#well technically Cupid but no one’s counting

[ketshv-but-art]

Uh Oh!! It’s the Poe Poe!!

Sketch

[egcdeath]

cupid’s arrow

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel have your first valentine’s day together. (part of the soccer parents alternate universe)

warnings: alternate universe: no apocalypse, established relationship, domesticity, so much fluff. be prepared to call your dentist.

word count: 7.5k

author’s note: happy extremely late valentine’s day!!! i tried to incorporate a little bit of all the requests i got for this fic, so special thank you to everyone who helped make this fic happen!!

technically the timelines don’t really line up from this fic and the l word (many i love you’s are uttered) but you know what. it’s valentine’s day. valentine’s day magic ✨

“So, what’s your Valentine’s Day plan this year?” Sarah asked on her otherwise quiet commute to school.

Joel drew his attention away from the road to glance at his daughter and smiled to himself, just the slightest bit. He always found it oddly endearing to see just how invested his and your daughter were into your relationship. At this point, it was no secret that Sarah and Chloe had worked hard to set you and him up a multitude of times, and Joel certainly wasn’t mad about it. If anything, he was grateful for your kids being nosy and sharp enough to know when to make a move when you and himself clearly could not.

“Well I want our first one to be a good one, so I booked a reservation at this really nice restaurant. Pretty expensive, pretty hard to get into, but she deserves the best,” Joel said with a deceptively nonchalant tone.

Joel couldn’t even lie—he was proud of himself. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had spent Valentine’s day with anyone other than his daughter, and he’d booked the reservation the moment that it was available. The restaurant really was notorious for being hard to get into on a non-holiday, let alone Valentine’s Day, so he was sure you would appreciate the subtle-yet-grand gesture.

“Dad,” Sarah began, her tone slightly apprehensive as if she were preparing to break bad news to him. “I know this is your first Valentine’s Day in forever, but a restaurant is just… it isn’t enough anymore.”

“What?” Joel asked, slightly taken aback. Given that he hadn’t had a serious relationship in some time, and was more than slightly insecure about his ability to be as good of a partner as you expected, hearing his daughter explain that a fancy dinner wasn’t enough in the modern dating scene was jarring at the least, and terrifying at the most.

“Don’t worry. You’re lucky that your daughter is full of ideas. We’re gonna give your woman a perfect Valentine’s day.”

-

At your daughter’s request, you were painting Chloe’s nails to match the upcoming holiday to the absolute best of your ability. You tried your best, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t amazing, so the best of your ability ended up being a set of pink nails with one red finger–but your daughter was enjoying the process regardless.

“So mom,” Chloe began, fanning one hand as she attempted to speed up the process of drying her nails. “What’re you getting Joel for Valentine’s day?”

“I was thinking of taking him on a date to his favorite cafe. Something a little more relaxed,” you lightly dabbed some acetone where you’d gotten some polish on her skin.

“That’s sweet but… are you sure Joel wants that? I mean, you two always go there. It’s not particularly romantic.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking that you weren’t great with big romantic gestures. Nathan had been morally opposed to them, or too lazy for them, or something that ensured no one ever did anything romantic for you, and in return, you very rarely did anything romantic for him. Given that the last time you spent a Valentine’s Day (or anniversary… really any day that called for romance) with someone was with him, you weren’t even really sure where to start.

“Oh,” you thought aloud, trying to process the idea that small gestures wouldn’t really do justice to portray just how much you loved and appreciated your partner. “I guess you’re right.”

“Let me help you,” she insisted, excitedly grabbing onto your arm as her eyes lit up.

Well, it wasn’t like Chloe wasn’t good at these things. If it wasn’t for her and Sarah’s intervention, you and Joel never would’ve been together in the first place. It certainly wouldn’t kill you to let her help you out in this field.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed, playing up your reluctance.

“Yay!” she cheered. “This is gonna be so fun.”

You certainly hoped it would be.

-

On the morning of Valentine’s day, you were somewhat surprised when your alarm went off and you found Joel’s side of the bed to be both empty and cold.

