These things happen.” His voice was soft but steady, calming in a way that put you a little more at ease. He set the last book back in its place with a careful precision, as though handling something fragile.

“Thank you again,” you said, feeling a bit flustered under his calm gaze. “I didn’t mean to cause such a scene.”

“Not at all.” He looked at you with a faint glimmer of amusement. “Most people don’t take the time to put them all back the way you did. It’s nice to see someone who cares.”

You offered a sheepish smile, trying to brush off the compliment, but something about the way he looked at you—so quietly attentive—made you feel as if he genuinely appreciated it. His eyes drifted to the books you held, and he tilted his head just slightly. “You have good taste,” he remarked, gesturing to the novels in your arms.

You laughed a little, surprised by his insight. “Thanks. I’m trying to catch up on my reading list before school starts up again.”

“Studying literature?” he guessed, his expression curious yet respectful.

“Yeah. I’m actually majoring in English lit,” you replied, feeling your shoulders relax as the conversation flowed naturally. “I just transferred here, so I’m still getting used to everything. It’s kind of overwhelming.”

He nodded, as if he understood. “New places can feel like that,” he said. “But if you need any help navigating, I’m familiar with the area. I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Oh, really? That would be amazing, actually. I’ve been a little lost since I got here,” you admitted, laughing a bit at your own expense. “Thank you…?”

“Akaashi,” he said, extending a hand. “Akaashi Keiji. And it’s no trouble at all.”

You shook his hand, feeling a faint warmth in his gentle grip. “Thank you, Akaashi. I’m (Name).”

His smile softened, as if he were pleased to finally put a name to your face. “Nice to meet you, (Name).”

The two of you spent the next few minutes talking about the campus, your favorite genres, and the nearby coffee shop that, according to Akaashi, had the best pastries in town. His voice was calm, soothing, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything you had to say. There was a natural ease in the conversation, as if you’d known each other far longer than the few minutes you’d actually spent together.

“Do you have a favorite book?” he asked eventually, his expression thoughtful.

You pondered for a moment, then named a title that was close to your heart, watching as his eyes lit up. “I’ve read that one too. It’s incredible,” he agreed, and his genuine enthusiasm only made you want to talk to him more. “It’s rare to find someone who appreciates it.”

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you, then,” you said with a smile, feeling a bit bolder.

The afternoon drifted by as you chatted, completely lost in conversation, the awkwardness of your first encounter melting into an unexpected connection. Finally, after checking the time, you both headed out together, agreeing to meet up sometime soon for coffee and maybe a little campus tour.

As you stepped outside, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the world fresh and shimmering under a gray sky. Akaashi walked beside you, and you felt a little more grounded, a little less out of place, knowing that someone was there to help you find your way.

note: almost forgot to post this ngl….

[enree9h]

₊˚⊹♡ WHERE YOUR BOYFRIEND COMFORTS YOU AFTER A BAD WEEK ₊˚⊹♡ PSH

۶ৎ PAIRING : bf!sunghoon x gf!reader

۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : After a tiring week when everything felt heavy and bleak your boyfriend takes it upon himself to make it better for you.

۶ৎ WARNINGS : none, just fluff (felt soft and cuddly)

۶ৎ wc : 0.7k

۶ৎ a/n : for anyone and everyone having a bad day/week. I feel you because its been a tough couple of days for me too. Hope this little drabble?? makes you feel all soft and happy ♡

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

The street lights flicker but your focus is somewhere else, your mind retreats into the dullness of the past couple of days and you feel the sting of tears. But you blink them away, push your feet against the ground and let go. 

The cold winds brush through the strands of your hair as the swing takes you upwards, your feet momentarily leave the ground until they swing back. You let the quiet of the park comfort you, the midnight hours on a swing seemed like the only ideal time and location to be in after a rough couple of days. 

You feel the vibrations from your phone through the thin cardigan you were in and pull it out to see three missed calls from Sunghoon. The screen goes black and when you turn it back on the picture of your boyfriend stares back at you.

With the calls long forgotten your eyes gaze at the photo of him and you, the smile on both your faces makes your heart ache for his touch. And moments later a tear makes its way down your cheeks and onto the screen. 

You wanted to feel his arms wrapped around you, his cheeks pressed against your temple, his fingers running through your hair. But going to him for momentary comfort made you feel guilty and to some extent, selfish.

So you thought being overwhelmed alone would be the best option because the last thing you wanted to do was burden him with your share of troubles. 

“Hey” 

The voice cuts through the silence of the night and your head snaps up to find the source only for your eyes to fall on a distraught looking Sunghoon.

 “Finally” his steps are hurried and you leave the comfort of the swing once he reaches you. “Where have you been all this time?”, his fingers reach to hold yours.

“Just here” you mutter glancing around. “ I had been worried sick” the tremble in voice makes your heart almost crack open. “I am so sorry” you whisper, “I was just” and you trail off, the sentence hangs in the air, unfinished. 

Sunghoon catches the strain in your voice and it doesn't take a lot for him to understand what was going on. So he lets the warmth of his body do the rest. 

The next second you feel his arms slip around your waist and even before you could look up to find your boyfriend’s eyes you are smushed against his chest. “Uh, Sunghoon?” you mumble into his sweater, your words muffled. “Let's just stay like this for some time”, his cheek rests against your head and his grip on you is comforting so you go silent. 

His fingers run down your back slowly and when you breathe in, the familiar scent of pine floods you and at that very instant your body gradually sinks in his hold. You feel your tense shoulders relax, the thoughts that had weighed you down felt less heavy with him so close. 

When his fingers come to wipe something across your cheeks you realize you had been crying this whole time.

Sunghoon leans back to look at you with a tight-lipped expression on his face, and mutters, “Don't you dare wipe your nose on me” and so you do just that. 

When his laugh vibrates through your body you realize there was no other place you'd rather be but in his arms. 

“Thank you”, your arms slip from the sides of his waist and your palms come to rest against his cheeks, “for this”. 

He bends down to catch your lips in a kiss in response and the taste of your chapstick makes Sunghoon sigh against your lips. He proceeds to leave fleeting kisses all over your face- the bridge of your nose, the slant of your jaw, the curve of your temple. And you chuckle in his hold. 

“Ok you can”, his lips find yours in a peck, “Stop now” but when you lean in again Sunghoon knows you didn't want him to. 

“Feel any better, love” he asks, running his fingers through your hair, “ so much better” you say through a smile and grab his face to pull him down for another kiss. Sunghoon, who wouldn't ever miss out on such an opportunity, holds you tight and lets you kiss him through your budding happiness. 

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 1

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: Tamlin has sent Feyre away. Emotions follow

Warnings: more angst. Allusions to Under the Mountain happenings, but not in much detail

Word Count: 1.2k

Prologue Chapter 2

You rush into the manor, hoping that you can get far enough away before the emotion churning in your chest consumes you. You couldn’t be the supportive sister you supposed Tamlin wanted you to be right now, weren’t sure you thought it was what he deserved. After all, it was his fault that the human he loved was leaving. It was his fault that you were all doomed to be taken Under the Mountain. It was his fault that Andras’ death was now for nothing. So no, you decide, he does not deserve your pity.

You manage to stumble your way into your bedroom, tears stinging in your eyes, burning your throat. You yank a pillow off the bed, burying your face into it before you scream, letting the emotion overwhelm you. You are angry, so angry that you ignore the knocking on your door. How could Tamlin do this? Sacrifice everyone and everything for his human love. Does he know how much it stings? His betrayal? That his love was enough was enough to save her. But you, your love? That was not enough to save Andras. You fling yourself onto the bed. This is where you will stay until they come to drag you all down Under the Mountain, you don’t care anymore. There’s nothing left for you to care about.

