#truly this pop up startled me so much

[gilear-core]

this pops up in the corner of hannibal’s vision at the start of every episode……

[anthotneystark]

Well, if you're rough and ready for love (Honey, I'm tougher than the rest)

(edit: now on ao3!)

Eddie is suffering.

It’s hardly the first time, but it’s self-inflicted this time. At least it’s not going to physically almost kill him like the bats did.

Emotionally, sure, but not physically. That has to be some kind of win.

“Did you get Vecna’d? Do I have to get my trumpet? I don’t know if you can play Metallica on a horn, but I’ll try if you need me to.”

“Buckley, I would pay money to see you attempt it,” he says absently, his gaze never moving.

“Good, I could use the bonus.”

“Probably a good time to say I’ve only got Monopoly money.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

He hums an agreement, startling a moment later when a hand is suddenly blocking his view.

“Stop drooling, it’s not attractive.”

“Nothing about me is attractive to you.”

“Fair, but still. Ew,” she snorts.

“It’s not my fault, I can’t help it. He’s just so….” He doesn’t even have a word for it, so he just sighs.

“Who would have thought. Mr. Anti-Conformity drooling over Jock Extraordinaire. He’s wearing pastels. What have you become?”

“Shut up, he’s your platonic soulmate.”

“He is. And I love him. I just also know that he’s all sporty and preppy.”

“He can be as sporty as he wants as long as he keeps wearing those shorts he had on the other day.”

“Gross.”

“Even you can admit he looked good.”

“Sure, but you’re drooling again.”

He should be allowed a little drool. Steve had looked so biteable.

“He’s not even wearing shorts today, it’s too cold for that, doofus.” It was. Summer had well and truly turned into fall. Shorts had been replaced by jeans (except on the days Steve and Lucas played basketball, then the shorts came back out), polos more often than not were exchanged for sweaters, and by god, it was kissing him even more than the shorts and tank tops of summer had.

(This is without even considering the extreme number of shirts that Steve had sacrificed to become half shirts “for more air flow, because I can’t just walk around shirtless, obviously.” Because it was obvious. Showing his chest was too much, but the soft skin of his stomach, interrupted by the trail of dark hair vanishing under his waist band, wasn’t too much. Obviously.)

It made no sense. It shouldn’t have been worse with less skin showing. But it was because somehow, knowing that the soft knit of those sweaters was covering slowly paling skin, strong muscles and that beautiful, amazing layer of softness that rounded out hard edges…well, it completely ruined his train of thought until he couldn’t remember where he’d been going originally.

Worth it, just getting to imagine how Steve looked under his clothes.

“He’s worn this stuff before, why does it have you in a coma today?” Robin sighs, put upon even though it was her decision to sit with him.

“His hair.” Because that was the kicker today. Because Steve Harrington had never walked outside looking less than completely perfect.

Because Steve somehow managed to look amazing even roughed up and dirty.

Because Stevie was comfortable with himself and picked the clothes he liked and didn’t bother hiding scars that only proved how far he’d be willing to go to protect his loved ones and didn’t care about if he didn’t look perfect.

“He didn’t style it.”

“I can see how you’d get that impression, but I assure you he did.”

“What?!” That makes Eddie finally look at her, nearly falling over where he’s sat.

“Yeah. It’s just not hairspray. He’s trying something new.”

“It works for him.” The response is automatic. Because it’s true. Because poofed up and closer to god could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and gunked up and water-logged could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and bedhead could only look that good on someone as pretty as Steve.

Steve is just. So pretty.

But today, today it’s not firmly in place, soft even if it’s not going to move from it’s position. Today it’s not slicked back with water as he pops up from under it to splash one of the kids. Today it’s not half flat from where he slept on it, the same side he’ll leave pressed into Eddie’s shoulder if he’s not quite ready to start the day.

Today, it’s soft, curling around his ears, over his forehead, fluttering in the wind. It’s not the same kind of curly that his own hair is, the chaotic kind that if he tried to brush it, it’d eat the brush. It’s gentler, and he desperately wants to touch it.

“Seriously, I’m worried about your brain right now.”

“My brain is fine.”

“Close your mouth then.” Well, that’s embarrassing. He tosses a glare at her, and it’s just enough time to miss Steve heading their way. He does fall over where he’s sitting this time, but it’s so worth it because it makes Steve laugh.

He’d do an embarrassing amount of things to hear that laugh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, looking so fond and amused at Eddie’s antics that it makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s still surprising, having that look aimed at him, getting it from Steve.

“Fear not, Sir Stevington, I will survive,” he says, pushing himself up dramatically. Steve’s eyes crinkle as he snorts another laugh, and they both ignore Robin quietly bleching.

“Yeah? Good. I’d hate to see you get through everything just to get taken out by your own theatrics,” Steve says. Eddie doesn’t even have time to react – Steve’s smiling and that always slows him down – when his gorgeous, beautiful friend pulls off that pale green sweater and presses it into Eddie’s hands.

“Don’t get cold on me, alright? I saw you shivering,” he says, like he hasn’t just ruffled his own hair once more and completely distracted all of Eddie’s thoughts in the blink of an eye.

And then he’s gone, off to give another attempt at skateboarding (trying to follow Max’s instructions and letting her laugh at him when she hears him fall before she does whatever trick it is perfectly even without her sight), and Eddie is left standing there, watching that perfect, broad back covered by a too tight tee shirt.

“This is a whole new level of pathetic, I think.”

“Shup it,” Eddie says, then freezes, feels her shit-eating grin growing. “Shut up!” He groans.

She can laugh all she wants, he decides, pulling Steve’s sweater over his head. It’s warm with his body heat, smells like his soap and his cologne and him.

She can laugh, he’s got a beautiful boy to watch, one who looks at him with a promise of what’s to come, when the time is right.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Wine Drunk

Word Count - 3600

Warnings - drinking I guess but that's kind of in the title so none.

Summary - A night filled with being wine drunk with Quinn at the lake house and he's letting you live out almost all your creative impulsive ideas.

Author's Note - Just thank you for reading, I've been missing writing for Quinn so I figured I'd throw this together. Also I couldn't contain myself writing this when it came to Trevor and Cole and if your not new here, you will know exactly why as you read this.

masterlist

It was one of those rare nights in the summer lakehouse, where the only people around were people that Quinn considered family. It was nice to be able to see everyone in the summer but just a night where you didn’t feel like you needed to play hostess and could relax was sometimes needed. The only people in the house were you, Quinn, his brothers, Cole and Trevor - chosen family. Although if asked Quinn would not count Trevor as family, but he was considered family to Jack which by extension meant Quinn but if asked would probably refuse to comment. He still hated Trevor for never being able to shut up, although even he will admit he’s more quiet when Cole is around. 

Spending the night getting wine drunk with your boyfriend, and hanging out with the boys by the fire is sometimes needed. But, the thing about wine that you always seem to forget is how getting tipsy off wine is different. One moment you feel completely sober and the next your one drink away from going ‘night night’. 

That small fact you seemed to forget is how you got here, trying to convince Quinn that it was a great idea for Trevor to teach you how to do a backflip. “Please Quinny, he’s so good at them.” you begged it was obvious to everyone around minus you and Trevor how intoxicated you both were. “He’s the only one who knows how and I wanna learn.” whining towards the end of another act that tells Quinn just how drunk you are.

Quinn, still sitting in his lawn chair, simply pulls you down to sit in his lap. “No not safe baby” he tried to reason but you were still softly protesting while he wrapped you in his arms trying to get you to stop moving. Trevor was also protesting, except he was hushed up quickly when they mentioned his old ankle injury and how he said it hurt after training this morning.  

“Man fuck you guys! I’ve been doing them all summer.” he yells. Everyone could tell he was gonna put on a further protest but the pointed look from Cole and Quinn was enough for his ass to sit down right where it was, which just so happened to be on the grass in front of Cole. Trevor was pretty drunk and decided holding his own head up was too much work and used Cole’s legs as a backrest. 

Still in that fidgety state, you struggled to stay still espically since you were still annoyed Quinn “stopped me and Trevs fun.” As the boys started getting lost in their own conversation, truly not paying attention to them. An idea popped into your head, a compromise if you will. If Quinn wasn’t going to let you do flips with Trevor you could just do them on Quinn. Immediately you got up from Quinn’s lap, the quick movement you could tell startled Quinn but he didn’t say anything. 

“I’m doing a flip, watch me.” in your head you sounded a lot more badass and clear spoken than you actually did. All the boys could understand was “I’m flap watch.” Before Quinn knew it you were facing him and diving head first into his lap, trying to kick your feet up in the process. Quinn truly didn’t know how to respond except to put his hands on your waist to try to support your weight. 

“Baby whatcha doing?” he asked softly. He wasn’t annoyed but he also didn’t seem very amused. 

“Obviously flips! ME NEXT!” Trevor yelled as he decided to stand up and turn around facing Cole similar to how you did to Quinn a few moments ago. 

“Not a chance bud.” Cole deadpanned. Trevor immediately frowned, mumbling about how no one cares about if he has fun tonight and sits back down on the grass. 

After your first failed attempt Quinn takes his wine glass that was in his hand and sits it on the ground next to him. He didn’t say anything as you turned around and started dragging the empty lawn chair near you, playing it directly in front of Quinn’s. He knew that you ass wasn’t gonna sit down, but he didn’t know exactly what your drunk train of thought was. “Baby?” he asked softly in a questionable tone, as he eyebrows frowned to try and figure out what you were trying to do. He found himself relatively leaning forward, as your feet stepped on the chair, and you tried to again dive into him in order to do a flip. 

All you could do was laugh at yet another failed attempt, Quinn wasn’t as easily amused. Especially when Trevor’s booming laughter was heard as he started screaming, egging you on more longer. “You go glenn coco..” he screamed which caused the other boys to laugh because what the actual fuck did he drink to get this drunk. 

Helping you sit still in his lap for a minute, he took the hand that wasn’t on your hip to your face. He leans his forehead to yours and softly asks “baby what are you trying to do?” Although it was clear to you, and Trevor, the rest of the boys were truly clueless on what the end goal was. 

“I wanna do flips.” you pout. 

“On me??” he lets out a chuckle. 

“Well you said none with Trev so I figured this was the best compromise.” you admit, now giggling at your own thought process. “I think I’m a little drunk”, finally admitting what Quinn already knew. 

“Maybe a little” he chuckles and that’s when you notice his flushed cheeks, the wine finally catching up to him. “Wanna stay or go to bed?” His head goes to your inner shoulder to rest for a second, leaving a quick open mouth kiss on your collarbone. 

“Too much energy to sleep.” you sheepishly admit. 

“Alright well what’s something safe we can do? Hmmm..” he asks as his hand that was on your face wraps around you. A small smile spreads across his lips as he sees your face light up with excitement. 

“Can we make smores and build a fort?” Quinn would never admit this but he’s pretty sure his chest swelled with love for you at that moment. It’s moments like these where the alcohol gives you liquid courage to act on your brain's creative impulsive thoughts. 

“Of course baby, whatever you want.” stealing a quick kiss before you both get up stumbling a little in the process. Once you make your way inside, Quinn goes to the pantry to grab everything needed for S’mores that he just happens to always keep on hand in the summer. Running to the laundry room, you grab all your extra blankets. Quinn notices your heading for the back door with all the blankets and throw pillows from the family room you can carry.

It’s in that moment as he watches you struggle to carry everything to the screen door. With only the top of your head visible due to the many blankets and pillows, he finally realizes he never asked you where you wanted to build this fort. “Hey baby? Where is this fort going?” He can’t help the chuckle escape his mouth as he grabs some stuff from you so he can actually see your face a little while you answer.

“Uhh outside next to the fire.” it’s not what you said that makes Quinn take a step back and laugh but you're almost accusatory tone about why Quinn would even have to ask, as if the most logical place would be next to a bonfire with a bunch of tipsy people. “And before you say anything I was gonna take the cushions of the patio furniture I’m not a monster.” you declared as you walked outside, you could hear Quinn chuckling behind you but chose to ignore him. Finally making it to the boys back at the fire, Luke almost ran into you trying to get the stuff for s'mores from his older brother. 

“You know you know where this stuff is kept, Moose you could have gone inside for it.” Quinn continue to chirp his little brother “also don’t eat it all Rusty before Y/N gets at least one or you will be sleeping outside tonight because that’s the last of S’more stuff we have and you will be the one that deals with an emotional Y/N and Trevor if they don’t get any.” 

“HEEEY!” Both you and Trevor yell at the same time, you lightly jokingly hit Quinn’s chest, he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead. 

“We are not emotional Quinn, you are just emotionless.” Trevor is still not letting it go.

“Bro shut up and make your fucking s’more” Jack mumbles, earning a chuckle from everyone around. 

“Let’s go get everything else.” As you pull Quinn back with you towards the house, you can hear all the boys still bickering, you're not sure what exactly he said but you know Cole got Trevor to let it go for now at least. 

Once you're back on the deck, instead of turning to the couch like Quinn had grabbing pillows you make your way towards the screen door. “Where ya going?” Quinn asks softly. 

“Uhh we obviously need more wine. Plus if we were having s’mores it only makes sense to get a more dessert wine.” Turning around to face Quinn with a cheeky grin. 

“Says the girl who is literally the pickiest when it comes to any alcohol let alone wine.” He pointedly says as makes his way to you, grabs you and pushes you towards him so your back is pressed flush against his chest. Turning your head Quinn doesn’t miss the opportunity to steal a kiss. Turning you in his arms pressing you lightly against the glass door earning a moan from you which makes his smile more into the kiss. Quinn was a man of few words which was fine because you always joked that you could talk enough for the both of you. After dating for so long, you knew this was his way of saying “I love you” by stealing any kiss he could at any time of the day without physically saying the words, and it’s one of the things you loved most about Quinn.

Making your way slowly inside and to the kitchen you grab another bottle of wine, you went to cork it yourself but Quinn physically grabbed it out of your hands. Grabbing two new glasses since neither of you could tell you where your ones from earlier were. Before you left, you grabbed the rest of the case of the beer. There were only a few left for the boys outside. On your way out both of you grabbed multiple blankets off the couch to build the fort you so desperately wanted. By the time you came back you could tell that the DJ changed from Luke playing soft country music to Cole. All of a sudden your favorite song was playing, you turned to Quinn with a shocked face and begging eyes. 

He softly nodded and you dropped all the pillows, quickly hugging him only taking your wine glass you ran towards the boys for your impromptu dance party. But before you could Quinn pulled you back with his hand that was still attached to yours. “I'll make your s’mores for you ok.” Kissing your cheek you pecked his lips as a thank you as you ran towards the boys well all except Luke, he wasn’t a dancer and also way too focused on the midnight s’mores snack he was making. 

Quinn watched from a distance with a giant smile plastered on his face with you dancing as he walked towards his youngest brother. Luke was already eating his first s’more as he was roasting marshmallows for his second.. Quinn just shook his head as he started putting marshmallows on a metal stick to roast for your s’more. 

“I never thought I’d see it.” Luke exclaims. Quinn only makes a sound of acknowledgement to his brother, as he watches all four of you now dancing and screaming the lyrics to “Imma Be” by Black Eyed Peas. 

“The day your girlfriend likes Trevor and Cole more than you.” Luke chirps, a playful smirk on his lips as he glances towards his older brother automatically stepping to the side knowing Quinn’s fist is seconds from hitting his rib. 

“Shut up Moosey and focus on not burning your marshmallow which by the way is on fire.” he remarks.

“Oh shit.” he quickly pulls it out of the fire and blows the small fire out. “Well jokes on your Q I like my food crispy.” 

“Didn’t know crispy and burnt are the same thing. And she doesn’t like them as much as me. She's just more impulsive and hyper when wine drunk, which I think is adorable.” not noticing how defensive he sounds.

“God you're so whipped, I’m happy for you dude. It’s nice to see you happy.” 

Before Quinn could have any type of response he heard the song change again to “You Belong with Me.” by Taylor Swift. Just as Quinn’s finishing up your s’more for you. He hears Jack yell for him.

“QUINN! Your shitty dance moves are needed! I’m not dancing with my future sister in law to this song! This song is strictly for couples or people that want to bone each other!” Finally Quinn makes his way over to you taking your s’more from him and taking a bite. Wrapping your arms around his neck, despite that this isn’t a slow pace song, Quinn’s hands find your hips pulling you close.  Before Jack can continue to yell about how he’s sitting this one out, you have to point out the flaw in his logic. 

“But Jackey… Cole and Trevor are still dancing and they aren’t a couple or wanna bone.” 

Jack just blinks at you and says “I said what I said and I’m right. Now I need to go make a s’more before the human garbage can we left with all the food eats everything.” Both you and Quinn laugh as you get lost in your own little world still aware that Trevor and Cole are screaming the lyrics next to you but they seem even more lost in their own world then you and Quinn. Taking another bite of your s’more you were holding, lightly shoving it in Quinn’s direction. He finishes it for you knowing that’s your way of telling him you didn’t want any left. 

“Now my lips are all sticky because you have a terrible aim baby.” 

“Here let me fix it.” you mumble as you balance on the balls of your feet and kiss the marshmallow and chocolate leftovers on his lips. The kiss that started as playful slowly started to get heated but you teasingly pulled away before Quinn could get too worked up. “Let’s go make my fort!” you exclaim, quickly turning on your heel and heading towards where you left everything by the fire not even 10 minutes ago. 

“Such a fucking tease.” you hear Quinn mumble as he watches you purposely sway your hips, you can’t help the smirk that’s on his lips as Quinn’s reaction every time all you do is simply kiss him. The fort you so desperately wanted turned out to be just some couch cushions long enough for you and Quinn to cuddle as with some blankets thrown on top, both of you being too lazy to put any real effort into it. 

Quinn sat down the makeshift fort, as you leaned against him a blanket on top of both of you, even though you really didn’t need it. But you were too lazy to go get a hoodie all the way from your bedroom upstairs. Both of you getting lost in conversation with the group, Trevor and Cole just made it back to the group. Trevor couldn’t help himself from grabbing a blanket that you and Quinn didn’t happen to be using, wrapping it around himself. 

“Z.” Cole warned, he really didn’t wanna deal with a moody Quinn, and Quinn was about to say something until your voice interrupted his train of thought. 

“It’s fine Z keep it.” Snuggling closer to Quinn as you see Trevor wrap the blanket on himself and sit push Quinn’s now empty chair closer to Cole’s before plopping down. Jack looked at you over the fire, both of you sharing a look as he mouthed “told you” a laugh escaping you at Jack’s antics. 