Considering that your plan was to wake up early to leave a gift in the kitchen before Joel had the chance to get there, your Valentine’s Day plans weren’t off to the best start. You immediately rolled out of bed and suppressed the groan you wanted to let out at the sweet smell wafting up from the kitchen—both from anticipation of something delicious waiting for you, and the knowledge that your plan had been foiled.

After doing some rummaging through his closet, you managed to find the box of the coffee machine that you’d hidden, and hesitantly began your trek downstairs, knowing that your big reveal would be slightly less ideal. When you arrived in the kitchen, Joel was standing at the stove and diligently working on something. He glanced back at you, and a smile instantly formed on his lips at the sight of you—bed hair, old pajamas, and all.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he greeted, setting his spatula down and coming over to give you a tight embrace. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you said right back, relaxing into his hug despite the large box in your hands slightly obstructing it. “What’re you doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” Joel stated plainly, stepping back to look at what you were holding. “What’s this?”

“Your gift. I know you love coffee more than you love any person who’s in this house right now, so it’s time for you to get rid of your archaic machine. This is a Nespresso. Very modern and very good, or so I’ve heard,” you extended your hands to offer the box, which he gladly accepted

Joel examined it, the smile on his face not even faltering for a moment. With all this smiling, you were sure his cheeks would hurt by the end of the day. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait to use this,” he set down the box on the counter then gave you a peck. “Now, go back upstairs so I can finish working on your surprise.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you hummed, still fighting sleepiness as you retreated back up the stairs.

Well, your gift reveal may not have gone exactly the way you wanted it to, but you were pleased to see that Joel was still happy with what you gave him. Chloe would be proud.

“What is this?” Sarah asked, looking down at her plate of oddly shaped pink pancakes.

It was clear that this was what Joel had gotten up early to work on—Valentine’s Day themed pancakes. Although there was clearly an attempt at making what you could only assume were hearts, the pancakes came out as blobs more than anything else.

“…Hearts?” Joel suggested, sounding very unsure of his answer as he sipped his cup of coffee (made by his brand new machine).

“Dad…” Sarah trailed off, pushing around parts of her pancake.

“Are you gonna eat them or not?” Joel retorted, obviously a little less than enthusiastic about the reaction to the pancakes he’d gotten up early to work on, and worked quite hard on.

“I’m not gonna say no to breakfast.”

“I tried my best. It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

“They’re cute,” you interrupted. “It’s the thought that counts. I love them,” you hummed. The least you could do was support Joel in his romantic endeavors. Sure, the pancakes didn’t look amazing, but it really was a sweet gesture. And maybe they didn’t look the best, but they certainly tasted good.

Sarah didn’t exactly look like she believed you, and she glanced skeptically at Chloe, who was quietly giggling at the oddly shaped amoebas on her plate.

“I’m not an artist,” Joel explained, almost apologetically as your kids picked at their pancakes.

“We can tell,” Chloe murmured, earning herself a glare from you and a giggle from her friend.

“I never asked you to be one,” you assured. “It’s abstract. And it’s good enough for me.”

Joel quickly pecked your lips, eliciting a collective ‘ew!’ from the table.

“Alright, that’s enough from you two. Finish up quickly so we can get you to school on time,” you instructed.

The girls reluctantly agreed and finished up their abstract plates without much more protest or teasing before grabbing their last few items and heading off to the car.

“Did you actually like it? You can be honest with me,” Joel asked as you finished off your mug of coffee.

“I was being honest! I really did love it. It’s sweet that you put so much effort into doing something nice for me. Waking up all early, being in the kitchen all morning… I bet doing pancake art is pretty difficult.”

“It is, and you’d never guess that it is. The batter kinda just runs all over the place,” he explained, grabbing your empty dish and dropping it off at the sink. You got out of your seat and followed him over to where he stood, attempting to assure him that you really did enjoy the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“Well, I love that you tried so hard to make something nice for me to wake up to,” you took a step closer to Joel, giving him a brief little peck to show your appreciation. “And I love you.” you leaned in for one slightly longer kiss and Joel’s hands softly cupped your cheeks as the kiss deepened.  