You wander the hall, ignoring the chill that hasn’t left your bones the entire time down here, no matter what you did. You didn’t sleep, finding it nearly impossible to. It had only been a few nights spent under the mountain, but already what you had seen haunted you every time you closed your eyes. You think of what Andras had said that day in the forest, about wanting to save you. If only he could see how ruined you were now. Would he be as angry with your brother as you are? You suppose, the one relief is that he is not here with you. You would not wish him here in this place even now as loneliness echoes in your soul. You aren’t thinking about where your body is taking you, only stopping as you nearly collide with the male in front of you. Your sudden stop has you nearly tipping off balance, and he reaches a hand out, steadying you. You look up at him, your own eyes meeting his violet ones.

“You shouldn’t roam by yourself at night. It’s not safe.”

“Yes, well you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Rhysand?” you question, voice as icy as you feel.

He ignores the jab, directing you towards your room. “Allow me to escort you.”

You say nothing, following as he guides you. You say nothing as he directs you to the armchair and waves a hand, a fire springing to life in the hearth. You remain silent until he’s about to leave the room.

“Why did you leave me there?” He turns to you, eyes filled with confusion.

“The night you came to Spring and killed my father and brothers. I followed you out to the garden and begged you to either take me with you or kill me too. But you just left me there. Why?”

Your eyes meet his, filled with so much grief and pain, and he finds himself wondering what you went through before you found yourself down here. You stand, crossing to him, angry at the tears that sting your eyes. 

“It would have been wrong.”

You choke out a bitter laugh. “And look at me now. I would have been better off.”

He’s not sure why he does it, but he brushes past your wards with ease, helping your troubled mind find unconsciousness, catching you as you crumple. He tucks you into bed, brushing hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear, bringing kinder memories to the front of your mind, helping you find pleasant dreams for once.

He tries to find you again the next few nights, uncertain of why he feels so suddenly drawn to you. But he remains unlucky, as if you're avoiding him as hard as he's trying to find you.

It’s shortly after that Feyre finds her way Under the Mountain to rescue Tamlin. You aren’t sure how you feel, but there's one thing you know for certain. You will do anything within your power to help her. To make Andras’ death mean something. You find her the night after, a spare blanket and food hidden underneath your cloak. You see him again as you make your way to the cells, eyes meeting his across the distance before hurrying away. 

You enter the cell and take in the sight of the human woman in front of you, holding a finger to your lips as you cross over to her, kneeling at her side, healing her. You give her the food and the blanket. She tries apologizing for Andras once more, but you shush her, shaking your head. 

“You are not the one I am angry with. You are not the one who needs to apologize. I can understand why you… did what you did.” She looks almost surprised. “I will help you however I can without interfering. I will help you beat her, for Andras.” She smiles and you find yourself smiling too, the movement feeling odd after so much time. 

You rush to the cells, hoping you are not too late. You enter as Rhysand exits and Feyre looks at you.

“I tried to wait for you to come. You said you would come. But a human can die so quickly from that kind of thing and I-” 

You interrupt her, dropping to your knees beside her, pulling her into a tight hug, choking back a sob. “I was just worried that I was too late and you were already dead. I don’t care what bargain you made with him. It saved your life, and when we get out of here, I will face it with you. You are too important Feyre.” She tells you of the bargain, and you smile. “You know, I have always wanted to see the Night Court.”

More time has passed and Feyre has beaten the trials. You watch in horror, unable to intervene, frozen to the spot, as Amarantha hurts Feyre, wishing you could fight for her. You glare at your brother, cursing him for not fighting for her. Why can’t he fight for her the way you already had? Why had he given up so easily? You gasp as Feyre answers the riddle and the mask falls from your face. You step forward as Amarantha snaps Feyre’s neck, wanting to do something, anything. You watch as finally, Tamlin does something, killing her, ripping her throat out. You sink to your knees, unable to help the relief that floods your veins along with the grief. Amarantha was dead and that meant that your husband’s death would finally mean something. That you had not lost everything for nothing.

  You watch on as the High Lords all revive Feyre, bringing her back as a fae. You ignore the purple-eyed male staring at you and whatever it is you feel pulling you to him. There would be time to worry about that later, but for now, you find yourself at Feyre's other side, realizing that although you had lost so much, there were things you had gained too.

A/N: And there it is! Not feeling great about this one, but everytime I tried fixing it I found myself writing the next parts, so here it is! Requests are open, so feel free to send some in! I'd love to write some one shots too!

divider is by @tsunami-of-tears

taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose

[transformers-spike]

What do you think the Decepticons would be like with a human who goes non-verbal during sex? I personally have trouble making any noises for my partners, which leads to them getting mad, so I wonder what they'd be like with someone like that when the majority of the time, pleasure is shown through facial expressions and body language.

Feel free to ignore lol

Ohohoho

I think bots are generally pretty apathetic towards noise-making during interface

They're used to their own species, so they expect just abt anything with an alien. We already don't have proper EM fields to intertwine, nor engines to rev. By their standards, they're willing to work with whatever we give them

Bots like Starscream and Megatron are quick to catch onto your facial cues/body language and immediately start abusing this power like gamers smashing the X button

Dreadwing is, as always, polite about the whole ordeal. He certainly has more trouble figuring out facial expressions compared to the others, so he'll definitely ask if he's doing alright or if he's hurting you. The only normal person in this shitshow

Skyquake is... well, he never cared much for noise. What he cares about is making his partner's legs shake as they overload so hard they almost reboot. Don't worry, he (probably) won't frag you until you faint. But you will end up bruised

Airachnid is horrible all around. She's going to challenge herself to make you crack one way or another. Either through overstimulation or straight up terror. Yes, she can tell you're overwhelmed from your expression. No, she won't stop until you beg

Knock Out's going to have a crisis at first because he obv watched porn, and we all know everything's exaggerated, especially the vocal performance. So he's there like "Am I doing something wrong???" Just explain it to him, please. But once he figures out your cues... watch his pride skyrocket as he abuses his newfound knowledge

Breakdown skips the cues altogether and actually asks you if you're okay and if he's doing good. He probably asks this to fellow Cybertronians as well to be fair. He's a people-pleaser at spark, and this makes interface with him slightly annoying at first - get ready for a fuck ton of "Am I hurting you"s Soundwave... I mean it's pretty obvious really. Keeping track of body language is technically part of his job as intelligence officer - so watch him speedrun human facial/body cues and get an A+ in human fucking

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Fem!Reader (Part.1)

You leave them speechless with your bikini (Part.1)

You arrives at a private X-Men beach in a stunning bikini, instantly capturing the attention of your crush who struggle to maintain their composure

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Warren Worthington III, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Jean Grey & Ororo Munroe

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

The sun beats down on the secluded stretch of beach where the X-Men have gathered for a rare day off, the sounds of the waves lapping gently at the shore. Logan stands near the bonfire pit, his sharp eyes watching as his teammates laugh and splash around in the water, but his mind isn’t really on their fun. He’s more focused on the horizon, trying to find peace in the familiar scent of the ocean, but that all changes when you step onto the sand.

He glances over, and there you are, walking across the beach in a bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. His breath hitches slightly at the sight of you, all sun-kissed skin and effortless beauty. The way the sunlight plays off your body makes his throat tighten, and suddenly, Logan has to clench his fists to keep his composure. His sharp senses can pick up on everything about you—your scent, the warmth radiating from your skin, and the way your soft laughter reaches his ears.