Time seemed to escape you as the bottle of wine you brought out was now half empty and the beers you brought out for the boys were gone. Luke called it a night after all the s’more stuff was gone and moose tracks ice cream from the freezer about 45 minutes ago. Trevor decided it was time to go into the lake, and that is when Cole decided that it was time to take a very drunk Trevor back to their shared room. 

“Jack, can you at least help me get him up the stairs.” Cole begged his friend and Trevor was practically half asleep leaning onto Cole complaining about how first it flips and now the whole lake is off limits. 

“Naw sorry dude. This one is all you.” 

“You're such a dick sometimes.”

“Yes but be careful you might make Trev jealous.” Jack couldn’t help the laugh escape his lips as he walked into the house, waving both you and Quinn goodnight. 

From where you and Quinn were now laying down you couldn’t see or hear everything that was happening between Trevor and Cole but you did hear Cole promise Trevor he could go in the lake tomorrow. 

Once you both were alone, you glanced up at Quinn, he seemed a little lost in his own world staring at the very end of the fire burning. Deciding to poke his cheek to get his attention. He makes a sound of acknowledgement before he turns his attention fully to you. “Ready for bed baby?” he asks with a yawn escaping his lips. 

“Nope.” 

“Oh yeah and what do you wanna do?” shyly he asks as he pulls you closer to him by the back of your upper thighs. 

“I’m hungry.” 

“Oh really?” a smirk on his lips as he leans up for a kiss.

“Nooo not like that Quinny. I want food! I want pizza.” 

“Pizza.” a chuckle escaping his lips as he glances at his phone. “Baby it is literally almost 1:30 in the morning this isn’t the city. I don’t know if any place is open for pizza.”

He hates the small frown and pout that’s plastered on your lips as he glances back at you. “Can you check?” you whine a pout on your lips. Quinn keeps one hand wrapped around you as he looks at every delivery service app he has, for pizza at this hour.

“I found something surprising. Do you want a personal or share?” Before you even respond verbally Quinn glances up at you and sees your face. 

“Right. Two personal pizzas - mine gluten free and yours not. Do you want your usual?” Nodding your head yes, Quinn finalizes the order. “Should be here in 45 minutes.” 

“45 MINUTES???” The shock in your voice is very clear, not sure if it’s your brain still used to living in a city or your drunk mind but that seems forever away. 

“Like I said, we're not in Van anymore honey, this is kind of the middle of nowhere.” 

“Yeah I can tell.” you drunkenly admit as you lift your head up and look out to the lake as if you're looking for more developed land you won’t find, leading Quinn to smile at you lovingly. 

“Let’s go inside baby.” he whispers, kissing the crown of your head as you both get inside and drunkenly stumble inside. Before you knew it the pizza was here and you spent the remainder of the night until you passed out sitting criss-cross applesauce and gossiping about what you think Jack meant about Trevor and Cole. Well before Quinn told you he was going to projectile vomit all over the bed if you continued to talk about your theories. Laughing, you promised to stop and only gossip about it with Jack and Luke. 

Yawning loudly all of a sudden once your stomach was full, Quinn decided it was time to call it a night for both of you. Not before making you get up and wash your face and brush your teeth. Although most of his drunkenness had worn off, he quickly found out yours had not and getting you ready for bed was no easy task. Finally, finishing you climbed into bed as Quinn came to your side of bed and gave you some advil to take now to get ahead of the headache you were bound to have hungover. That’s the last thing you remember as you heard Quinn turn on the shower for himself and you fell asleep. Quinn found you laying starfish in the middle of the bed 30 minutes later and took a picture because he found it hilarious before gently moving you to one side and pulling your back to his chest. He kissed your shoulder as he felt you stir “just me, go back to bed.” 

“Okay, love you.” you mumbled already allowing sleep to lore you back into the comforting darkness.

“Love you too baby. More than you know.” as Quinn closed his eyes and let his body fall into the familiar slumper state.

[gublernatural]

Hiii! I absolutely love your writing and I was wondering if you could write something about Spencer reid and reader who have just started dating and they get into their first ever argument and it’s a bit angsty but cute(?) cause he gets all worried while reader is more experienced in the relationship department so she (or gn!reader, your choice) doesn’t worry as much cause she knows it doesn’t mean they’re over? And then he gets all pouty and clingy when they make up cause he hated being far from her sm🫶 I know its very specific and idk weird so its totally okay if you don’t wanna write it but I’d really appreciate it!!!

as an insecure certified lover girl i love this request and i am so sorry it took me so long to get to <3

spencer was not expecting you to leave. to argue, to complain, even to berate, but to leave? the thought the didn’t even cross his mind.

the argument had started over something stupid, probably like a teasing remark that had gone too far, or the fact that he had been nagging you about doing the dishes. he wasn’t sure. all that filled his mind now was the fact that you walked out the door and slammed it behind you. he wasn’t sure where you went to, or if you were coming back.

yet, he was frozen in place. his knees had begun to shake as tears started to well up in his eyes. for a genius, you are really fucking stupid, he thought. he couldn’t believe he blew things with you, already.

you two hadn’t officially been together long. only around 3 months, but had spent much more time together prior to that. he was truly falling for you, something he wasn’t expecting to do. he loved the way you laughed and the way you listened to him. he loved that you were always there to greet him with a wide smile and a tight hug when you he came back from cases. he loved being around you and he loved the positive energy you put out.

and he just ruined all of that over some stupid argument.

spencer was rarely one to be unsure. after all, he is a genius, so there wasn’t many things he didn’t know. but, standing alone in front of his apartment door, he was clueless. should he run after you? should he wait it out? should he start packing up all of the things you’ve left at his apartment over these three months? he didn’t know.

so, like with most things he didn’t know, he was going to research. sure, to the common person googling “what to do after a fight with your girlfriend” would be corny, maybe even a little dumb, but not to spencer. when he couldn’t figure stuff out, he found other sources that could. so that’s what he was trying to do now.

much to spencer’s dismay, he was met with a whole bunch of editorials. not a single academic paper, dissertation, or research project had been conducted on the topic. so, he took what he could get and began reading over the newest People Magazine article titled “steps to making your girlfriend happy after being a bad boyfriend”.

he wasn’t sure how long he’d been reading, or how many different pop culture magazine websites he’d accidentally signed up for on his old desktop by the time his phone rang. it startled him, but he moved quickly to get it, assuming it was hotch calling him to come in for a case.

his heart sped up but his stomach dropped when he saw your first name, with the little otter emoji next to it. you had picked it, spencer didn’t even know there was an otter emoji.

his thumb slid over the answer button as quickly as he could move it, but once he brought the phone up to his ear, spencer couldn’t find any words.

the line was silent for a minute. you weren’t sure if he was even breathing on the other side. you wanted to give yourself time to cool off, separate from spencer. his little remark about your poor cooking skills had gotten to you, and you didn’t want it to become a massive argument. you didn’t know that spencer had spiraled after you left.

“are you going to come over or what?” you couldn’t help but let the residual anger you were holding slip out. despite this, spencer’s breath caught in his throat. you heard him take a deep exhale before saying, “you want me to come over?”

the desperation in his voice was so apparent, it broke your heart. any anger you were holding onto, or any bitterness about the comment he made completely wiped away when you heard spencer’s voice. you guessed that he had probably been crying. you softened your tone, and spoke slowly as you answered him, “of course i want you to come over, spence. we don’t get to have two sleepovers in a row very often.”

spencer’s hand was shaking as he listened to your words. he thought for sure you were going to break up with him. all he said was, “i’m on my way.” before hanging up.

you shouldn’t have been surprised at spencer throwing himself in your arms when you opened the door for him. he always craved physical touch, despite his fear of germs. he knew you and he cherished you, and all he wanted was to be close to you.

your hand snaked around his back as he buried his head in your shoulder. you tried to pretend you couldn’t feel the tears escaping from him. he wasn’t sobbing, there was just other way for him to have the emotional release he needed than to allow his tears to fall. your hand rubbed lovingly over his back, letting him adjust to being back with you.

“i’m so sorry,” he muttered against you. his hands were balled up between you two and you could feel him nervously squeezing his fists tighter. “spencer, it’s okay,” you assured.

you pulled away from him, only to wipe his tears away and move his hair out of his face. despite his height, he looked so tiny and vulnerable. “i didn’t mean to upset you,” he whined. “it’s okay,” you repeated, grabbing his hand to move him to the sofa.

you sat across from him, but he stared at the floor. “i thought you were breaking up with me,” he muttered. his voice was quiet and gentle. you couldn’t help but laugh at his statement. “why would i do that?” you moved closer to him, tucking his hair behind his ear to get him to look at you. “i-i don’t know! you just left and you were angry and i thought you weren’t coming back,” tears were filling up his eyes again as he finally met your gaze.

“spence,” you cooed, “couples fight and sometimes they need space. a little argument like that is nothing. we’re okay,” you promised him. he nodded, then reached out to pull you into his chest. “i don’t like when you storm out like that,” he said. “‘m sorry,” you mumbled against him. he just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

[rillils]

pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes rating: T wordcount: 2121 tags: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, kid fic, Bucky's metal arm, domestic boys my beloved notes: this smol thing is just an attempt at getting me out of an agonizing writer's block. it fills my @stuckybingo card square O2 - Touching foreheads, and my @wintershieldbingo card square Fluff. I also used this amazing post as a reference for Bucky's (most recent) metal arm. summary: Now, at sixteen months old, Sarah refuses to be laid in her crib for the night unless the arm is laid down beside her. Nineteen pounds of unyielding vibranium, with a grip that could crush a human skull as effortlessly as it could an egg, and she makes it look almost precious. Endearing. Something to be loved; worthy of being loved because she loves it.

You can read it on AO3, or under the cut!

-

It’s not that Bucky means to circle back to the nursery, tonight. In fact, he ought to head straight to bed and catch some hard-earned zee’s while he still has the chance, now that the princess’ diaper’s been changed, and his teeth have been brushed minty-fresh and his sleep shirt is not smeared with drool, snot, or sticky remnants of Sarah’s dinner. But the pull is too strong, and so here he stands, one-armed and bone-tired and hovering by Sarah’s crib like a lovestruck puppy, unable to walk away. Again.

Yes, it’s a curious predicament.

Made so much more curious by the odd presence in his daughter’s bed – a lumbering silhouette of gleaming metal, peeking out from under Sarah’s favorite blanket like a second, strange-looking baby, that she demanded to have with her.

That one right there, that’s a recent development, and one Bucky can’t truly make sense of just yet. But he can’t look away.

It ties a knot in his chest, his heart squeezed tight in the middle, between his lungs and his stomach and the cage of his ribs, beating wild and fluttery and disbelieving at the sight. At the sharp, cutting tenderness of his daughter wrapped protectively around the log-shape of his prosthetic arm, her little body curled like a parenthesis around it; her tiny fingers splayed over the glossy black plates of his bicep, her warm breath misting the rounded swell where his shoulder is.

It nearly hurts to see it; but it’s a sweet hurt, this one.

The first time Sarah saw Bucky pop the arm out its socket, she was four months old and sitting back against Steve’s chest, happily gnawing on her own dimpled fist as Papa bounced her gently in his arms.

Bucky hadn’t meant to show her; not yet, at least.

He’d been so careful up until then, almost to the point of paranoia, only ever removing the prosthesis when Sarah was already asleep, and dutifully slipping it back on for her late-night feedings; too scared that she might cry, startled by the anomaly of it all; afraid, or so he told himself, that she might simply be too young to understand.

“I just don’t think she’s ready to see that,” he’d shrugged at Steve’s prodding, just a few nights before, curled up in bed with the metal arm still firmly on, comfort be damned, because Sarah had only just dozed off again with a full tummy and a clean diaper, and the sun was about to rise anyway.

Steve had gathered him close, his broad chest pressed like a shield against Bucky’s back, and he’d threaded their fingers, warm flesh and gold-rimmed vibranium, together.

He hadn’t made Bucky say it out loud. That he wasn’t ready yet. Ready to be the thing their daughter was afraid of. The thing that made their sweet baby cry and twist away in fear, sobbing, seeking safety and shelter in somebody else.

But Steve had known.

Bucky had felt it. In the comforting hold of Steve’s arm wrapped around his waist. In the enveloping warmth of Steve’s voice as he rumbled, soft into the tousled fall of Bucky’s hair, their heads sharing one pillow, “It’s all right, Buck. You’ll choose when.”

And then one night, Bucky had simply forgotten himself.

He hadn’t even realized what he’d done, not until Sarah had abandoned her drool-coated fist to burst into happy, cascading, heart-squeezing giggles.

Bucky had seen his own surprise mirrored on Steve’s face. Steve’s mouth was agape, his eyes wide with shocked delight – while Bucky himself stood frozen from head to toe like a deer in the headlights, the metal arm still gripped in his hand.

Steve had spoken first, hot on the heels of their daughter’s first laugh.

“Oh my god, Buck– Do it– do it again.”

And cautiously, careful not to feed the little bubble of hope already blooming in his chest, Bucky had. Eyes locked on their baby, he’d allowed the arm to click back into place; and then, with a trembling hand, he’d popped it off again.

Sarah had lost it, erupting into peals and peals of these sweet, full-bellied giggles that made her little tummy shake under Steve’s hand, and something – something had come loose inside Bucky’s chest. A weight that had been sitting on top of his lungs for longer than he’d realized, stunting his every breath.

He’d cried, after.

He’d wet Steve’s shoulder with his tears, and then he’d laughed, his cheeks still glistening, raking his flesh-and-bone fingers through his hair, almost hysterical with relief.

“Thank God,” he’d half-chuckled, half-sobbed, his face cupped in Steve’s big hands, Steve’s lips warm and soothing against his brow. “Thank God...”

Now, at sixteen months old, Sarah refuses to be laid in her crib for the night unless the arm is laid down beside her.

Nineteen pounds of unyielding vibranium, with a grip that could crush a human skull as effortlessly as it could an egg, and she makes it look almost precious. Endearing. Something to be loved; worthy of being loved because she loves it.

She takes after Steve in that respect.

She can’t have missed Steve’s open doting on Bucky’s artificial arm, he muses: she’s been exposed to it her whole life. Every day since they brought her home, she has been the primary witness to Steve’s relentless displays of affection.

Before she could ever even process her surroundings, she was already watching Papa pepper feather-light kisses up Dada’s shiny metal arm, or lace their mismatched fingers together, or bring Dada’s metal hand to his lips to kiss the black and gold of Dada’s knuckles.

Maybe it was Steve, then: consistently, unwittingly teaching their daughter that this strange part of Dada can be loved, too. Maybe this is all his doing. Or maybe, maybe Sarah decided that all on her own. After all, Bucky muses with no small amount of pride, she’s proving herself to be just as willful a creature as her father ever was.

He reaches down to stroke the softness of her hair, cradling the back of her head in his palm.

His baby. His sweet little weirdo.

“You know you’ve been standing there for like twenty minutes now, right?”

The voice comes in a soft octave, one notch louder than a whisper, but no more than a gentle rumble.

Bucky turns his head, and he finds Steve exactly where he expected to find him: his big body leaned leisurely against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smile curling his lips. Bucky hasn’t been seventeen for a long, long time; but the whispering flutter he feels now in his heart knows no age.

“Shut it, Rogers,” Bucky teases back just as softly, straightening up with one last caress to Sarah’s wispy hair. “Like I didn’t catch you doing the exact same thing just a couple nights ago.”

Steve pushes himself off the doorframe, hands held up palms-out, briefly ducking his head in a humble “guilty as charged” gesture.

“She asleep?” he asks, approaching Bucky and the crib on soundless socked feet.

Bucky nods. He can’t stop his gaze from traveling back to Sarah’s slumbering frame, sweet and cozy under her blanket.

“Out like a light,” he says, and if it sounds even half as hopelessly fond as he thinks it does, well, that can’t be helped, now can it.

He feels Stee’s arms loop around his waist, soon followed by the familiar jut of Steve’s chin hooking over his shoulder, locking the embrace in. It’s a gentle hold, Steve’s thickly muscled arms fitted just snugly enough around him, and Bucky sinks into it with a pleased sigh, happy to soak up all the warmth Steve is so generously offering.

His only hand settles over Steve’s own, where it rests against Bucky’s stomach, his thumb stroking absently over the downy hairs dusting Steve’s wrist.

“I don’t get it,” he speaks quietly into the comfortable silence. “She could have her pick of stuffed toys to sleep with. I mean, we’ve got ourselves a whole-ass zoo up there,” he adds, gesturing towards the shelf currently hosting a small army of stuffed bears, penguins, unicorns, the odd shark, two giraffes, and a pink crocodile he won for her at a fair, which Sarah barely ever deigned with a passing glance, “every shape, size and color under the sun, but nope. She has to cuddle up with the lump of metal.”

“It’s not just any lump of metal,” Steve corrects him, with a meaningful squeeze of his arms around Bucky’s middle. “It’s you. Smells like you. Feels like you. It’s like you’re right there with her, holding her.” His lips know a spot hidden in the crook of Bucky’s neck, and they find it now to place a kiss there; the warmth of it tingles right under Bucky’s skin, dancing like so many sparks of gold down his spine. “That shit beats a measly teddy bear one thousand to nothing, honey.”

That gets a chuckle out of Bucky. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” And he can’t see Steve’s face, but he can hear the smile in his voice when Steve speaks, pouring sweet mumblings in Bucky’s ear as he rocks their bodies gently in his embrace. “This way, she can fall asleep knowing that daddy is here, that daddy loves her. That he’ll keep her safe from harm.”

It feels like a sin to disturb this, but Bucky turns around within the circle of Steve’s arms, coming face-to-face with him. There, there’s the smile he couldn’t see before, private and sweet and only meant for him to see, so genuine it reaches up to the crinkles of Steve’s eyes.

If he were to touch his face right now, Bucky’s sure he’d find that same shape on his own lips.

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” Steve’s hands come to rest on Bucky’s hips, giving them a little squeeze hello. “Trust me, I’m an expert,” he murmurs, shining those luminous, earnest eyes of his on Bucky like they won’t steal the breath right out of his lungs. “I know what it’s like to feel safe in your arms.”

Bucky couldn’t say which of them leans in first, but their foreheads touch; and he can see the minute quiver in Steve’s eyelashes, when Steve’s eyes slip closed. Feels the ghost of Steve’s breath, grazing hot like a kiss against his skin.

