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leona-hawthorne · 2 months ago

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LEONA-HAWTHORNE’S FICMAS

december 15th. mattheo riddle — slow down!

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary ; mattheo’s got a little crush on you, but you keep running away every time he tries talking to you! words ; 3.9k warnings ; smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, spanking, mentions of blood

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The corridor was unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of parchment or the faint scrape of shoes against stone. You hugged your books tightly to your chest, trying to make yourself invisible as you hurried toward the sanctuary of the library. The cold December air seeping through the ancient castle walls bit at your skin, but it wasn’t nearly as alarming as the warmth you suddenly felt—someone approaching from behind.

“Hi.”

His voice slid into your awareness before you even heard the sound of his footsteps, sending your heart skittering like a startled bird. Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of him—dark curls falling into his eyes, his signature Slytherin tie loosened at his throat, and that grin. The grin that made your chest feel too tight and your thoughts scatter like spilled ink.

Your first instinct, as always, was to flee.

Before he could say more, you ducked your head and pivoted on your heel, muttering something about being late to the library.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” His hand was warm and firm around your wrist, stopping you mid-flight. He turned you gently to face him, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your cheeks burn. “Would you please stop running away from me? It’s worrying me, you know. The way you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time I’m around.”

You didn’t dare meet his eyes. Not yet. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the traitorous flush that gave away just how much he affected you. “I’m not running,” you mumbled, though the evidence was damning.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, soft and incredulous. “You bolt every time I so much as look at you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to catch up with you? You’re like—like a mouse slipping through cracks.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. He tilted his head, the faintest frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t bite, you know. Not unless you ask.”

His teasing tone made your stomach flip. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, dropping your gaze to the floor.

“Don’t be,” he said softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go entirely. “I just—look, you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”

“I-I know,” you stammered, and it was true. He wasn’t threatening to you, not even close. But that didn’t make the rapid thudding of your heart any less overwhelming.

His brow furrowed slightly. “Then what is it?” His voice dropped, quieter now, as if he was trying not to spook you. “Am I too much? Too… loud? Intense? I can tone it down if that’s what you need.”

The earnestness in his voice nearly unraveled you. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault—that it was you, and your inability to handle the way he seemed to draw everyone’s attention with effortless charm. The way he smiled like he knew every secret in the world. The way his presence made you feel like you were standing too close to the sun.

“I—” You bit your lip, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, but your brain seemed to be short-circuiting under his gaze. “I’m just...not used to people like you.”

“People like me?” His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a half-smile. “What does that mean?”

“You know.” You waved your free hand vaguely, avoiding his eyes again. “Confident. Charming.”

“Ah.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rich, wrapping around you like a blanket. “So, what? You’re allergic to confidence?”

“No! I just—” You huffed, flustered, and Mattheo’s grin widened.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he said, and your stomach flipped violently.

“I am not,” you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks.

“You are,” he insisted, his tone teasing but gentle. “And I’m not saying that to make you run away again, by the way. I’d really prefer it if you didn’t.”

You glanced up at him then, your heart doing somersaults at the soft, hopeful look in his eyes. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could do this—stay, talk to him, let yourself believe that someone like Mattheo Riddle could actually like someone like you.

But instead, you mumbled something incoherent and, in a sudden burst of courage—or cowardice—twisted out of his grasp and darted down the hallway.

“Wait—! Oh, come on! Slow down!” His exasperated laugh echoed behind you, followed by his voice, playful but resigned. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

Oh, but you weren’t getting away that easily.

Because by some twist of fate—or Mattheo’s uncanny ability to be everywhere you didn’t want him to be—you found yourself crossing paths with him again that very afternoon. And this time, there was no escaping.

The hospital wing was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around you like a blanket, broken only by the soft clink of glass vials as you worked. You were perched at Madame Pomfrey’s desk, carefully restocking rows of remedies, when the heavy wooden door creaked open.

You didn’t look up at first, assuming it was Madame Pomfrey returning from her rounds. But then you heard the familiar drawl.

“Madame Pomfrey, I—oh.”

Your hand froze mid-reach for a jar of bruise balm. Your stomach plummeted. You knew that voice.

You froze, your hand stilling mid-reach for a jar of essence of murtlap. Slowly, as though moving too quickly might summon some greater disaster, you turned your head toward the door.

There he was.

Mattheo Riddle, leaning casually against the doorframe, one arm tucked against his side, the other pressed lightly to his jaw where a streak of blood stood out against his pale skin. His shirt was untucked, his tie gone, and his dark curls were just messy enough to make him look infuriatingly perfect.

Your heart started to pound, the air in your lungs thinning to a whisper. “You,” you said before you could stop yourself, the word barely louder than a squeak.

Mattheo grinned, even as he winced slightly, straightening from the doorframe. “Me,” he echoed.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk as if it might keep you grounded. “What... what happened?”

“I fell,” he said simply, though the smirk on his lips made it impossible to believe him.

“You fell,” you repeated flatly, crossing your arms.

He nodded solemnly, though there was nothing solemn about the way his eyes flicked over you, taking in the rolled-up sleeves of your uniform and the faint smudge of ink on your wrist from earlier. “Tragic, I know. But lucky me—I’ve landed in the most capable hands.”

Your cheeks burned, and you immediately dropped your gaze, fussing with the nearest jar of ointment to avoid his eyes. “Madame Pomfrey isn’t here,” you mumbled. “I’m just helping... for now.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, moving toward one of the hospital beds. “I think I like the idea of you taking care of me.”

Your fingers fumbled, nearly knocking over a bottle of murtlap essence. “Sit,” you said quickly, pointing to the bed without looking at him. “You need to sit so I can... um... look at that.”

He chuckled softly but complied, settling onto the edge of the bed. “As you wish.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you grabbed a cloth and some antiseptic. But when you turned back, he wasn’t sitting anymore. He was standing again, closer now—too close, that lazy grin still firmly in place.

Your breath caught. “You—what are you doing?”

“Stretching my legs,” he said easily, his voice low and warm.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to sound firm. “You’re injured—”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned against the desk, his dark eyes fixed on you. “I’m not that fragile, you know.”

“But—”

“Do I make you nervous?” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly, his curls falling into his eyes.

You immediately shook your head, even though you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. “N-no. I mean—why would you think that?”

“Because you’re practically shaking,” he said, his tone softer now, though no less teasing. “And because you keep looking anywhere but at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his for a fraction of a second before dropping back down to the floor. “I’m not... I mean, I just—”

“You’re adorable,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made your pulse race.

You froze, your fingers tightening on the cloth in your hands. “I should clean your cut,” you mumbled, stepping back toward him.

But before you could reach him, he moved again, his hands finding the edge of the table on either side of you, caging you in.

“Mattheo—”

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur. His dark eyes held yours, the intensity in them stealing the words right out of your throat. “So stop running.”

His face was so close now, the warmth of his breath ghosting across your cheek, making your skin tingle. You could see the individual lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes, the slight curve of his lips, the way his teeth nipped gently at his lower lip...

"Come on," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You lifted the antiseptic in your hand. "Just... please let me help you."

It sounded weak, pathetic even, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

For a long moment, he simply looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again.

"You're right," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. "Thank you."

He sat back down on the bed, his posture a bit less casual now, more tense. He looked up at you through his lashes, his gaze softer than before.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just..." He paused, seeming to struggle for the right words. "I like you, Y/N. A lot. And sometimes I forget myself around you."

You blinked rapidly, processing his words. "You... really?" you asked softly, hardly daring to believe it. Slowly, hesitantly, you took a step closer, drawn to him despite your nerves.

"Yes, really," he confirmed, his voice low and sincere. As you drew near, he reached out, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. In one smooth motion, he pulled you down onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to steady you.

You gasped, your hands flying up to press against his chest. You could feel the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Your own heart raced in response, your cheeks flaming with heat.

He smiled softly, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hip bones as he held you close. "There," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Isn't this better?"

You squirmed slightly in his lap, hyper-aware of every point where your bodies touched. "I... I don't know if this is a good idea," you whispered, even as your traitorous body melted into his embrace. Your hands slid up his chest to loop around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his nape.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through you. "Why not? We're alone, aren't we?" His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through your blouse. "No one has to know..."

He leaned in, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. "Let me take care of you," he breathed against your skin, his other hand sliding down to palm your ass. "I promise I'll make it feel good."

You whimpered softly as his lips and tongue worked magic on your sensitive skin, your head lolling back to give him better access. But as he kissed lower, you suddenly felt something wet and sticky on your throat–his cut.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling back slightly. You brought a hand up to your neck, your fingers coming away streaked with blood. "You're still bleeding, Mattheo. We should clean that first before... before anything else happens."

He paused, looking up at you with lust-darkened eyes. A slow, amused grin spread across his face. "You think I give a fuck about that right now?" he muttered, pulling you flush against him again. "Don't worry about that."

His hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back as he attacked your throat with renewed fervor, licking and sucking at the bloodied skin.

"M-Mattheo," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "We shouldn't... not here..."

Even as you protested weakly, your hips started to move of their own accord, grinding down against the growing hardness you could feel pressing against your thighs. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making your head spin.

He groaned into your neck, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and into yours. His hands tightened on your hips, encouraging your movements as he rocked up against you.

"Oh, fuck. You're not as innocent as you pretend to be, huh?" he noted, his voice rough with desire.

In one fluid motion, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the bed as you stumbled back. His hands roamed possessively, sliding from your waist to the curve of your lower back before trailing up to cup the soft swell of your tits. His touch was rough and insistent, squeezing and kneading as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Before you could catch your breath, he turned you around, his firm grip guiding you into place. His hand pressed against the small of your back, a silent command that sent heat pooling in your belly as you bent forward, your chest and palms flattening against the bed.

You felt the air shift around you, cool and heady against your heated skin, as Mattheo's fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. He dragged it up slowly, deliberately, his movements measured, as though savoring every inch of you revealed to him.

"Running from me, again and again," he muttered, his voice dark and edged with amusement. "And now look at you. Right where I’ve always wanted you."

Your breath caught, shame and desire tangling in your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond—not when his hands curled under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down the curve of your thighs in one slow, tantalizing motion.

"Mattheo," you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible above the pounding of your own heart.

His low laugh sent shivers through you. "Finally saying my name. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that? And not just in your shy little apologies."

Your knees nearly buckled as his fingers teased the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing lazy circles closer and closer to where you ached for him. He let the silence hang, heavy and charged, before looping his arm around your front.

"Cute,” he murmured. "You’ve spent weeks avoiding me, playing coy. But I think you’ve wanted this just as much as I have. Haven’t you?"

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—only gasp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks skittering up your spine.

"Answer me," he demanded, his tone soft but unyielding. "I want to hear you say it."

Your nails dug into the bedspread, and you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. "I-I don’t…"

"Don’t what?" His fingers curled around the back of your neck, squeezing lightly. "Don’t want me? Don’t need this? Say it, sweetheart, because your body’s telling me a very different story."

You whimpered, the heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to deny him—or yourself. "I…I want you," you finally choked out, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure he’d heard.

But he did.

"Good girl," he praised, the words dripping with satisfaction. His movements quickened, drawing tight, delicious circles that had your legs trembling. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? All you had to do was stop running."

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his hand slid down from your neck, tracing the curve of your hip before gripping your ass firmly. His other hand left your front, joining its twin to knead and grope the plush flesh, his thumbs digging in with a possessive hunger that made heat bloom low in your belly again.

“You’re perfect here,” he mused, his voice a deep hum as he spread your cheeks apart, his touch maddeningly deliberate. “Bent over for me like this. Made for me, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape, but Mattheo didn’t miss it. He laughed softly, the sound dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Don’t hold back now,” he coaxed, his hands trailing up and down the back of your thighs, lingering just long enough to tease but not satisfy. “I want to hear every little sound you make for me.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could form a word, his palm landed on your ass with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt too much, but enough to send a jolt of heat straight through you.

“Mattheo!”

“There it is,” he purred, his hands smoothing over the spot he’d just struck, his touch soothing and warm. “You sound so fucking sweet when you say my name like that.”

Before you could respond, you felt the hard press of his length against you, separated only by the fabric of his trousers. He rolled his hips, letting you feel the full weight of him, and your knees buckled slightly at the realization of just how much he wanted you.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing the back of your neck as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. The soft clink of metal was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you run, every time you look at me with those shy little glances—you drive me fucking insane.”

The ruffling of fabric being lowered was too hard to ignore, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back over your shoulder. The sight of him—breathing heavily, his cock thick and hard, standing proudly against the taut muscles of his stomach—sent a wave of heat washing over you.

“Eyes front,” he ordered, his voice rough with arousal. When you didn’t obey fast enough, his hand came down on your ass again, the sharp sting making you gasp. “Now.”

You did as he said, pressing your forehead into the bedspread as his hands roamed over you again, his touch both reverent and demanding. One hand slipped between your thighs, spreading you open, while the other gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. He teased your entrance with the tip of one finger before pushing inside, curling it just enough to make you arch back against him.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice laced with a dark kind of affection as he added another finger, stretching you slowly. “I can feel how tight you are. So perfect. So ready for me.”