Joel finally pulled away, dropping his hands down from your cheeks to your hands so he could hold them. “As much as I’d like to kiss you all morning, we do have two kids waiting to be taken to school sitting in my backseat right now.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” you sighed. “Can we pick up where we left off when we get back?”

“Of course,” he agreed, beginning to lead you out the door.

-

Although your morning plans may have fallen through, your plan to pick up on your make-out session certainly did not, which was how you found yourselves waiting for the shower to warm up so you could hop in together and wash off the ever present scent of sweat and sex.

“It’s been too long since we last showered together,” you remarked, testing out the heat of the water with the palm of your hand before taking a step inside.

“It’s just that my shower is so small,” he explained, following you into the shower. “And we always end up thinking showering together is better than it actually is.”

“It is small, but I like being this close to you,” you countered, hugging him from behind. “We’re bonding. Don’t you like bonding with me?”

“I do, until one of us slips, and won’t stop talking about how they almost died for an entire day,” he set his hands on top of yours as you embraced him.

“That was once, Joel. One time!” you exclaimed, breaking away from your partner to reach for his shampoo.

“One time too many,” he responded.

Although ‘almost dying’ was a bit of an over-dramatization, it certainly wasn’t fun to fall in the shower. The day began as a slow Sunday morning at Joel’s place. Your daughter was at Nathan’s for the weekend, and Sarah had been at a sleepover with some friends. Given that the two of you had the house to yourselves, you certainly made the most of it before heading to the shower to clean yourselves up. Halfway through Joel assisting you in exfoliating your legs, you were met with the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, making you practically leap out of your skin, and lose your balance, leading you to fall pretty hard. Joel helped you up and immediately began to take care of you, and granted you weren’t too badly injured, but you refused to let Joel forget the time you dramatically tripped in the shower because Sarah got home from her sleepover a little early.  

“I can’t believe you’re treating me like this on Valentine’s Day,” you sighed, pouring some shampoo and reaching into his hair to massage his scalp. “We should probably break up.”

“I agree,” Joel practically sighed, relaxed from the way your fingers were working in his hair. “I think it’s for the best.”

“Okay, I’ll let the girls know when we get out of the shower. The parents that they worked so hard to set up are never going to see or speak to each other ever again,” you said the words very seriously, but the way you were massaging Joel’s scalp told a completely different story.

“Sounds like a plan,” Joel purred, letting you work your magic as you played with his hair. “You’re too good at this. Why don’t I let you do my hair more often?”

“Psht, you're preaching to the choir here,” you reached forward to rinse off your hands. “For the record, this is one of your Valentine’s gifts. Savor it while you can. Especially before we finalize our breakup.”

“I’m savoring,” he insisted.

You two took your time in the shower, truly enjoying an endeavor you didn’t often do with each other. By the time you finally stepped out, the water had dropped several degrees, and you were both becoming human prunes.

Just moments after Joel wrapped his towel around his hips, he had disappeared back into his room, leaving you peeking past the bathroom door to see what he was up to. It certainly wasn’t unheard of for one of you to get ready without the other, but you preferred to have his presence with you in that humid little bathroom.

Joel came back just a few moments later, slightly more dressed, and now wielding a flat, red box.

“I got you something,” he announced as he joined you at the sink, bashfully looking down at the item in his hands.

“Oh?” you said curiously, glancing at the box as Joel slowly opened it, revealing a thin, silver necklace with what looked like a small diamond attached to it.  

“It’s a necklace,” he explained, beginning to lift the dainty accessory out of the box so that he could fully display it to you.

You were immediately taken aback by it, an involuntary, “It’s beautiful,” slipping from your lips.

“Can I put it on you?” Joel asked cautiously. You eagerly agreed, excited to have a little piece of Joel on you at all times. You turned around and lifted up the back of your hair so that he could gently wrap the necklace around your neck, and he fumbled a bit with the clasp until it was just right.

“I love it,” you expressed, observing it in the mirror and running a finger against the chain of the necklace as you fully took it in. “This is too nice.”

“Nothing is too nice for you, my love.”

“You are such a sap,” you laughed, leaning forward to get a good look at the accessory and fully admire its beauty.