Steve’s voice drops, ever softer.

“Only place I ever felt safe in my whole life, Buck.”

And it’s lucky, truly – lucky that Steve’s one of the only two people in the whole world capable of cracking Bucky’s heart open like this, and fill it with an ache as sweet as the one pulsing inside him now. And it’s unfair, so cruelly unfair of Steve to make him feel so tender he might just come apart, like he’s a wad of cotton candy and Steve is water, and the first cooling touch of him will dissolve Bucky into drops of pure sugar–

–now, in this moment where everything speaks of home, and they’re standing right here, breathing each other’s air, whisper-talking in their tried and true “the baby is sleeping” voices, socked feet on the cold floor and flecks of copper glinting in Steve’s beard when the lamplight hits it just right, and Bucky never imagined that love could make you feel so full it actually hurts.

He cups the back of Steve’s head, sinking his fingers in the dark gold of Steve’s hair.

“You gettin’ sentimental on me, Stevie?”

Steve chuckles under his breath, leaning back just so he has enough room to gaze into Bucky’s eyes.

“Always, honey. Can’t help but.”

“Well,” Bucky says, casting one last glance towards their sleeping daughter. “I got another arm right here, if you were wantin’ something wrapped around you tonight. Maybe not quite so shiny as the other one, but it still does the trick. Whaddya say, sweetheart?”

Steve looks at him, his eyebrows pinched together and that soft, tiny crease in between that Bucky knows so well, the one that tells him of Steve’s unabashed fondness when Steve himself can’t; the one that tells him, I love you, before Steve has even lined up the words on his tongue.

Bucky wants to kiss him.

Bucky forgets, sometimes, that he can kiss him. That he gets to kiss him, and when he doesn’t, it’s only because Steve beat him to it and kissed him first.

Steve doesn’t kiss him now, though his eyes say that he wants to, with every fiber of his heart he wants to.

“Yeah,” he rasps, soft as a breath and painfully tender. “Yeah, I’ll take that. If you don’t mind.”

Bucky, Steve will learn, does not mind at all.

[sunflowersteves]

hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

~

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

[bunnyreaper]

𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸

𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈

𝓅𝓉 2 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), mentions of cheating (not from reader or john), age gap (older male younger female), future daddy kink, mentions of blood

notes - back at it again in dilfville, hopefully, this chapter is worth the wait! ♥ also on ao3! ♥

How easy it is to forget about the outside world with John by your side is startling. Everything other than him melts away into the background, and in the safety and comfort of his home, the two of you exist in your own little peaceful bubble.

In the back of your mind, you know it'll eventually sink to the ground and violently pop, but for now, the two of you float—suspended in tranquility. Your day goes by so easily, as you rest on the couch and watch TV with John—phone forgotten about, troubles set aside. 

John makes it easy to forget. He's always had this way about him, like his mere presence lifts a weight off your shoulders while he carries it, carries you, just for a while, and allows your world to be a little lighter. 

It's later into the evening when you finally find yourself compelled to get off of the couch and actually do something with your day, when John pulls you out of the reverie you'd settled into together.

"I should get on with dinner." He says, slapping his thighs before he rises from the comfort of the couch and the warmth of being your human footrest. 

You're quick to rise too, sitting up straight as you try to recall him to the couch before he can make too much of a fuss. The guilt of taking advantage of his hospitality is already eating at you—regardless of how illogical it may be.

"Let me do it." You plead. "You're kind enough to let me stay here, at least let me repay you." 

John pauses, his eyes narrowing at you briefly before one of his thick eyebrows arches. "Darling, aren't you bloody sick of cooking?" 

Even when he's giving so much, he's still exceedingly considerate. 

"Only when cooking for a man who doesn't appreciate me, otherwise I enjoy it." You climb to your feet with a smile, making your way over to John to gently push him in the direction of the kitchen. Whilst he moves with a stubbornness, you know he's still letting you push him, otherwise you know you wouldn't be able to move him an inch. 

A smirk tugs at his lips, hidden behind his thick beard as he finds himself amused by your antics. The levity you bring to his otherwise burden-filled life is not something that goes unrecognised by him—not now, not ever.

Finally, he truly relents, letting you direct you both into the kitchen, moving himself enough to make your job of pushing him easier. "If you want to help, I wouldn't mind your company."   

Your hands withdraw from the warm, broad expanse of his back and settle by your sides, as you feel the need to pull away from him the second it's no longer necessary—scared by how good the physicality felt, even if it was entirely playful in nature. It's been so long since you felt so light and got to share it with someone else, an age since you indulged in light-hearted touch. 

"What's on the menu?" You ask as you move to the sink and force yourself into doing something to keep you busy—tackling the dishes seems like a good idea for being both helpful and suitably occupied. 

John makes his way to the fridge, swinging open the heavy door of the American-style fridge-freezer with ease, and immediately moving to grab fresh ingredients. "Spag Bol." 

"Ooh, your signature dish." You coo, recalling fondly the many occasions he has hosted you for dinner in the past.

Dinners had become a regular thing when John and James had been getting to know each other, with you often there as a buffer—not that you did it begrudgingly or ever minded so much. Getting to know John was an unexpected delight, and as the two of you recently agreed, a friendship had formed—regardless of your relationship with his son. You'd spent many nights over at his for dinner or drinks—good food and delightful conversation, memories you treasured.

Even in the beginning, John's protective and caring nature had extended to you almost immediately—a natural extension, you’d presumed, of his growing bond with his biological son. He'd dropped off meals for you when you were sick, memorised your tea and coffee preferences, always took the time to buy you a thoughtful gift for Christmas and birthdays. 

John cuts through your trip down memory lane with the thud of him putting a pile of ingredients down on the countertop. "Well, I know you love it so much. Went to the shops last night to get everything." 

An exasperated sigh leaves you. For a man so good at taking care of others, there were times when John Price's self-care was severely lacking. As the sink fills with sudsy, hot water, you pin John with your most intimidating glare. "When do you ever even sleep, John?" 

He returns your look for the briefest moment, then smirks at your attempt to look authoritative. "I sleep plenty, don't you worry." 

A realisation seems to strike him a moment later.

John heads over to the record player in the corner, flipping the switch and setting down the needle. 

It's easy for John to succumb to the relaxed atmosphere of his kitchen—music playing and you by his side. His fingers drum against the turntable stand as the opening notes of the rock-reggae fill the room and quiet any further chastisement from you.

"Young teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasy—" John's voice carries louder than the vocals, a smooth tone you've heard so rarely before—John only sings when he feels most at peace. 

Whilst his voice is beautiful, the subject matter of the song almost feels inappropriate in the moment, though the way your cheeks flush makes you think it's just you projecting.

"Oh my god, John." You groan playfully, rolling your eyes and watching as he sways his hips ever so slightly as he makes his way back over to you, still softly singing the words. 

He stops singing as he steps beside you at the sink, leaning onto the counter slightly with a hint of a smirk on his face and an incredible amount of mirth in his eyes. For once, he seems so light.

"Never had a crush on an older man?" He asks, his tone light and yet still with a hint of teasing. Perhaps he thinks your opposition to the song is your lack of relating to it, rather than the fact you relate a little too much. 

You're not sure when it really started, or when it escalated uncontrollably, but lately, you've been looking at John in a different light. It's probably the combination of the heartbreak, the sleep deprivation, and the beard. You were always a sucker for a gruff-looking, unavailable older gent. 

And now here one is singing a song about forbidden love, lovers separated by age—like he knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling.

"Obviously I have." You scoff, almost dismissively, as you turn to slip the first few dishes into the water. John stays silent for a moment, and curiosity gets the better of you. "Ever had a crush on a younger woman?" 

He barks out a laugh, pushing himself away from the counter as you see him shake his head and suck in his lips. "No comment."  

Your mind starts to wander, as you try to think about what kind of woman catches John Price's eye. His circumstances are difficult and his standards clearly high, as he hasn't been in a relationship in the years you've known. John nudges you with his hip, as he leans over the sink to start washing his hands.

His warmth is overwhelming beside you, and only spreading further. You try to focus on anything but his large hands, as he covers them in the suds he works up from the soap. You try not to stare at the way he grips the bar, and practically chokes the block with his fingers, nor how he works the creamy lather up his hairy forearms.

But you’d be lying if you said the plate in your hands got any cleaner. Of course, you could blame your stillness on courtesy—you're just giving him the space he needs to wash his hands so he can get on with cooking, nothing more.

"Zenyatta Mondatta is a classic." He all but whispers from above you, as if he still feels the need to justify his album choice. 

"Best album the year you were born?" 

"I was born 81, not 80, bun." He tuts, shaking off the excess wetness from his hand before he reaches around you to grab the hand towel from where it's threaded through the handle of the cupboard beside you. 

Your grip on the plate tightens exponentially despite the slippery surface, as a cascade of shivers passes over your body and pools low in your gut. 

The tension in your body feels like it's ready to snap at any moment, and yet just before it can, John pulls away, and a cold sweeps back in.  

"Don't stand, don't stand so close to me." His singing almost taunts you as he saunters back over to his ingredients and gets to work. 

You try to focus again on the dishes in the sink. Yet, you couldn't wipe the wide smile off your face if you tried, exhilarated by life's simple pleasures—by the way, it seems that colour is starting to bleed back into your life in all these little moments. A flurry of feelings you haven't felt in so long floods you, too. 

"Forgot how much I love being in the kitchen with other people." You laugh, verbalising your happiness in a fairly throwaway comment. 

"Kitchens are the heart of the home, as they say." John replies, and you can tell he's smiling fondly, probably recalling the nights spent at his kitchen island with you, James, and the other people lucky enough to be in his life. 

After a moment, he continues on, yet his tone is more somber than before. "You know, sweetheart, I wish I'd have known sooner how he really treated you." 

You wonder if it would've made a difference. 

"He's just not for me, he's not necessarily bad just... okay, I mean besides the cheating." You say, wrinkling your nose with disgust—still, you find yourself making excuses for him, finding ways to soften the blow. 

John sighs. "You give him too much credit, love." 

It feels wrong somehow to open up to John about this, despite his soothing on the matter. "It wasn't fair for me to talk to you about that stuff, even if you do give the best advice. Still doesn't feel fair, really." You grumble as you scrub at a bowl, removing the dirt.

"And what about what's fair and best for you, hmm?" John's chopping grows louder, more erratic, as his frustration flows through his arm and his wrath is taken out on the raw onions. "For crying out loud, the lad cheated on you. I have half a mind to go over there myself to finish what we started earlier." 

You shrug, entirely uncertain of how to untangle the messy web that is your emotions. Guilt, relief, anger, and peace all swirl together, with no one feeling jumping out clearly and continuously beyond the others.

"Look at me," John calls your attention to him, only speaking again once you do. The look on his face is deeply sincere, his eyes betraying the emotion within. "Once you're on your feet again, if you want nothing to do with me, all you have to do is say. Otherwise, I'll be in your life for as long as you let me." 

Fuck.

"That's reassuring." You nod, smiling genuinely, yet you try to restrain it lest you betray how much it really means to you. "Yeah, I guess, as you said earlier, we're friends."

You say it more to convince yourself, as it's a truth that isn't going to change regardless of a silly schoolgirl crush. 

"Not planning on changing that unless you are, love." John smiles. 

See, you say to yourself, he's all but confirmed it too. "I'm glad some things are going to stay the same..." You mutter, though there is some sincerity and reality to your statement. "Especially when everything else is about to get turned upside down."

"I suspect you'll be better off when the dust settles." 

"I hope so." 

You turn back to the dishes, trying to focus on the music rather than the thoughts that battle against John's soothing words. His quiet company helps stave off some of the discontent, the sound of him cooking and singing quietly providing a safety blanket around you. 

"Do have to let you know I got the call, leaving sooner than I would've liked." 

"When?" You feel yourself stiffen. Every time John leaves, you're always a little on edge—and yet, with the circumstances, this time just feels worse. 

"Tomorrow." He admits softly. 

"You've only been back a matter of days." Your heart pangs.

He scoffs. "No rest for the wicked, eh?"

"It's gonna feel weird getting settled in here, but especially alone." You offer up your honesty, in the hopes it'll alleviate the gentle crushing of your chest, yet you try to remain stony-faced.

"One big change at a time, love." John's voice is soothing, as he attempts to reassure you. "Change of scenery, then change of roommate. It'll give you a chance to just be free of Price men for a moment." 

"He's not really a Price..." You sigh, because maybe if he were, things would've been different. If John had raised him... would he be a better man? Not that you believe his mother is to blame for his issues, but you know from James' occasional rants that he didn't have a male figure he respected growing up. 

"I suppose not." Behind your back, John shrugs. "Point still stands, though. While I'm not thrilled about the idea of you being all alone, at least it gives you some space to think of what comes next." 

"I guess it does." You sigh and try to focus on that thought—time to figure things out and feel the relief of being free. A wry laugh leaves you when you realise John has managed to reframe his departure as a positive thing. "Fuck, I hate how you always make me feel better." 

"Hah, add it to my list of crimes." 

A beat passes before a stray thought pops into your head. "If you're headed back, does that mean you'll be shaving?" 

You crane your head around just in time to see John pause, turn, and stroke at his beard.

"Don't know. What do you think?" He continues to stroke at the grown-out brown hair, as you get lost taking in his features and the way that they seem to look so different with his new, fluffier style.

"Feel like you've been staring at it a lot, not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing." He chuckles, his smile tight-lipped and a touch self-conscious in a way that only you can bring out of him.

"Somehow, it makes you look..." Your brain scrambles for an adjective that isn't 'daddier'. "... younger?" 

On anyone else, a full beard would likely age them, but compared to John's usual old-timey war general look, it gives him more of a casual, handsome look. You remind yourself to ask for pictures of what he looked like before he grew facial hair.

"Ageing myself prematurely with the mutton chops, then?" He frowns ever so slightly, though you know his pout is completely playful.

You throw your head back with a laugh. "Thought that's why you did it, to really solidify your authority." 

"Don't need any kind of facial hair for that, love." He purrs, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You force your attention back to the dishes and school your expression into something more neutral, dunking in all the cutlery in at once as you desperately begin to clean. It's a clear attempt to make sure John doesn't notice your reaction to his words.

"Whatever you say, John." You mutter, trying to end the conversation before it spirals any further out of control. 

He laughs, hums, then casually says something you never expected. "Mmm, now that's what I like to hear." 

"Ow, fuck!" You yell as pain sears through your skin, a knife hidden in the soapy water slicing through your skin at the momentary distraction.

John is over in a flash, coming to your aid and pulling your hand into his grasp so he can inspect the wounds. "Christ, love, are you alright?" 

"Fine, I mean, it's only small." Each word is through gritted teeth, as you try to tough it out in front of John.

Despite the fact the incisions across your fingers aren't particularly deep, they bead with crimson blood and pulse with stinging pain.

"Right, that's enough. Sit down." One of John's hands remains holding your hand while the other settles on your shoulder, and he manoeuvres you to one of the stools at the kitchen island. He pays no mind to the way your soaked arm drips onto his t-shirt and jeans, too focused on his mission.

"Yes, sir." You say absentmindedly, feeling like one of his men—you don't notice the way he stiffens, his touch getting a fraction tighter, as his body and mind jolt at such simple words. 

He doesn't meet your eye, instead inspecting the cuts before turning to grab the first aid kit he keeps under the sink. "Doesn't look like it'll need stitches." 

"This isn't a battlefield injury, John, and I'm not a child!" You can't help but pout exaggeratedly, as not only does it convey your meaning, but it helps disguise your wince as John cleans, dries, and dresses your cuts.   

"No more washing up. Don't give me that look." He fixes you with a look and a stern point that just dares you to challenge him, and for a moment, you glare right back at him. 

In the end, you know you stand no chance of winning against the formidable foe that is protective, Papa Bear John Price. One time you insisted on washing up after he cooked, and he followed you into the kitchen to turn off the water main, just to show you how serious he was that you sit down and fucking relax. 

"Fine." You sigh, as John's moment as a nurse comes to a close, with him finishing your dressings and packing away the first aid kit.

"Sit pretty. Food won't be too long." He tells you before he returns to the pans on the hob, checking on the spaghetti and stirring the bolognese. 

The fragrance from the stewing sauce surrounds you, making your mouth water in anticipation of John's signature dish. It doesn't distract you from the pain completely, but it at least gives you something to focus on as you try to ignore it. 

"Can I... ask something that I've been wondering about for a while?" You ask, propping your head on your non-injured hand as you watch John work.

"Of course." He nods, eyes flickering to meet yours briefly.

"Have you and James' mum ever talked about... you know, everything?" You resist the urge to pick at the medical tape securing the bandage to your skin, as you know that eventually it's going to come off. "I don't know why I never asked before, guess I felt awkward, and I tried asking James, but he never wanted to talk about it." 

John pauses, taking a moment to think. "We met for coffee once, after I first found out. She was very apologetic, explained her side of things." 

It's easy for you to tell, having grown accustomed to his expressions, that there's more to the story than he lets on. John always tends to play his cards close to his chest when it comes to his inner workings, asking more questions than he ever answers, but you're used to that look in his eyes whenever there's something he's holding back. 

At least, you like to think so. If you're good at telling when he's withholding, you're even better at not pressing him, at least under usual circumstances. Today, something compels you to ask more. 

"Do you... resent her for what she did?" 

"No." He answers, a little too quickly, before rolling his shoulders and straightening his posture. "Maybe I should, maybe I should resent the fact I missed his childhood. I suppose I do, but I would never have had the life I've had otherwise." 

"Figured I might still have the chance to be a dad, but would've never had the chances I did had I not joined the army." 

The insight into John's mind is fascinating, intoxicating, even. It's hard to imagine him as anything other than a captain, even if father and family man suits him quite well too. 

"You wouldn't have joined up if you'd known?" You ask, questions still tumbling out of you as curiosity about John leaks out of every pore. 

"No." He pauses, pressing his hands into the counter. Finally, he looks at you with stormy, emotion-filled eyes. "Would've stayed, married her. Done the right thing." It looks like it pains him to admit it, as his brows furrow and his lips tighten.

"Wow. Must be weird seeing her now, knowing she could've been your wife." You probably shouldn't have said it aloud, but the thought of that different reality is so jarring to you that it slips before you can stop it.

"She's a stranger, really." He shrugs.