Your answer was a broken moan, your body moving instinctively against his hand.

“Shit,” he breathed, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with the blunt head of his cock, teasing your entrance with maddening slowness. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that?”

The stretch of him entering you was almost too much, but the way he worked you—inch by agonizing inch, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still—sent a wave of pleasure through you that made your toes curl.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice a husky growl as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He stayed there for a moment, his breathing ragged, his hands running over the curve of your back and the swell of your ass. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect. Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “So good.”

“Yeah?” He pulled back slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you before snapping his hips forward again with a deep thrust, filling you completely. You gasped, your body jerking forward at the force, but he didn’t give you a moment to adjust. He set a slow, measured pace, his thrusts deep but deliberate, pulling out and pushing back into you with an almost agonizing slowness that made your heart race. “You like it when I fill you up like this? When I make you mine?”

Your only response was a strangled moan, your fingers clutching the sheets as he sped up his rhythm, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

His hand left your hip, sliding down to your front to brush your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "God, you’re perfect," he muttered, his voice rough as he continued to slide in and out of you, each stroke a slow burn. "I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you right now."

The pressure inside you was building, slow and steady, like the tightening of a coil. You could feel every inch of him, each thrust dragging out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. You clenched around him, urging him deeper, and he groaned in response, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you harder into the bed.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he breathed, his voice rough and full of need. His thrusts picked up, faster now, more urgent, but still controlled, as if he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. “You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight around me. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Your hands gripped the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as the pleasure mounted. He hit that sweet spot inside you with every thrust, driving you mad with the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.

“Please…” you gasped, not sure if you were begging for more or for him to take you faster. It didn’t matter. You just needed him.

Mattheo smirked, his fingers still pressing against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "You want it faster? You want me to make you come on my cock?"

You nodded, desperate for more. “Yes, please…”

“That’s what I thought,” he rasped, his thrusts quickening as he slammed into you with abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with the low groans escaping both of you.

With one final, devastating thrust, you shattered, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Mattheo wasn’t far behind, his rhythm growing erratic as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he followed you over the edge.

For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the heat of his body against yours. Then, slowly, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re not running from me again,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “Not now. Not ever.”

ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

#mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle smut #smut #mattheo riddle fluff #fluff #mattheo riddle fanfic #harry potter #slytherin #benjamin wadsworth #ficmas #leona-hawthorne ficmas

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tteokdoroki · 4 months ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 15TH ★ MUTUAL MASTURBATION - tobio kageyama .ᐟ

[CHAPTER FIFTEEN CINDERELLA] once upon a time, a soon-to-be crowned princess, once down on her luck, says fuck it and settles on consummating her marriage with the crown prince before they’re actually due to be married ( 9.2K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, cinderella!au, royal wedding, mutual masturbation, cherry chasing, clothed sex, soft sex, oral sex, cum play, fingering, jerking off, cinderella + fem!reader, prince charming!tobio kageyama.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yurrr three for three ! i really enjoyed writing this one and i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed it at the time !! ily guys see you in the next one :D - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“it’s a perfect fit…”

luck has never been on your side. up until now — it was almost like the universe had turned its back on you. your mother’s spirit had faded before you’d even opened your eyes to the colours of the world and not long after, your father passed away… leaving you with his wicked wife and scornful step-sisters.

for years, all you’ve known are the painful wounds of cruelty inflicted by their hands. nights of tending sore arms and legs and joints after tending to their every incredulous need. you hardly remember the feeling of love — its warm embrace and tender touch, love to you is an emotion that died with your father when you laid him to rest as a young girl. you’ve been down on your luck ever since then, never knowing if you’d ever be able to experience the same feeling ever again.

for one night only, you’d managed to get a taste. the sweet sensation of love and affection bursting across your tongue on the night that you’d danced at the royal ball where the king and queen’s only son sought out a beautiful bride. out of all the girls, ladies and princesses there — kageyama had chosen you. danced with you non-stop. laughed with you all night. looked at you as if you were the only girl in the entire world for hours on end. for one night, you felt whole again, happy once more, whether that was down to fairy godmother’s magic or your own subtle charm.

but now, with the crown prince of your kingdom on his knee before you, you can see that your dance meant more than just a fleeting moment.

tobio kageyama of royal blood had practically searched the ends of the earth for a foot that fit perfectly into the glass slipper you’d left behind. by his own will and determination he’d wanted to find you, to love you and make you his — this very reasoning causes your stomach to swim with hope and newfound excitement. this could be it.

the change you’ve been looking for and the love you’ve been seeking all your life. “the shoe…it fits,” kageyama repeats breathily, the prince’s usual stoic expression quickly replaced with an adoring and charming smile that sends a pang straight through your beating heart and directly into your longing soul. “it’s you, you’re the one i’ve been looking for.”

with a twist of his wrist and his lips dangerously close to your knee — the prince wriggles the glass slipper ( now cleaned of any blood and bits left from your spiteful step siblings cutting off their own toes ) onto your foot, his chest a little lighter and his deep ocean eyes a lot brighter when it slides on without resistance.

“it’s me,” you beam, much to the bitter dismay of the only family you’d known throughout your years. the family that never truly loved you. “you’ve found me…”

leaning up to grasp your hands, stained black with the cinders from the fire you usually prod and poke at to keep alive, kageyama lets out an airy laugh robust with his own joy and excitement. “and i’m never letting you go, never losing you again. marry me, would you?” one of his thumbs moves to brush tenderly over your ring finger and any sunlight filtering into the room refracts off of your glass slipper — perfectly illuminating the mysterious azure swirling in the prince’s eyes.

he cocks his head to the side; innocent and pleading like a puppy — and you know right then and there that you’d be a fool to let a great love like this pass you by after all that you’ve been through. “oh kageyama,” you coo shyly, basking in the way that the prince shudders as his name peers from between your precious lips. “of course i’ll marry you!”

and just like that, your fate and newfound happiness are sealed. the crown prince leaps to his feet to twirl you in his arms, lips pressing to yours and acting as a signature to sign off on your new life and love. you’re wanted, you’re loved and by a prince no less.

but even then, you remain unsure if you even deserve it all.

these doubts are only exacerbated after your first few days at the palace, which pass in an overwhelming blur.

despite the cruelty in which they’d treated you with, you don’t get to say goodbye to your step-family, nor pick out and see your belongings as they’re packed up for your new home in the king’s castle. in the same day that you’re moved into the towering palace, full of high ceilings and art deco so expensive you can feel your worth drop at every piece you admire — wedding preparations swiftly begin and you’re once more bombarded with all sorts of questions. how do you like your cake? your wedding colours? what style do you want your hair? how many guests? the royal servants mean well, you know, but they give you no room to breathe — as someone not accustomed to a lifestyle where your every need is met in a millisecond and you, yourself are not expected to wait hand and foot on someone else.

anxiety replaces the traces of elation that had once flushed its way through your system, beginning in the four chambers of your heart. how do you know that you’re cut out for this? going from poverty to a princess? there are no classes to teach you how to step up and rule a kingdom after having notably nothing for your entire life. you’re in desperate need of guidance, the gentle direction of the one man relying on you to help create a beautiful, powerful kingdom now and for the many years to come, you have just that, you have the ring of a crown prince on your finger but…

but, you hardly see tobio as the days go by. the very first night he was whisked off by the many men and royal guard to celebrate his engagement. one moment, he appears by your side — frustratingly handsome, with darkened sapphire eyes that rival the countless Crown Jewels you’ve been shown during your stay, a jaw hard set and angular that makes your knees weak while he explains his demands for your wedding to any staff who may question your choices and a smile so rare that your entire world flips on its axis to disorientate you and like you’re drowning in the palace kitchen’s fresh batch of hot sugar whenever he sends it your way. you consider yourself lucky to be betrothed to such a man, all because of a slipper.

in those far and few moments where the dark haired prince has time to put aside for you — tobio cannot keep his hands off of you. either settling them on your waist or keeping them interlocked with his. you shudder at the sensation of his nose brushing over your hairline or his lips on the very ring he’d given you — a moonlight silver band with a sapphire gem just like his eyes, all for you. ever since you slipped between his fingers at the royal ball he’s been terrified to let you go, as though you might disappear for good. he doesn’t say it, you can hardly read past his stony expression and stern voice ( used only around others, never when you’re alone together ), but you can feel it when he squeezes your hand in passing and hidden away in the intensity of his stare.

you’d be lying if you said you don’t feel the same, frightful that your Prince Charming will be ripped away along with the happiness that you now have. like when your father died and left you with that wicked woman. but before you have a chance to treasure your prince and seek his reassurances, tobio is off again, leaving you surrounded by an ocean of doubts and fears that you’ll never live up to yet another family’s expectations.

a pauper to a princess, and next, a queen.

is your love for each other enough to qualm your unease?

even if the queen finds you pleasant and the king finds you beautifully perfect for his son upon introduction — none of them phased by their son’s choice in bride. a commoner of no noble blood but thoughts of being out of place eat at you all day, even with kageyama so subtly affectionate by your side.

you’ve come from nothing, by no means cut out to be a royal, and still… everyone wants you here. including kageyama.

and you just can’t help but feel like an imposter.

by nightfall, a week later, the maids have settled into a regular routine of drawing you a buttermilk bath with honey and rose petals.

scrub brushes and soft cotton cloths work at the stubborn grit on your skin — washing away the memories of the turbulent life you once lived. the cinders from under your nails add a darkness to the milky water like a drop of ink on a blank white canvas, a reminder of the commonness you exuded before moving into the palace to be with your prince. the sight makes you press your lips into a thin line, your wet tongue gliding over the chapped skin nervously. if the maids notice yet more remaining dirt from your past, they fail to comment on it.

now with soft scented skin and a dampness to the back of your neck — they aid in dressing you, baby blue silks and cotton white tule is draped over your frame under the dazzling moonlight as they help prepare you for bed. a time that you dread, where you’re left alone with your insecurities once more.

with your wedding to the crown prince but a week away, the royal staff have kept proper tradition in making sure the two of you remain apart until the wedding night. that, coupled with the fact that you hardly see kageyama during the day, only add to the sting of loneliness and self doubt filtering through your veins. like lemon juice on an open wound.

“we’ll be back to dress you in the morning, your highness,” your lady in waiting tells you, a tone of patience cushioning the fall of her voice as the group of maide leave you the mirror to admire your solemn reflection. parting your lips, they move around the syllables of your name — debating on correcting her and telling her to use it in place of ill-fitting titles. you decide on the latter, shaking your head ‘yes’ while offering up a timid smile in response. it’s far too early to start speaking out of turn; treating your staff as your step-mother would have treated you. “should you need anything, please ring for us m’lady.”

your head bobs shyly once again and the maids take their leave. “thank you, i will.”

despite the quiet of the night, where every soul lays sleeping soundly under the stars and watchful eye of the silver moon, your mind and heart are restless — wide awake. you’re alone and you should be excited. you’re about to marry a prince and become a royal and all you can think about is the bed that’s too soft beneath your back and the clothes that are too fancy to be worn as they itch and scratch at your freshly scrubbed skin. the ceilings of your private quarters are way too high, providing a wide space for your panic to fill — constantly reminding you of the fact that you don’t belong.

leaving you with the sinking feeling that you still have to leave by midnight.

before long, the hours tick by and sleep continues to escape you — every insecurity and doubt you have weighs heavy on your mind like a winter blanket instead of a peaceful slumber that you crave… periodically interrupted by the hoot of an owl and… knocking?

abruptly sitting straight up in bed, you toss the covers to the side all too quickly — blinking the sadness and sleep deprivation away. “c-come… come in!” you call to the culprit, swallowing down your nerves as your lady in waiting from earlier enters with a small curtesy. you scramble out of bed clumsily to return the gesture, still not used to the royal treatment. “is something wrong?”

the maid smiles fondly, taking a liking to how jumpy you are. “the prince has requested your presence in his chambers tonight.”

“o-oh!” while relief and nervousness floods through all four limbs of your body and anticipation crackles over your brain like a thunderstorm kicking into gear — you can’t help but to question the crown prince’s motives. why would kageyama want to see you so late at night? was he having doubts too? was he worried sick? isn’t this.. improper?

observing how you fiddle with the silver band of your engagement ring — your maid must sense your thoughts as they pollute the air with scents of unsureness or nervousness because she takes a tentative step into the room, grasping your attention, to provide a reassuring explanation. “he thinks you might be lonely… i think he misses you too, my dear.”

to hear that you’ve not been the only one craving affection from your lover has you perking up — your shoulders a little lighter and the burden of assimilation relieved. slightly. it proves to you that kageyama is still as caring and thoughtful as he was that night at the ball, your heart leaps to know that he’s thinking of you also. “do i…do i need to bring anything?”