“And you love that about me,” Joel punctuated his sentence with a kiss to your cheek, leading you to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“You’re right. I do. Thank you,” you said, still checking yourself out with your new piece of jewelry.

“Can I take you somewhere?” you asked, glancing over at your partner in the mirror as he reached for his toothbrush.

“Sure. Where?”

“It’s a surprise,” you said with a knowing smile.

“So, where are we going?” Joel asked as you drove, the sunglasses on your nose preventing him from getting a good read on you.

“What part of surprise do you not get?” you teased, glancing over at him with a smirk. “We’re almost there. Hold your horses.”

Eventually, you pulled up to a little strip of businesses, and grabbed Joel’s hand as you led him out of the car and through a door.

You two were instantly hit with the smell of fragranced oil and the sound of rain from a sound maker as you walked further into the dim location. It was clear to you that Joel was still more confused than anything else.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Joel asked you in a whisper.

“Yes Joel, we are,” you laughed softly at his apprehension. To be fair, he didn’t have an idea of where he was or what you were making him do, but that didn’t make his nerves any less entertaining.

“And where exactly is that?” he followed up.

“We’re getting massages! C’mon,” you beckoned him to follow you up to a desk, where a bored-looking receptionist checked you in.

The two of you sat next to each other in the waiting room, waiting for your masseuses to prepare your room.

“What made you pick this?” Joel asked curiously.

“I dunno, you’re always telling me how sore you are after work. I thought maybe this would help your pain a little. It’s also very relaxing. You’re gonna love it and have a great time.”

There really weren’t too many problems you found that a nice massage at this salon couldn’t fix. When you found the time in your busy schedule to treat yourself to something nice and do a little self care, a deep tissue massage was always one of the first things you decided on doing. It was only a matter of time before you brought Joel along with you, and when you casually mentioned something about Joel to your masseuse, she did mention wanting to see him. Although, Chloe was the one to put the puzzle pieces together to you and suggest the couples’ massage.

“So you’ve done this before?” Joel questioned, still looking somewhere between a little cynical and a little trepidatious.

“Mhm,” you hummed, already imagining yourself getting every kink and bump in your back teased out.

“Walk me through it,” he suggested, seeming a little more comforted knowing that you had actually done this before.

“Well, we go in, they leave, and we strip down to our comfort level, then they just give us a nice deep tissue massage. It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but it starts feeling pretty good pretty quickly.”

Joel’s expression circled back to slightly skeptical, his brow raised and eyes slightly squinted as he looked at you.

“Don’t make that face! You’re gonna love it. And I’m literally gonna be right next to you. When I called to book this, the receptionist said that the massage tables are so close together, we could hold hands the whole time if we wanted to.”

“Alright, fine. But if I hate it, I get to say that I told you so.”

“Okay, deal,” you agreed.

Your massage was going so well, you swore you were on a different planet. Sure, you didn’t have a very physically labor intensive job, but all the stress you'd accumulated over the last… however long always seemed to find itself stuck in your body. The massage was doing exactly what it needed to in terms of getting it out.

Joel groaned your name, his voice slightly distorted by his face being buried in the head pillow. “I take back everything I said.”

“I know,” you responded, far too gone to even really process what he was saying.

Walking out of that studio, you felt like a brand new person. Maybe that person was a little oily, but you felt like your body had gone under a complete transformation in just that hour.

“I can’t tell if I want to take a nap or run a marathon,” you exclaimed, stretching out your rejuvenated limbs.

“That was an amazing gift. Can we make this a V-Day tradition?” Joel asked, opening the car door for you.

“Hell yeah,” you agreed, getting into the passenger’s seat and breathing out a heavy sigh. “To think you thought you wouldn’t like it. Now I get to say I told you so.”

“Fair. I deserve it. That was life changing. I could marry you for thinking of that.”

Chloe actually thought of that, but Joel didn’t need to know that. For all you cared, he could keep thinking that you were the romantic genius.

“So what’s next on the agenda?”

“Just sit and wait. It’s a bit of a drive, so maybe you can get in that nap you wanted.”