"A stranger you had sex with... once upon a time." You say, squinting as you try to imagine John and James's mum sharing anything beyond pleasant smiles and polite small talk. 

"Barely." A dismissive scoff leaves him, as he picks up the wooden spoon and returns his attention to his cooking. 

"Barely? What does that mean?" 

"Well, it was only once, and even then... every man has to learn somehow, love." John says the words as if they're so casual, yet they cause heat to rush to your cheeks.

"Your son still hasn't learned at all." You say the words without thinking, a tinge of bitter resentment bursting through. "Sorry, fuck." 

"S'fine." John tries his hardest to stifle the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips, practically throwing himself into grabbing bowls and cutlery to serve up the meal. "He really didn't know how to handle you, did he, love?" 

Your chest seizes once more—guilt, indignation, amusement, confusion. There's a hope within you that when the dust is all settled, you'll end up with someone like John, someone who can treat you better. 

"No, he didn't..." You admit weakly, before checking yourself. "Sorry, I think the pain and the blood loss are making me woozy. I'm gonna stop talking now." 

John only smiles understandingly, eyes shining with mirth, as he passes you an oversized bowl filled with delicious spaghetti. He takes a seat beside you, knee knocking into yours as he makes himself comfortable— his warmth feeling too close for comfort and yet not close enough at all. 

"Eat up, darling girl." 

********

You and John finish up your meal in companionable silence, accompanied by the rest of the tracks on the current vinyl. As always, John's cooking leaves you full and satisfied, warm from the inside out.  

Once more, you're banned from washing dishes and were only able to get on drying duty after begging John and pulling out your most convincing doe eyes. The night ended with you both turning in sooner than usual, in anticipation of John's departure the next morning.

Usually, you last saw John off when he came to visit you and James, putting on a brave face and wishing him well. You're thankful that with the new proximity, you can at least fret in the privacy of your new bedroom, away from John's worrying eyes—the last thing he needs to see before he leaves is your tear-stained cheeks. 

Sleep doesn't come easily, as you toss and turn in bed and try not to think of being alone in the coming days, or the possibility of something happening to John. 

When sleep finally does come, you wake in a panic—sweaty and dry-mouthed. The nightmare that plagued you is hard to recall, the only thing burning in your mind is the final scene. You have to flee into the night, and you're desperate to grab something to cover up with so you don't freeze to death—you can't find anything warm anywhere. The image quickly fades away as you blink your eyes open.

You roll over to the side of the bed, clutching your phone and practically burning your eyes when the screen blares into your corneas. 

3:59. 16 minutes to your alarm. 

With John's departure fast approaching, you throw yourself out of bed, grabbing your cardigan and wrapping it around yourself before you head in the direction of John's room. 

The door is closed firmly, likely to quiet any noise he makes from rustling around in preparation. You knock lightly on the wood, waiting for John to call you in. 

You step in, taking in John's appearance. It seems he decided to keep the outgrown facial hair after all, the fluffy beard leading down to the chest hair poking out from the top of a soft grey cotton tee. 

The dog tags around his neck are the only nod to his upcoming deployment, as he leaves John behind and heads off to become Captain Price.

He smiles as soon as he sees you, though it doesn't escape your notice that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Hope I didn't wake you." 

"Nah, can't sleep." You explain, as you make your way further into the room and perch yourself on the end of John's bed gingerly. "Figured I'd make you sick of me, so you're glad to be away." 

You peer into the holdall that John's currently packing things into, inspecting his contents and mentally ticking items off a checklist.

"Don't think anything could make me glad of that, love." He frowns, pausing as he expertly folds a t-shirt and places it in his bag. "Especially at a time like this."

"I'll be fine." You say it for his sake, even if you don't entirely believe it. Your number one priority right now is sending him off with a smile. 

As you spot one of his signature beanies poking out of a side pocket, you pluck it off the duvet and pull it over your bedhead. "Maybe I'll just run riot while you're gone, throw all your cigars in the bin, and steal every beanie you own." 

That brings a smirk out of him, the worry clearing from his eyes. "Evil girl." 

"Yeah, I'm a right menace." You confirm, a gleeful smile spreading across your face unrestrained. 

Several things stand out to you in the bag or surrounding it—the sunglasses case, a tan-coloured rag, and John's beloved boonie hat. Your quick inspection gives you an insight into where John is headed—flip-flops again, you joke to yourself. 

"Guessing you're off to some shitty desert then." You comment, not intending to pry any further. 

"Feel like I never leave them." He notes—that wry smile returning to his face as he meets your gaze. 

"Have you packed your sun cream?" You ask, half joking and half serious. 

"Wouldn't hear the end of it if I didn't, hmm?" He chuckles knowingly, likely recalling the last time he came home with a sunburn and was met with your impassioned rant. He'd learned his lesson at least. 

"And the moisturiser we got you for Christmas?" 

"Already packed." He pats the toiletry bag on the bed, and you rush to pick it up, unzip it, and verify his claim.

"Lip balm?" You ask, peering up at him with a mischievous grin, just waiting for his reaction.

"Now you're just taking the piss." 

You pull your beanie down low on your forehead, just as you've seen John wear it, then you cross your arms across your chest and drop your voice. "Sorry lads, cover my six, gotta get my Burts Bees on." 

At that, he belly laughs. "I'd never live it down, and you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"  

You rise from the bed, laughing with him, before you remove the beanie and reach up to place it over his head instead. "No, Captain." You whisper, grin bright. 

"You're a handful, love." Despite his words, the fondness in his voice is clear as day.

You tap his cheek playfully before stepping away. "Well, fear not, like I said, you're rid of me for a little while." 

"Desert doesn't seem so bad now you mention it." John rolls his eyes playfully, before turning to add the final items and zipping up the bag beside him. 

"Have you got everything you need?" You ask, instinct taking over as you begin to fret over ensuring everything is perfect for John's departure. 

"I do know how to pack for myself, but if you want me to humour you..." John's hands fall to the zip, ready to tear the bag open if it would rid you of the concerned frown growing on your face. 

You back away, hands raised. Point taken, you think to yourself. "I'm used to fussing, okay." 

"You and me both." He nods, then shoulders the bag and gestures for you to head out of the room. 

You lead the way like heading up a death march, slow gait and head lowered, knowing what's to come. With each step, a sense of dread grows within you. John is leaving, and there's seemingly an unspoken agreement between you both that something about this time feels more severe. 

When you both reach the door, John shrugs on his sherpa-lined jacket, ties up his boots, and stands as he summons up the nerve to leave. 

Once again, a half-hearted smile graces his face, as he reaches out to rub at your arm. "I'll call you when I'm headed back from base, yeah?" 

You nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to bead in your eyes, once more putting on a brave face. The mention of his call makes your mind flicker to your usual routine.

"Will you be going to see—" 

"No love. I'll be coming straight home." He interrupts, squeezing you before withdrawing as if it burns to touch you.

"Stay safe, John." You whisper, the words you say every time coming easily. You swear to yourself that the words act as protection, or at least, you hope they do. 

"Always, love." He nods, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. Then, he opens the door and steps over the threshold. "Anything you need, I'll get back to you when I can, yeah?" 

"Yeah." You nod, struggling to get out even a word as your throat tightens. 

"See you soon, darling girl." He calls out, and you watch him until his truck pulls out of the street and off toward danger.

[azzumei]

Hey 👋, I'm not sure if your requests are open, if not you can ignore this, but ANYWAY. I seen your Mash hcs and I fell even more IN LOVE with him, so I was wondering if you could do some night routine/cuddling before bed with Mash (fem preferred but can be any gender if you want) thx and LOVE YOU LOTS ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: AHHH IM SO SORRY I DIDNT NOTICE THIS!!!! hs caught up to me oh my god!! anyways, sorry if this is such a short ramble:(

++ warnings: none, (physical touch maybe?)

++ genre: fluff, obviously

he munched on his creampuff that probably sat in his jacket for these 7, long hours in the academy. he sighed, wondering what else he could do. you, popped up in his mind. you were just reading away in your dorm, as your roommate was nowhere to be seen for the past week. mash, decides to barge into your room- you yelped, scolding him for startling you and breaking the door yet again. he apologized with that soft, yet steep voice. he yawned, placing back the probably about to fall apart door- and walking over to you, slumping on top of you. ''what are you doing?'' you murmured, your gaze wandering around his face. he mumbled something incoherent, wrapping his well-trained arms around your waist, closing his eyes. the sunset seeping out from the window. you took off his cloak, placing it beside the two of you. before adjusting your position to both of you being parallel or facing eachother. he hummed, his honey gaze looking over to your features, wondering how he could understand you more, how to be a better partner. how to keep you without any arguments. he truly loved you, so so much. and as the hours passed, the two of you slept in the warm room. soft snores filling it. his hold tight, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. his head buried into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.. this may happen again.

[captainsophiestark]

A Much-Needed Vacation

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Summary: Elijah Mikaelson is often up to his neck in vampire business and drama, especially when his brother's around to add more. Fortunately, he has someone in his life who can make him take a break when he needs it.

Word Count: 1,703

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Hey babe, do you want some coffee?"

I poured myself a mug, waiting to hear a response from my husband, Elijah Mikaelson. When the silence stretched on with no answer, I turned, a concerned frown on my face. I found Elijah right where I'd left him, hunched over papers at the table in the study.

"'Lij? Hello?"

Still, he didn't stir. I moved closer, waiting for him to look up at me, but he just kept his gaze locked on the papers before him. I could see his lips moving, mumbling to himself about whatever nonsense he was pouring over. With all the drama and difficulty his family kicked up or got thrown into in this town, it was hard to keep track.

I was about to tap his shoulder and, if that didn't work, shake him, but before I could his phone rang. He startled, his attention finally shooting up, and glanced at the caller ID before picking up.

"Niklaus. What is it?"

I huffed and rolled my eyes. No doubt, this would be some other world-ending problem that absolutely could not be taken care of without Elijah's full attention. I absolutely loved my husband and his family, but sometimes, they were well and truly ridiculous.

After a few moments of intense conversation, Elijah hung up and set the phone on the table with a sigh. He leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair before turning to me. In all the time I'd known him, I'd never seen him look so absolutely exhausted.

"I'm sorry, my love. Were you trying to ask me something?"

I frowned, chewing on my lip as I took the seat next to Elijah. He took my hand in his, attention now fully on me, as I scanned his lined face.

"I'd ask if everything is okay, but I feel like I know the answer."

Elijah sighed again and shook his head.

"It's always some new problem in this city. At least this time Niklaus isn't asking me to do anything, yet. I just need to make sure he doesn't dig himself a hole he can't get out of while I'm not looking."

I watched Elijah carefully as he took his breather, staring at the table and all the papers spread out before him. He looked exhausted, showing his thousand years of age for one of the first times I'd ever seen, and I hated to see him like this. Slowly, a plan started forming in my mind.

"'Lij... you said none of this is anything pressing you have to help with, right?"

"Not yet, at least."

I smiled, although Elijah didn't catch it. Probably for the best. He knew me well enough that it would tell him something was up.

"Okay. Then just wait here a second. I'll be back, and then we're going for a drive."

He turned his gaze to me now, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. I just beamed back at him.

"...What are you planning?"

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see!"

Without waiting for a response, I popped up from my seat and headed for the stairs. I could feel Elijah's eyes following me, but evidently he was too tired to actually get up and investigate what I was doing.

As soon as I reached our bedroom, I threw some clothes into a duffle bag for each of us, enough of everything we'd need for a few days. I paused long enough to quickly check my phone and, luckily, found us two seats on the next flight to Florida.

We didn't have much time to spare before the plane left, so I headed back downstairs with the bag over my shoulder, aiming for Elijah. He always took care of me, and now, I was going to do the same. He clearly needed a break, and I was going to make sure he got it.

"Alright, get up," I said, coming to a stop in front of my husband. "We're going for a drive."

He tore his eyes away from his papers to look me up and down, his eyes lingering on the bag on my shoulder. When our gazes met, he raised an eyebrow in question, but I just grinned at him in answer.

"I take it if I try to tell you I need to stay and work on this, you'll do everything in your power to make me get up and leave?"

"Oh yeah."

He sighed, but pushed back from the table anyway. He stood in front of me, close enough that we were almost chest to chest, and I know he didn't miss my heart speeding up a little at the closeness.

"Alright then. Let's go."

I got Elijah loaded up in the car, then started heading for the airport. I knew it wouldn't be long before he asked where we were going, but as far as I was concerned, I'd already gotten him to the point of no return.

Elijah didn't say much as we drove. He just watched the city go by around us, clearly trying to figure out where we were going. I could tell the moment it clicked as he inhaled deeply, then turned to me.

"Are you driving us to the airport?"

I just grinned.

Elijah shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. I just laughed.

"You clearly need a break, Elijah. As your loving partner and best friend, it's my job to make sure you take one. Especially when I know you, and I know you won't take one on your own."

Elijah just shook his head again, but when I glanced over at him I could see the smile growing on his face all the same.

"So, then... where are we going?"

"Somewhere nice and warm and relaxing, far from all this vampire bullshit."

****************

A few hours later, Elijah and I were stepping out of the airport and into the warm Florida sunshine. I'd booked us a hotel on the beach, and after a quick pause to drop off our bags and change into swimsuits, Elijah and I were walking hand in hand down the beach with our feet in the Atlantic ocean.

"I think we need to do this more often," I mused as we strolled. Elijah took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, a smile remaining on his face as he looked at me.

"I agree. And thank you for organizing this, today. Sometimes it can be hard to leave in the middle of... everything my brother gets involved in."

"I know," I said, giving him a small smile and nudging his shoulder with mine. "But that's what I'm here for. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn't return the favor when you made me put down the books and study guides every once in a while when I got a little too intense at school?"

Elijah chuckled, pulling me a little closer to him and moving to wrap his arm around my shoulders instead. He kissed my temple and we came to a stop, Elijah and I facing each other. I beamed up at him, leaning in closer for a real kiss, when I was interrupted by the sound of Elijah's ringtone.

We both scowled in sync, Elijah sighing before reaching for his phone. I raised an eyebrow at him and he shot me an apologetic look, but a glance at the caller ID had him picking up anyway. Klaus, again.

"Niklaus, what-"

This time, I couldn't take it. I cut Elijah off as I snatched the phone out of his hand, holding it to my own ear instead.

"Hey Nik! Is this a life and death emergency?"

"What? No, it's a matter of keeping this town in check. Now put my brother back on the phone."

"No. He needs a break, so he's on forced vacation for the next forty-eight hours. We'll be back on Monday morning, but in the meantime, consider Elijah's phone off. And I swear Nik, if you call him again, I will hurl this phone into the depths of the ocean where it will never be found again."

I heard Klaus take in a deep breath, the likes of which I only heard before he launched into some threatening tirade, but I'd known him long enough that I wasn't about to let it get to me.

"Nik, you know me. I don't put my foot down like this often, and I even help you guys with your power brokering bullshit when I can. But this time, I'm not budging. Elijah needs a break, and I need to see my husband outside of when we're threatening other New Orleans factions. You can give us two days."

Silence on the other end of the line. Elijah and I made eye contact as he raised an eyebrow at me. I just shrugged, and a second later, I heard a low growl from Nik.

"Fine. You get two days. But if I don't see you on Monday morning-"

"Don't worry! You will."

With that, I hung up and slipped the phone into my own pocket, with a grin at Elijah. Not many people could get away with hanging up on the Big Bad Wolf himself, but I'd been a part of the Mikaelson family for long enough that I could. Elijah shook his head at me, but he had a gigantic smile on his face nonetheless.

"I don't think I'll ever tire of you doing that to my siblings," he said. I grinned, then leaned in for a quick kiss. Elijah wrapped his arms around me, following after me as I pulled away.

"I hope you know I meant what I said about hurling your phone in the ocean if Nik calls you again."

"Oh, I know. But a phone is a small price to pay for a weekend like this, with you."

"I'm glad you agree."

I gave Elijah a little smirk as he wrapped his arms tighter around me, slowly closing the distance between us again. I didn't hesitate to help him, losing myself in our kiss as the waves splashed gently against my calves. I was going to make the most of this little peaceful haven Elijah and I had made, for as long as I possibly could.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[httpiastri]

🍈 touch prompts: one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze

would you do friends to lovers with fred vesti? if you don’t write for him, then any of the older f2 drivers- like arthur or mick or dennis :)

🍈 – send me a driver and a prompt from this list of hugging prompts, these touch starved prompts, or these kiss prompts, and i will write a short blurb for you!!

author's note: waaaah first time writing for fred !!! hope u enjoy <3<3

3k celly !!

frederik vesti x reader (ft mick schumacher, jack doohan & arthur leclerc)

"are you guys nearly done yet?"

jack leans out through the window of the car, a hand raised in the air as a further complaint to the two idiots attempting to carry several full bags of groceries in their arms. "yeah, calm down!" mick yells back, right before he stops for a second to laugh his ass off as he watches arthur runs back towards the car, a few oranges spilling out of the bag and onto the ground.

jack lets out a loud groan, pulling the key out of the ignition before jumping out of the car to go pick up the scattered fruits. "great idea to let the two of them handle the grocery shopping…" fred almost startles you when he speaks up, but his gentle voice quickly lulls you back into the soft state of mind you were in just moments ago. "who even came up with that?"

"no idea," you say with a shrug, tilting your head slightly towards him. and when your eyes meet his, it's suddenly like he becomes especially aware of how close you're sitting. with you in the middle seat, your arms touching ever so slightly, and your thigh still resting slightly against his despite the fact that you have more space now ever since mick left the seat on your other side.

fred blinks down at you for a few moments, mind completely blank except for the scent of your perfume and how cute you look with that little lock of hair that's fallen into your face. it takes every single ounce of self-control in his body not to brush it out of your face, let his fingers trace along your features, his touch lingering across your skin…

instead, he clears his throat, looking out through the window to his side again. jack and arthur are seemingly having some type of showdown – what it's over, he truly can't tell – and fred shakes his head. "we only have like an hour left," he mutters. "can't they just hurry up?"

you hum, letting your eyes flutter closed. "i'm so tired," you say, not able to hold back a yawn.

then, fred feels a weight on his shoulder. it takes him a few moments to realize what's going on, but when he does, he freezes. is that… what he thinks it is?

when he hears your soft sigh from right below his ear, it's confirmed for him. you're resting your head on his shoulder, likely with your pretty eyes shut and your little lips slightly parted. his best friend, the girl he's been crushing on for ages, using him as a pillow…

on the outside, fred looks cool as a cucumber. but on the inside? he's never felt this jittery before.

when arthur jumps into the car singing some random pop song after having dumped the groceries in the back, fred shoots him a deathly glare – or, as much as he can manage from over your head – and the older seems to get the hint, hands rising in defense. "sorry," arthur starts, putting up a defensive finger in mick's face when he gets into the seat next to you. "don't slam the door now, mick. fred will attack you for waking his sleeping beauty."

the danish man just rolls his eyes at his friends' antics, letting himself rest back against the seat as everyone settles in the car again.

just a few moments ago, he was wishing the last hour before you arrive at your destination would just be over already. but now, he wishes you could both stay in this position forever.