“no, just yourself your highness,” coos your maid in amusement, offering her arm as you pull yourself from bed — eager to meet with your future husband once more.

after a short walk from your room to his, guided by candlelight, you’re pushed into the crown prince’s quarters without warning, flinching as large oak double doors creak shut behind your back. leaving you locked and enveloped in the darkness of four foreign walls. your breath hitches once you meet a pair of ocean eyes and a midnight dark gaze, your own adjusting to the dark veil cloaking the room’s lighting. once your vision has settled, you take note of tobio’s figure sitting on the edge of his bed, as if he’s been waiting for you with muted eagerness all this time.

for a moment, or what feels like eternity, neither of you say anything — your baited breaths tickle the cool night air, neither of you can will yourself to move and reach for one another’s embrace despite how much you’ve truly missed each other. it’s almost as if you’re seeing him for the first time and he’s seeing you all over again. recounting the night at the ball, where tobio was forcibly stopped in his tracks by your beauty and your grace. where he felt the beat of his heart slow so much he thought he might have died and gone to heaven. it’s only then that he remembers just how real you are, that he pushes himself off of the bed and takes longing, timid steps towards you at the far end of his room.

almost as though he’s about to ask you for another midnight dance.

“tobio i—“ you rasp, swallowing down the yearning tone acting as a blockade for your words in the base of your throat. there’s so much that you want to tell him and reassurances that you want to ask of the dark haired prince, words that never come and only die prematurely on your tongue. everything with tobio is brand new and rushed, you would hate to ruin the connection with your insecurities. but you need him, right now, you need him to reach out to you and console you — craving his warmth and the beat of his heart you’re sure only syncs up with your own.

you need him and he knows that you do.

tobio kageyama has never been the best at comforting others. growing up an only child and in his own kind of privileged solitude, he’d never had the need to provide sympathetic symphonies or kind hearted whispers — he was a prince. it had never and would never be his purpose in life. born to serve a kingdom left in his name, tobio was to be only one thing. a charming, strong willed ruler. at least, until he'd met you. until he saw you just inches away from the centre of his room, swimming for words and while your doe eyes searched desperately for a solace in him. in your future king, husband and lover. a solace he now felt he absolutely, instinctually needed to provide.

as long as you were with him, you’d only feel safety and serenity, that was the new mantle tobio kageyama would take up.

in three short strides he’s across the room, tobio’s smooth large hands cupping the apples of your cheeks as he guides you into looking up at him. “i missed you,” he says the words for you, azure eyes dancing across your face as though to commit every detail to memory. the way your brows creasing the centre of your forehead and the way your lips droop into a needy pout. he kisses you next, unexpected, but slow and gentle — coaxing a sigh of content from your warm mouth. he feels your lashes flutter shut against his pale toned cheeks, and your body melt into his sturdy frame like butter. like you’re being welcomed home — your dainty fingers grip his wrist to keep yourself there. “i thought you might be lonesome… we haven’t been together all week.”

nodding, your eyes remain shut because you fear if you open them — you’ll wake up from a dream. but tobio’s free hand on your waist, squeezing, grounds you and reminds you that your engagement to the prince is a reality. “the palace has been overwhelming without you,” you admit, feeling the dark haired prince’s fingers slip into your own.

with a keening whine, you lean into the now empty space where your lover’s hand once was. kageyama grins subtly, wisps of fondness pulling the corners of his lips upwards into a crooked smile. “you seem tense. come lay with me, my princess.” comes his delicate whisper, quiet so that the night remains undisturbed, almost afraid that he's speaking too loud will cause you to shatter into a million tiny pieces. you know that the crown prince will hold you together if you fall apart and allow yourself ushered towards his king sized bed positioned where he stood just minutes ago.

kageyama’s hold on your waist is firm, reassuring — his large palm covering a wide expanse on the small of your back. you’d be a fool to say you didn’t enjoy the sweltering sensation of his touch burning through your thinly veiled night clothes. a liar to say you weren’t imagining his touch going any further. there’s a brief moment where the dark haired prince twirls you in his arms, much like a swift movement from the ballroom, before the backs your knees hit the edge of his bed and you fall into its plush swan-feather mattress.

flustered and bewildered, your once heavy eyelids shoot open to look up at your prince while you scoot backwards onto the bed by the force of your elbows — your breathing grows uneven and mismatched, throat bobbing as you swallow the delightful anticipation brewing within from watching tobio expertly crawl up the bed to pin you against it. athletic and rugged arms that have wielded many a weapon cage you against luxury silken sheets — a pair of wild admiral blue eyes drink you in as ig you’re the last glass of water on earth while pale, milky cheeks glow fiery rose above you.

kageyama’s breath fans warmly over your face, his expression stubbornly contorting to reveal his late night desire for one thing.

you.

his vulnerable dame who looks oh so pretty under the glinting moonlight.

“tell me,” he murmurs to you hoarsely, the bend of his index finger brushing over your cheeks which turns into his hand when he moves his feather light touch the plains of your unmarked neck. possessively. “why is it that you cannot sleep?”

at first, you’re taken aback by your lover’s question. there are many reasons you could list, starting with the abrupt change to your lifestyle. your home sickness and even, the fact that you miss him…but as kageyama’s gentle hand cascades like the calm flow of a river over your shoulders, collarbone and even dangerously close to your heaving chest — you lose the answer in the hazy fog of your mind. “m-many things, my prince,” you stutter out breathlessly, smaller-than-his fingers lunging at his wrist to hold his hand in place above your heartbeat. “right now… it’s your touch. i hadn’t realised how much i…needed it. how it makes my heart race.” heated tension in the air mounts like a stack of bricks, cemented together by a neediness neither of you have felt before.

the desire for human touch and closeness, the temperate buzz of love that’s new to the both of you.

it clings to every molecule of air in the room, weighing you both down with a contagious cloying cloudiness. both of you sick with a scorching proclivity that has you feverish all over. you need to touch him, you need to kiss him, to be with your tobio kageyama or you have no idea what will happen. will the world end if you don’t feel your skin against his? will the two of you go up in flames if you don’t get any closer?

the sounds of sheets shifting in the night bring your attention back to the real world. your lover adjusts, the entirety of his lean frame, keeping you trapped against cotton peaks. “i’m afraid i feel the same, i find it hard to keep myself from touching you,” your browns furrow cutely at tobio’s strangled words, throat running dry as you note the prince’s seemingly internal struggle to stay sane above you. to make sure he doesn’t do something you might both regret. “i find it hard to believe that you’re mine...”

“tobio, please i—“

whatever you had planned on saying dies on the tip of your tongue the moment tobio kageyama kisses you for the second time that night. this one is different from the first, fuelled by delirious passion instead of the need to comfort — his tongue laps at the small part between your ruby lips from where you’ve gasped in surprise. kageyama tastes you and tastes you, lapping up whatever flavour lies in your mouth — sweet enough to make moan darkly from the depths of his princely soul as he breathes hungrily into your mouth. almost relieved to finally have his pressed against your own after holding himself back. you take it, you taste it, you let your back arch itself into the broad width of his chest and wolf down everything he gives you. the first drops of his saliva as it oozes onto the palette of your tongue, his eager huffs that clouded your mind and make you feel as if you’ve been poisoned.

the world slows and the night turns silent for the two of you. wet smacks of your lips slotting together perfectly echo to the highest point of the ceiling in the prince’s chambers — heat rises in the room as well, kageyama’s touch turning to veiny hands pinning you beneath him using a brutish grip on your waist. not that you’re complaining.

but in an instant, tobio is pulling off of you — breaking away from the kiss like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice cold water from the kitchens. “i’m… i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—“ the dark haired prince’s nose turns to nudge against your youthful cheek, hot and wet lips now running down to the junction between your neck and shoulders like a tamed stream of warm water. “s-sorry, i’m not sure what came over me.”

compared to his usual stoic expressions and tones, the kageyama before you now looks as though he’s fallen ill, the tips of his ears, nose and apples of his cheeks are all tinged with a rose blush and his chest rises and falls at a rapid, uncomfortable pace. confusion intertwines itself with the beat of your heart and must show on the details of your face, for your lover’s mouth moves to form the question ‘are you alright?’ that is quickly interrupted by your own hazy actions. you pull tobio back onto you by the roots of his dark hair with one hand, the other tilting his chin down towards you. each of his kisses, growing sloppier and sloppier; feel real — not like the fever dream you’ve been walking through since moving into the palace.

“i can’t…i can’t believe that you’re mine either,” you hum between the pattern of mismatched kisses against swollen lips, letting out a tune of innocent moans like the finest music to your lover’s ears. your shaky fingers curl in kageyama’s soft baby hairs — keeping him close, although the force of your lip locks cause your head to tilt back into the plush array of pillows.

everything is so hot and passionate and brand new to you, you must be losing your mind. with your eyes fluttering open, you realise that you’ve never seen kageyama look at you so darkly, his own eyes till of sensuality and mirth. you can tell from just a brief glance the depth of his desire for you, he’s waited far too long to have you like this. and now, the sexual tension is obvious.

his rough tongue slips from your mouth to the corner of your lips, dragging a loving trail of wetness down to your prominent collarbones — the prince dares to leave a dark mark in a colour that rivals the midnight skies outside, basking in the cute bleats you let out periodically and the way your nose scrunched up adorably at the pleasure he gives you. using the pointed edge of his teach, kageyama moves to pull down the baby blue, tule bolero the maids had dressed you in — hungrily inching it off of your shoulders while a free hand slides down to play with the doughy, smooth skin of your thighs. almost filling beneath the hem of your nightdress.

gasping in surprise, you resist the urge to bolt upwards — tentatively tugging tobio by the hair away from you to garner his attention.

“w-wait! what about our wedding night?”

a touch of condescending laughter lays wetly on kageyama’s kiss swollen lips, pulling them back just enough to see toothy smirk and pearly white teeth. “what about it?” without missing another beat he swoops down to steal another salacious smooch from you, tongue edging past the weak seal of your mouth to roll around and toy with your own. he can practically taste the nervous desire on you as he steadies a hand above your head to ground himself. “we’re set to be married shortly. surely i can indulge in my future wife before then…”

judging by his movements, such as his tightened grip on the headboard above your head and the bounce of his lips between his perfect teeth, you can tell that tobio remains intent on kissing you. not that you can blame him; it’s the most you’ve tasted of one another since your arrival at the palace. but you will yourself to speak and for once, to voice your concern — knowing that your partner will still love you at the other end of your words. “my prince i…i-i haven’t,” inhaling deeply through your nose, you steal your nerves and fight the sweet mewls that brew like a storm at the back of your throat — a natural response to kageyama who now insists on peppering kisses at the base of your neck (since he could not have your lips). “i have not experienced this before. a-and i want you, i do! i’d just… i’d like for our wedding night to be…”

the crown prince pauses his actions, his dizzy and lustful stare darting up to meet yours whilst his dark, midnight hair no longer tickles your neck. “special?”

“special.” you repeat with a wavering nod of your head.

a beat passes where neither of you speak and the silence is filled by your ragged panting. for a second, just a split second, you’re afraid that tobio might not understand or may even reject you but just as he were earlier — he lets a tender smile tug in the corners of his soft lips (reserved only for you) as a thread of adoration weaves itself between the jet black flecks in his darkened eyes. “i don’t want to do anything you might regret or that you wouldn’t ask me for…” he murmurs huskily, leaning down so that the words press against the shell of your ear and cause you to arch your back desperately.

“i have no regrets… not right now i just,” you whine into the night, gripping kageyama’s for some kind of the to reality. “want to go slower, not all the way…”

“not all the way…” the prince muses hungrily, smoothing over your inner calf. you feel his teeth tug at your earlobes as tobio’s tone dips into low and sexy territory — setting the butterflies in your tummy alight with newfound lust. “then it’s alright with you…i’d still like to ease you, to touch you. it might help you sleep.” he reaches down, lips ghosting over the faint adam’s apple in your throat, grinning as it bobs beneath his touch. “i promise to be gentle.”

“promise?”

“you have my sworn word.”

you blink up at the crown prince with big doe eyes, willing him to see the trust laced within them. “okay…i’m okay with more.”

kageyama makes haste in his next movements — undoing the poorly tied ribbon holding your bolero together and pushing your nightgown all the way off of your shoulders. a hand squeezes yours reassuringly the more fabric he peels away from your trembling frame. endearing praises, hushed whispers of ‘good girl,’ and ‘you’re so beautiful’, are written across your marked flesh in tobio’s signature too — all the while he remains careful, considerate of your wish as he presses wet, sloppy kisses onto the surface of your newly exposed skin. an almost pained gasp tears through your throat, stealing all of the air from your lungs, when your prince removed enough of your clothing to expose your breasts to the icy night air. a little more, and your soft, supple stomach is revealed too.

apprehension tingles below your surface. you’ve never been naked in front of someone before, much less a person that you love. the feeling makes you instinctively cover up — grip retreating from your loved one’s hair to wrap around the curve of your breasts. effectively shielding them from kageyama’s insatiable view.