You’re walking toward the water, completely oblivious to the effect you’re having on him, and for a moment, Logan’s mind goes blank, his usual cool exterior crumbling as he watches you. He can feel the animal inside him stir, the raw attraction that he tries so hard to keep in check roaring to life. His heart races, and it’s taking everything in him not to let his eyes linger too long, not to show just how much he’s affected.

"Whoa, Logan, you might wanna close your mouth before you start droolin'," comes a teasing voice from beside him. Logan turns to see Bobby grinning like an idiot, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Logan growls low in his throat, but it’s more embarrassed than angry. "Shut it, Drake," he mutters, trying to ignore the way his face feels like it’s on fire. He can feel the heat rising in his body, a mix of frustration and longing swirling inside him, but he can’t risk losing control. Not here, not now.

Bobby snickers and pats Logan on the shoulder. "She’s somethin’ else, huh? Can’t say I blame you. If I had your senses, I’d probably be in trouble too."

Logan clenches his jaw, his eyes flicking back to you for a brief moment before he forces himself to look away. "Ain’t your business, Drake," he grumbles, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

But Bobby’s words only make it harder for Logan to push the thoughts away. Every time he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, his chest tightens. He wants to go over to you, wants to say something, but the tension between you two has been building for weeks, and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

As the day wears on and the sun begins to set, Logan finds himself standing closer to you, the unspoken connection between you two almost tangible. You glance over at him, a soft smile on your lips, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The temptation is too strong, the desire too overwhelming. He’s not sure how much longer he can pretend he’s not completely drawn to you.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

The day is hot and humid, the perfect weather for a beach trip. The X-Men had chosen a private stretch of sand, far away from prying eyes, and everyone was in high spirits. Remy, as usual, was the center of attention, making jokes and tossing cards into the air with casual grace. But when you step onto the sand in your bikini, his usual charm falters.

His red-on-black eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of you, walking toward the water with the sun hitting your skin just right. You look effortlessly stunning, the curves of your body accentuated by the swimsuit, and Remy can’t help but stare for a moment too long. He’s never been the kind of guy to be at a loss for words, but right now, he feels like someone just knocked the wind out of him.

"Mon dieu," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he tries to regain his composure. But it’s no use—his heartbeat quickens, and his usual confidence wavers.

"Remy, you okay there?" Rogue’s voice breaks through his daze, and when he turns to look at her, she’s smirking, clearly enjoying the way he’s struggling to keep his cool. "Didn’t think I’d ever see you look so flustered."

Remy shoots her a playful glare, but there’s no hiding the flush creeping up his neck. "Ain’t flustered, cher," he says, but his voice lacks its usual smoothness.

Rogue chuckles, folding her arms across her chest. "Sure, sugar. Whatever you say."

Remy turns his attention back to you, watching as you laugh with some of the other X-Men, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him. His chest tightens, and for the first time in a long time, Remy feels nervous. He’s always been confident, always known exactly what to say to charm someone, but with you, it’s different. There’s something real between you two, something that’s been simmering just below the surface for a while now, and it’s starting to drive him crazy.

The way your hips sway as you walk, the way your hair catches the sunlight—it’s all too much. He swallows hard, feeling the urge to go to you, to say something, to finally make a move. But he hesitates, unsure if now is the right time. The tension between you two is thick, and he’s not sure if pushing things further right now would be a good idea.

But then, you glance over at him, your eyes locking with his for just a second, and that’s all it takes. His heart skips a beat, and without thinking, he starts walking toward you, his usual swagger returning as he closes the distance between you two.

"Chère, y’ lookin’ like trouble today," he says, his voice low and smooth, though there’s a hint of nervous energy beneath the surface. He flashes you one of his trademark smiles, but this time, it’s a little more genuine, a little less playful.

You smile back, tilting your head slightly as you look up at him. "You sayin’ I’m too much for you to handle, Remy?"

He chuckles, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Ain’t no such thing as too much when it comes to you, mon amour."

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

The beach day was meant to be relaxing, a break from the chaos that usually surrounded the X-Men. Kurt had been enjoying himself, teleporting from spot to spot around the beach, sometimes splashing in the water with his teammates and other times just relaxing in the shade. But all of that changes the moment you step onto the sand in your bikini.

Kurt’s yellow eyes go wide, his tail twitching nervously as he watches you walk by, the sun making your skin glow in a way that makes his heart race. You look stunning, the curves of your body making it hard for him to focus on anything else. His usual calm demeanor falters, and he suddenly feels a little self-conscious. He’s always been drawn to you, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly beautiful, is almost too much for him.

He quickly teleports to the edge of the beach, trying to collect himself. His body is burning with a mix of desire and embarrassment, and he’s not sure how to handle it. Kurt has always been shy when it comes to you, his feelings never fully spoken aloud, but the tension between you has been building for a long time.

"Having a hard time there, Kurt?" Kitty’s voice comes from beside him, and he jumps slightly, his tail curling in surprise.

"Nein, nein," he stammers, though his cheeks are darkened with a deep blush. "I-I’m fine, really."

Kitty raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her face. "Uh-huh. Sure. It’s not like you’re staring or anything."

Kurt groans softly, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn’t… staring," he mutters, though he knows that’s not entirely true. He had been staring—he couldn’t help it. You were just so… beautiful. And the feelings he’d been trying to keep under control were getting harder to ignore.

Kitty pats him on the back. "Good luck, Kurt. Looks like you might need it," she says before walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Kurt takes a deep breath, his tail flicking nervously as he watches you from a distance. He wants to go to you, to say something, but he’s not sure how. The attraction between you two is undeniable, and he knows he can’t keep hiding how he feels forever.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The beach was calm, a private retreat for the X-Men to take a rare day off from their usual chaotic lives. Scott had found a spot under the shade of a large umbrella, sunglasses in place, enjoying the peaceful sound of the waves. He liked the quiet moments, where he could allow himself to relax. You, on the other hand, had been excited from the moment the trip was planned, eager to embrace the sun and sea.

Scott wasn’t prepared for what happened next. When you stepped out from behind one of the large rocks, wearing a bikini that hugged your curves in all the right places, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. He tried to maintain his usual calm, controlled demeanor, but it was difficult. His jaw tightened as he watched you move, the sunlight highlighting your figure as you walked toward the water. You hadn’t noticed his reaction yet, your carefree laughter blending with the sound of the ocean.

He adjusted his sunglasses, glad they were hiding the way his gaze followed you. A part of him wanted to stand up, walk over, and say something clever, but he could feel the heat rising in his body, his usual control slipping. Scott’s hands clenched into fists, trying to focus on anything else, but it was no use.

"Havin’ a little trouble, Summers?" Logan’s gruff voice came from beside him, and Scott immediately stiffened, his head turning sharply to the side.

Logan was smirking, arms crossed, clearly enjoying Scott’s discomfort. "Didn’t think you’d be the type to get rattled over a swimsuit."

Scott let out a slow breath, his jaw clenched. "I’m not rattled," he replied, trying to sound composed, though his voice was a little too tight. He glanced back at you, who was now wading into the water, your body shimmering under the sunlight.

"Right," Logan said, his smirk widening. "Just… y’know, if you’re havin’ trouble keepin’ your cool, maybe it’s time you make a move before someone else does."

Scott didn’t respond, but Logan’s words stuck with him. The tension between you two had been building for months, and Scott knew it. He’d kept his distance, not wanting to complicate things, but seeing you now, so carefree and beautiful, was making it harder and harder to stay composed. He couldn’t help but feel protective, the thought of anyone else stepping in to win your affections gnawing at him.