[superblysubpar]

All Of This Snow Is Falling, I Can Make You Fall Too:

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader

2.5k words

the song: santa doesn't know you like I do by Sabrina Carpenter

summary: A trashy reality show, a big reveal, and a disagreement on best friends to lovers being a total cliché.

warnings: modern, teacher, best friend, roommate Eddie - except the teacher thing is really barely mentioned and the only reason it's modern is because of the show | Both him and reader are like late 20s, early 30s but no detailed description of this - it's more so to let you know they've known each other for a LONG time and are still single | no hate to trashy reality shows like The Bachelor, I'm a sucker for em | alcohol mentions | some clothed grinding, ass grabbing making out

the prompts: [french] - a deep, passionate kiss with tongue [STRADDLE] - one muse sits down in the others lap

day 3 of 12 days of superbly subpar writing // requested by @lavendermunson - thank you so much, I hope you love the direction I took it in, I had a lot of fun writing this one 💛

“It’s back on! I can hear it! Eddie pause it! Quick!”

Your muffled cry from inside a sweatshirt you couldn’t quite find the hole to pop your head through sounded truly panicked as you stumbled out of your bedroom. He laughed, sliding out of the kitchen and did as you asked, swallowing and looking away at the bare skin of your stomach as your shirt pulled higher, trapped in the sweatshirt. 

It was a Friday night, the apartment you two shared dark aside from the blue of the television, the warm glow from the lamp shedding light onto the scattered papers littered with red pen marks, and the occasional burst of white light as the fridge was cracked for another beer or a refill on cereal milk. 

He stood, waiting for you to grab the bowl from his hands, sucking in a breath and ignoring the way his heartbeat picked up speed when you smiled, hair a mess and skin flushed when you finally wrangled the sweatshirt down. He didn’t know what was worse, remembering the day you made the old, hand-bleached sweatshirt, or how your body underneath it looked the day you did. 

It had been the hottest day of the summer, he had been laying in the dark, with a fan blowing on him when the lights flipped on without warning. Wincing and squinting as you stood above him, a lime green bikini top, cut off shorts - that kind the pockets stuck out past the frayed denim, revealing far too much. A grape popsicle in one hand and a bag from the dollar store in the other asking him if he wanted to have some fun. Somehow the girl he’d grown up with, somehow his best friend, and somehow a woman with a figure and confidence and-

He’d struck out on every single date he’d had since, either calling it off himself or girls telling him he should “tell her” whatever the fuck that means. 

Eddie stood in front of you, holding out the bowl of fruit loops, until you took it with both hands, bouncing up and down on your now wool-sock covered toes. He kept his gaze on the bowl as he poured, waiting for you to say ‘when’ and you took the opportunity to admire the way his eyelashes cast a shadow on his skin and the way this new shorter haircut made his curls go every which way and wondering if it’d be weird for you to card your fingers through it. 

You know, as friends do. 

His brown eyes met your gaze, his eyebrows shooting up in a question and you startled out of imagining things you shouldn’t have been about your best friend. “Oh! When! Sorry!”

Nestling yourself between the couch and coffee table, you glanced at the short stories he was grading while he put the milk away and grabbed a beer, your voice calling out around a too big of bite, “One for me please!”

He was already rounding the corner with one in hand and you beamed, putting on a funny voice, “Why thank you good sir.”

Eddie flicked your shoulder as he sat, “You’ve had too much sugar tonight.”

Taking another bite, you drummed your hands on the coffee table, waiting until you had swallowed to look at him, remote poised to hit play. “So, final predictions, Munson?”

He sighed, taking a swig of the amber liquid, letting it coat his tongue as he squinted at the TV. “For the record, again, I do not like this show and I have not been watching it and-”

Your hand waved him off, interrupting, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, your man card is still intact. Just play the game.”

He hunched over the coffee table, elbows on his knees after he ran a hand through his hair. You quickly looked at the TV before your eyes could linger on the muscle flexing in his arm, before your mind could wander to the tattoos that disappeared under the white cotton shirt. Before you could start to wonder about the matching tattoos in script on his ribcage, tracing it with his tong-

“Ex. Totally the ex.” He declared, starting to grade again. 

“No way, they did that like three seasons ago. I think it’s the girl he sent home that first night. The one he talked to, you know? He walked her out? Which is really weird for a first rose ceremony.”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes scanned the story about aliens and cowboys in front of him, his middle schoolers just as unpredictable and weird as you. He loved them. 

You tapped the back of the paper, nodding, “This one should get an A,” you spoke around a mouthful, “Real plot twist ending.”

He tapped your nose with the cap of his red pen, “Who has the teaching degree?”

His lips twitched in a fight of a smile at your eye roll and your snarky, “Who’s home on a Friday night grading twelve year old’s writing while watching ‘The Bachelor’?”

“Not watching,” he took another sip of beer.

“Uh-huh.”

He’d lost count of how many years he’d “not” been watching The Bachelor with you, but long enough for The Bachelorette, and then Paradise to be added. 

It became a tradition to record them and wait till your schedules allowed you both to sit down and watch it. This season, they’d been hinting about this episode from the beginning, some big reveal, a person interrupting a date, and you’d been placing bets for a month. 

You nodded, satisfied, hitting play, “I’m right.”

The dramatic music resumed, the heels clicked on the cobblestone as a deep sapphire blue dress was panned up and up-

Eddie’s eyebrows bunched, his stomach did a little twist because of fucking course. He watched as your spoon, overflowing with fruit loops, stopped before your lips. Your mouth parted in a gasp, and you swore. 

“Vanessa?” Hunky bachelor man sputtered on screen. The blonde he’d just been about to makeout with completely forgotten as he stood, smiling through his shock, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh my god,” your spoon clattered into the bowl, pink milk splashing over the side a little as your hands went to your temples, elbows landing hard on the coffee table. 

Vanessa looked at the blonde date, then at him, whispering, “Hey, I know…sorry I’m so nervous.” She laughed a little, reaching for his hand he was already offering out reassuringly, “Can I talk to you?”

Hunky bachelor man didn’t hesitate for a second, nodding, “Of course. Yeah, hold on.”

He excused himself from the other girl, the two walking away and talking incoherently as the camera zoomed in on sad blonde. Eddie was ninety percent certain her name was Rachel and she taught yoga. Or maybe it was Jessica and she was in real estate. 

Either way, sad blonde was now in her confessional. Her blue eyes dead, fake, runny mascara lines running down her cheeks as she stared at something beyond the camera, and a commercial started. Eddie booed. 

Your head whipped around, glaring at him, “Why the hell are you booing?!”

Eddie shook his head, gesturing at the TV and took another swig of his beer, angry. “That’s bullshit.”

You were on your knees, sitting up, eyes wide, tone incredulous, “What do you mean that’s bullshit?!”

“The best friend? C’mon.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the screen again. 

“I don’t understand why you think that’s bullshit?” Your cheeks hot, hand in your hair as your brain circled through the footage of them from the beginning of the season. The interview with her smiling sadly, wishing him luck and hoping the best for him. Hoping he found what he was looking for. 

You started to message your other bestie:

You: IT WAS THE BEST FRIEND?! Robin: babe, seriously? You didn’t see that coming? YOU?

Your eyes darted over to Eddie, quickly locking your phone again as his adam’s apple bobbed with another gulp. 

Was it that obvious?

Eddie scratched at the label on his bottle, knee bouncing as he shrugged. “I think there’s gonna be some big confession about how she’s always loved him, maybe he says it back, but like, if she always loved him, why weren’t they together before the show? Why is she saying it now?”

“Maybe she didn’t know how she felt fully,” you countered, hand thrown to the TV.

He shook his head again and stood, “If she didn’t know how she felt, why is she there? Why is she a part of the show? I bet they offered her a shit load of money.”

Eddie felt hot, angry at a fake reality show, making people believe best friends fall in love. Making innocent people hope that one day it could happen to them. It was bullshit. It wasn’t real.  

You were on your feet, following him towards the kitchen. “No, no way. That was all her. Couldn’t you see it in her face? She loves him. She just needed to tell him before it was too late.”

Eddie tossed his empty bottle, spinning to find you right on his heel. “Okay, maybe she is. Maybe it’s real and not for TV, but then that’s super shitty of her.”

You laughed, hands on your hips, “What?! How is telling someone you love them, shitty, Eddie?”

He threw his hands in the air, “Because! She had to have known for a long time. Had to have known how she felt. The only reason she’s telling him now is because she’s jealous. Or she’s afraid she’ll lose him, so she’s sabotaging his love life which is selfish.”

Your head shook, but Eddie’s heart accelerated, words tumbling out of him before he could stop them. “I bet that guy has been in love with her since they were like fifteen and every single relationship he’s had has ended because of her. Because,” he licked his lips and spoke faster, hands gesturing wildly, “If it wasn’t him comparing every single girl to her, it was them, dumping him, because of his best friend hanging around making them doubt their relationship.”

His words felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped on you, toes going numb as he finished, voice softer, strained, “And that’s really fucking shitty. If she knew how she felt and never told him.”

“Maybe she was scared to ruin their friendship! Did you ever think about that? And why couldn’t he tell her?” Your cheeks hot, fingers curled in fists at your side as you glared at your best friend. Was he insinuating that you were the reason he was single? Your throat felt dry, head and heart pounding as you blurt out, “What if she lost her best friend in the whole entire world because she was selfish and had to know how his lips felt, huh? What if it didn’t work out?”

Your bodies were magnets, chests almost touching as your breath came sharper, his brown eyes darting over your face - the few inches between you pulsing, like if someone snapped their fingers a fire could start. 

Voice cracking, as you stared at the curve of his lips, “What if the guy who held her hand on a swing set when they were ten and promised to always be there, suddenly wasn’t there?”

Eddie swallowed, nerves of that ten and fifteen year old alive like he never outgrew them because suddenly he wasn’t talking about the show anymore and neither were you. 

Your breath caught in your chest as he reached his hand towards you, heart stumbling over itself it was going so fast as his fingers curled around your jaw. 

His voice was raspy, full of years, but soft, eyes even more so as he leaned in, forehead touching yours.

“Sweetheart, he’s always gonna be there.”

Then he was kissing you.  

His lips parted over yours, a ghost of a touch, before he let a shaky exhale warm them, waiting. 

It was like tasting your favorite food for the first time, the way you tilted to catch his lips again, needing more, the way the movement encouraged him to keep going. The scrape of his short scruff against your skin made your toes curl, spice and mint of his cologne drawing you closer. He parted your mouth with his, a little fuller of a kiss, stealing your breath as he caught your bottom lip with his teeth. Cheap beer and sweet cereal on shared breaths, each of your desperate inhales pushing your chests together, back arching as his hands found your hips and yours climbed higher up his chest. 

The two of you started to stumble backwards, your lips moving a little more desperately against each other until the back of his legs were hitting the couch. Your body followed his, knees landing on either side of his hips as he sat and you spoke into his lips, both panting. “Is this okay?”

Eddie nodded, hands roaming lower, sliding over the curve of your ass as he tapped his nose against yours, brown eyes hidden under heavy lids and blown out pupils. His bottom lip hitting your top with his own question, “This?”

You pressed yourself lower, feeling him hard against you and groaned as he squeezed. “So okay, Eddie.”

He cursed quietly, encouraged your hips, holding them down and thrusting up to meet each roll as he leaned in for more. 

Eddie’s lips brushed over yours in a gentle, deep, and confident way. A man who knows how to kiss, and does so with intent. His hand roamed from your hip, waist, settling against your ribs and scratching as his tongue licked slowly over your bottom lip, releasing a shiver to run through your body. 

Your hands explored up the smooth planes of his chest, over broad shoulders, until they were against the back of his head, fingers running through the short, dark curls there. His mouth savored yours as his hands pressed to the back of your spine, drawing you closer, your chests heaving together, kissing becoming urgent, like you were making up for the years of lost time. 

Gripping each other tightly, each sharp inhale and exhale against one another addicting, demanding you be closer. You tugged on his hair to hear him stutter out your name, a whisper against kiss bitten lips, he rolled his tongue over yours before sucking on your bottom lip to draw a noise from deep within your chest out. 

Teasing and curious touches, using what you’ve grown to know about each other from years of bad (and some good) dating stories, and trying to learn even more yourselves.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen,” her voice echoed out of the TV speaker and your mouth titled in a smile, teeth scraping against his bottom lip. 

Eddie huffed, the two of you breaking apart, breathless as you laughed together. 

His palms soothed up and down your spine, his nose skimming the bridge of yours as you both took a second to breathe, to realize what had been in front of you the entire time.

“It was always you,” hunky bachelor man choked out. 

Eddie rolled his eyes as you threw your head back in a louder laugh, his smile pressed along the hinge of your jaw, shaking his head as he squeezed your waist. 

Yeah, it was always you. 

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Ghost Story

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader

Summary: After a drug deal, you two watch A Christmas Carol (and make out)

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Enjoy this late as BALLS Christmas post 😭😭 Merry LATE Christmas @tr4sh-pl4nt I was ur secret Santa (nobody is surprised)

-

Despite the cloudy skies and flurries of snow, a soft reflection of the frost outside streams a bit of light into the office as you pull back the blinds. The sidewalks and alleys are empty- nary a car on the street. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you were in Silent Hill rather than Gotham City. There’s nothing but grey, blistery, snowy solitude. This was good. With nobody around, this was sure to be an easy buy.

“Something on your mind?” He pipes up.

Snapping the shade back into place, you look back to see that he’s found the stash. In a small, plastic bag, the pills are on the desk. “No, I’m all good.”

He clicks his tongue with a wry grin. “If it’s the cops you’re worried about, don’t be. There’s gonna be a huge storm tonight- I doubt the pigs would leave the barn; freezing their butts off to go after a low-life like you.”

“Low-life? Look who’s talking,” You glare, making your way over to the desk. “Scarecrow.”

As your hand goes to reach for the pills, his thin fingers come into view, sliding the bag back.

“You fuck. I already payed.” Your eyes stare daggers into his clinical gaze. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you brace yourself for whatever psychological games he decides to play with you now.

“Look,” he slides the bag off the desk and in between his slender fingers, as if dangling it just out of reach. “I’m not dumb enough to mess with a tweaker and their drugs, but humor me for a moment, won’t you?”

“You have five seconds to give me my-”

“Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?” He’s completely unfazed by the threat, pulling out a DVD copy of the film.

“What?” Any aggression from within you begins to dissipate, turning into utter bewilderment.

“A Christmas Carol,” he repeats. “Y’know, a grizzled, selfish old miser who is haunted by three spirits who represent the ever-changing stages of his life? How each journey into his past, present, and future make him reevaluate the way he lives his life and treats others and learns the true meaning of Christmas?”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

“Well forget it.” He slides the DVD into the video player, watching it click into place. “Sure, it’s a classic holiday tale, but it’s so much more than that.” He springs up, flicking off the lights. “It’s a horror story.”

The blue glow from the old television illuminated the office as it came to life with some static and a startling pop. You began to wonder how old that damn thing was until you found yourself standing alone with Crane on the empty couch. Although the room was dark, you could feel Dr. Crane’s piercing gaze beckoning you over. Hesitantly, you sit on the other end of the couch.

As the film begins, the Disney logo catches your eye. “Horror story my ass…” you mutter.

“What was that?” He quips, wondering how he heard you.

“Horror story my ASS.” You annunciate clearly. Shifting in your seat you turn to him. “A Disney movie? You refuse to give me my shit for this?” You laugh bitterly.

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly. “You really don’t have any idea of what we���re about to get into, do you?”

“What the fuck on God’s green earth are you talking about?”

“Scoff all you want,” he grins, turning down the volume. “This version of the film truly captures the true essence of fear better than its other iterations. Narratively speaking, the film remains pretty faithful to the original novella by Charles Dickens, which obviously is something to be expected from any adaptation, but it’s especially crucial here to really showcase the specific fears of the time.”

“Well yeah it might be accurate, but doesn’t everyone collectively agree that this one sucks?” You reply. “I mean, look at the creepy ass mocap, it’s literally the same shit as the Polar Express-”

“Oh right!” He shifts excitedly. “The visuals only contribute to terror! Sure, motion capture gets a bad rap because it’s a little off-putting, but it really works in a film like this- perfectly seasoned with that uncanny valley effect. It really adds to the flavor of dread.”

“Whatever man,” you scoff. “It’s just some story about an old man.” You turn your attention back to the movie, straining to listen to the low volume despite Jonathan’s chatter.

He clears his throat. “An old man- who you may find, has far similar fears to you than you may think.”

You cock your head to the side, turning to him. “You callin’ me an old man?”

The sound of his laughter fills your ears. “Oh no, not at all.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “It’s just so painfully human.”

“Human?”

“Scrooge isn’t taught redemption, he’s simply being driven by fear.” He leans back on the couch. “The ghosts don’t just visit him to bring awareness to his cold heart, but they dismantle him- tearing away layers and layers of his psyche until there’s nothing left but his raw fear. It’s fascinating, really. How the fear completely reshapes his attitude in the waking world.”

You find yourself leaning back as he moves his way closer to you, only to be caught by the end of the couch.

“And you wanna know what the real scary thing is? It’s the fact that we could all end up just like him- Alone. Forgotten. Unloved. It’s a common fear that drives us all, isn’t it? The fear of abandonment? Being left behind.” You can feel the heat radiating from his body with every word spoken.

You blink, at a loss for words. It’s starting to feel all too real. “I,” you stutter. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

“Oh, but it has everything to do with you.” His voice is low, as you feel yourself be closed in. “That invisibility,” he lets the words linger on his tongue. “Something that most people prefer to ignore, but it’s still there isn’t it? Lurking.”