“don’t hide from me, my sweet love,” kageyama coos. “you’re so beautiful. i want to see and have all of you.” pulling your arms down until they rest at your sides, he’s quick to sooth you, an eager mouth immediately encapsulating your hardening nipples, tongue rolling over the circumference of your areola wetly. you can’t help but whimper, fingers jumping up like a twitch and tightening in his midnight locks whilst neither of you dare to look away — gazes locked with a key that’s been long thrown away.

the prince’s face flashes with heat while he languidly flicks at your nipples with the searing hot tip of his tongue, a dazed expression etched across the gentle slope of his handsome features, making him appear as a man who’s stumbled across an oasis — dying for water. his very face right now sets your core alight.

it would be distortion of the truth to say the look painted upon your own features didn’t rival tobio’s. there’s got to be tears somewhere or a glossy pout to match the light sheen of sweat dousing your body. either way, you know that you look a swivel-eyed mess — every touch, kiss, bite and pinch you receive from the crown prince accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you feel for your future husband currently smothering you into satiny sheets, drives you up a wall that was once many feet high. your blood boils hot, buzzing beneath your skin, so hot you might as well have a fever. it’s all so new for you, so overwhelmingly good that you could die here and be happy, slick and cherished.

somewhere in the mess of your blistering hot limbs and lusty laments, kageyama bunches the skirts of your night dress at your middle and makes his veiny, large hand comfortable between the apexes of your thighs. you quiver violently and even make a darling noise as tobio goes on to prod a knuckle against the seat of your fresh underwear — chuckling almost mutely at the dampness that soils them in response. “oh princess,” kageyama swallows thickly, amused. “you’re soaking right through these already. poor thing.”

the way in which the prince purrs down at you, eyes murky and hooded, tone superlicious with notes of superiority only serves to drag you further away from the light above. dragging you under the surface of a desire oh so sinful.

you realise then that you’d be happy to drown in tobio kageyama.

whether you meant to let it out or not, a pathetic sniffle breaks free from the barriers of your pouty lips and clenched teeth — eliciting a sick and prideful sort of expression on the prince’s handsome face. a face that hardly ever moves or shows any emotion for the people of his kingdom. another secret to be kept between the two of you. this version of the charming prince revels in the way that you squirm against his knuckles and finger tips as they bully your swelling clit relentlessly. basks in the juices that darken your underwear despite the innocent gleam to the tears in your eyes. tears that have yet to fall.

“i can smell just how wet you are, princess,”

shame begins to curl around your organs, but hardly wins the war against your brewing sexual appetite for the dark haired male licking a withering pathway from the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and over your belly button to the point just above your pelvis. “i-i’m sorry, my prince.”

while tobio battles between torturing you and nurturing you, a hoarse groan loaded with desire vibrates around the cavity of his chest — vibrating through the bed and shooting to your spasaminf centre. “don’t be, i take pride in knowing that i have this effect on you.” now settled between your shaky legs, your betrothed blows a bout of warm air against your sex, rubbing at you faster and harder until your thighs instinctively spread wide enough for his dirty-minded gaze. “so pretty, mmph.”

“y-you should…you should see the way you look…down there, my love.” bravely, you somehow manage to talk through your pockets of dulcet whimpers and poor attempts to fill your air with lungs. it’s hard to speak and difficult to breathe when kageyama is busy pressing two fingers to your clothed entrance, fucking the slight resistance of your treacly hole as streams of your premature arousal ruins your panties further. azure eyes loose their vibrant shade at the sight, gaze honed in on the newly defined shape of your puffy folds.

you’re quick to throw an arm over your face in embarrassment afterwards, however, too afraid that you’ve spoken out of turn with the royal despite your improper predicament.

“oh? what a mouth you have there, sweetheart. how… endearing.” tobio smirks zealously, gaze momentarily flickering up towards your angelic face as it twists with uncharted bliss — all the while, he never stops pinching and rolling your clit, ensuring that you’re soaked through and trembling. “i thought i told you not to hide, that i wanted to see you while i made you feel good,” he continues on, warning you whilst briefly stopping his assault on your slippery sex to push past the lace trimming on your underwear and teasingly pat the entirety of the treasure hidden behind it.

screwing your eyes shut and scrunching up your nose, your head flies back into the pillows while your thighs instinctively snapping closed around your betrothed’s hand — keeping him trapped against your cunt. “o-oh my gods, tobio!” you cry out loud enough to shake the earth down to its core. even with you whinging and writhing, he doesn’t stop touching you, further building on the pleasure at the base of your spine that threatens to explode. stroking you more and more, the more that you ooze.

“sorry,” tobio laughs airly and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, using your moment of weakness to pull your limp arm away from your pinched, sweaty face. “such a pretty sound, when you cry out my name,” his kisses move higher, ghosting over your drenched underwear and pulsating pussy. “can you do me a favour, my love?”

blinking slowly, you attempt to catch a breath in the moment of respite kageyama has given you. you’re hardly there as he tugs your panties off all the way, barely able to register the cool hair now hitting your sticky mound. “hmm?”

“give me your hand,” he commands. you oblige, reaching for his own hand with the one that once covered your face. you let the crown prince manoeuvre you as he pleases — nearly jolting out of your skin when you feel your own rough padded fingertips brush over your clit. “touch yourself for me.”

“w-what?” your teary eyes, nearly overcome with sleep, fly wide open in shock. you struggle to sit up where kageyama keeps you pinned.

he smiles. one of those smiles saved only for you. “touch yourself for me, i’d like to know how my future wife likes it.” he repeats simply, guiding three of your fingers to gingerly circle your throbbing pleasure bud. “like you would if you were alone. i know that you’ve indulged before, i can see it on your face…”

now is no time to be nervous, after all, for the last thirty minutes your crown prince has had you spread wide open and a mess beneath his skillful fingers — scenting him with the slick from your cunt. although you’ve hardly had the time to touch yourself in the past, between the dizzying demands of your cruel step-mother and her petulant children, you’re able to remember what your body likes. what you like. what gets you there the fastest — and now that you have your own prince to fuel your desires, you no longer need to imagine what it’s like to be claimed. owned. fucked.

free from kageyama’s restraint, you shuffle into a sitting position and timidly circle your clit as it pulses with the rapid beat of your heart. you hiss involuntarily and the dark haired male lets out a surprising, withering whimper — laser focused on how you ooze like a tap with running water.

“thank you for indulging me,” with pools of marina trench blue engrossed by the way you start to move, the soft jut of your hips into your fingers and the way you bite down on your plump shiny lips to keep the whines in — kageyama presses a wet chaste kiss to the back of your arousal soaked hand and then shuffles to sit back on his haunches. kicking off his briefs and other clothes, he knees on his bed — fighting the urge to blush as you watch his cock spring free.

he stands tall, erect. tan tip flushed against his creamy pale skin as he leaks a fresh wave of precum all over his tense tummy. just as tobio takes a hold of himself, you push two fingers past the tight ring of your unused entrance — immediately curling them to find the familiar pleasure spots clinging to your sluice walls. like a biological instinct, his hips buck upwards, looking for friction to ease the burn in his erection — blood carrying lusty hormones straight to his leaky tip, keeping him hard.

he’s begging to be touched and you need some motivation.

scissoring your dainty digits, you work yourself open — fucking your cunt silly, faster and faster the less nervous you become in front of your lover. “t-tobio!” you slur, lashes fluttering against your cheeks while you drench yourself in your own slick. your juices begin to splash against the insides of your supple thighs, wetting them like your tongue wets your lips as you lick them — hungrily waiting for kageyama to do something. anything. “tobi…please! n-need to see you…d-do it too…”

“well since you asked so nicely, my love,” the prince finally takes to palming himself, rolling the pad of his thumb over his blazing mushroomed tip — tapping at the string of precum gathering in its centre. he uses it as lube, squeezing himself to the ruthless rhythm of your cunt spasming around your fingers. matching your pace as if to mimic the way he’s going to fuck you. he looks so pretty and flushed — it pulls whistle tone bleats from between your trembling lips. his midnight blue and stormy eyes cloud with desire at every sound you and your slick hole make, those very sounds thick like molasses as they run through his ears. rotting kageyama from the inside out.

a house of pleasure built by bricks of bliss builds up at the base of your spine — cemented together and supported by tobio’s constant praise and encouragement. a little faster love. such a good girl. ride those pretty little fingers for me. you’re driven by the sight of his dick in his hand, jerking on it cor dear life and spreading webs of white up and down his shaft with each flick of his wrist. his balls are heavy; loaded with cum that he’s saved all for you; it’s predecessor smeared thickly over his thighs and sheets. maybe you stare for a little too long, locking eyes with the prince carnally, because he laughs over the erotic sounds of your squelching sexes and unified moans.

“it’s fair in size, i know,” he says gruffly, gritting his perfect white teeth — stopping his mouth from watering at your body jerking and your fingers that pull out of your tight heat to trace the length of your juicy slit. “but i’ll make it fit on our wedding night,” kageyama thrusts upwards just as your two of your digits sink back into your creamy clenching cunt. “that’s a promise…fuuuck…”

tears tiptoe over the edge of your waterline in response to the filth pouring from tobio’s mouth, streaking a hot part down the apples of your cheeks that now glisten under the high moon. “that’s what i want; for you to fill me… like no one else,” you sour over the saliva pooling in your mouth — no better than the man himself as you tease your thoroughly fucked cunt, bearing down on your own g-spot. “w-would you… will you cum inside?” you ask over the lewd sounds echoing from your squishy insides as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form the perfect melody with kageyama’s rough groans and laments, increasing in octave the deeper your digits reach into your pussy.

your elbows threaten to give out and kageyama can tell that you’re trying so hard to sit up and watch him. pride swells in his chest at your vision, a hand between your pudgy thighs and your salacious curves all on display just for him. your skin; marked with beautiful scars and stretch marks glimmering with a light layer of perspiration. you’re perfect, like an angel sent from heaven to watch over him. and he’s so lucky to have found you. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you. if i creamed that princess cunt of yours, filled you with my seed. bred you until you were carrying an heir. all. for. me.” punctuating his horny rambling, the prince bucks his hips into his soiled fist — stuttering as he goes. “got s-such a filthy mouth on you love, you’ll ruin me with it.”

he’s close. the both of you are. if tobio kageyama falls from grace now, you’ll be right there with him.

you nod rapidly, holding back a choked sob as the bedding below your shaking legs darkens from how your juices spill everywhere. “i want your heir, i want your seed, i want your…oh gods!” tipping your head back, the tail end of your words die in a high pitched squeal that dances in the buzzing air between you. everything burns with how close your release is. you drag your forehand up to your bare chest to you with your nipples — tugging on them harshly. anything to impress your lover, get him close too.

“want my what?” the dark haired prince howls, squeezing the base of his girth. “so greedy and you’re not even a princess yet. punish yourself for me, love. smack that pretty pussy for me — s’pecially if you won’t finish your words.” tobio’s words waft over your mind like a fog over a swamp, pulling a veil of impurity over any remaining thoughts you might have had. dopamine crackles around in your emptied skull, twirling around the ring of your fluttering hole. you gush and gush and gush, pouring the royal family’s future riches out onto the bed like an endless stream of erotica when you pull out from your selfish heat. “come on, love, keep movin’ for me… slap that pretty princess cunt. make your prince proud.”

“tobio!” you mewl for the millionth time under the midnight moon and bring your hand down against your mound in a harsh slap, kageyama’s entire body shuddering at the loud wail you let out. like a songbird chirping for him in the morning. a stream of your juices fly up your arm, glaze the apex of your thighs like icing on a cake as a result. some even reaching the prince himself — drawing a languid lament from him. “s-so close…think i’m going to…”

you cut yourself off, spanking your pussy again and again and again until the prince’s head is heavy with the sound of your broken whines and pap of your sex replaying repeatedly in his mind. “oh you’re so good, so perfect for me love,” his cock twitches, an incredulous amount of his seed waiting for you. his lucky love, his beautiful betrothed, his princess to be. “me too, love. me too, me too, me too,” he’s right behind you, tobio trying to keep his cool and his movements steady but lasciviousness coagulates in the tone of his unsteady voice while he fucks his hand like a mock up of your pussy. “c’mere, beautiful. come here.”

despite commanding you, kageyama reaches you first — his lean frame collapsing over you as if to shield your sins from the world. the seedy tip of his cock presses hotly against the length of your slit, right over your fingers still moving swiftly over your throbbing cunt. you feel everything, overwhelmed by the humid air between your sweaty bodies — the prince’s lips as they capture yours and the pulsing veins twisting around his cock decoratively.

the dark haired heir to the thrown continues to gist the base of his erection — freehand grasping desperately onto the headboard to steady himself as his high quickly approaches. your own freehand finds purchase on the bag of his neck, toying with the damp baby hairs there while the two of you exchange loving, lasting lip-locks. tasting the affection and sweat on one another’s Cupid’s bows.

it’s this way that the two of you reach your climaxes. it hits you like a thunderstorm over an ocean, dragging you under the surface of white hot bliss. the bricks that were building high walls of pleasure in your lower tummy come crashing down with your orgasm — and you know then that they were either never steady or that tobio kageyama was the only one strong enough to break them down. you cum hard, juices splashing out onto the sheets, painting your lover’s shaft and expelling a musky sent into the heavy air. you scream as it washes over you — souring the man above you on.