As you swam further out into the water, Scott stood up from his spot under the umbrella, his heart racing as he made a decision. It was time to stop holding back.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

The beach wasn’t Erik’s usual scene. He preferred the cold steel of his lair or the sharp angles of his machines, but at the insistence of Charles and the others, he had agreed to join this rare moment of relaxation. He stood off to the side, watching the waves crash against the shore with a distant expression, his mind far from the present.

That is, until you emerged from one of the beach cabanas, dressed in a bikini that immediately drew his attention. Erik’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk across the sand, your beauty impossible to ignore. The way you carried yourself, the way the sunlight seemed to embrace you—it was enough to stir something deep within him, something primal.

You weren’t aware of his reaction, of the way his gaze followed you with an intensity he rarely allowed himself to feel. Erik prided himself on his control, on his ability to maintain a façade of indifference, but this… you… were making that increasingly difficult. His hand clenched at his side as he fought to maintain his composure, the magnetic energy around him humming softly in response to his heightened emotions.

"Quite the sight, isn’t she?" Charles’ voice broke through Erik’s thoughts, the familiar, calm tone both irritating and grounding at the same time.

Erik didn’t bother turning to look at his old friend, his eyes still locked on you as you dipped your toes into the water. "She always is," he replied, his voice lower than usual, filled with a tension that Charles undoubtedly noticed.

Charles chuckled softly, sensing the depth of Erik’s feelings. "You know, it wouldn’t hurt to let her know what she means to you."

Erik’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t a man prone to sentimentality, and yet, when it came to you, his defenses always seemed to waver. There had been an undeniable connection between you two for a long time, a mutual understanding of the world’s cruelty and beauty. But Erik had always hesitated to take that step, knowing the dangers that came with loving someone as fiercely as he wanted to love you.

"Sentiment is a weakness, Charles," Erik muttered, though even he didn’t fully believe it this time.

Charles shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Or perhaps, it’s the greatest strength of all."

As you turned and smiled in Erik’s direction, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe it was time to stop pretending that he didn’t feel anything. He wouldn’t allow the world to take this from him—not this time.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden rays across the secluded beach where Warren had flown the X-Men for a much-needed break. With his wings stretched wide, Warren lounged on the soft sand, the sound of the waves providing a perfect backdrop to the otherwise peaceful day. He was the picture of relaxation, at least on the surface.

That all changed the moment you walked out of the changing cabana in your bikini.

His heart nearly stopped in his chest as he saw you, your skin glowing under the sunlight, your every movement graceful and captivating. Warren had always found you beautiful, but something about seeing you like this, so free and confident, stirred something deep within him. He tried to play it cool, lounging back as though he hadn’t just been struck dumb by the sight of you, but it was no use. His wings twitched, betraying his nervousness, and he felt his pulse quicken as you strolled toward the water.

Bobby, who had been building a sandcastle nearby, looked up at Warren with a wide grin. "Dude, you’re staring."

Warren blinked, snapping his gaze away from you as a flush crept up his neck. "I’m not staring," he said, though his voice didn’t quite carry the usual confidence.

Bobby snickered, leaning back on his hands. "Yeah, sure. Your wings are practically shaking, man."

Warren shot him a look, folding his wings a little tighter against his back in an attempt to regain control. "Mind your own business, Bobby," he muttered, though his eyes flicked back to you as you splashed playfully in the water, your laughter carrying on the breeze.

The truth was, Warren was having a hard time keeping his composure. The tension between you two had always been there, an unspoken attraction that neither of you had fully addressed, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly stunning, was making it impossible for him to ignore. His usual smooth charm faltered, and for the first time in a long while, Warren felt… vulnerable.

He wanted to go to you, to say something clever and sweep you off your feet the way he always imagined, but instead, he stayed rooted in place, unsure of how to approach the situation. His wings twitched again, and Bobby’s teasing laughter only made it worse.

"Come on, man," Bobby said, still grinning. "You’ve got wings. Just fly over there and make a move already."

Warren rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny the urge growing inside him. He wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain, but for you… it might be worth the risk. Standing up, he brushed the sand off his shorts, his wings unfolding as he glanced in your direction again. Maybe today was the day he’d finally stop hiding how he felt.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

The beach was a blur of activity, mostly thanks to Pietro zipping around the shore, never able to sit still for more than a moment. You were used to his constant energy by now, but today, his focus seemed a little... off. It wasn’t until you stepped out of the changing room, wearing your new bikini, that you realized why.

Pietro froze mid-sprint, which was a rare occurrence for him. His eyes widened as they took you in, the gentle breeze tugging at your hair, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your skin. You smiled at him, completely unaware of the way his heart was practically racing even faster than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool, but his usual cocky smirk faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise and awe.

"Wow," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "That’s... I mean... you look—"

Before he could finish, a sharp whistle came from nearby. You didn’t notice, but Pietro did. Logan, leaning against one of the palm trees, raised an eyebrow at the speedster. "You gonna stand there gawking all day or actually do something about it, kid?"

Pietro shot Logan a glare, his usual confidence slowly seeping back into place. "Mind your business, old man," he grumbled, though he could feel the tips of his ears burning. Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying the younger mutant's discomfort.

Pietro’s gaze returned to you as you walked toward the shoreline, blissfully unaware of the exchange. He could feel his pulse quicken as he watched you, his usual bravado faltering just a bit. He knew he should make a move, say something, anything to let you know how he felt, but for the first time in a long time, he found himself at a loss for words.

With a deep breath, he decided to make his move—faster than you could blink, he was at your side, the usual teasing grin back on his face. "You know," he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear, "you’re making it really hard for me to concentrate on anything else right now."

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Wanda Maximoff had always been intense, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface, controlled but always present. You knew that better than anyone, and today, as you stepped out onto the beach, you could feel that intensity directed at you in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

The beach was quiet, only a few of the X-Men scattered across the sand, but the moment Wanda saw you in that bikini, it was like the world fell away. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting slightly as she watched you walk toward the shore. You could feel her gaze on you, and it wasn’t just casual. It was hungry, a heat that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You waded into the water, letting the cool waves wash over your ankles, and when you turned back to look at her, you caught the moment she tore her eyes away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Wanda wasn’t one to lose control easily, but around you, it seemed she couldn’t help it.

"You’re staring," Pietro’s voice cut through the quiet, and you saw him lounging nearby, his usual smirk plastered on his face. "Not very subtle, sis."

Wanda shot him a glare that could have melted metal, but it didn’t stop him from chuckling. "Shut up, Pietro," she hissed, but the damage was done. Her composure was shaken, and now, she knew you had noticed.

Wanda stood up, brushing sand from her legs as she made her way toward you, her steps purposeful, but you could see the slight hesitation in her eyes. She was powerful, confident, but when it came to you, she seemed almost unsure, as if she wasn’t entirely certain how to handle the way she felt.

"You okay?" you asked, a small smile playing on your lips as she stopped beside you, her eyes locking onto yours.

"Fine," she replied quickly, too quickly, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Wanda..." You took a step closer, your voice soft. "You don’t have to hide how you feel."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the tension between you was thick, almost suffocating. Wanda's fingers brushed against yours, and the simple touch sent a spark through you both. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes said everything. You could see the desire, the need she had been trying to keep under control, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before she gave in.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

The beach was serene, with the waves gently lapping at the shore and the soft hum of the wind weaving through the trees. Jean was sitting on a towel, a relaxed smile on her face as she watched the others enjoy the rare day off. She hadn’t expected you to take her breath away, but that’s exactly what happened when you strolled down the sand in your bikini.