His eyes stare within the confines of your soul. You look away from his prying eyes, but you can still feel his gaze on you like a searchlight.

You can feel your chin between his fingers as he gently forces you to look at him. “I think this little arrangement we have- these little meetings, it’s more than just a drug deal isn’t it? I think you want more than just drugs.”

Suddenly the office didn’t feel so chilly anymore. The closeness of his breath on the shell of your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He’s right. You do want more.

Your hands slide up his long arms, feeling the fabric of his shirt beneath your palms. Resting your fingers on his shoulders, you pull him closer. You speak up, words barely a whisper. “So, you gonna give me my drugs or not?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask.” A knowing grin graces his silhouetted frame.

Pulling the bag from his pocket, he opens the seal, taking out a small, ghost-shaped tablet and places it on his tongue. At first you were confused as to why he was breaking into your stash until you felt the harsh press of his lips against yours.

Pulling him closer into you, you allow your hands to slip under his shirt, feeling his flesh on your fingertips. In turn, he runs his hand through your hair while the other snakes its way down your spine, cradling the small of your back. His grip is firm, fingers digging into you, showing no sign of letting go.

Quickly, he nips at your lower lip. As you whine at sting, you fall victim to his plan when he slips his tongue into your mouth. You can feel him transfer the tablet to you, swallowing it down with his guidance. In retaliation, you sink your nails into the skin of his back, feeling him hiss into the kiss as he pulls away with a chuckle.

Breathless from the kiss, he wraps an arm around you. “Maybe this will help you understand Scrooge’s fear.” He grabs the remote, adjusting the film’s volume back to normal.

At this point you could give less of a shit about the movie. You allow yourself to fall into Jonathan’s side. You’re not sure if it’s from the pill or the kiss as you let yourself be overtaken by the waves of euphoria and adrenaline.

[misc-obeyme]

Hey cc

So in the vampire pop quiz I think it was Dia who said something very interesting "looks like they are fixated on mc because mc is the manifestation of their desires" now that did align well with my effort to understand why would all 7 of them be this obsessed lol

Anyway in my head mc goes like guys that's just my idea of how a proper human should be lol pretty sure if any other human ended up here who kinda like hot demons you all would be obsessed about that human too

Anyway, can I request a drabble about this kind of mc not insecure, just not understanding why mc deserving all this attention

Barb would be interesting to drabble about this since it took him sooooo looooong to open up to mc a bit

happy to see you are still having fun with Barbs thirst trap 😎

-🐆

Hi there, 🐆 anon! I apologize for the delay on this - it's been taking me a little longer than I anticipated to get through the drabble requests...

Augh the Barbatos shower picture is going to be the death of me, I swear. I'm still thinking about a nsfw drabble based on one of his lines lkasdfkjfj it's a problem, I swear.

Anyway, here's a Barb drabble with MC not getting why the demons are obsessed with them! I thought it was a cute little scenario. And Barb is just being super romantic as always lol. I can't help it, I am but a humble fluff writer.

Barbatos could see it on your face - a subtle expression that the others might not pick up on. It told him the story of how you were trying your best to hide your own confusion. It was something that happened every time one of the brothers complimented you, when they fought over you, when they expressed this need to always be near you. A slight furrow of your brow, the tiniest downturn of your lips, the fleeting uncertainty that flashed through your eyes.

Ever since your first day in the Devildom, Barbatos had seen this look. He was always watching you. The more he did, the more it became clear to him that you didn't understand why everyone seemed to think there was something special about you.

Perhaps he waited too long. Perhaps he should have mentioned it to you sooner. But you didn't seem distressed. All he ever saw was bafflement. So he let it be for quite some time. Until he finally found himself alone with you when it displayed itself.

Barbatos had been pouring you a cup of tea as he heard about the brothers' latest antics. You were telling him that they had been arguing over who got to work with you on an upcoming school project.

"And then Levi got involved and I had to calm everybody down before Lotan was summoned," you said.

You were looking down at the table, your mind clearly elsewhere, when that expression flashed across your face.

Barbatos put down the teapot. "Does it make you uncomfortable, MC? When they argue over you this way?"

You met his eyes, seemingly startled by his question. "No," you said. "It's a little silly, but it doesn't make me uncomfortable. Why do you ask?"

"It's only that I've noticed the look of confusion you sometimes have in moments like these," Barbatos said. "As if there's something that troubles you about it."

You frowned in thought for a moment. "I guess I just don't understand why they care so much? Why do they think I deserve this much attention? I just act like a regular human would. Why are they so… obsessed?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Do you truly not see? This is exactly what makes you so fascinating."

"I don't know what you mean," you said.

"Despite being a totally unique individual, you still believe you are ordinary," Barbatos said gently. "I have been alive for a long time, MC. I have met many humans. No two are alike. You are not 'regular' because there is no such thing. You are yourself and that is why we love you."

Barbatos was pleased to see that confused look replaced by a soft blush. "You…?" you couldn't finish your question.

Barbatos took your hand and kissed the back of it. "Indeed," he said. "Even I have fallen under your spell. I will remind you of how special you are for the rest of your life if I must."

You laughed, a little taken aback. "I don't think that's going to be necessary."

Barbatos only smiled, your hand still clasped in his. He was content to see such a soft and sweet expression on your face, a glint of happiness in your eyes. Despite what you said, if he ever did see that confusion there again, he would do everything he could to bring your smile back instead.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[supreme-leader-stoat]

This is my—unfortunately, rather incomplete at the moment—submission for @inklings-challenge 2024 for Team Tolkien. My chosen genre and themes are Secondary Fantasy World (i.e. a story that takes place in a world totally disconnected from Earth) and "instruct the ignorant," as well as a bit of "council the doubtful" and "comfort the sorrowful"

At the moment, the story is essentially just the opening scene. With that in mind, I'll be posting some notes and commentary at the end outlining the rough direction that I plan on taking the story for anyone who wants to know how things unfold in the likely event that it takes me a while to write the rest of it. And I do hope to write the rest of it; it's been a bit slow going due to writer's block and my health working against me, but this is the most invested I've felt in a writing project for months if not years, so for that I'm quite grateful to the people who set up this challenge.

Well, you came to read a story and not my rambling, so I think I'll leave it there for the moment. Without further ado, please enjoy the prologue of All Things Great and Small.

-----

Battuhya couldn’t breathe. Not because of the heavy formal robes she wore, with her clan’s signate murals embroidered along the back and sleeves. Nor because of the heavy scents of spiced meats and fragrant woods that filled the royal feast hall like low-hanging clouds gathered in a valley. She couldn’t breathe because the attention of the entire room was suddenly focused on her, and on the long, bare arm that stretched out to point at her.

“That one,” the Ketar said confidently. “I can feel her affinity for the secret arts. Truly, such power must be a blessing from the gods. I would be a great fool to let it be squandered. Yes, I think it must be her.”

Battuhya resisted the urge to spin around and try to see who behind her the Ketar was indicating. Surely, surely she couldn’t mean her.

Slowly, deliberately, Battuhya’s father stepped in front of her, half-shielding her from the view of the court. “My apologies, revered Ketar,” he said, not quite managing to keep the hard edge from his voice. “I mean you no disrespect, but I fear you are mistaken. This is my eldest daughter, and I have chosen her tutors myself. Her education is extensive, but I’m afraid that it does not extend to such obscure subjects as sorcery.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “I speak of potential, not of prior learning. I intend to oversee her training myself, and I will see to it that any deficiencies in her knowledge are corrected.”

She turned towards the royal seat, expectant. The king’s dining mat was separated from the rest of the feast hall by a massive curtain of blue silk, lit from behind in a way that cast a massive shadow across the fabric. For as still as it remained, that shadow might have belonged to a statue and not a living man.

The high steward, seated just in front of the royal veil, impassively swept his gaze across the room. Battuhya thought that his eyes seemed to rest on her for a moment, but he moved on so quickly that she began to wonder if she had imagined it. “You ask for much, Ketar,” he said, the sound of his voice quieting the sea of whispers from the onlooking crowd. “The daughter of a President is no small price. Perhaps you should consider your choice further.”

“Oh?” Said the woman, raising her voice theatrically as her lifelight flared in challenge, clearly visible even in the bright light of the feast hall. “Is this how His Majesty honors his promises?” As if to punctuate her question, a log in one of the nearby ornamental braziers gave off a loud ‘pop’ and a cloud of sparks, eliciting a few startled yelps from the noble ladies standing closest to it. “For services rendered, I was given leave to select an apprentice of my own choosing from among His Majesty’s subjects. Surely, he would not now forbid this old woman from passing on her legacy?”

The Ketar and the steward held each other’s gaze, and Battuhya sensed something pass between them, an understanding of some sort. It was subtle, something she doubted she’d have noticed if she hadn’t grown up in the court, and even then, she could only guess at what the exchange meant.

“His Majesty always honors his promises,” the steward said. “Those who would imply otherwise are counseled to hold their tongues, lest they lose them. Come here, girl,” he said, raising a hand in Battuhya’s direction.

Slowly, on feet that felt like they belonged to someone else, Battuhya began to walk forward.

“You do not have to do this,” her father hissed under his breath as she passed him.

Even through the dreamlike numbness of shock, she felt her heart swell. Her father loved her enough to challenge the will of the king, of a god’s reflection on Earth, if it meant sparing her this. But she loved him, too, which was why she couldn’t let him. The relationship between her clan and the crown was too tenuous, too strained these past few years. Refusing here and causing the king to lose face would bring down retribution on her family, maybe even spark a war.

She didn’t tell him any of this. To speak, to even look back, would cause her nerve to break. Instead, she moved forward, one step at a time, before falling to her knees at the base of the steps that led to the royal seat.

“Do you understand what is required of you?” the steward asked.

She wished she didn’t. Understanding made it harder. She would become ketar. The word meant either “clanless” or “heretic,” depending on how it was used. Often, both meanings went hand in hand. Everything she was, everything she had been raised to, would be stripped away. Her home, her family, even her prospects of marriage.

“I do,” she said.

“And do you accept this charge, to serve your new mistress to the fullest extent of your abilities?”

“This servant hears and obeys,” someone else said. It must have been someone else, you see. The voice that said it was far too calm to belong to someone with the storm of emotions that Battuhya felt trying to tear out of her chest.

“Then rise,” the steward commanded, and rose to his feet at the same time she did. “Hear this final proclamation in the name of your king. You are remanded to the care and teaching of this Ketar. From this day forth, you are no longer a subject of this realm.” He clapped twice to mark the end of the proclamation.

It’s funny, Battuhya thought. I never realized before now, but it’s the same sound a judge makes when they condemn someone.

A hand settled on her shoulder, and she looked up to see the satisfied face of the Ketar. The other Ketar.

“Come along,” the woman said. “I expect that we’ve caused enough commotion for one evening.” She turned and strode away, and Battuhya had no choice but to follow.

The crowd parted before the woman like a school of fish in front of a boat, leaving a clear path behind her. Some gave Battuhya looks of concern or pity. Other gave apprehensive looks, looks that said they still didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but were worried they would be swept up in it just the same. A few didn’t look at her at all, people she had once called friends or allies who were already treating her like a stranger now that she had no official standing in the court.

She didn’t know what look her father gave as she walked away. She couldn’t bring herself to look back at him.

As the heavy doors of the feast hall closed behind her with a decisive ‘thud,’ she wished she had been able to.

-----

The Ketar’s study was a small room located far from the feast hall, tucked away on the north side of the palace. Battuhya stood just inside the door, unsure of what to do or say as the Ketar rifled through an assortment of jars and wooden boxes by the light of a lamp, cursing softly under her breath. Eventually, she found what she had apparently been looking for, grabbing a small handful of dust out of one of the jars and tossing it onto the log that sat in the study’s small hearth. Then she held her hand out towards it, palm forward and fingers splayed wide, and began chanting in a strange, alien language.

Battuhya’s breath caught as the room was enveloped in a bright flash, like the sun itself had suddenly dropped down the chimney. By the time she blinked the spots out of her eyes, red-orange flames were cheerfully licking at the log, casting light across the room. Magic. Battuhya had seen magic before; it wasn’t unheard of for travelling Ketar to ply their arts on the streets or, more rarely, in court, but this… this was something else entirely. Seeing magic from a distance, in the full light of day or a crowded feast hall, was a very different thing from seeing it up close, almost alone in a dark and quiet room.

The first thing that Battuhya thought, upon getting a good view of said room in the firelight, was that it reminded her terribly of her father’s study, with the stranger details only jumping out on a closer inspection. The right-hand side of the room, from where she was standing, was lined with two bookcases that reached all the way to the ceiling, and two equally tall wooden cabinets, which was where the Ketar had found the powder to start the fire. On the left was the hearth, flanked on either side by wide bureaus covered in a collection of curios; glass bottles in shapes she had never seen before, animal bones (including, she noted with a repressed shiver, what looked like at least one human skull), and a curved piece of polished ivory with strange carvings all along it. Turning her eyes upward, she saw two stuffed birds suspended from the ceiling in a facsimile of flight, both around the size of a goose. In the middle and towards the far end of the room was a heavy wooden desk with a comfortable-looking, high-backed chair. The only things behind it were the room’s single window, and a table holding a cage so large that Battuhya thought that if she were to lay down on her side, she would be able to fit inside with room to spare. An animal of some sort sat huddled on a pile of straw and fabric against the far wall of the cage, though in the dim light of the fire and with her eyes still not fully recovered from the sudden flash, she couldn’t clearly make out where the fabric ended and its body began. The only part of it that was completely clear were its eyes, bright in the firelight and far too clever and intense for Battuhya’s liking.

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

So, that's what I've written so far. I was inspired to try my hand at a take on a "the protagonist is unexpectedly chosen to become a wizard's apprentice" story. The twist here being that Battuhya is not someone being freed from her previously dreary and downtrodden life, but is someone for whom learning magic is, if not a downgrade, then at the very least a sudden and unexpected exile from the society she's known her entire life.

Everything from this point onwards is spoilers for bits I haven't written yet.

If the Ketar's conduct seems a bit overblown, that's on purpose. While she does have access to a tiny bit of true magic (I'll let you guess what it does, the hints are already there in what I've written), 90% of what she does (and by extension, what Battuhya will learn) is chemistry, pharmacology, or performance art.

The 'animal' in the cage is something that Battuhya would call an "imp from the underworld," something that can (allegedly) bargain away its magical powers but can steal your soul if you aren't careful while making said bargain. As the story goes on, it rapidly becomes clear to readers—and eventually Battuhya herself—that it's essentially just a very tiny person held captive by the Ketar. Or, perhaps more accurately, she's what we would recognize as a normal person, and Battuhya and her world simply operate on a far larger scale.

Battuhya and the "imp," as might be expected, eventually overcup their mutual apprehension of one another and strike up a friendship, of sorts. Among other things, the imp teaches Battuhya thing about her mistress' powers that the latter keeps close to her chest, as well as some of the history and beliefs of the imp's people. While from the perspective of Battuhya's world they came from underground, from their perspective they climbed into the sky one day against their God's prohibitions and found themselves in a land of giants with stars in their skin, something like a cross between the Tower of Babel and Jack and the Beanstalk. That's another strange thing; the imp only believes in a single God, something that's rather alien to someone who grew up worshiping her king as the earthly reflection of one of a pantheon of gods.

Eventually, Battuhya uncovers a plot in the court that ties into why she was chosen as the Ketar's apprentice, and the two hatch a plan for escape to freedom. Among other things, their plan involves the miraculous power the imp's people received from their God for protection upon arriving in this world (I did say the Ketar has access to a bit of real power) and a lot of the more mundane tricks that Battuhya has picked up over the course of her training.

[heizlut]

So This is Love

cw: angst/misunderstandings

tags: fem!reader from natlan, kaeya being kaeya, angst/comfort/smut, diluc is heavily mentioned, venti and jean are also mentioned, mostly proofread

a/n: don't ask how many words this is, it's a lot😅

m!list here

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

Kaeya would do anything for you, why couldn't you just see that? He didn't understand since he had been so attentive towards you, even after that one night where he witnessed something from outside the window of Angel's Share that made him feel too many emotions at once. Was he just not enough for you? Did you move on? Even worse, did you truly choose Diluc? These thoughts consume him constantly and tear at his aching heart.

So, in this moment, Kaeya is standing there soaked from the pouring rain in front of your door as you look up at him with a mix of confusion and concern. His gaze full of turmoil as he stares down into your eyes, seemingly unfazed by how the rain continues to pelt his tanned skin and drench him completely. "Please... Will you please listen to me?", his voice is soft but with so much desperation and heartache.

But how did you two even get to this point? Had things always been this way? No, they hadn't. And Kaeya was more determined than ever to have you by his side.

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Being in Mondstadt was certainly quite the culture shock for you since you had come from Natlan. Mondstadt was a far-cry from the scorching heat and endless wars that consumed your nation. Everything here was so peaceful and freeing. There seemed to be no archon ruling over the place finding joy in calling for constant war between its people. In fact, the archon seemed largely absent here but many people still held faith for him.

It was...nice. You felt like you could breathe without smelling the stench of death and fire. You certainly turned heads when you arrived here since you did not look like the people who resided in this nation nor did you dress like them. Maybe if you had gone to Sumeru instead, less heads would have turned at your appearance, but you wanted to get as far from Natlan as possible.

The guards at the gates leading in Mondstadt City looked at you warily while you looked at them with curiosity. "Who are you and what is your purpose here?", one of the guards spoke. You blink a couple of times as your brain processes the language difference and makes the switch to their tongue, "I'm here for refuge." The two men cast sideways glances at each other before looking back at you, "And how long do you plan on staying?" You frowned slightly as you thought, "For as long as I can."

The guards looked skeptical of you and one narrowed their eyes at you as he spoke, "Come with me. I'll escort you to the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius where you can meet with the Acting Grandmaster." Just as he turned around to lead you, Venti seemed to pop out of nowhere with a bright smile and curious eyes, "Who's this?" The guard jumped, startled by Venti's sudden appearance and put a hand to his chest to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest from the innocent scare, "Gah!" He clicked his tongue, "If it isn't Venti the bard... We have someone new here and I was going to escort them to the Knights Headquarters."

You looked at Venti curiously, trying to figure out if he was someone you could trust. It was a habit you didn't think you would be rid of anytime soon. But he only smiled happily at you then back at the guard, "Let me take her. I have nothing else going on right now." The guard hesitated for a moment, then released a deep, defeated sigh, "Fine. I shouldn't leave my post anyways." Venti's bright smile seemed to get even brighter at his relentence. He looked back to you, "Come and follow me!" You only shrugged and began to follow after him.