You unsurprisingly slept like a rock after that massage. So much so, that you woke up to Joel softly saying your name and gently shaking your shoulder as he attempted to let you know that you’d arrived at your next destination.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a an interesting looking building in front of you, one you’d seen in tourism handouts, but hadn’t yet visited for yourself—despite the many times you said you wanted to.

“Is this an art museum?” you asked aloud despite already knowing the answer.

Joel simply flashed you a toothy grin before popping out of the car, walking around it, and opening the door for you.

“I know you’ve been saying you want to come visit for a while,” he explained, slipping his hand into yours while you walked inside.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised that you actually listen to me. Thank you,” you expressed.

You and Joel took your time walking around the museum, exploring the exhibits, reading the labels on pieces, and taking in all of the interesting and beautiful art. It was refreshing to come to a museum and not be rushed the whole time by an impatient daughter or disinterested spouse, and Joel expressing every now and then that despite being surrounded by so much beauty and artwork, you were the prettiest thing in the museum certainly enhanced your experience.

The two of you entered an exhibit that was obviously targeted towards children as you approached the end of the building, and your eyes immediately fell on a station that was clearly designed for kids to use. You walked towards it, and plopped down on one side of the tiny table before Joel sat down right across from you.

“Isn’t this for kids?” he asked you, his knees audibly creaking as he attempted to get comfortable on his tiny stool.

“Whatever. They’re all at school anyway. Or at least, they should be,” you grabbed a marker that was on your side of the divider, along with a piece of paper. “Wanna draw each other?”

“Haven’t we already established today that there’s not an artistic bone in my body?”

“C’mon, Joel,” you pleaded. “Please? As a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“Fine. Only because I love you. But you’re not allowed to laugh.”

“Swear,” you agreed despite knowing that it was more likely than not that you were going to laugh. While Joel reached for his own writing utensil and paper, you set your hand in front of the timer on the desk, giving you both five minutes to work on your portrait.

The man across from you focused deeply on his paper, looking pensively and seriously down at his paper and up at you every now and then rather than actually putting his marker to the paper.

After five minutes, the built-in alarm went off, and you both put your markers down, evaluating the work you had done.

“I don’t know if you want to see this. It’s really bad,” Joel confessed, awkwardly moving the paper out of your direct eyeline.

“It’s definitely not! Here, we’ll show each other at the same time. On the count of three?”

The two of you lifted your papers at the same time, and you involuntarily giggled when you looked at Joel’s. It was more or less an extremely basic stick figure with hearts around it. To be frank, your picture of Joel was basically the same.

“Hey, part of our agreement is that you wouldn’t laugh!” Joel said in between laughter of his own.

“Joel, you’re laughing too!” you giggled, the two of you progressively laughing harder until your stomachs were hurting. Eventually, you were able to catch your breath and collect yourself enough to get some actual words out. “Here, let’s swap. I wanna put this on my fridge.”

“Please don’t,” Joel gasped as he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever live that down with our daughters.”

“Oh honey,” you responded, still fighting your fits of giggles. “That was the plan.”

-

After your museum date, you and Joel grabbed a quick lunch at a nearby cafe before heading back to the girls’ school to pick them up. You’d agreed to split up for the rest of the afternoon so that you had time to prepare for a nicer dinner in the evening.

It had been a long time since you’d dressed up like this. Although it was fun to get all dolled up, to put on a new matching set of lingerie under a new, formfitting dress, spend a good amount of time working on your makeup at your vanity, and take your time doing your hair, you couldn’t shake off the nervous feeling you were getting.

“Mom! Joel’s here!” Chloe yelled from your living room.

“You can let him in! I need to finish something up.”

You heard the familiar sound of conversation between Joel, Sarah, and Chloe while you finished up applying your lipstick, taking deep breaths as you did so. You just needed to see Joel, then you would feel better. To be quite honest, you were slightly intimidated by the restaurant he’d picked that night. Obviously you knew how exclusive and difficult to get in it was, but with how elite it was, part of you worried that you would stick out like a sore thumb.