Jean’s eyes followed your every movement, her usually composed demeanor shaken for just a moment. You were stunning, the sun reflecting off your skin in a way that made her heart skip a beat. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.

As you waded into the shallow water, Jean’s thoughts raced, and she struggled to maintain her usual control. The tension between the two of you had been growing for some time now, an unspoken attraction that was always there, simmering beneath the surface. She had always tried to keep her feelings in check, worried about the complications that might arise if she let them show. But now, seeing you like this, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the pull.

"She’s beautiful, isn’t she?" Scott’s voice broke through Jean’s thoughts, and she blinked, turning to look at him. He wasn’t teasing, just observant, and Jean felt a pang of jealousy twist in her chest. She quickly pushed it down, forcing a smile.

"She is," Jean replied softly, her eyes drifting back to you as you laughed, splashing in the water. "But it’s more than that. She just... has this energy."

Scott nodded, though he didn’t say anything more, leaving Jean alone with her thoughts. As you turned back to glance at her, your smile radiant, Jean felt her resolve begin to crack. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind her fears and take a chance on what she truly wanted.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

The air around the beach was warm, with just the right hint of a breeze to keep things comfortable. Ororo had spent the morning making sure the weather was perfect for the outing, her powers ensuring a clear, sunny sky without a cloud in sight. She was standing near the water’s edge, her feet sinking into the sand, enjoying the peace of the day when she saw you.

The way the sunlight kissed your skin as you stepped onto the beach in a bikini left Ororo momentarily speechless. She had always known you were beautiful, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly confident and radiant, stirred something deep within her. She wasn’t the type to be easily rattled, always so in control of herself and her surroundings, but for a split second, she felt a crack in her calm exterior.

Your laughter reached her ears as you splashed into the water, completely unaware of the way Ororo’s gaze lingered on you. She could feel the tension building in her chest, a mixture of admiration and desire, though she maintained her poised stance. Ororo prided herself on her ability to remain level-headed, but the sight of you was testing that self-control.

"You okay, ‘Ro?" Rogue’s voice came from behind her, and Ororo turned, her serene expression back in place.

"Yes," she replied with a small smile, though her thoughts were still focused on you. Rogue followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Looks like someone’s got you a little distracted," Rogue teased lightly, nudging Ororo’s arm.

Ororo’s lips twitched into a soft smile, but she didn’t deny it. The truth was, she had been distracted by you for some time now, the connection between the two of you growing stronger with each passing day. She had always kept her feelings close to her chest, not wanting to let them cloud her judgment, but seeing you here now, so carefree and beautiful, made it harder to maintain her usual restraint.

As you waded further into the water, Ororo took a deep breath, her eyes softening. Maybe it was time to let go of the careful distance she had been keeping.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can we have bestfriend headcanons for rollo please???? i need to be friends with this guy so bad you don't understand

***Warning: Glorious Masquerade spoilers in the final few headcanons!***

Curiouser and Curiouser...

The best way to sum up this relationship is that Rollo is the mom friend, and you are his child. (If you were to ask Rollo, he would say you're an idiot, but you're his idiot.)

From an outsider's perspective, it's hard to tell that you're friends at all. He always has that hard-to-read face on him, plus those grimaces he gets whenever the slightest annoyance or inconvenience makes itself known.

You've gotten used to his quirks though, so you can read his emotions a lot better than most. When the corners of his mouth twitch, that's him trying to smile! When he taps a finger against his arm? He's thinking hard about something.

He dislikes it when you call him "bestie" (so, of course, you make sure to do it often). Rollo corrects you with his name each and every time.

He finds physical affection just as repulsive. Rollo's constantly shying away from your touch, insisting that it's unhygienic and immodest to even so much as brush shoulders by accident.

There was an incident when you hugged him once and he got oddly quiet, then asked "... What is this?" to which you had casually responded, "Affection."

"Disgusting," Rollo had declared, handkerchief to his nose. "... Do it again."

He's one of those old-fashioned people who insists on keeping in contact via letters and cards instead of text messages, email, and/or social media. Rollo claims that stuff "rots your brain cells" and "promotes a vain, degenerate lifestyle".

You thought it silly and inefficient at first, but over time you've come to appreciate the time and thought that comes with each letter. Receiving a note from Rollo is the best part of your day--you love catching up with him and sending him back updates of your very own.

He's a busy guy and follows a strict schedule, so more often than not you're the one that's following him around as he does his various tasks. You lend him a hand too, though Rollo takes care to not burden you too much. These are his responsibilities, so he should take charge of them.

You occasionally climb up the bell tower with him (the view up there is amazing!) and all the gargoyles clamor to greet you. Rollo has to remind them not to overwhelm the guest.

When there is time, you sit down at a cafe and share a meal. Rollo introduces you to his favorite places and makes recommendations (though he usually gets the exact same thing). You try to push him to vary up his diet a bit more, tearing off pieces of your own lunch or offering him bites of whatever it is you're having (even though he insists he'll have none of that).

One day, you caught Rollo parading through the streets on horseback. He introduced his steed to you, instructing you on how to safely pat it and feed it an apple from your hand. The horse seemed to like you, so Rollo hoisted you up and let you ride it around the city for the rest of the day.

He's still not very good at expressing himself. When you sense that he's feeling down in the dumps, it takes quite a bit of coaxing to get him to talk about it with you (if at all). In his mind, he shouldn't be troubling others with his own matters.

Sometimes you're not successful at convincing him to open up, so you settle for giving a gentle reminder that you'll be there for him no matter what. You wouldn't want to push him to talk when he's not ready to!

... On the other hand, when Rollo wants to talk, he'll rant and rave for what seems like forever. You patiently nod your head and listen to everything he spews out, from his express hatred of a certain lizard to how the local goats almost ate his stationary set.

There are rare times, though, when Rollo shares his passions and ambitions with you. The relaxing gardening he has been doing as of late, how beautiful the Bell of Salvation is today, his plans for the future... It's in these moments that you can truly appreciate how solemn and thoughtful he can be.

Rollo often nags you for little things: there's a crease in your shirt, your room is slightly messy, there's a hair out of place, etc. But hey, it's fine. You know he does it lovingly, even if the comments come with a slight frown.

He also tends to lecture you about your own safety, often warning you to keep away from "suspicious individuals" (and, of course, mages). Rollo lets you know that if anyone gives you trouble, you should inform him right away and he'll come storming over to give them hell. Yes, he's the overprotective friend that will throw himself into the crossfires to defend your honor--

This man comes to hangouts with everything you could possibly need in case of an emergency. Got a scrape? Boom, first aid kit. (He even patches you up personally.) Hands dirty? Hand sanitizer and wet wipes for the rescue. You start calling him “dad” as a joke every time he produces exactly what you need.

Rollo has the tendency to (sternly) speak up for you, especially in cases when you're too meek to speak up for yourself. It has big "EXCUSE ME! They asked for no pickles" energy.

Once a year, you join Rollo for a very special trip. You always stop by the same florist's shop, always watch him select the same bouquet of white lilies, always walk quietly alongside him down to the local cemetery. You don't follow him to the grave, but you let him know he can take as long as he needs with the visit, that you'll wait for him at the gates.

You watch the clouds slowly pass by and the sky change colors from cornflower blue to the shades of sunset. Night has started to trickle in when you hear his approaching footsteps. The flower bouquet is gone, deposited as an offering to a boy that has become one with the stars.

Rollo emerges, and you pretend to not notice the wetness to his eyes, the silvery shine upon his cheeks. You know if you point it out, he'll only become defensive and deny it.

"Ready to go?" you ask every year.