Walking through the main city beside Venti, you felt many eyes on you. Some wary of you while others just looked on in curiosity. Maybe they would relax if you had walked with a small smile on your face, but alas, resting bitch face was your default unless you were among close friends (which you could count on only one hand). Venti chattered away endlessly as you followed him as if he had known you for ages, but you hardly listened. The only thing that caught your attention was the towered statue of the nations archon. You paused as Venti continued to speak, until he shortly noticed you had stopped, "Huh? Is something wrong?" Your eyes go from the statue to him, back and forth a couple of times before you finally spoke, "Do your people not realize that you are their archon? Why do they call you the bard and seem to disregard you?"

Venti's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, "Oh... That's um..." You raised a brow at him, "Why do you hide your identity?" Venti paused again, but recovered by clearing his throat, "I would rather the people have full freedom then feel the need to bow down to me, I don't want to go into details." You simply regarded his words with a shrug, "Well, that's your choice, I guess." Venti blinked at your nonchalant acceptance but quickly smiled his usual bright smile, "Anyways, that's enough of that tour. I'll take you to the Knights of Favonius headquarters now."

It wasn't long before you both arrived to HQ and entered through the grand double doors. Venti approached the first door on the left, "And this is Acting Grandmaster Jean's office." Venti stepped aside to allow you to enter first, but before you hand could even turn to handle, the door flew open. A hard mass ran into you and the next thing you knew, you were on the ground. Your nose scrunched up from the fall and a smooth voice sounded out, "Oh my! I am so sorry. Please, let me..." The voice trailed off as you looked up at the source.

Light periwinkle eye met yours. You studied the tall tanned man before you as he looked at you, not with wariness, but with pure awe. Venti stared at the interaction and then let out a light knowing giggle which snapped both you and the man out of it. The man cleared his throat and held out his hand out towards you and you took it. After you were pulled back to your feet, the man gave you a charming smile, "The name's Kaeya. Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius." His smooth voice made you feel as though you were being wrapped up in a soft blanket. "I'm y/n", you replied then looked down at where his hand was still holding yours, "You can let go now..."

Kaeya's cheeks reddened immediately and he let go of your hand, letting out an awkward laugh, "Sorry about that." A blonde woman peeked behind Kaeya's shoulder, "And who might this be?" Kaeya stepped aside to allow both you and Jean to get a better look at each other and Venti spoke up, "She's new here and will be staying here for awhile." Jean smiled softly at you, "Then, please, come in. We can discuss any questions you might have and I'll find you a good place to stay while you're here." With that, you entered her office and discussions began.

❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ

After Jean had escorted you to your new home, you were finally alone again. You laid flat on your back against the small, soft twin-sized bed as you stared up at the wooden ceiling. "Things will be different now... Things will be better... At least I hope so...", you spoke aloud to noone. Since it had become late in the day and you were too exhausted to prepare a meal for yourself or purchase clothes that better with this nation, you resigned yourself to head to the tavern Venti spoke so highly of.

Making your way through town as the sun hung low in the sky that casted pink and purple hues over everything, you push open the door to Angel's Share and were instantly greeted with music from a bard you didn't know and drunk patrons laughing and talking loudly throughout the cozy space. Your eyes drifted over to the bar where you spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man with fiery red hair. Your heart instantly jumped in your chest at the sight of a familiar hair color that the majority of your nation bore. He made you feel a small comfort with something so familiar.

Without much thought, you strode over to where he was and sat on one of the bar stools that creaked slightly underneath you. The sound caught the man's attention, he paused his wiping of the drinking glass he had been cleaning as his crimson eyes met yours, "What can I get for you?" His voice was deep and almost monotonous, but there was a sense of comfort tied to it. He studied you with a brief curiosity before he apparently decided your different appearance didn't matter to him.

"I'll take a Queimada", you replied instantly earning you a quirked brow from the man. "Apologies, but we don't serve that here. From that choice though, you must be from Natlan, correct?", his question wasn't wary, simply curious as he took in your appearance yet again. You nodded once, "That's right." There was a bit of an awkward pause that the man had no intention of filling, so you were the first to break it, "I'll just take what specialty you serve here." With a nod, he made your drink and set it down in front of you, the golden liquid looked bright and sweet, "Enjoy."

You took a sip and it wasn't long before you had downed 3 more glasses of what you learned to be dandelion wine. You finally cracked a little smile at the brooding man and introduced yourself, to which he finally casted a glance your way for the first time in a while, "I'm Diluc, the owner of Dawn Winery and Angel's Share." His response was gruff though you could tell he meant no harm by it. You both had been fine with the silence between the two of you as you drank what he served you, but with the alcohol that buzzed beneath your skin, you longed for more conversation. Before further conversation could ensue, you heard a familiar sing-song voice calling out to you, "Y/n! Come join us!"

Diluc groaned which made you turn to see the one who called out to you. It was no other than Venti who sat with a smirking Kaeya. You quirked a brow at Diluc to which he gave you a defeated and narrowed look, "Those two cause too much disturbance. It would best if you didn't get too wrapped up with them." But you being you, took that as a bit of challenge, "I can handle it." Diluc rolled his eyes at your response and didn't spare you a second glance as you strolled over to the two men who desired your presence.

Kaeya got up and pulled the chair out for you. One corner of your lips curled up as you gave him a teasing look, "Such a gentleman." He bowed dramatically, playing along, "Of course, my dear~" This display pulled a laugh from you that caused Kaeya to feel a tug on his heart, but he hid it behind a cheeky smile and sat down when you did as well. The night went on and whenever Kaeya got up to retrieve more drinks for both you and Venti, the girls seemed to flock to him. You couldn't help but watch as he never turned down flirtations from the girls and expertly charmed them in return.

You weren't close enough to Kaeya to feel any sort of jealousy, but part of you silently admitted you hated what you saw. That small part of you hoped he treated you and only you like that. What a silly thought to have for someone you had just met earlier that day... Without your knowing, Venti took in your very subtle disheartened look whenever Kaeya charmed someone else. Not that he would particularly do anything with this new information, but he didn't like seeing you unhappy.

❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ

Weeks seemed to pass by quicker than you had expected. Some of the people of Mondstadt were still wary of you and kept their distance, not that you particularly cared much. You were happy with your small group of people you were now considering your friends that consisted of Kaeya, Venti, Diluc, and Jean. You remember being with Jean when you decided you should probably purchase clothes that better fit with the style of Mondstadt. You looked at her as if she were crazy when she came over to your place and handed you an off-the-shoulder long sleeve top, a brown corset, and dark green pants.

She insisted that you put it on and relented with a heavy sigh, going into your bathroom and changing. When you stepped out in the new outfit, Jean looked so proud, "Come on. You should be out and about in this!" You felt awkward leaving your home in an outfit that felt foreign to you, but when the two of you came across Kaeya by the fountain in the center of the city, you felt differently. Jean looked up at him expectantly, "Welllll? What do you think?"

Kaeya stood there stunned at the way you looked. His eye trailed your figure, taking in the swell of the top of your breasts and the way the corset hugged your figure tightly and oh... the pants.... He felt his cock twitch involuntarily and a slight blush crept to his tanned cheeks, "You look more beautiful than ever." You weren't entirely sure of how genuine his words were since the tone of his voice was the same tone he used to charm every other woman who approached him with flirtatious intentions. That small part of you whispered to you that you wanted him to only say those words to you in such a tone, but you knew from what you had observed, that wouldn't ever be likely. Kaeya seemed to belong to everyone.

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As months passed, you felt yourself longing for Kaeya's attention, but he always seemed just out of your grasp even if he spent most of his free time with you and the others. You knew it seemed foolish to have that desire, but you couldn't help how you felt towards him. You two had grown quite close and even shared moments where you felt as though he felt the same way towards you.

One memory you can recall of such an instance is when he insisted on walking you home late at night after quite a few rounds of drinks. The warm air felt comfortable as it brushed through your hair and his as you both walked. The streets were mostly quiet besides the sounds of frogs croaking somewhere in the distance and bugs singing their nightly songs. There was a brief moment in which your hand brushed against his and you muttered a quick apology. Kaeya chuckled softly in response and told you it was fine.

Part of you wished you were brave enough to just take his hand in yours, but instead you were a coward. Once you reached your doorstep, you turned and looked up at Kaeya who gave a soft smile down at you, "Goodnight. Sleep well." His voice and the way he looked at you made you want so much more. You stood there lost in him, wishing he would kiss you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Kaeya tilted his head ever-so slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and lowered his voice, "Are you alright?" You blinked and gave a half-hearted smile, "I'm fine. Must've just had too much to drink..." Kaeya visibly relaxed at your answer, "Well, have a good night then. I should be going now." You kept your half-hearted smile, "Yeah. Goodnight, Kaeya." He gave one more soft smile and turned, walking away into the night.

Another memory you were quite fond of was another time were it had been just you and Kaeya. You were sitting on the edge of Starsnatch Cliff letting your legs dangle as the wind threaded through your hair. "Need some company?" a smooth voice spoke out to you. You turned your head to see a smirking Kaeya approaching. You gave him a slight smile in return and he sat down next to you. His shoulder brushed against yours, but neither of you moved away at the feeling.

Kaeya broke the peaceful silence between you, "Do you come here often?" You barked out a laugh that turned into genuine laughter, “Does that line usually work for you?" Kaeya raised a brow at your response, but once the realization struck him he laughed, "I've never had to use that line before, so you tell me..." He gently grasped your chin and leaned in dangerously close with a smirk, his voice lowered, "Did it work?"

Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned crimson at the closeness and the gesture. You quickly came back to yourself and swatted his hand away, turning you face back to the sprawling view in front of you, "You'll have to try a little harder. Lines like that don't work on me." Kaeya looked amused but also faced to view that captured your attention and spoke nonchalantly, "Guess I'll have to be better next time."

Later that evening, you came home to find three cecelias tied together on a blue string with a little note that read: Hopefully this is an improvement from cheesy pick-up lines. Your heart skipped a beat. This certainly was better than any cheesy pick-up line.

From then, your heart seemed to ache for him even more. But seeing the way he was with every other woman really made you feel like shit, so you turned to the one who knew him best, Diluc.

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It was evening when you made the decision to ask for Diluc's advice, strolling into Angel's Share with a disheartened look. Diluc's crimson eyes met yours as soon as you walked in and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw the look on your face, "What's wrong?"

You sighed and plopped down on one of the bar stools, immediately crossing your arms on top of the bar and resting your forehead down on them. "This is so stupid. I'm so stupid. I hate this...", your voice came out muffled from the position you were in, but Diluc caught the gist of your grumbles. "Come on, lift your head up. How can I possibly help if I can't even hear what's troubling you?", his voice was stern but was mixed with genuine worry. Though Diluc wasn't one to be generally close with others, he felt that all those times he spent around you that he was comfortable with you.

You finally lifted your head and Diluc's somewhat stern expression morphed to pure concern when he saw the tears pricking your eyes. Immediately he announced for everyone to get out of the tavern, stating they were closing early for the night. People grumbled, not wanting their drinking shenanigans to end to early, but they left as they were told. As soon as the tavern was empty, he came from behind the bar and sat next to you, his voice low with worry, "Tell me why you're crying."

You sniffled as tears threatened to spill, "This is so stupid. I shouldn't even be crying." Diluc frowned, "No. Whatever it is, it's making you cry. Not once have I seen you cry while you've been staying here in Mondstadt. So tell me." You bit the inside of your cheek and then relented. As you explained your feelings about Kaeya, the only thing that kept Diluc from confirming that you were indeed stupid to even have feelings for his brother were your tears that continuously rolled down your cheeks.

In a soft gesture that Diluc didn't do for just anyone, he gently wiped one of the tears from your cheek with the pad of his gloved thumb, "Your feelings and concerns aren't stupid, even if I don't agree with you having romantic feelings for Kaeya, I can't disregard them just because I personally dislike him for my own reasons." You looked into his eyes and knew he was being genuine with you, "But what do I even do? I hate feeling like this..." Diluc frowned as he tried to come up with a proper response for something he had never dealt with before, "Try to distract yourself. Put your focus on yourself and when you're ready, start to focus on someone new."

You pondered his words for a moment with shaky breaths, "But what if I can't?" Diluc gently grabbed your shoulders and leaned closer to you, "You can. You're a strong woman, so don't doubt yourself." For some reason his words made you cry again, perhaps not from sadness, moreso from feeling too much at once. This startled Diluc and he did what he thought would be best to calm you. He stood up and brought you into his arms in a warm, comforting embrace. He held you and smoothed your hair as you cried into his chest.

One thing the two of you did not know what Kaeya was there just outside the tavern, having watched this exchange from the front window. He didn't know what had been said between the two of you, but seeing the way Diluc wiped your tears in an intimate gesture and held you against him in his arms made something twist in Kaeya's stomach. So, you had supposedly chosen Diluc. Maybe you wanted Diluc this whole time. Kaeya witnessing what had just happened seemed to bring a sense of finality to his question. To him, you chose his brother.

❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ

Ever since that night, you had noticed that Kaeya seemed to be avoiding you which made you feel incredibly worse. You wanted to listen to Diluc's advice and push past your feelings for Kaeya since he seemed so unattainable. Kaeya would still spend some evenings with you and the others, but more frequently began to find excuses for why he couldn't join you all. When he was around you, he still had that mischievous charm, that sweet but sly smirk, and kind compliments that he gave to you. He seemed the same as ever, but with the growing distance, you weren't sure what to think.

You made yourself believe that you were fine with this. Diluc said to keep your distance as well so you tried to not let it get to you whenever Kaya couldn't join you are the group. But fuck, it did bother you. So fucking much. Will this heartache ever go away? No.

Apparently you were only getting ready to be completely heartbroken.

You couldn't have known what you were about to walk into. How could you have? You had gone to the tavern as usual, already accepting that Kaeya said he wouldn't be able to make it for whatever made up excuse he came up with this time. You sat at the bar having some light-hearted conversation with Diluc and throwing back a drink or maybe more than just one. Your brain was swimming with the alcohol you had consumed and excused yourself to the bathroom to splash your face with water to sober up a little.

Before you could even make it there, you heard a familiar laugh.

Kaeya's laugh. Your first thought was that it was a comforting sound only for your second thought to come barrelling in. What was he doing here? He said he couldnt make it so why the hell were you hearing his laughter? With the alcohol flooding your mind and heating your body, you went to find the source.

The sound of his flirtatious, sultry voice could not be mistaken for someone else's. The voice carried you to the second floor of Angel's Share. And there he was. He wasn't alone. Some pretty little blonde stood there, leaning over his table and propping herself up on her elbows as her ass stuck out in the position she put herself in. You couldn't hear what either of them said because the pounding of your heart filled your ears.

You stood there in some kind of stupor, frozen in place. The next thing you knew, the girls lips were on his. You didn't stay to see what happened next. You raced down the stairs. This caught Diluc's attention. The sight of you racing towards him looking as though you had seen a ghost. He didn't hesitate for even a second when you begged him to take you home, claiming that you couldn't bear to be alone right then. Tossing the tavern's keys to Charles, who caught them effortlessly and took over as if this was nothing new to him.

Diluc held you by your waist protectively as you both walked quickly out of Angel's Share and towards your home. He didn't speak, feeling it wasn't the right moment to ask you anything. As soon as you both entered your home and Diluc shut the door, rain began to pelt against the windows and you threw yourself in his arms and sobbed.

❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ

Diluc held you for what seemed like hours as you wet the front of his shirt with your tears, your fingers clutching the fabric as if he were your lifeline. He didn't mind it so much, he just wanted you to feel better and if holding you and letting you cry against him was what you wanted, he would stay like just like this.

You meant something to him, even though it wasn't in a romantic sense, you were deeply important to him. After what seemed like forever, he tilted your head up gently so you would look up at him, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But just know that I’m here and I’m listening.” You drew in shaky breaths, your body trembling from all the crying, “He was there. With someone else. She… They… They kissed.”

Diluc's expression of concern morphed to anger and he held you close once again as you began to cry once more, but softly this time.

Why was his brother so fucking stupid? Didn't Kaeya know what you felt for him? Couldn't he even tell?

It took a long time for you to calm down, but with Diluc keeping his arms wrapped around you as you listened to him breathe and softly soothe you helped immensely. When you looked up at him again he gave a sad smile, "Will you be alright by yourself tonight?" You wiped your tear-stained cheeks and let out a breath, "I'll be okay... You've done enough for me already...”

He brushed away a strand of your hair that was stuck to your wet cheek, "Are you sure?" You gave a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, "Promise. Now go home. I've kept you long enough." Diluc huffed at your answer but he wouldn't push you to change your mind.

If you said you would be okay, he would believe you. He gently grasped you shoulders and spoke in earnest, "Don't hesitate to come to the winery if you find you can't be alone later. My doors will be open for you." You smiled slightly at that and thanked him. Diluc pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before turning on his heels and heading out into the pouring rain.

❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ❅*ִ

You change into a nightgown, get a fire started in your little fireplace, and make yourself a cup of hot tea. You hold the warm mug in both of your hands as you watched the steam rise. The rain didn't seem to be letting up any time soon, but that was fine with you. It suits your mood. You take a sip of your tea and let the warmth fill your body as your eyes trail after a raindrop that was rolling down your window.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a desperate knock on your door. Your heart clenched tightly when you heard the voice on the other side, "Y/n. It's me. Please, please let me in. Let me talk to you." It was Kaeya. A small part of you held a flicker of hope when you heard it was him, but the other part of you felt even worse. The knocking and desperate pleas to be let in continued as you weighed whether you should open the door and hear what he had to say.

A crack of thunder reminded you that it was pouring outside and Kaeya must be absolutely soaked. You would feel bad if he got horribly sick, so with a heavy sigh you open the door.

There he was, looking down into your eyes with a gaze full of turmoil, seemingly unfazed by how the rain continues to pelt his tanned skin and drench him completely. "Please... Will you please listen to me?" his voice is soft but with so much desperation and heartache. You frown up at him, but step to the side to let him in without a word. Kaeya steps in and water droplets roll off of him, dripping to your wooden floors.