But Joel had clearly worked so hard on making this night perfect for you, so you weren’t going to let a few nerves get you down. You grabbed your purse and headed downstairs, where your partner stood in your living room listening to your kids.

“Wow,” Joel said involuntarily when his eyes fell upon you. He immediately took a few steps towards you, setting a hand on your waist as he admired you.

“I don’t know why it always surprises me when I see how gross you guys are,” Chloe said, somewhere between a laugh and a cringe. “Okay, it’s time for you to get going. You don’t want to miss your reservation,” your daughter was practically pushing the two of you out the door, a little too enthusiastic to have the two of you gone. “Bye now!”

You finally were able to get a good look at Joel once you’d been shoved out of the door. He looked amazing in a well fitted suit, and a bouquet of red roses in hand.

“You look so handsome,” you gushed as you accepted his flowers. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I mean, you always look gorgeous, but you somehow found a way to look even more amazing.”

“Well thank you!” you giggled, letting Joel open the door to his car for you like the gentleman he was.

Joel sat down in the driver's seat, and began to head in the direction of the restaurant. Despite how late you were on the road, it seemed like traffic in the city was particularly bad. You and Joel kept up a light conversation, but the elephant in the room was clearly the traffic, and the fact that with every passing minute, the traffic only seemed to grow.

Your eyes flicked around in a cycle between the traffic ahead of you, your hot, but increasingly anxious date, and the clock on the dashboard. With just a few minutes until the time of your reservation, you finally piped up.

“Do you think we’re gonna make it on time?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” Joel answered quickly, his nerves quite obvious from the speed of his speech. He then followed it up with a slightly less agitated, “I hope so.”

“You know what? I’ll call and let them know we’re running late,” you suggested, reaching for your phone as if that would solve all issues.

That would make things better, right? You knew all that went into Joel getting this reservation, and you weren’t just gonna let it all slip away because of a little traffic.

You pressed your device to your ear and the phone rang once, then twice, then three times before you were informed by a robotic voice that the line was busy.

The scene of traffic didn’t seem to be getting any better either, with the cars in front of you essentially coming to a full stop every now and then. Time was quickly passing by, yet you weren’t making much progress distance-wise.  

You called again to no avail, and attempted to maintain your composure. They would pick up soon enough, and you would get to your reservation on time, and you and Joel would have a lovely evening at that very fancy, exclusive restaurant.

Finally, someone on the other line picked up. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you were finally able to connect with an actual person, and attempt to explain your situation to them.

“We are aware of the car accident and the traffic jam it caused. However, regardless of external circumstances, our grace periods only last ten minutes. Unfortunately we’ve already given away your table to someone else on the waitlist. Our deepest and sincerest apologies.”

You looked over at Joel helplessly, disappointed to deliver the news about something he’d been so excited for for so long.

“Okay, thank you,” you said, quickly hanging up. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing you said to Joel. “They gave our table away.”

“You’re joking,” he said almost flatly, clearly in disbelief that something he’d worked so hard to plan for had slipped through his fingers so easily, and over circumstances that were completely out of his control.

“I’m sorry. We were later than their grace period. But it’s okay! We can just go somewhere else. I’ve heard about a few good restaurants nearby?”

“It’s Valentine’s day. They’re all gonna be fully booked,” he sighed, defeat clear in his tone. “Should I just turn around?”

“No! Right now I’m hungry enough that I’d eat your shoe if you put it in front of me with some silverware. Just… take me anywhere. Maybe somewhere you like? Preferably without a long line?”

Joel fell silent as he thought for a moment, trying to come up with a location that he enjoyed that wouldn’t be particularly busy that evening. As he pondered, a light bulb seemed to go off in his mind, leading him to turn his vehicle around and begin to take you elsewhere.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as Joel took your hand and led you towards a food truck. The smoky aromas hitting your nose were nothing short of heavenly, and if Joel believed that it was good, you were definitely taking his word for it.

“Is that… Joel, is that you?” the man in the window asked in disbelief as the two of you approached.

“It is,” he confirmed, a bit shyly.