“gods…fuck, my love. i love you, love you, love you.” tobio makes the fall not long after you, finishing himself off right over your clit — nudging his cockhead against your abused mound until viscous droplets of milky white cover it, seeping between your fat pussy lips. he cant help but look as he floods your slit with seed, choking on a moan at the sight and releasing the poor headboard from his clutches. “you’re so perfect,” he peppers your face with smooches, all of them gentle and carefully placed to soothe you. even as they cascade down your neck, sternum and eventually hover over your sensitive sex. “i c-can’t stop now, have to taste you.”

not a drop of cum, from you or from tobio, will be wasted tonight.

securing his grip on the globes of your ass, kageyama pulls you into his impatient and eager tongue. he starts by opening wide, slotting his mouth against the entirety of your ruined folds — immediately sucking all of the cum and juices from them and moaning as if they’re the first flavours to hit his tongue after being starved for a millennia. the vibrations make you spiral and arch from the bed, reaching for the high heavens. the tip of his tongue wriggles past your slick entrance, the movement eased by how your fingers stretched you out. it flickers in an upward motion, making you see stars like those of the Milky Way between sloppy and uncoordinated kisses.

he’s eating you out for not just your pleasure, but his own, hungry and rabid — filling you up as you cry and cry at the overstimulation. you taste so good, the prince will drink you dry if he has to. tobio slurps what you leak, pushing his saliva in and out of your messy hole while you keenly rut into his face — effectively covering his puffy lips and chin in liquid gold. your own face feels tight and hot, throat raw from moaning so loud.

your betrothed can't help but moan with you in tandem, whimpering pathetically at every roll of your cunt onto his tongue — forcing him to eat his cum out of you. “tobi, it feels… it feels—!” you pant and grasp at his sweaty hair — tugging him further into your cunt, making him wriggle deeper inside, against pleasure points you had no idea existed along your own ribbed walls. he latches onto your clit and rolls it between his teeth mercilessly until your nails are clawing at his scalp and the air in your throat escapes you.

rapture tears you apart and pieces you back together all in one — evident in the way your cunt gushes into his mouth like a fruitful stream. there’s no room to breathe or cope between kageyama’s tongue pinned to your clit and the content gripes he lets out between your soaked thighs. by now he’s probably cleaned his release from you, yours too but he doesn’t dare stop until he’s replaced the mess with a new orgasm from you.

briefly, the prince pulls away from your pussy — tied to you by a rope of cloudy elixir leaked from your hole. a mix of him and you. a visual representation of your union to one. “such a good girl,” he snarls so deep you hardly recognise, but it makes you clench around nothing — pushing cum you didn’t know was there out of your entrance. “chase that feeling, don’t let it go, love.” he goads, spreading your thighs apart even more just to watch the webs of your arousal form and break apart. “so messy… are you close for me, princess?”

you nod rapidly, tearily, and kageyama sighs dreamily, licking your lips at the sight of your mound glistening under the night’s natural light. he licks you up and down with fever and newfound video — focused on pushing you over the edge once more. the crown prince hooks his strong arms around your thighs and anchors you to his hot, hardworking mouth because he knows that you’re so shaky from the euphoria pulsing in your bloodstream that you’re too weak to do it on your own.

your betrothed tongues his words wetly into your overstimulated sex. “show me how messy you can get, princess. make my face wet with it. so sticky. so good.”

“c-cumming! tobio…please!” with a high pitched squeal, your release hits you just as the world around you fades to white and tobio is with you right the way through. his pink tongue flicks at your sluice sex hungrily, brushing over your g-spot to guide you to the other side of your high. it shoots out of you in clear streams, dousing the man between your legs in everything that belongs to you. like some form of ownership.

you screw your eyes shut to stop the static buzzing behind them. your jaw goes slack and your body falls limp, you tremble so hard that kageyama has to reach up and scoop you into his arms to calm you down. a soft grip tilts your chin towards him as he kisses you once again, allowing you to suck your own flavour from his tongue and eventually settles between your legs. hugging you close to him.

“i love you,” you bleat gently, finally coming to. how could you not. he’s your prince charming and he’s shown you that he feels the same.

kageyama shifts, expression melting into one of those special smiles for you. “i love you…”

for some reason, you feel the need to return the favour — reaching down between your bodies and intertwined limbs for his cock which you know is hardening again. but the dark haired prince is quick to grab your wrist, bringing it up to his swollen lips for a gentle kiss against your pulse point. “don’t,” he mutters against the skin there, tasting your sweat with a teasing lick. “sleep, my princess. we’ll have plenty of time to learn the rest later. on our wedding night, remember.”

the prince wriggles his eyebrows, eliciting sleepy and heartfelt laughter from you. “but—“

“an eternity, remember.” he reaches for your other hand and laces your fingers firmly. a reminder that he’s never leaving you. not now. not ever. “you are to be my wife, in my arms where you belong and away from your cruel past. i want you as you are and will teach you whatever you want to know. just rest, for now. sleep my love.”

you remain silent for just a moment, mind racing with a million things to say. though, for tonight, you settle on but one thing — despite having said it a million times tonight. “i love you, my prince.” you whisper tiredly, cupping his handsome face with adoration.

“and i, you. forever more, my princess.” your lover, tobio kageyama, parrots back to you tenderly. the clock strikes for once for an hour past midnight — indicating your new chance at life, that you’ve stayed at the ball beyond the twelfth stroke of the clock and you feel your eyes getting heavy, drifting off in your prince charming’s arms.

the end.

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pinkmirth · 25 days ago

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thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. “but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you ’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

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lesservillain · 10 days ago

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Request: Friends to lovers with Steve? We want so desperately for him to notice us, but he never asks us to hang out outside of the group. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands…or do we?

i wrote all of this in one sitting so enjoy!

cw: smut, piv, perv steve

wc: 3.3k

You looked yourself over in the mirror a few times to make sure everything was in place. There would be other people at this pool party, including the kids, so you weren’t trying to show off too much. But you wanted to made sure you looked good. Good enough for him.

It had been a long time crush, longer than you’d like you admit, that turned into a head over heels affection for Steve Harrington as recently as last year. When you were tossed into the throws that was “the Starcourt Mall incident,” you saw how brave and caring he could be in real time when it came to putting himself before you and the others. It just solidified the feelings that you’d been harboring for the king since before he started working with you at Scoops Ahoy.

But Steve just didn’t seem to feel the same way about you.

You watched as he flirted with countless girls at the mall as they came in for ice cream, and you’ve seen him do the same with the girls at Family Video where he now works with Robin. You even thought that him and Robin might be having a secret fling, but she assured you that was not the case. Either way, Steve never seemed to even be more than friendly with you. And it was really starting to bum you out.

Now that you work at your mom’s hair salon, the only way the two of you really see each other was when the whole gang would get together. Which today happened to be such an occasion. It was Dustin’s birthday party and the weather was warm enough that Steve decided to throw him a pool party at his house. Dustin extended an invite to you and you decided it would be the perfect opportunity to finally catch Steve’s attention.

You checked out the two piece on your body in the mirror. The ruffled top accentuated your breasts and the bottoms were just peaky enough to leave more to be desired. Plus the navy really brought out the colour of your eyes. You did feel a little dumb putting on make up and doing your hair, but you didn’t plan on going under the water so you were sure you’d be fine.

When you pulled up to Steve’s house you could already hear the kids being rowdy in the back yard. You grabbed Dustin’s gift from your back seat and went around the back to find everyone there. It didn’t take long to find Steve, manning the grill in his swim trucks and a cropped, sleeveless t-shirt. Jesus christ.

“You came!” Dustin shouted from the pool grabbing your attention.

“Of course I came!” You reply, raising the wrapped box in your hand. “Wouldn’t miss my little buddy’s big 15th!”

“Told you guys she would come,” Dustin says pointing this thumb in your direction. The kids all rolled their eyes at him and continued swimming around in the pool.

“Hey,” Steve says, giving you a wave. “You can set that inside if you want. Don’t want these bone heads to accidentally get it wet with one of their water guns.”

That's when you noticed. The entire front of Steve’s body was clearly drenched in water and it was leaving little to the imagination about what was underneath. His chest hair was clearly visible through the shirt, as were his nipples…

“Earth to dingus, are you okay?”

Robin’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m just feeling a little spacey today is all.”

“Sure you are,” she said with wiggled eyebrows. Robin didn’t know you had a crush on Steve, but you were sure she expected it, even though you denied it anytime she asked.

“Do you want a beer?” Steve asks, bending over to grab one from the cooler.

“Sure,” you say with a slight stutter. This was going to be a long day, and you might as well have a drink to help you keep it together.

“I’ll help you take that inside,” Robin says after Steve hands you a beer. You nod and the two of you go through the sliding glass door.

There were several other gifts set out on the table so you just sat your gift there with the rest. When you turned to look at Robin, she had a shit eating grin on her face.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep as collected as possible.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, “Just seemed like you were checking Steve out out there.”

“Robin, I was not checking him out.”

“I knew you’d deny it. But I have eyes, and I can tell when someone wants to eat another person alive.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

“Steve is just a friend. I was just surprised to see him soaking wet is all.”

“At a pool party?”

Shit, she got you there.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I’m sure you hadn’t.”

There was a pause between you two before she inevitably turned and opened the sliding glass door. As soon as you walked out you heard your name being called from the pool.

“Come get in the pool, we need one more person for volleyball!”

Ah, yes, perfect time to unveil yourself.

“Okay, coming!” You say walking over to one of the pool chairs. You started to undress, hoping that Steve was watching you as you did. Shirt was off first; you made it a point to bend over in his direction when you pulled your shorts down. You heard a huff from Robin, who you were sure was seeing right through you, but you weren’t going to entertain her.

You took a chance to look over at Steve, who, to your dismay, seemed to be too preoccupied with the grill to have even looked your way. Damn it.

“Cute bathing suit,” El says from the pool.

“Thanks!” You say. At least someone noticed.

“What does it look like?” Max asks from the pool steps.She was looking in your general direction, but you knew she wouldn’t be able to see you from so far away, even with her glasses. You moved closer to her so she could see better.

“It’s navy blue, with some ruffles on the top and a little ruffle skirt.” You take her hand and let her touch the material so she can get a better idea.

“Shit!” You turn to see Steve holding his hand, wincing in pain.

“You okay, chef?” Robin asks.

“Yeah, just got too close to the grill is all.”

“Come on, lets play already!”

Your attention is taken away from Steve yet again by the teens calling for you. Dustin announces he wants you on his team and everyone groans.

“You only want her on your team because she’s an adult,” Lucas says.

“And your point is?” Dustin retorts.

“I’m honestly not that good, Dustin,” you tell him.

“We’ll see about that.”

And saw he did.

Even with El not using her powers, her, Mike, and Lucas beat you Dustin and Will by a landslide victory.

“Told you,” you shrug at him.

“It’s alright,” Dustin says defeated.

“I still think El cheated,” Will says.

“Did not!”

“Hey, food’s ready!”

That got the kids attention. They all rushed out, Lucas stopping to help Max get out as they did. They all hoarded around Steve who passed out dogs and burgers to everyone.

“What will you take?” He asks when he finally gets to you.

“A hotdog, please,” you say, holding your plate with the bun on it for him.

“Don’t shake it!”

“But nothing’s coming out-woah!”

It takes your brain a minute to process the feeling of something hitting you. You raise your hand to your hair and it instantly touches something wet and slimy. Bringing it back down, you look at your hand to find it’s covered in mustard.

The first thing you do is look at Steve, whose expression makes your heart drop. You probably look like a total idiot right now.

“Dude…” Steve turns to look beside you.

“I am, so, so sorry,” you hear Dustin say.

“It’s okay,” you say, more so telling yourself that rather than getting upset over an accident.

“Do you want to use my shower?” Steve asks, looking at you pitifully.

“Thanks.”

“Gimme that,” Steve says, grabbing the mustard bottle from Dustin as he walks past.

“Hey, I was still going to use that!”

“Just turn the knob to, like, right here and the water should be plenty warm for you.”

Steve shows you how to use the shower while mustard still drips from your hair. At least he’s not making fun of you. Just another reason to love him

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, turning to look at you. He’s very close to you in this bathroom, so much so you can smell his sweaty skin and cologne. “If you want I can run your bathing suit through the dryer real quick.”

“That would be perfect, thanks.” He stands there for a moment, and you don’t really know what to do. “Um, I’ll get undressed now.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He leaves the bathroom and pulls the door shut.

You start to pull the bathing suit off when the bathroom door starts to open.

“What the hell,” you say, closing the door.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve calls through the door, “This door is broken and doesn’t always stay latched. I’ll stand outside the door while you shower to make sure no one comes by.”

“Okay,” you call back.

Once undressed, you stand behind the door the best you can and stick your arm through the opening. Steve takes your bathing suit and you close the door behind you.

You do your best not to wash your make up off while in Steve’s shower. You do take the time to huff his sweet smelling shampoo. You’ve smelled it on him before, and it reminds you of him. It was crazy to think he was just on the other side of the door while you were in here. The idea made you a little crazy. Something to think about later tonight when you’re alone.

Turning the water off, you pull back the curtain and find that the bathroom door is cracked open a bit. You decided not to think much of it. Not like anyone would see you while Steve was manning the door

You took the towel that Steve had given you and started to dry off before wrapping your hair in it. You wondered if Steve had a blow dryer some where and decided to ask.