"... Yes," he replies, just the same as always. (Rollo will then try to subtly wipe away at his tears.) "Thank you for accompanying me. I do apologize for imposing on your time."

"Don't," you tell him. "I've always got your back, just like you've always got mine. That's what friends are for, right?"

[dreamescapeswriting]

Shadows Of The Past ~ YJN [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 5.2K

GENRE: mafia AU, established friendships, friends to lovers, financial trouble, joengin helping the reader, always been there for her but she never knew it, SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, public sex (kinda) links into the other stories too ehe epilogue with everyone included <3 

PAIRING: Jeongin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

When you'd agreed to go to dinner with Jeongin to talk business you hadn't thought he'd bring you somewhere too sophisticated and fancy and you suddenly felt out of place. You were dressed in your pencil skirt and a white shirt that you were almost sure had stains all over it and everyone in the restaurant looked as though they were dressed for an award ceremony.

The restaurant exuded an air of elegance, its walls adorned with muted artwork that all seemed to be signed by an artist known as "Little Muse" and you felt unease bubbling inside of you. Why did he bring you to such a nice place? 

Soft jazz music drifted through the air, mingling with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of voices.

"Jeongin," You whispered as a waiter took you over to a table, your eyes widening as you saw them pull back some curtains to a private booth the two of you were going to be sitting in.

"Yes?" His eyes landed on you, sending shivers up and down your body something you wish you could shut off instantly. You'd had a crush on him as a kid but it had passed when he moved away, or so you had thought since everything seemed to be coming back up to cause trouble again.

"This is a business dinner, we should go somewhere...I-I don't know, better for business." You stuttered out as you took a seat across from him, your eyes looking down at the table that was draped in a white cloth with candles casting a warm glow on your private booth.

"This place is perfect for business, a friend of mine owns this place so we'll be left alone." He smirked at you, he wanted this to be alone time with you.

After not seeing you for almost 10 years he was desperate for some time alone with you, he hadn't seen you since the two of you were young but his feelings for you remained true.

"Okay, so I was thinking if you're serious about going into business with me-"

"Order something to eat first, you look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks." You stared at him, a little taken back at just how forward he was with you, how did he know?

You hadn't eaten anything but ramen and something you could scrounge up from the hotel kitchen without being noticed. All of your money went straight back into the hotel, you hadn't even had two coins to rub together as of late but there was no way he could have known that. No one knew about it, not even your employees since you didn't want to have them worry about losing their jobs.

Instead, you cut your payout completely making sure they would still get paid and budgeted whenever you could, even leaving your home so you could sleep in your office. You sighed a little and nervously let your eyes flick over the menu, your eyes catching a glimpse of the prices and you instantly felt sick.

"About this business proposal," You said, your voice uncertain as you refused to look up from the menu.

"Yes, Cupcake?" The nickname made your hands clutch onto the menu. No one had called you that in years, no one but Jeongin had ever called you that and he only called you it because you always made sure to have them to hand if he was around.

Clearing your throat, you tried to shake off the memories that were threatening to overwhelm you. You'd been practically inseparable when you were kids, exploring the hotel together until you knew every inch of that damn place. But then Jeongin moved away when he turned 19, no warning, no letter, nothing he was just gone. Part of you thought he'd died until you were old enough to find out who he was and who his family truly were.

"I want to make sure we're both on the same page," You told him, forcing yourself to focus on the matter at hand.

"I put my heart and soul into this hotel, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to share ownership," You were but you weren't going to come across as too desperate to him. 

Truth was, the hotel was going under and you were left to try and scramble to put it all together. 

When you found out your uncle left you the hotel in the will you'd been over the moon about it. Ever since you were old enough you'd been working in the hotel, starting as a maid until you were promoted again and again till the point where you were practically running the place - your uncle still in charge of the books though. You now realised was because he was losing money left and right, taking out shoddy insurance deals or just flat out refusing to pay for some of the repairs only to do it himself and fuck it up more. 

A bank had recently told you that you'd be better off starting a fire and claiming insurance on the place than getting out a load but you were determined not to give up on the place, not when it had been everything you'd wanted ever since you could remember.

Jeongin's lips curled into a faint smile as he watched you, he knew how much trouble you were in but he wasn't going to let on that he knew. He didn't want you to see this as some sort of pity party, he did this because he loved the place as a kid and couldn't stomach the thought of something happening to it, or to you. 

His men had been watching you since he came into power, he refused to let anyone touch the hotel you had his protection and you didn't even know it. 

"I understand your hesitation, Cupcake. But trust me when I say that together, we could turn that place into something extraordinary." You sighed a little, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, you knew he was persuasive, and he seemed to be drawing you in against your better judgment. But there was something else lurking beneath the surface, something you couldn't put your finger on.

"What's in it for you, Innie?" Your tone was more assertive now but Jeongin smiled at the nickname you used for him.

"No one's called me that in years." He chuckled softly and you felt your cheeks warming up at how happy it seemed to have made him.

"For me, it's more than business, Cupcake. It's all about reconnecting with an old friend, someone who knew, before all of this." You stared at him, unsure of how to respond to him but luckily a waiter came over to take your order. Jeongin rattled off his choice of food and you couldn't help but admire him from across the table and then he ordered for you. Ordering more food than you'd ever be able to eat but you were grateful for it nevertheless. 

Throughout the meal, you talked about everything and nothing, the easy banter of your childhood friendship slowly resurfacing. And as the evening drew to an end, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you wouldn't have expected to. You still hadn't told him about the money issues, you were scared if he found out too soon he'd bail on you. 

"I'll come by tomorrow with my payment, we'll sign everything with a lawyer," Jeongin told you as you stood outside the hotel, he questioned nothing when you asked him to drop you back here instead of a home which you were more than thankful for.

"That sounds good," You smiled a little, you were still unsure of everything and you weren't sure if you'd be able to trust him but you knew time could only tell that.

The following day when Jeongin showed up he expected to find you at the reception desk waiting for him and he frowned not seeing you standing there. Lowering the bouquet of flowers he got for you he stared at the woman on the front desk.

"Is YN around?" He stared at the woman who nodded frantically. 

"She's probably doing some tasks around the hotel, Miss YLN is a master of all trades." Jeongin hated that you'd resorted to fixing things yourself, he couldn't stomach the thought of something happening to you while you were fixing something.

"Will you make sure these are put in some water and on her desk? I'll try and find her," With that he walked around to try and find you, his footsteps echoing on the marbled floor of the lobby as he made his way to the elevators.

Eventually, he found you in one of the rooms, straightening out the bedsheets while a maid stood shaking in the corner, 

"Did she take over?" Jeongin asked quietly as the maid bobbed her head frantically, and he nodded for her to leave and watched her run off down the corridor. Jeonmgin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at you, with an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Isn't that the maid's job?" He teased gently, his voice laced with amusement. You glanced up from your work, heat taking over your body. You cleaned whenever you were stressed about something and it seemed you'd hardly stopped since waking up this morning.

"I...Uh...Just felt like doing some cleaning." You mumbled, the truth was you were stressing more now that you knew a lawyer was coming to help you and Jeongin signed everything over. You thought he was going to see the books and run for the hills and you worried you'd be left with nothing. The thought of it had kept you up for most of the night and you'd spent all of your time stress cleaning the entire place. Your office was the cleanest it had been in months and you showed no signs of living there and the toilets on the reception floor were spotless too.

"To relieve stress?" He arched a brow, staring at you as you placed chocolates onto the pillows and brushed your hands down the front of your skirt. The same skirt and shirt you'd been wearing the night before and looked as though you'd slept in, if you'd slept at all. Which judging by the bags under your eyes was a big no. You hated that he could see right through you, you hated that he could tell something was wrong without you saying a thing.