“Damn, man! I almost didn’t recognize you all dressed up! What’s the-“ his eyes fell upon you, and his face lit up as he put the pieces together. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you by name, and wrapped an arm around you subconsciously. “We’re just celebrating Valentine’s Day.”

“Well you picked the right spot. Nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Louis.”

“Hi Louis. You know Joel?” you asked, curious about the camaraderie the pair seemed to have.

“I practically watched him grow up, so yeah, I guess so,” he flashed the two of you a smile, the look he gave Joel slightly more knowing than the soft one he offered you. “What’re we ordering tonight?”

Joel looked at you and shrugged, giving you the go-ahead for anything. It wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on spending a whole mortgage and kidney worth on food at the restaurant you had a reservation at.

You ordered a few different things from his menu, led more by your eyes and nose than your stomach. Louis nodded as you spoke before calling something out to the people working by the grill, and maintaining his position at the window so he could talk to you two.

“Why haven’t I met your friend before, Joel?” Louis asked, teasing in his voice.

“Well, obviously I was waiting for the most romantic day of the year to bring her here,” he looked away from his family friend and back to you. “You know, most people say that bringing your partner here is basically like having a ring in your hand and dropping to one knee.”

“Oh?” you laughed. “I’m flattered. Are you proposing to me?”

“No, not yet,” Joel shot a wink at you, and you felt a slight warmth rise to your cheeks. Of course, he was joking, but if he asked you in that moment to marry him, you’d probably say yes.

“Depending on how good this is, I may be proposing to you, Louis,” you teased, deflecting from the fantasy of marrying your partner.

“Hey! No need for that. Joel’ll bring you to one of my barbecues this summer. I promise you’ll eat so much of my food that you’ll never even want to even think about it again. Right, Joel?”

“Correct. Why do you think it’s been so long since I’ve visited you last?”

“Oh, excuses, excuses,” Louis dismissed, glancing back over his shoulder at the employee preparing your food. “Well lovebirds, since it’s Valentine’s Day, how’d you meet?” he questioned curiously, leaning further onto the ledge so he could get a good look at you and Joel.

“Our kids played soccer together on the same team, so we met through arguing like, all the time,” you laughed, glancing over at Joel who seemed just the slightest bit embarrassed at your frankness of your unconventional meet-cute.

“It sounds kinda bad when you put it like that. We were basically flirt-arguing,” Joel attempted to explain.

“Maybe you were. I was just arguing. But eventually our girls became friends, and we were forced to spend more time together, and I realized he’s not half bad,” you were downplaying just how much you adored the man standing next to you for a bit of comedic effect, but the quick look the two of you shared seemed to communicate everything it needed to for Louis.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Joel said, cracking an adoring half-smile at you.

“That is too damn sweet,” Louis expressed as he looked between the two of you. He had to do a bit of reading in between the lines, but it was clear to him that the two of you were a rather happy pair, as evidenced by your comfortable body language and the fond teasing. He was clearly quite pleased to see Joel as happy as he was with you. “As much as I’d like to chat and hear more, your order is unfortunately ready. We’ll catch up another time?”

Louis turned around to grab your boxes, and leaned back over the ledge to pass them to Joel.

“Of course. If I don’t get back around sometime soon, we’ll definitely be at one of your barbecues this summer.”

“Good,” Louis nodded. “And before you head back home, stop back over here. I’ll make Sarah her favorite, and something for your daughter too!” he offered you both.

Louis’ barbecue was no joke. You and Joel absolutely demolished everything that was ordered as you laid in the bed of his truck, sat on the blankets Joel had packed for a previous picnic and had never seemed to put back.

“Why hadn’t you brought me here sooner?” you asked, sauce on the edges of your lips. “I feel like a brand new person after this.”

Joel reached over, dabbing at your mouth with a napkin to clean up what you missed. “I told you, this is like serious engagement food. If I brought you here too early on, I might’ve scared you off by moving too fast,” he jokingly explained as he set down the napkin and dragged himself a little closer to you.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the explanation, but leaned onto Joel regardless. “Yeah, whatever,” you muttered, setting your head on his shoulder and looking up at the night sky.