“Steve?”

You hear a thump from the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah,” you hear him reply.

“Do you have a hair dryer?”

There’s a quiet pause.

“Under the sink,” he replies.

“Thanks!”

You bend over and look for his hair dryer, finding it hanging on the side of the cabinet on a little hook. A smart idea.

Plugging it in, you take the towel out of your hair and lay it over the shower rod to dry. You take your time to dry it, you used your fingers to run through it since you didn’t have a comb.

“You can use my brush,” you hear from behind you. It startles you, and you look at the door through the mirror.

You’re shocked when you can see an eye peeking through the crack.

You place the dryer back down on the counter and grab the towel, wrapping it back around your body slowly.

Then, you suddenly grab the door and swing it wide open.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t Steve Harrington with his cock in his hand.

“I can explain!” He says, covering himself. Well, trying to cover himself. He was huge. So big in fact that not even his big hands could cover the horse between his legs.

“Steve…were you spying on me?”

“I-I-wasn’t-I was--”

There’s no way this was real life. You’ve been trying to get Steve Harrington to notice you for months and you catch him not only jerking himself off, but doing it while spying on you.

So you make a bold move.

“Steve.” You drop your towel, fully exposing yourself to him. His eyes drop with the towel, slowly moving back up your body, examining you closely.

“If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask.”

He stands there, still as a statue as he tries to compute the words that just came out of your mouth. Since he didn’t seem to be getting the hint, you decide to grab him by the shirt and pull him into the bathroom. Pushing the door closed behind you, you hear it latch just fine.

“Are you going to say something, Stevie?” You say in a silky smooth voice.

“I-I--”

But you don’t give him the chance to stutter more. You take his cheeks in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The smell of his aftershave fills your senses as your lips move in tandem, waking him up from his stupor enough to get the hint.

He starts to take off his shorts, letting them drop to the floor and kicking them off. His shirt comes next, your lips parting for just a moment to let the fabric pull over his head. You let your hands land on his chiseled chest, fingers desperately running through the hair that resides there. The feeling only confirming that this was indeed happening.

His hands land on your hips, sliding down until they reach your ass. He cups you, and suddenly you’re being lifted up and onto the counter. He pushes you back, kissing you with such force that you hit the mirror behind you.

“You were so hot out there undressing,” he says as his lips trail down to your neck. “And when you let Max see your swimsuit. That was so sweet of you.”

“Really, that’s what got you going?” Your laugh turns into a moan as his hands grope your breasts.

“I’ve got a soft spot for those kids. Seeing you be nice to them just--” His lips meet yours again, his teeth taking your lower lip and pulling on it.

One of his hands moves from your breast and lowers down to between your legs. You feel him rub his fingers in your wetness and it makes your breath hitch when he hits your clit.

“Right there, huh?” He says, his fingers beginning to rub gentle circles into your bud.

“Oh, shit, Steve--”

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he says against your ear.

He does some moving between your legs and you suddenly feel his finger making its way inside of you, his thumb replacing them to keep tending to your clit. His finger pumps inside of you at a breathtaking pace, the thick digit hitting that spot inside you.

“You’re so wet. Is that for me or is it just from the shower?”

“Definitely for you,” you pant out. You could feel yourself getting close to your release the more he worked you. When he added a second finger stretching you out more, you felt the coil tightening at an alarming rate.

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m gonna--”

“Do it. Cum for me, baby girl.”

That chord snaps, and you start to cum on Steve’s fingers, legs shaking around him as you do.

Steve slows down, letting you come down from your high while giving you kisses all over your neck and cheeks.

“You think you’re ready for me, baby?”

You nod your head drunkenly. Steve uses the spend on his fingers to pump himself, lubricating his cock with it before bringing the head to your entrance. In a moment of clarity you almost panic. The sheer size of Steve between your legs had you worried.

“It’ll fit, I promise.” He says as if reading your mind. You gulp, but choose to trust him. “Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

You nod your head again, and the both of you watch as Steve lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you. The stretch was something else. You’d never been with anyone as big as Steve before and it started to make you question any guy you’d been with before.

But he took his time. He definitely knew his limits and rocked in and out of you at a gentle pace until he found himself fully sheathed inside of you.

“You ready?” He asks in a sultry tone, giving you a half smile.

“Y-yes, please,” you gasp out, still amazed that he was able to fit.

Steve chuckles and begins to move. And it feels amazing. It wasn’t a brutal pace, but as it picked up, you could definitely understand why all the girls in high school talked about his game back in the day. This was the fullest you’d ever felt in your life.

But Steve wasn’t just fucking you. No, this felt like there was passion behind it. Something about the way he was staring between you with an open mouth expression really turned you. It didn’t feel like just a random fuck on a random Tuesday.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you moan out as his hips smack into your ass over and over.

“That’s right baby girl, tell me who’s fucking you right now,” he says as his pace starts to quicken.

“You are, oh my god, you are, Steve,” you say. You start to feel that familiar feeling in your stomach again the more he pounds into you.

“Fuck yea,” he moans, moving in close to take your lips as his once again. “Been wanting-to do-this for-a while.” He talks between kisses and his words set your body aflame. Steve wanted to fuck you. If you weren’t experience it in real time, you’d say this was just another one of your wet dreams.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he says as he pulls away. His thumb returns to your clit to rub quick circles into it, only heating you up more.

“Fuck, fuck, Steve--” You feel yourself getting closer to the edge as he continues to work you. It’s not much longer before you feel yourself cumming on his cock, squeezing and contracting around him in a way that drives him crazy. And in just a few more pumps, you feel Steve starting to fill you up.

After a moment, you finally come down from your high to see Steve panting like he just ran a marathon. You’re about to speak when he brings his lips to yours. Even in his post nut clarity, he feels the need to kiss you like a man starved.

But you kiss him back joyfully, glad to know that this wasn’t just going to be one big mistake for him.

“That was--”

“Crazy.”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile that melts your heart.

You wince as he pulls himself out of you. He grabs the towel from the ground and reaches around you to wet the end of it, using it as a rag to clean you up.

“You’re too sweet, Steve Harrington,” you say with hearts in your eyes.

“Nah, I just really like you,” he says throwing the towel to the ground.

“You like me?” You say with surprise. “Like, like me, like me?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“For a while now. I just didn’t want it to become a whole thing with the kids if I asked you out and you turned me down.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t do that. I’ve liked you longer than you’ve even known I existed.”

Steve head tilts back and he laughs that sweet laugh of his.

“Of all the girls I try and ask out, the one I had a chance with is the one I actively avoided.”

“I guess you should ask her out then. She’d probably say yes.”

“How’s Friday night looking for you?”

“Looks like I’ll be busy with Steve Harrington.”

#bunnie’s inbox 💌#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

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caffeinewitchcraft · 9 months ago

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The Hero and Hope (Part 2/5)

(part 1) (part 3)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie - says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game. “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

(part 1) (part 3)

Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!

This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

#my writing #the hero and hope #second person #multi part fic #short story #kind of #the total piece is 20k words

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melaninnbarbie · 1 year ago

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The True reality of Sudan

🌍 The World and major news outlets seemed to forget about Sudan 🇸🇩 after just a few months… and if they do mention Sudan… it’s just stats and figures. It’s all numbers to them 👤

🇸🇩 Real Sudanese lives have been affected. Sudanese and women, people who used to work, people who used to receive treatment, people who used to study and go about their normal day.

❌ They won’t tell you how a fully functioning society was completely turned upside down in 1 days on April 15th 2023.

📶 We need to share these personal stories of Sudan 🇸🇩 to the World…

🇸🇩 Follow @thesudanpage for more❗️

cc: 🎨: @kaleem1_1 IG

#sudan #blueforsudan #keep eyes on sudan #sudanuprising #sudan crisis

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milksnake-tea · 5 months ago

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hey all !! normally i wouldn't engage in something like this on my blog, but considering that it's happening to a friend of mine, i felt i had an obligation to speak out. sorry for clogging up the tags/interrupting your scrolling 😭

tldr: @/hxveneru has stolen the works of my good friend @lowkeyren not once, but twice and is deleting any comments calling them out.

edit: they've changed their user to @/yneri; if you've blocked them already, this doesn't really matter bc they're still blocked :) reminder to not engage with them, they're just looking for attention. block and ignore!

i know. fun stuff. proof is under the cut.

please note that i'm doing this of my own accord, and the only involvement ren has had in this post is me asking for permission to post it since, well, it's an issue mainly affecting her.

also i should say beforehand but. don't ??? send them death threats please 😭 we are better than that. i'm mainly making this to spread awareness about the issue :)

reblogs are appreciated to spread awareness.

first stolen work is ren's oneshot "drunk words, sober thoughts!" for aventurine here.

as you can see, it was posted on June 15th, a little over two months before hxveneru posted their own oneshot.

for reference. hxveneru is a new blog and all of their posts are in the month of september, proven here via their archive.

and here's the two oneshots side by side, with ren's on the left and the stolen one on the right.

notice how the oneshots are exactly word-for-word except for the title and synopsis? even the author's note is exactly the same. obviously i can't fit the whole thing here, but this should be enough.

honestly it's. i have to laugh at the audacity to just copy and paste like hello???

and here's the second work that was copied, with hxveneru's "diff scenarios w hsr men" taking from drabbles from two of ren's works.

these are the two fics that were stolen from, with their dates attached. both are posted far before september. links are here and here if you want to double check..

now let's look at the drabbles that were - once again, copy and pasted. first is blade's, again with ren on the left and the stolen one on the right (ren's is circled bc they didn't take the hcs part).

and here is the sunday drabble that was stolen.

so far, those are the only works posted on their blog. i was also informed that they had apparently stolen from @/exuvianen's post here but deleted it, but since said post is deleted, we don't have evidence for that so take it with a grain of salt.

but yeah! just wanted to let yall know out there, especially since the plagiarized works have already gained some traction and have 100+ notes on them. i've talked about them vaguely on my blog before, so if this sounds familiar, yeah this is them.

plagiarism is shitty, i shouldn't have to say that. it is not that hard to just write your own stuff. i know validation and publicity make you feel good, but stealing someone else's hard work is not the way to go. writers already have enough to deal with. just don't do it. what's the point of getting validation if it's not even your work?

again, don't send death threats, please. that's a bit far, and they likely won't even do anything since the plagiarizer has already been called out before and this was their response.

not a single ounce of remorse or shame. people have gotten way too comfortable on here.

also "who the hell is ren anyway" bestie you blocked her 😭😭 and ignored her ask to you. that's why ren can't dm her to sort it out privately btw, in case you were wondering.

anyways! that's all i have to say, thanks for sticking around this long and have a great rest of your day. hxveneru if you see this. hi ig ?? id say smth to you but i doubt you'd take it seriously so i won't <3

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urfriendlywriter · 2 years ago

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"i want to save this relationship, please." prompts :

(feel free to use <3 req by @thyme-in-a-bubble. god the 15th, 17th, 20th, 22nd, 24th???? has me crying. @urfriendlywriter )

ignoring one another

"i think we need some time apart.."

"this won't work, [name]."

"i can't go a minute without you, babe, please don't do this to me.."

trying to talk it out but it always ending up in an argument

"you are going to let a misunderstanding destroy us?"

"is it so easy for you to assume than to listen to me for goddamn once??"

"please, talk with me. how else are we going to solve this..."

getting into fights but becoming physically much clingier

"how could you point your finger at me so easily ??"

not being able to talk it out, but still showing physical affection - taking your hand in theirs, massaging you in silence, hugging, cuddling.

or - watching them walk out the room to sleep alone

^ "it has now come to this huh?" and them turning back, regret and sadness in their eyes, "what do you want me to do then?"

trying to be a better person always

"bury my heart deeper, love. If that's what you're trying--it's working." with a painful smile. or tears in their eyes.

telling each other how much you cherish one another

2 am and they're at your doorstep, crying, as they say, "i don't want to go to sleep-with this hanging between us, im so so sorry."

"lets take turns ranting, shall we? we don't want this to burden us."

"you didn't hear one word i said, did you?"

"trust me." "oh, im trying to, so hard rn."

"you think i came all the way here to fight with you? No, [name], i wanna talk this out, over a cup of tea, too. relax. breathe and talk. aint no way we're stressing ourselves out." with a few clicks of the tongue. CUS THIS? green flag.

"when have you ever cared?" ouch.

"i didn't know you felt all that.. I'm sorry."

"what.. are we now?" OK THE ANGST IF ITS WRITTEN RIGHT??? INSANE

the glances either starts to glint with hatred. or love that's beyond reach.

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batboyblog · 11 months ago

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Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #9

March 9-15 2024

The IRS launched its direct file pilot program. Tax payers in 12 states, Florida, New Hampshire, Nevada, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Washington, Wyoming, Arizona, Massachusetts, California and New York, can now file their federal income taxes for free on-line directly with the IRS. The IRS plans on taking direct file nation wide for next year's tax season. Tax Day is April 15th so if you're in one of those states you have a month to check it out.

The Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights opened an investigation into the death of Nex Benedict. the OCR is investigating if Benedict's school district violated his civil rights by failing to protect him from bullying. President Biden expressed support for trans and non-binary youth in the aftermath of the ruling that Benedict's death was a suicide and encouraged people to seek help in crisis

Vice President Kamala Harris became the first sitting Vice-President (or President) to visit an abortion provider. Harris' historic visit was to a Planned Parenthood clinic in St. Paul Minnesota. This is the last stop on the Vice-President's Reproductive Rights Tour that has taken her across the country highlighting the need for reproductive health care.

President Biden announced 3.3 billion dollars worth of infrastructure projects across 40 states designed to reconnect communities divided by transportation infrastructure. Communities often split decades ago by highways build in the 1960s and 70s. These splits very often affect communities of color splitting them off from the wider cities and making daily life far more difficult. These reconnection projects will help remedy decades of economic racism.

The Biden-Harris administration is taking steps to eliminate junk fees for college students. These are hidden fees students pay to get loans or special fees banks charged to students with bank accounts. Also the administration plans to eliminate automatic billing for textbooks and ban schools from pocketing leftover money on student's meal plans.

The Department of Interior announced $120 million in investments to help boost Climate Resilience in Tribal Communities. The money will support 146 projects effecting over 100 tribes. This comes on top of $440 million already spent on tribal climate resilience by the administration so far

The Department of Energy announced $750 million dollars in investment in clean hydrogen power. This will go to 52 projects across 24 states. As part of the administration's climate goals the DoE plans to bring low to zero carbon hydrogen production to 10 million metric tons by 2030, and the cost of hydrogen to $1 per kilogram of hydrogen produced by 2031.

The Department of Energy has offered a 2.3 billion dollar loan to build a lithium processing plant in Nevada. Lithium is the key component in rechargeable batteries used it electric vehicles. Currently 95% of the world's lithium comes from just 4 countries, Australia, Chile, China and Argentina. Only about 1% of the US' lithium needs are met by domestic production. When completed the processing plant in Thacker Pass Nevada will produce enough lithium for 800,000 electric vehicle batteries a year.

The Department of Transportation is making available $1.2 billion in funds to reduce decrease pollution in transportation. Available in all 50 states, DC and Puerto Rico the funds will support projects by transportation authorities to lower their carbon emissions.

The Geothermal Energy Optimization Act was introduced in the US Senate. If passed the act will streamline the permitting process and help expand geothermal projects on public lands. This totally green energy currently accounts for just 0.4% of the US' engird usage but the Department of Energy estimates the potential geothermal energy supply is large enough to power the entire U.S. five times over.

The Justice for Breonna Taylor Act was introduced in the Senate banning No Knock Warrants nationwide

A bill was introduced in the House requiring the US Postal Service to cover the costs of any laid fees on bills the USPS failed to deliver on time

The Senate Confirmed 3 more Biden nominees to be life time federal Judges, Jasmine Yoon the first Asian-America federal judge in Virginia, Sunil Harjani in Illinois, and Melissa DuBose the first LGBTQ and first person of color to serve as a federal judge in Rhode Island. This brings the total number of Biden judges to 185

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Democrats #politics #US politics #good news #nex benedict #abortion #taxes #climate change #climate action #tribal communities #lithium #electronic cars #trans rights #trans solidarity #judges

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astracora · 19 days ago

Text

Turning Point - Part 7

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability.

Word Count: 5202

Written: 15th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I got nothing to add here other than this one came out of me like an emotional waterfall and as an emotionally repressed person just like MC is... WOOF... Enjoy??? I think I got one more chapter for this specific thing, but I'll see when I write the last bit. (Sylus-centric to end where it started!)

Now Playing: Parachute, By Kyndal Inskeep

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous Finale ->

The first time going out with Tara, you had waited for the moment she looked at you. You waited to see something in her eyes that indicated she was disgusted, or horrified, or bothered by you. Waited for when you extended a hand, to recoil.

It is the kind of feeling that is insulting to her, because Tara has never offered you anything other than warmth and affection. She has been by your side, ever since you joined the Association. Chatting with you on breaks, checking in on you after you lost your family. Bringing you snacks, sending you texts.

So it should not have surprised you, that when you see her at the station, she sprints over, and wraps her arms around you. For a moment, you can feel her tremble, before she pulls away, your hands in hers. Feeling the warmth of Tara's skin through the prosthetic sensors. The twitching to your fingers, the hesitation, before you carefully tighten your fingers around hers.

Her hand doesn't leave yours as she tugs you this way and that, as you walk around shopping. The intention is abandoned, the hunt for gifts becomes second to letting her energy carry you.

It is not unlike the way Rafayel grabbed your hand to lead you forwards. The heat and comfort of someone's presence making the noise drop away a little. The world calm, your anxieties settle. Like you're wrapped in a blanket.

You end up with bags of things you're helping Tara carry, clothes and accessories she'd gotten excited over. Things she'd wanted your help picking out. The normalcy of it all so at odds with every part of your life. Bringing you back to days in college when you weren't chasing the sensation of being alive with blood on your fists, and bruises on your skin.

As rare as those were.

"So." Tara starts, through a mouthful of a crepe, so full of cream, she gets some on her nose. "How has it been with them?"

Your feet almost stop, thankfully her hand pulls you forwards, still tightly held in yours. It must be the tilt of your head that makes her laugh, as she rubs at her nose with her sleeve.

"Xavier said he was staying with you to help. Along with that artist you work with, your doctor, and Skye?"

You're glad Xavier knows how to lie, and that for once he didn't use it with you to keep secrets. You're not sure if you would have put money on him not dropping Sylus' name in casual conversation, simply because he was sleeping at his desk. Ignoring piles of paperwork.

"Yeah, they've been really helping." It's an understatement. They've pulled you back, and given you room to walk forwards. Steadying hands offered when you stumble, and warmth in your chest where it had chilled.

"I always thought you'd date Skye."

The statement is so startling you drop one of the bags, panicking to retrieve what has spilled over. Releasing your grip on Tara to put her stuff back.

"Oops." You can hear the music in her voice as she teases you, crouching to help, before you can stand again, bags held in your hand. She retrieves the metal one back into her own, and offers you some of the crepe.

You're sure it's sweet, but the heat of your cheeks and your embarrassment make it hard to tell what toppings she even put on it.

"Nero thinks you'll date Xavier." This time you choke, turning your face away to not spray her with cream, so she finishes off with, "and Simone is voting for Zayne. Shame we haven't met Rafayel yet, no one has his betting pool."

"You have a betting pool?" You exhale, swallowing down the coughing and rubbing at your throat with your full hand.

"Not officially." She this time wraps her arm around yours, leaning against you, and nibbling at her treat again, "We just find your friends funny."

Friends.

You look away and force one foot in front of the other, "Better not put down too much money, I don't think you'll get good returns."

"You're not interested?"

"That's- that's not what I said."

You aren't sure anyone could meet them, could know them, and not be interested.

"So you are?"

"Tara…" It comes out much the same way Zayne speaks to you, like he's exasperated and isn't sure what to do with you.

"Come on, we're friends!"

"We are."

"So talk to me."

"I've never thought about it."

"Ever?" She doesn't look like she believes you, eyes wide and shocked, like the idea of you moving through life alongside them without thinking about them like that is baffling to her.

It's not a lie… not entirely. "I've…" you sigh, looking down at the hand in yours before you're offered a bite again, as you chew, you feel the slight heat of it and the strawberry on your tongue, "I've never felt like I had time to think about it. Not in college, not now."

Always chasing some reason. Some meaning to be alive.

Some way to leave a mark that matters.

Chasing the pain in your limbs to remind you you're there, standing there.

"There's always something more important to think about, I've never had the time to sit down and think about anything like that." If you had thought about it, it was quick, and affirmation that you shouldn't. Shouldn't get attached to someone. Let them get attached to you. Waiting on that timeline that could be too short to grasp with your fingertips.

No one should have to deal with the grief of being left behind by you.

"What better time to think about it!" You're pulled to a bench, under an artificial tree covered in sparkling golden lanterns, Tara sits and then stares at you. Expectant, glittering eyes, bright smile. She catches the light and glows, and it's a reminder that she is far more an angel than you deserve to care for.

So you sit, to bask in the warmth of her, and place the bags down to free your hand, to offer her one of the bottles of ice tea you bought.

She swaps you for the crepe, but does not release your hand, like if she does you'll run away.

It's not an unfair assessment. You do feel the crawling up your back like you want to bolt. A cat wary for loud noises.

She's begun to learn your habits well. Like everyone else who has decided you are worthy of keeping around.

It is disconcerting to be seen, and known.

You think about the first time Caleb found you after you ran away from home, crawling under the husk of an old tree, to find you curled up with snacks and a threadbare blanket. Tears streaming down your eyes, not wanting to go back. You didn't want to go back to the hospital anymore.

He always found you. No matter where you ran.

You weren't sure anyone was ever going to find you again.

"Come on," She nudges you, with a pretty smile and bright eyes, "Why wouldn't you think about it?"

"Tara, I don't even know how long I have." You look away when you say it, sinking your teeth into cream, and stare down at the floor. Ignore the twitch in her hand, ignore the eyes that try to flit to yours.

Ignore the loss you'd feel if you had to let go of her hand.

She turns her gaze back to the bottle in her hand, takes a moment to twist the cap with her teeth, spitting it into one of the bags. "Neither do I." She finally says, and you look at her. The irritation must come through, because she blinks.

"It's different."

"Is it?"

The question in her gaze is earnest, and you aren't sure how to answer, it is…. Isn't it?

"You almost died. On a mission. In a building as it crashed down around you. You would have died, if hunters didn't come. If you hadn't sent me the warning." She tugs your hand so you have to hold her gaze, even if it hurts to see the tears shining there, "It wasn't your heart, it was wanderers. We almost lost you, because of an everyday job you do."

You think about the metal through your shoulder. The pain as you tried to struggle against it. Desperate to keep fighting, as the Myst swung its battleaxe down at you. As you saw moments flash before you, and the dark pulling you down into the abyss.

You think about the ticking clock you can't see for your heart.

Is it different?

"Everyday, we fight wanderers. Everyday a mission could be our last one. What better time to think, than when you're not staring down a monster?"

When you don't speak, Tara tilts her head, watches as you stare at the floor, "I'd miss you."

This time, it is a jolt, like a knife, right into your chest, looking at her as she says it.

"I'd miss you, if you disappeared, if you died. I'd miss you, every day. I'd probably have to stop myself from messaging you. Stop myself from seeking you out at work. I've already had to stop turning to your desk to speak to you, because you're not there."

A ghost, lurking in the memories of others. Isn't that what you feared to become?

"Then you-"

She shakes her head, "Do you wish you'd never know Caleb?"

"No!" It is venomous, a snap, a snake's bite. It rips out of your chest quicker than you can control, and it trembles at the edges.

You would go a million more days losing Caleb, if it meant you could have him in your life another day. That if you could repeat the last time you saw him, you would drag it out, even knowing how it ended. That you'd seek his spirit out, the one who brought you home when you curled in the rain and cried for something no one could ever give you.

You miss him everyday, but not knowing him… you don't think you'd be here. Not sat on this bench, not talking to someone who cares for you, who would miss you.

You think you would have finally given up. Broken beyond repair and drowning in the waves of feelings you couldn't grasp with your hands.

You would never have gotten a second chance, or a third, or a fourth. You would have sunk beneath and faded away.

"No. I don't."

"So why would anyone else see you differently? You're worth knowing, and loving, for as long as we get the chance to."

It is the grief of losing that accompanies the joy of loving. You think about memories spent with Gran and Caleb, of times you found value in waking up another day. That when you are stuck and struggling, you think about his hand reaching out for yours. Reminding you of what it means to live.

You think of Tara's hand, grasping at yours without end. Refusing to release you, for as long as she can. The tether and the reminder, that no matter what she will take your hand.

You think of Xavier's fingers dancing over the metal, testing the grooves and marvelling and the sensations that erupted.

You think of Rafayel's warmth in your palm, his fish darting through your fingers as you stretch and flex them.

You think of Sylus' grip grounding you, reminding you how to stand on the ground and find your feet.

You think of Zayne's ministrations, keeping your straps from digging harshly into skin, to keep you safe from the outside and the inside.

You think of Nero's notes in your bedside table. Of Simone's messages on your phone.

You think of Jenna's concern as she told you to rest, once taken as a dismissal, now repainted as concern. That the time it took did not matter to her, just that you did come back ready.

It is a mosaic or a jigsaw, littered across a messy floor. Pieces lost, and hard to find. You can clean and claw for them, but you will continue to find more. Things that were small, that kept you standing, things that seemed pointless but have buoyed you against your knowledge.

Large rocks in a river, or pebbles along the shore.

Her head rests on your shoulder, unconcerned with the metal through your clothing, even though you're sure it's not comfortable. Instead she just stays there, looking down at the hand she has joined with hers, "If they're anything like you, or me, it doesn't matter how long it is. So you should tell them."

Tell them… "I don't know what to tell them."

"Well that's easy, you're head over heels."

"Tara!"

"It's true!" "Where did you even get that from?"