"Maybe." You grumbled a little, pushing the cart out of the room and into the hallway, going to move on to the next room when Jeongin stared at you, freezing you in place. His eyes bored into the side of your head as you let out a small sigh,

"Well, you certainly seem to have everything under control." He remarked, a little admiration in his voice. He was impressed with how well you'd kept the hotel going until now, he knew what his lawyers had found since he'd found it months ago but he said nothing. He knew if you found out about him knowing about the money problems you'd refuse his help, you were stubborn and always had been. 

This deal was to keep the place he loved afloat yes but it was also to stop you from losing something you loved, he wanted you to be happy. He'd do anything in the world to make sure that you were joyful about something. It was the reason this place was still even going, no one was allowed to touch it under his strict rules and no one went against him.

Even some of your high-paying clients had been sent there specifically by Jeongin but it was getting harder to send them when the hotel was going under.

"Just trying to keep things in order." You mumbled, trying to downplay everything as you kept a casual tone.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension and you felt your throat drying up and your heart beginning to race. Whenever he looked at you like this it made you feel as though all of your problems were melting away, that he would take care of everything.

"Listen, Yn," He began, his voice gentle as he stepped closer to you, his hand gently clasping your elbow and bringing you closer to him. Your steps fumbled a little as you crashed against his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you now felt how hard his heart was racing.

"I know we've got business to attend to, but I want to say...I'm grateful for the chance to reconnect with you..." You nodded at him, not knowing what to say or do, your heart was aching for you to reach out and kiss him but you needed to remain professional. 

"Whatever happens with the hotel, I value what we have more than anything." Your heart fluttered at his words, despite your reservations about all of this you couldn't deny the connection you felt with him.

"Me too, Innie..." You replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips as he leaned down closer to you.

"Boss. The lawyers are downstairs, saying that something is wrong with the books." Your heart shattered into tiny shards, all of which felt as though they were beginning to pierce into your lungs leaving you breathless.

"We'll be right down," Jeongin spoke coldly, his hands holding onto you as you scrambled to get away from him.

"We should go downstairs," You mumbled, refusing to look at him and he missed the time you had before this.

"Yn." He tried to call out but you were already making a B-line for the staircase without looking back in his direction.

In your office the tension hung heavy in the air as Joengin sat across from you, flanked by his team of lawyers. Your hands were shaking as you stared at one of the mn,

"I'm sorry, Yn, but the numbers don't lie." One of them said gravely, you'd been introduced but didn't bother to learn either of their names since you knew this was all going to fall through.

"The hotel is haemorrhaging money, and if we don't act fast, it's going to sink further into debt." He explained, sliding the papers over to you as you stared down at the maths you'd already been working out long before they came into the scene, 

"Our recommendation is to cut our losses and walk away while we still can." The other one said to Jeongin but his jaw tightened, his expression unreadable as he absorbed everything.

"Innie, I know this looks bad but...I-I can fix it. I can get another loan." You tried to scramble for something, anything to keep him from walking away from this.

"Every bank has turned her down." The lawyer stated coldly, making your blood boil as you turned to face him,

"I'll fire some staff, make more cutbacks. I'll stop paying myself." You weren't telling them that you'd already done that, you just needed to buy some time to get him to stay.

"You haven't been paying yourself for months, you've been sleeping in your office." The second lawyer stated making you stare at him, wondering how long he'd been watching you for them to know all of this.

"You've been watching me?!" You snapped at the lawyer who looked as though you'd just bitten his head off. 

"Sir, we recommend walking away." They both stated, standing up slowly as you stared at Jeongin, your eyes pleading with his. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders.

"I'm not walking away." He declared, his gaze locked on yours, your heart thumping rapidly against your chest.

"I made a commitment to Yn and I intend to honor it. We'll find a way to turn this around, no matter what it takes." He told the cooly. The lawyers exchanged incredulous glances, clearly taken back by Jeongin's stubbornness.

"With all due respect, Sir, this isn't a wise investment." One of them insisted.

"You'll be throwing good money after bad." Jeongin shook his head at them, he didn't care what they said he wasn't going to walk away from any of this. They were only here to oversee the signing of everything, everything they found was everything knew already and didn't care about.

"I'm not in this for the money. I'm in this because Yn is my friend, and I won't abandon her when she needs me most. We'll figure out a solution together, even if it means taking risks." You felt a surge of gratitude swell within you, a lump forming in your throat at his unwavering loyalty. Despite the odds stacked against you, he was still willing to stay by your side and you knew you had a fighting chance. 

"T-Thank you...I-I don't know what I'd do without you." Your voice choked up a little and he smiled at you,

"You don't have to worry anymore Yn, I'll always have your back, no matter what," He told you reassuringly, with that the lawyers got out the papers and you all began signing. Jeongin put down more money than he needed but he was willing to do it for you. 

As the night stretched on, you and Jeongin found yourselves huddling together in your office, poring over the financial reports, and brainstorming ideas to salvage the hotel.

"We can have more functions held here, a friend of mine is having a wedding soon and I'm sure I can sway him to holding it here," He stated as you stared at him in complete awe. All night long you'd found yourself staring at him more and more. 

"Sure. It's been a while since a wedding was at the "Celestial"." You giggled at the thought. You'd always loved hosting weddings but everything had died down when you didn't have enough staff to work the events.

"I can bring in other servers and we can slowly build everything back up," Jeongin smiled proudly of himself and you stared at him. The air crackled with tension as you thought back to your moment in the hallway earlier but you quickly went back to scribbling notes onto a pad. Your mind races with ideas other than weddings, you could host parties, charity balls, or anything you wanted.

Jeongin leaned in close, his presence comforting and yet electrifying all at once. You slowly looked up to meet his gaze and linger a little more than necessary. The years of unspoken longing bubbling to the surface, your defences crumbling like sandcastles in the side. Jeongin's hand reached out tentatively, cupping your cheek as he brushed his thumb along your skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as you leaned into his touch.

"Innie," You breathed out, your voice barely coming out above a whisper as you searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But he said nothing, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that ignited a firestorm inside of you.

In that stolen moment, time seemed to freeze around you as you melted into each other, the weight of your unspoken desire finally finding a release. You wrapped your arms around Joengin's neck as he pulled you onto his lap, your lips moving together in a silent promise of love and devotion. 

"I-Innie," You breathed out as you broke apart, completely breathless and dizzy with desire, you knew that you wanted him badly.

"Sofa," You whispered, kissing down his neck and softly biting into his skin as you moved together toward the sofa. Jeongin carefully set you down on the sofa and sank to his knees in front of you, 

"Yn, are you sure?-"

"Yes...Just please, touch me." You begged him, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he slowly rolled your skirt up your hips.

"I've wanted to fuck you ever since I saw this skirt," He moans out, kissing up your thighs until he reaches your underwear, yanking them down in one swift movement, your heart hammered against your chest.

"R-Really?" You felt your body heating up as he wrapped your legs around his shoulders, dragging you to the edge of the sofa quickly.

"Don't act shocked, Cupcake. I've always wanted you," He said plainly as if it was common knowledge for you to know but you'd never had any idea that he did.

"You never said anything to me when we were last together," You battled back with him but he smirked,

"I was planning on it before I was yanked away from you,"

"You never wrote." You mumbled to him, it wasn't the time to get into this now when you were laid bare in front of him but you wanted answers.

"Orders from dad, no contact."