You set down your mug on the small wooden table that still held the now dried-out cecelias he had given you some time ago, "Let me get you a towel." Before you could turn to do as you said from your bathroom, his large hand grabbed your wrist. Kaeya pulled you back towards him, almost making you stumble, "No, let me speak first You blink up at him, opening your mouth to protest, but you quickly close it and sigh heavily. The fire crackles to your left and you decide to speak, "Let's at least sit in front of the fire. ... don't want you getting sick because of this." Kaeya let go of your wrist and nodded.

You both sit on the intricately designed rug as the fire crackles and casts a warm, orange glow on both of you. You avoid looking at him, staring at the flames instead when you speak softly, "I don't really want to talk to you right now, but you seem to have something to say. The least I can do is listen." Kaeya runs a hand through his damp blue hair, "I'm sorry for avoiding you occasionally." You huff, "No, I get it. You were seeing someone else so-" "What are you even talking about??", Kaeya cuts you off.

You finally turn your head to look at him with an incredulous look, "Seriously, Kaeya? I saw you tonight with that girl. You were kissing." Kaeya groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, "It's not like that." "Then what else could it possibly be?", you snap. "If you're seeing someone then just say so, I'II be fine." His jaw clenches, "Of course you'd be fine, you're with my brother." Your jaw drops at the words,"What are you saying? I'm not with anyone, certainly not Diluc for that matter. We aren't together."

Kaeya scoffs, "Well you sure looked awfully cozy when he wiped away your tears and held you some nights ago at Angel's Share. And you seem to spend an awful lot of time with him these days." "That only happened because I was crying over my aching feelings for you!", you raise your voice and immediately regret letting your words slip so easily. Kaeya stares at you in shock for a moment before speaking softly, "..What?"

Tears threaten to prick the inner corners of your eyes, but you turn to face to fire again, "My feelings don't matter. As I said earlier, you have that girl." Kaeya leans in towards you, "Look at me." His voice was soft, but with a commanding desperation. You finally spare him a glance, tears welling up in your eyes. He puts his palm to your cheek and caresses it, "I'm not with the girl that you saw. I didn't even know who she was.” A tear rolls down your cheek and your voice breaks when you speak, "Then why did you kiss her?"

His thumb swipes away the rolling tear and his forehead presses against yours, "She kissed me and I pushed her away right after she did that. You can ask the others that were up there, I'm being honest here." A few more tears fall and he holds you face with both hands now, forehead still pressed to yours as he speaks in a hushed voice, "You're the only I want. The only one I've been wanting since you came here." Your teary eyes search his eye, looking for any trace of dishonesty but you could find none, only truth. His breath fans against your face as he speaks again, "You're the one who has my heart. No one else. I mean it, truly."

You don't even think, you just act. Your lips press against his, startling him at first but he soon melts into it. His lips move in rhythm with yours. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer. Your nightgown getting wet as you pressed against his rain-soaked body.

The kiss becomes more desperate and you find yourself laying flat against the rug with Kaeya caging you in underneath him as the fire crackles and pops beside the two of you. "Tell me you want this just as much as I do", his voice came out almost shaky between heavy breaths. Your soft hand caresses his cheek and down to the back of his neck as you pulled him down to you, "More than anything, I need you."

That was all it took for him to hastily unbutton his shirt and and shrug it off his body, his pants came off just as swiftly. You lay there in awe of his tanned, muscular body and your eyes trailed down the light blue happy trail that led down to a small tuft of tangled blue and a heavy, throbbing cock with a pink, leaking tip. If you had been just anyone, he would've smirked at your reaction, but right now was not the time for teasing. He made quick work of you nightgown, tossing it unceremoniously behind him. Your breasts moved in time with you heavy breaths and he took in every inch of your body, "I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you...” His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.

Kaeya lowered himself down and spread your thighs gently. His breath is hot against your sensitive pussy and makes you long for him even more. His uncovered eye flits up to your face and just as quickly as he look up at you, his tongue began to flick against your clit. You draw in a sharp breath as your back arches off the rug in time with a sporadic pop from the fireplace. He groans with need when his tongue licks through your folds and laps at the taste of you.

Your legs begin to shake from the intensity of it all and you tangle your fingers in his still slightly damp hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your grind your pussy against his tongue as he pushes you over the edge into white-hot bliss. You cry out his name when his tongue gives one more flick to your now overly sensitive clit. When he moves up towards your blissful face, you can see your own juices glistening against his lips. You don't even care that you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue when Kaeya kisses you with a deep passion.

His aching cock rubs against your wet pussy as his tongue dances with yours. Kaeya pulls back just enough that your lips still graze against each other as he speaks, "Please.." That's all he says with a breathless voice as his eye gazes into yours with so much love and desperation. You nod once and it was all it took for him to be lined up with your entrance and pushing in slowly. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a broken moan as he pushes his length into your warm, wet walls.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him against your body tightly as you release breathy moans. Once fully sheathed, Kaeya stills inside of you, letting you adjust to his thickness and length that were foreign to you. He presses a soft kiss to your neck as he pulls out slightly then slams back into you, making you dig your nails into his shoulders. He hisses at the feeling but doesn't stop his movement, "Fuck, you feel so good. Tell me you're mine. Please, angel, tell me you're mine." His voice was so desperate as he spoke between deep thrusts and whining groans. "I'm yours, Kaeya. Always was yours. Forever yours", you cry out as tears spill from your eyes yet again but for an entirely different reason.

Your heart feels like it is overflowing with emotion that you can't even begin to put into words. Kaeya's lips meet yours feverishly as he thrusts relentlessly into you. His cock hitting the deepest parts of you and you wrap your legs around his waist. "Gonna cum, angel", he breathes against your lips and soon your name becomes like a prayer falling repeatedly from his lips. Barely a moment later, Kaeya moans loudly and his cock throbs and twitches erratically as hot, white ropes of cum fill you. Your pussy contracts tightly around his in response as you hold him even tighter and cry out in time with the booming thunder outside your home.

Kaeya relaxes on top of you, his chest heaving and sweat glistening in the glow of the dying fire. He rolls off of you but turns towards you. You turn your head to take in his features and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, "So this is what love feels like, huh?"

Your heart flutters in your chest and you turn your body fully towards him. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close against him. You press your face against his chest and he kisses the top of your head. You finally speak, your voice soft, "You must be right."

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

a/n: i went through all the stages of grief while writing this🥲

[authorautumnbanks]

One Night (24)

Despite Utahime Iori’s better judgment, she finds herself seated in a spare dojo with her legs tucked underneath her and her phone in hand. She came here to mediate. None of the students come here, so it’s a great place for her to get away and gather her thoughts.

That was the plan.

“What am I doing?” She mutters, mindlessly scrolling through Gojo Satoru’s social media, of all things. It isn’t so much about him as it is curiosity about her.

Oh.

So that’s Higurashi Kagome. She’s beautiful. Utahime untucks her legs from underneath her and hunches over. This is the woman that drives the strongest crazy? Well, it probably doesn’t take much since there must be some screws loose in that idiot’s head, but what would make anyone want to settle down with Gojo Freaking Satoru?

He’s loud. Abrasive. Looks down on those weaker than him, so basically everyone, and he’s always late. There are no redeeming qualities about him. He’s as bad as Geto Suguru, just without the whole murder thing, but even that is flimsy.

Utahime presses her lips together. Higurashi-san looks kind, but maybe she’s as depraved as Gojo. Or maybe she doesn’t know how he truly is. He’s kept her hidden all this time like a dirty secret.

“There you are!” Mei Mei says, startling Utahime.

“Oh! Mei Mei, what are you doing here?” She slides the phone into her pocket and stands, dusting her pants off. “I was attempting to mediate, but I just can’t seem to focus.”

Mei Mei stops and cocks her head to the side. Her signature braid is gone, unraveled, though she’s wearing her normal uniform. “I had a meeting, but I’m in the mood for some tea and something sweet now. You can tell me what’s on your mind. I know the perfect spot.”

Today must be a series of bad calls because Utahime joins Mei Mei for tea and proceeds to spill everything that is bothering her. The cafe is busy, but they get a seat in the back.

Mei Mei purses her red lips together and leans back in the brown chair. Some new pop group plays over the speakers. “I think your dislike of Gojo is clouding your judgment.”

Utahime huffs. Of course, Mei Mei would say that. Gojo gives her a ton of yen to do who knows what. “No, I am being objective here. That poor woman doesn’t know who she is dealing with.”

“I’ve met her,” Mei Mei says, “and poor is not a word I would use to describe her. If anything, I would go as far as to say she holds the reins in that relationship. Gojo is quite smitten with her.” Mei Mei picks up the white cup and stares at the liquid. “Any person who can cause Gojo of all sorcerers to lose control is a force to be reckoned with.”

“But he kept her and their children hidden,” Utahime hisses. “Like they are some dirty secret, so he could continue doing whatever he wanted.”

Mei Mei sets the cup down and sighs. “You’re usually smarter than this,” she chastises. “Their oldest is only six and can do a domain expansion. Their youngest has the six eyes and limitless. There are bounties on their heads. Some have gone after them already now that their existence is known. You need to set aside your hatred for Gojo. He did what he had to do to protect his family.”

Utahime flushes pink, properly chastised. She wants to sink into the seat or the floor, but she keeps her composure. Is she wrong? Mei Mei doesn’t stick up for anyone. And surely she heard wrong about his oldest being able to pull off a domain expansion. That is absurd. “Do you think...” She leans forward and lowers her voice, “Do you think sex is really that great to cause blackouts?”

Mei Mei laughs. She wipes her eye with her finger. “Is that what this is about?” A few chuckles slip past her lips as she continues to wipe at her eyes. “Did you hate fuck Gojo when you were younger? You can tell me,” she teases. “All those years of him picking on you. Did it get to you?”

“No!” Is she out of her mind? There’s no chance in hell she would sleep with him.

“... Do you want to?”

Utahime squeaks. “Absolutely not!” She turns her head, mortified at the looks being thrown their way. “No, I don’t want him. I just don’t believe it can really be that good.”

Mei Mei leans forward and grabs her hand. “To be fair, Gojo is the strongest and Kagome-san is...” Mei Mei leans back. “She isn’t weak. I think you just need to find someone to crack that back. Someone that isn’t so nice.”

“What’s wrong with nice guys?” Utahime mutters. Is it so wrong to want it all? Surely there are nice men out there who will listen to her when she gets home and tell her everything is going to be okay. Someone polite and dependable. She sniffs. Sounds like Nanami-san to be honest, but he is also so stiff. She needs someone nice and not so stiff when it matters. There must be a man out there like that.

“They clearly aren’t doing it for you if you have to question if sex can really be that good.” Mei Mei reaches into her purse. “There is someone that wants to meet up with you. Tonight.”

Utahime narrows her eyes. She should have seen this coming when Mei Mei offered to pay for their drinks and pastries. “Please do not say Gojo Satoru.”

Mei Mei’s brows pinch together. “It’s for a date. Gojo would never want to meet up with you for something not jujutsu related.” She snorts, as though the idea is absurd.

Utahime bites her tongue. Not to stop herself from lashing out, but to distract herself from the pain in her chest. Her heart is cracking. Her self-esteem is in tatters. It’s not about Gojo. It’s Mei Mei’s tone.

It’s...

Okay. Fine. She’s jealous. Not because Higurashi-san is with Gojo, but because she is everything Utahime is not. She wants someone to look past the ugly scar on her face. Someone devoted to her. Men take one look at her and grimace with disgust just because of the scar on her face. It’s not as though she can just blurt out, she got hurt taking down a curse that Gojo had to exorcise for her because it was too much.

“Anyway, just keep an open mind... and you do owe me one,” Mei Mei continues.

Utahime freezes. Her back stiffens. Mei Mei is actually using the binding vow for a date? She should have never created one with Mei Mei, but she was young and didn’t know any better. “Are you serious?”

Mei Mei shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t planning on ever using it, but...” She pulls a card out of her purse and slides it across the table. “If you need a dress, then we can go shopping.”

Utahime picks up the card and frowns. “Who am I meeting? Do I know them?” The card has the time and address of the restaurant she is expected to meet this mystery man at. There’s nothing about a dress code or a name, or even a phone number.

“Naoya.”

The card falls from her fingertips. “Mei Mei—”

“Binding vow, remember. You could break it but...it’s just one date. You don’t have to marry the guy. And besides, he might surprise you.”

Surprise her? Utahime swallows and picks the card up from the floor. A date with Naoya? She touches the scar. Naoya wants to date her? He isn’t put off by the scar?

“Okay, you don’t—”

“I’ll go!”

“Wait, really?”

She nods and touches the scar again. “He’s not my ideal man, but I’m curious. Why me? He could have his pick, you know?” There are rumors that Naoya is the next Zenin head, and he is strong. Maybe not special grade strong, but Gojo Satoru is a monster, and no one should look up to him for guidance.

Mei Mei opens her mouth as though she wants to say something, but she closes it at the last second.

“What is it?”

“You grew up on a shrine, right?”

“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” Mei Mei smiles. “He mentioned off-hand how much he liked your uniform.”

Utahime scrunches her nose. What a strange thing to like. “I need a dress.” She stands and pushes down the giddiness bubbling in her stomach. Naoya is younger than her and while she would prefer someone older, Naoya is accomplished. Maybe he isn’t that bad. If someone could love Gojo, then... Utahime smiles.

She’s got a hot date tonight.

Satoru sneezes and sneezes and then sneezes again. What the hell? Who’s talking shit about him? He wrinkles his nose and frowns, feeling another sneeze coming.

“Satoru,” his father calls as he walks out of the house with Shippo by his side and Himari behind him with Koushi in her arms. “We’re headed out. Taking the boys shopping and then we’re have a late lunch or early dinner.”

Satoru nods and then squats down. “Shippo, listen to your grandmother and grandfather, alright?”

“I know. I know. Mama already gave me the whole spiel.” Shippo rolls his eyes and then walks closer. He cups a hand around his mouth. “I want a TV in my room,” he whispers.

“And your mom said no,” Satoru whispers back.

“Mama packed a bottle just in case. If you get me a TV in my room, I can keep Grandma and Grandpa entertained longer.”

Satoru sucks his teeth. What a shrewd son he is raising. To think that he, Gojo Satoru, would be swayed by such a thing. “Keep them out long enough for an early dinner, and I’ll talk to your mom about it.”

Shippo squints and then nods his head. “I’ll accept that.”

“What are you two talking about?” Himari asks. She moves closer to the old man’s side. Satoru stares for a moment. There’s something off about them. Their body language is... he can’t put his finger on it, but something is different about them. Their outfits are even complimentary.

“Just talking about Christmas. You know that’ll be here before we know it.” He stands and then smiles at Koushi, who balls up a fist. “Koushi? What did I do?”

Koushi babbles and turns his head. Himari blinks and raises a brow.

“Why were the muffins lopsided this morning? Mama doesn’t make mistakes,” Shippo says. “You know why Koushi is mad at you.” He plants his hands on his hips and stares at him.

Satoru coughs. “Anyway, you guys need to get a move on it. Kagome and I have missions to take care of.” Satoru leans forward to kiss Koushi’s forehead, but there’s a barrier between them.

“What are you doing?” Syouma questions.

“My sons are geniuses,” Satoru says with a tight smile. “Alright, Koushi, I’ll see you when you get home.” Man, Koushi really holds a grudge. He rubs the back of his head and heads inside the house with a wave goodbye. “Kagome!” Satoru bites his bottom lip as he stands in the genkan, waiting for Kagome. Maybe she needs help?

“I’m coming, hold on,” Kagome yells back. When she comes into view, Satoru’s heart leaps to his throat. “Ready?”

“You’re fighting in that?” He swallows as he eyes her legs in the black tights. That red dress is short. Looks like it is made of satin and fuck. That neckline leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s not wearing a bra. His eyes drift down to her legs again. Is she wearing underwear? Kami, he hopes not.

“Fighting?” Kagome laughs. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

She’s dressed as if they are going on a date and not to exorcise a couple of curses. Are they going to make it to the first spot? Because he’s tempted to haul her into the bedroom and say to hell with work.

Kagome crosses her arms. “Do you not like it?”

“I love it,” he says, voice stained. “Wanna rip those tights so badly.”

“I packed extra. Everything is in the car.”

Packed extra? “Even the tripod?”

“Goodness, you are hopeless,” she jokes, sliding into a pair of black heels that are for sure going to end up over his shoulders before the day is over.

He can’t help himself and he’s never been on to hold back, so Satoru reaches for her, pulling her into his arms and kisses her. Kagome gasps and that brief intake of breath nearly does him in. He’s holding on to a sliver of control, for her sake. She wants to go with him on his missions, and damn it, he’s going to show off like never before.

“I love you,” he says fervently. His hand slides down, but Kagome pulls away. She wags a finger at him.

“Oh, no you don’t. Save it for the movie you asked for.” She tosses a look over her shoulder as she opens the door to the garage.

But he wants to touch her now. Satoru closes his eyes and inhales. “What about something to tide me over?” He slides his blindfold down. The strain isn’t bad when he’s with Kagome, and he knows how much she enjoys looking at his eyes. He closes the door behind him and then opens the passenger door for her.

They could fit three cars in here. He needs to take her car shopping sometime.

Leaning on the door, he watches as Kagome slides into the seat. She looks up at him and smiles. He smiles back. The way she looks at him turns his body inside out. His heart feels so light. Sometimes he has to stop himself from levitating because of how loose she makes him feel. Kagome toys with the end of her dress and then lifts it ever so slightly.

Satoru swears he isn’t breathing anymore. He wets his lips. “How many pairs of tights did you pack?”

“Guess you better get us to the mission site if you want to find out—Satoru!”

“Looks like we’re already here,” he quips. First time he’s ever teleported a car, but hey, at least they don’t have to worry about getting any speeding tickets now.

“You’re something else,” Kagome says with a laugh. She gets out of the car and gives him a look that has his cock hardening. “Aren’t you going to give me a show?” She nods her head towards the building. Satoru stifles a groan. He loves it when she puts up a barrier and that first rush of her powers flares across his skin.

“I’ll give ya a show, alright.”

***

A/N:

Happy Halloween! Wasn't gonna update but then Naoya wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write something.

And yes, you are being edged with this 'movie' lmao. It will be from Kagome's POV since it will be more of her taking the lead. Speaking of taking the lead, I'm still brainstorming the punishment for Brat Tamer, because he is already causing problems in chapter 2.

Have a great rest of the week! I'll see you guys on Sunday. Get plenty of rest and drink lots of water!