She laughs, "You don't look at yourself in the mirror, everyone else sees it. The way you light up." You're not sure that's true… Xavier 'lights up', you… do you? She watches the furrow in your brow and smiles, "I suppose you wouldn't notice. You're too busy running forwards to stop and think, huh?"

"I stop." You huff, "Sometimes."

"Alright then, how do you think you feel?"

You're not sure you're ready to investigate that. To query it. The idea of looking deeper and seeing what Tara sees.

Then what?

You tell them, and watch things change?

Friends is good, friends is fine. If you don't mess it up, they won't leave you behind and keep walking. If you say something stupid, what if they leave. How would you even tell them?

"Are you happy with them?" She knows you well enough to dig deeper, with questions that pierce through the noise.

It's an easy answer to find, "Yes." There is no world where you are not happy with them. You think even if it ended in tragedy, you would seek them out, and care for them. Just like Caleb. Just like you would with those you have decided to love.

"It's not just… happiness. It's-" A sigh escapes you, the heat in your cheeks as you turn your face away so that Tara cannot study you as easily as she normally does. Seeking out changes in your expression to understand you. You're not sure how she has come to understand you so easily in a year of companionship. "It's like being whole. Pieces that come together to remind you of who you are. When they're there, I feel more like myself. I feel safe, and solid, and stable. Like the ground isn't going to drop."

It rips up your throat, the feeling of an emotion you struggle to process, the need to let it out in a sob, a feeling of worrying at the edge of the cliff. That you are staring down the drop, and you're not sure you don't want to fall.

Gentle fingers wipe at the corners of your eyes, and squeeze at your hand, and you lean into it, "It feels good. I'm scared of it feeling good."

"Hey."

"What if I lose it Tara? If I tell them and they turn away, or they leave?"

It's a home waiting to crumble into the sea, or the flames devouring the edges or the foundations. You've watched one go, can you set fire to the one you're still rebuilding?

She pulls you to her chest and strokes your cheek with her hand, releasing yours so that she can ground you in her arms. Other hand soothing circles into your back. "I can't tell you what they'll say, I wish I could, but I think you should talk to them. I may not have met your artist friend, but I know how the other's look at you. Even if you haven't opened your eyes to see it, alright?"

"It's really bad timing." You sniffle, trying not to cry harder and wet her shirt, or get snot on her.

Her laugh is soft against your cheek, "We'll always have bad timing. Can you really say if you die tomorrow, you'll be satisfied?"

You think about the hesitation to reach out and touch back, the wavering in your movements, and the need to close gaps. The feelings of lying awake next to Rafayel or Xavier on the bed, watching eyelashes flutter over cheeks. Of Sylus' fleeting touches and glances, that he never pushes like you'll run from him if he does. Of Zayne's clenched fist when he thinks you don't notice, as though he's holding himself back every moment.

You think about what you wish you could do for and with them. A home built with the people you love.

Love.

You're not sure you're ready, but you're not sure you'll ever be ready. To face the abyss and leap. Like it will catch you.

Somehow you think it will.

"Just think about it, at least a little. You deserve the chance to have a life that doesn't revolve around being a hunter."

You want to laugh but it will come out wet. Time spent not chasing a value in what you can provide, it feels a long way away with the chains around your ankle, and the beast that slumbers only to awaken in your lowest moments.

Except… when it purrs. With those who hold you and care for you.

"Thank you." You squeeze Tara's hand against your cheek, straightening a little to look at her. You see the tears glowing in her own eyes.

You wonder how many people you have hurt while you were standing looking over the cliff.

You want to make sure you never stand there again, and remember to turn around when they call for you.

"Always, remember. Always."

Always.

—----------

You think about your talk with Tara, wavering on the edge of opening your mouth, until you panic and shut down. You have been stuck inside of your own head, unsure how to start a conversation. You spent weeks debating and wondering and thinking.

In between daily progress, returning to your usual training, finally able to feel your body function the way you'd like it to.

In every empty moment, you think about them.

About the question on the tip of your tongue, that is barely even a question, 'I love you'. Unsure and wavering and scared to be voiced.

When you finish training with Sylus, you escape, lest your spout out something stupid and have to watch pity enter his eyes.

You finish runs with Zayne and avoid his checking hands when he queries if you are sick, because you cannot hold his gaze even more than normal.

You avoid sitting with Rafayel for long periods of time, because the soothe of his work makes you want to tell him things you're worried to say.

You cannot face Xavier when he joins you for a nap, because you feel your hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

It is like a dam has broken, and the feelings you have spent too long ignoring, lest you have to face them, have come to the forefront. Reminding you every moment, that you are sitting on a need and a feeling that wishes for nothing more than to be aired.

It is nothing you want to share, you think. You are happy where you are, they are here.

They won't always be here. This moment, it pulls away, and you are more capable every day. You wait for the moment that they tell you, that they will go their separate ways.

That you will stop entering the apartment to see them. That your home will become cold again, and you will have to deal with the acknowledgement that you are a coward.

It is a new type of countdown, but no more terrifying. You know it does not mean they will disappear, you will see them, you will be able to meet them… they have never disappeared on you for long.

You think you have grown far too used to their presence as a constant, that the idea of the loneliness of the cool apartment is no longer a familiar balm.

You're sure you used to be fine alone. Yet now, in this moment, you wish to never be alone again.

So as you avoid, and run from them, out of control of your own body in a way you've never been before, you move through the days.

Until you finally get approval to return to combat training.

You meet Jenna, Tara, Simone and Nero at the door of the Association.

It is worth everything, you think, that coming to the Association, seeing the four of them, feels like settling back into place. Not unlike returning to that apartment with the four people you love most around your table.

"Took you long enough." Simone laughs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into the building. You stumble a little, before catching yourself. The laugh that barks out is greeted by a smile from Nero and Tara. "Thought we'd all get old waiting for you to get your ass back."

"Is that anyway to treat your favourite resonator?"

"You're the only one we've got, so you'll do I suppose."

You poke her with a metal finger into the side, happy when she laughs again at you.

"I'll give you the entertainment factor though, Xavier was proper grumpy without you."

Nero nods, serious, "She's right, he kept heading to your desk to sit at, even though you weren't there."

"Like a sad little bunny!"

"You really enjoy teasing Xavier a lot, huh?"

She shrugs, "Before you came around the man didn't react to a single thing, now he's blushing, laughing, getting grumpy with kids who want to be your partner? I'm having the time of my life."

"You lot behave yourself, I'm aware you're excited, but we aren't here to chat." Jenna cuts in, extending her hand to you, her face is even, but as you shake her hand, she smiles, small and quick, "Welcome back. We'll be seeing if you can keep up with combat drills for a while, then when I believe you're ready, you'll be back on missions."

The feeling you have is probably akin to the feeling a bird has when it takes flight. It's the same feeling you had when you got accepted as a hunter. The first day you were assigned to UNICORNS. It is excitement, and fear, and thrill.

You're back where you belong, where you can do what you should be doing.

You are ready to keep moving forwards.

Simone returns to her work, but Nero and Tara assist with drills. You are handed a gun, to practice with your aim.

It is not a weapon you prefer to use, but it is a basic skill that hunters require. The more weapons in an arsenal, the better chance you have in the field.

You can't really lift your claymore easily anymore. When you try to lift it over your shoulder, it pulls and tears. You waver and you shake, and drop it back down. Irritable and frustrated.

Your sword is familiar, you have kept training with Xavier, so that it does not hinder with its movements. It is fast and easy to keep your movements with.

Your efforts with each of them has kept you from falling too far behind. Your hand has a proper grip, and you find comfort in the process.

You run through each drill Jenna hands you. When you fail, you stand back up and try again, you focus on the movement, on the action and you keep trying. You keep the rule your doctor has drilled into you. Fail five times, stop, try again later.

When you face wanderers for test, you learn you are missing your mark with the gun, unbalanced with it, but your sword strikes true. Easy to judge the weight and the feel of it in your grasp.

You pause, and you fight, and you train.

You come back day after day, you face down the hoard of emulated beasts, and you learn how to move the way you did.

You fight, and you fight.

You repeat, come home, exhausted and full of flames, and then repeat the process.

It is a day that you are heading back to complete another test that Jenna has devised, bruise on your cheek, just over a scar near your eye, that you are held back by a hand on your wrist. Rafayel with his hands behind his back, head tilted and a grin on his face, "I have a surprise, guess the hand."

Your laugh is unbidden, and for a moment you think again how beautiful he is, before you stuff it down. Reminding yourself, not to say something stupid, "Is this a trap, if I pick wrong will I be sleeping with the fishes?"

He huffs, "You're only allowed to sleep with this fishie!"

"Raffy!"

He tilts his head to the other side, he leans in closer to you, eyes sparkling, "Pick."

"Left."

"Are you sure?"

"I haven't got x-ray vision, so yeah, no more sure than I'd be of right."

He moves his hands in front of him, and on both of his palms rests a long, beautiful, black curved dagger. It is intricately carved, you turn it over to see feathers falling through snowflakes, a fish dancing on the edge of a star. Your fingers tremble as he places it in your hand, tightening along the handle.

"You needed a new signature, and you always liked mine."

It is the feeling up your throat, the need to cry, to sob. Every time they see you, you want to run and to bask. To lie against their beating hearts and beg them to never stop.

It rests in your hand, your grip tightens around it and it feels like it is part of you. Thrumming under your senses. Beating like a living heart in your hand. A vivid reminder of what you have to keep fighting for and with. "I love it." You manage, through the tight throat and the wet mess of tears as they rush from your eyes.

Fingers chase away your tears again, reminding you that it is not wrong of you to feel and to struggle, as long as you face forwards.

"Thank you Rafayel."

He shrugs, huffing but there's no venom in it, his lips quirking at the edges, "Wasn't just me, you've got to stay safe, and alive. Always come home."

Home.

As long as your heart beats, you think that he, Xavier, Zayne and Sylus are your home. The place where your pieces feel like they fit again.

You want them to know, you want to tell them that they are where you belong. You want to believe that with the dagger in your hand, you can protect it and them. A future where, even if it ends before you want, you will always cherish it.

That the grief is worth the joy, and you want to believe it is the same for them.

"I'll see you tonight."

It is a promise, and as you smile back at Rafayel, whose eyes brighten like flames in the night, leading you home. You promise yourself you'll take the step.

—-----

The dagger rests comfortably in your grip as you push. It is sharp and quick, and you dispatch the practice wanderers with the kind of violent glee you often get when you find the drive to push and flare.

When there is something to fight for on the other side. The rage that carries you past your hatred of EVER. That pulled you into Sylus' lap with the gun in hand.

That you will keep snarling if it means you will end up victorious.

It is the knowledge that you have something to protect, this world, Linkon, your friends, the people waiting for you at home.

It is the feeling of finally flying, the feeling of resonating with Caleb when you were a kid, and feeling the gravity leave, as you floated up holding his hand. As you laughed as you span. Pulling him as high as you could before the connection dimmed, or Gran caught you both.

Catharsis that reminds you that there are moments when your heart is light. Even as you cut through the arm of a knave, and kick back at a wyrm.

As you stand in the training ring, victorious and pleasantly sore. As you remember why you pushed through every night your arm didn't work as you wanted. As you struggled against the tide.

It is the acknowledgement of months of work to process and fight. It is the gleam in Jenna's eye as you achieve, and remind her why you were here in the first place.

That this is what you can do, that this is who you are. Every contest, every trial, everything. If you fail, you stand again.

"Well," Jenna starts, stepping over as the emulation stops, her hand extends again, but this time her smile is there at the start, "Let's get you back on missions."

You almost jump forwards, almost grab her hand far too tight, before Tara comes out the side, a streak of vivid energy to tackle you. Leaving Jenna's hand floating in the air, before it covers her mouth, so she can push down the laugh.

"Tara. My bruises."

"They'll heal!"

Nero and Simone watch, he offers you a nod, while Simone grins, "All those long times staring at these horrible wanderer emulations, ended up worth it huh?"

"Horrible? They're a skillful recreation of accurate wanderer behaviour! The stud-"

"I get it, I get it. They're great, super realistic." She snorts, kicking at the floor with the toe of her shoe, "They even splatter."

"An accurate recre-"

"Nero, can you go file the report with Andrew, he'll need to know."

"Yes Captain."

Before he goes he nods at you again, "Glad you're back, I have so many notes. The new Lumiere show had Arbiterwings!" You barely get chance to respond, because Jenna raises a brow and he darts off. Before she can give him an order again.

"I swear, he's been biting at the bit to tell you about his new show, we told him he could message you, but he said it wasn't the same." Simone steps over, pulling Tara off you finally.

"Hey!"

"Two minutes is too long, you're acting like they died!"

"Some of us have a lot of feelings."

"I have a lot, right now I'm hungry, we've been watching for hours."

There's another smothered laugh, as Jenna straightens out, "Alright you three, you're done for the day, go find Nero and get something to eat." She looks at you, "You can start next week, you'll keep doing drills to ensure you keep on top of your physical state, and keep up with your medical checks."

"Yes Captain." The salute is familiar, practiced, even with the cool metal against your forehead.

Whole.

And you're more than sure of the scar pulling at your lip, as your smile rises to your lips.

You will fight for the future again.