"But-"

"Will you let me eat your pussy? I'm fucking starving, Cupcake." He growled out before you nodded, giggling a little but it was quickly replaced by a gasp as he ran his tongue up your slit. His mouth was hot and wet as he slowly ran his tongue against you, building you up as he ate you out like a man starved. Your head rolled back against the back of the sofa as you cried out his name. You couldn't remember the last time you'd slept with someone or even made yourself feel come but Jeongin was already better than any memory you had.

"F-Fuck," You hiss out, your hips slowly grinding against him as he hummed against your clit, vibrations chilling up and down your spine, as you cry out his name.

"I-Innie," You moaned out, raking your fingers through his hair and pushing him deeper into you, his tongue swirling around your clit as he slowly pushed two fingers into you. Thrusting them slowly and softly, curling them to that one spot that made your head spin. 

"Just like that," You plead with him, your heels digging into his shoulder blades as you feel the tension building deep inside of you. Jeongin pressed himself closer to you, humming against your clit until it was too much your orgasm hit you suddenly, your legs shaking around him as he smirked.

"Good fucking girl," He groans, standing up and chuckling as you quickly removed his belt, throwing it against the room and pulling down his pants.

"Please," You beg as he lays you down on the sofa, kissing you softly as he carefully lines himself up at your entrance, your legs carefully wrapping around his waist.

"You're so hot when you beg." He moans out as he slowly pushes into you, filling you to the hilt as you let out a strangled moan. He was bigger than you'd been expecting and you whimpered a little,

"M-move," You urged, bucking your hips a little to let him know he was good to move and he smiled kissing you roughly as he slowly pulled out of you, only to slam back in a second later.

"F-Fuck yes!" You cry out, your eyes screwed shut as you clutched onto him, trying to adjust to his size as he continued to pound into you. His cock driving into you, hitting that one spot that made you scream louder. Your nails dragged down his back as you searched for something to cling onto, ripping holes into his shirt as your head rolled back in complete ecstasy.

"Jeongin!" You moan out, your clit grinding against him on every stroke of his cock, the pressure building inside of you hitting near its breaking point.

"Cum for me, cupcake. Let me feel you," He moans out, his thrusting getting faster as you finally felt the pressure snap and you came around his cock violently, causing your back to arch away from the sofa. 

"S-Shit, Yn." He groans, unable to hold himself back anymore as he thrusts into you, slowly coming undone inside of you as you lay there. The wind knocked out of both of you as you let out small chuckles at one another.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you lay on the sofa together, the warmth of your embrace serving as a sanctuary from the outside world. Jeongin's fingers gently traced patterns along your back,

"My dad never wanted me to contact you after we moved away. He said it was best to leave the past behind us," He finally told you, his words hesitant.

"I regretted it every day...Losing touch with you was like losing a piece of myself. But now that I have you back in my life, I never want to let go." A smile tugged on his lips and tears brimmed in your eyes at the weight of his words.

"Innie..." You whispered, your voice cracking a little. Jeongin pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, 

"I love you, Yn. I've loved you since we were kids, and I'll love you for the rest of my days." Tears spilt down your cheeks as you clung to him, your heart overflowing,

"I love you too, Innie." You confessed, 

"I always have and I always will," You finished as he kissed your lips softly. In that moment, as you lay close to one another, you knew your love was a force to be reckoned with. That no matter what, with him by your side, you'd be able to overcome any obstacle that stood in your way. 

"I want this place spotless!" You called out to the event hall of your hotel, everyone inside was rushing around at the last second to make sure everything was perfect for you. You placed your hand on your stomach and watched as one of your guards - Carlos - made his way over to you with some snacks,

"You're going to make it obvious," You mumbled to him as you took the crisps from him and started to eat from the packet. It seemed as though ever since you'd hit the 6-week mark of your pregnancy you'd been craving crisps or anything that was savoury and Carlos had been the man to help you. Mostly because he was the only other person who knew about it and he only knew because he found you crying in your office whilst holding the stick.

I think it should be obvious. Too much stress isn't good for the baby and have you told Mr Yang yet?" Carlos was far too comfortable with you, you thought maybe it was time to switch him for another guard but you'd grown comfortable with him also and you enjoyed your talks together.

"No." You mumbled with a mouthful of crisps, shaking your head at him. All week long he'd been trying to get you to tell Jeongin about the pregnancy but you were nervous about it. It had only been a few months since the two of you got together and you knew if he found out he was only going to stop you from working Jisung's wedding that your hotel was hosting and that was the last thing you wanted.

Everything you and Jeongin had been working toward was here and you weren't going to let someone else take the reigns on this.

"Don't you think you should?" He raised his brow at you but you mumbled what he said back to him in a mocking tone and walked toward your office. You opened the door and stared at Carlos with a weak smile,

"I'll tell him when the time is right after the wedding is over." You shrugged not realising that Jeongin was standing inside of your office and Carlos held back the smirk. He'd known about Jeongin coming to visit you and it was his intention to try to get him to overhear everything,

"Tell who what when the time is right?" You cringed as you heard Jeongin and you glared at Carlos.

"You're a backstabber and I hate you." You mumbled slamming the door in his face and making your way toward the chair behind your desk.

"Is there something I should know?" Jeongin chuckled, watching you closely as you shook your head

"No. It's nothing, it's just Carlos worrying for nothing." You hated the fact that you were lying to your boyfriend but you needed to make sure you worked this wedding. You'd been planning it for months now and you weren't going to let Jeongin or anyone else take it away from you, not when it was the first wedding in years.

"Is it about your pregnancy?" Your hand paused midway to your mouth and the crisps fell from your grasp,

"How-" Your heart sank as you thought about him finding out through someone else but you. The last thing you ever wanted was for him to be upset but he didn't seem it in the slightest, in fact, he seemed rather happy.

"Please, you've been eating crisps non-stop, you're throwing up and not to mention some of the maids were gossiping about it when they found the test in your trash." Jeongin had known for weeks and at first, he was a little upset that you hadn't come to him but he could understand why.

"Those little rats," You mumbled to yourself, sighing and looking at him, suddenly feeling the guilt take over you as you whimpered a little.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd stop me working." You defend but Jeongin eyes you up closely

"Did I though?" He smirked, raising a brow at you. Sure, at first he wanted to stop you from doing everything but he knew that would only make you worse and neither of you wanted that.

"Well, no, but-"

"I won't stop you working but as soon as I see you stressing that's when I'll put a stop to things." He reached his hand over the desk and squeezed yours softly, 

"Thank you," You whispered, smiling a little as you thought about it.

"Jisung and his bride-to-be are waiting for us in the Restaurant," They were waiting to go over a final plan and you had a special surprise for them as well. You'd been working with a private contractor for a few weeks making sure that the honeymoon suite was perfect for them and it was finally complete which you were going to show them around after food.

The sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm glow over the gardens of your hotel you watched as your daughter ran toward Changbin's son - Rath - who was quickly running away from her.

"Your son is a nousense." Jeongin grumbled, his arms folded against his chest as your daughter continued to chase Rath through the gardens yelling for him to wait for her.

"Your daughter is the one with the crush, it's not my son." Changbin laughed as he wrapped his arms around his wife, your head shaking as the two men began to bicker back and forth with one another. It felt good to have nights like this together.

You found yourself close with all seven of the other wives Jeongin's friends were married to, each of you helping raise each other's kids or just being close friends, it was a bond that could never be broken.

"Wait till he hears that Jisung's son wants to date his daughter." Chan laughed loudly causing Changbin to yell louder and in Jisung's direction this time. You giggled a little lacing your fingers with Jeongin's as you listened to all the children laugh as they played games in the garden and you couldn't think of a better place to be than right here.

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