“Do you remember that night when you helped me out with making the team dinner?” Joel seemingly asked out of the blue, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“I do,” you nodded, glancing away from the sky and instead looking at Joel. “We’re a pretty great team.”

“We are,” Joel agreed, pausing for a moment. “Do you remember when I asked you out for the first time?”

“Of course I do.”

“I was so nervous. I really liked you a lot, but I wasn’t completely sure you’d say yes, and I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we’d been working on, or make things awkward for the girls. I just kept looking at the sky so I wouldn’t see you and think about all of those things,” he confessed, looking to the sky as he spoke.

“Are you nervous now?” you asked, noticing him watch the stars above you.

“No,” he assured you. “It’s just really beautiful out here tonight. Really clear.”

You leaned in closer, practically sitting on the lap of the man next to you at that point, “Do you see anything good up there?”

“Yeah,” Joel answered, his words blowing a few strands of hair as he spoke.

“Show me?” you asked, curiously peering up at the sky to attempt to see what Joel might’ve been seeing.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Well that right there is the big dipper. And the little dipper, too.”

“Where?” you asked, despite seeing it clearly. You had stargazed with Joel a handful of times, and he always did this cute thing when he saw something that you couldn’t see—grabbing your hand and leaning into you while he pointed out the stars with your own fingers, essentially cuddling you as he did so. His knowledge of what he was looking for, the competency in his actions, and the proximity he kept with you always drove you a little bit wild, and you’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity of getting that side of him out.

Joel took the bait, not even realizing that it was bait. He gently guided your arm to point out the constellation, speaking quietly next to your ear as he narrated what he was seeing. It was taking everything in you not to jump his bones then and there as he helped you see each set of stars.

After a period of pointing out constellations to each other, the two of you finally seemed to run out of observations to make, leaving you quietly sharing space on the blanket laid out in the bed of Joel’s truck.

“This has been my favorite Valentine’s day ever,” you expressed, gazing up at the stars with far less effort than you’d had previously. “I do love spending the day with you, but you really went out of your way to make today sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit. You are the one who arranged that absolutely life changing massage, and the Nespresso machine was great too. I will definitely be using it all the time now.”

“You know, it’s so weird. I used to hate Valentine’s day. Dread it every year because I just knew I’d be disappointed. But you changed that for me. Maybe it’s all the stuff we got to do, but I honestly think I’d be happy doing laundry or something with you today, as long as it meant I’d get to be with you.”

You were thoroughly exhausted after your day of Valentine’s activities, paired with the digestion you were going through after all of that dangerously delicious barbecue you and Joel had consumed. It was safe to say that the ride back to your place was a quiet one, only filled with the occasional uncomfortable grunt or a comment reminiscing on how good your dinner was.

By the time you opened your door, you were shocked to find your living room completely uprooted and transformed into a massive pillow fort. Your daughters, who conveniently were sitting inside of the fort, didn’t seem to notice you as you came in, as they were far too caught up in the Hallmark movie they were watching. Eventually, the sound of feet shuffling caught their attention, and the pair were out of the fort in record time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” they both cheered, making jazz hands towards the fort.

“To commemorate your first date, we built you a new and improved pillow fort,” Sarah explained, as she continued to Vanna White their creation.

“This time, it’s big enough for all of us. You’ve had enough alone time today,” Chloe expressed. “Come, come! Are you ready for the tour?”

Your kids showed you the inside of the fort, and there honestly wasn’t much to see. However, it was still quite impressive that they’d managed to pull off putting together such a big fort in such a short period of time.  

“But before we lay down, go change into pajamas. No one should be in a pillow fort in a suit. That’s just ridiculous,” Sarah remarked

“You heard the girl, go!” Chloe emphasized, herding you two upstairs without even giving you time to voice any sort of protest.

“You really went all out this year,” Joel gushed as he followed you into your bedroom.

Hearing him say that did make you feel a little guilty. Sure he didn’t need to know that Chloe had done most of the heavy lifting when it came to celebrating this holiday, but it felt wrong to keep things from him—even something as small as not coming up with original ideas.

“Joel, I have to tell you something,” you began hesitantly as he unzipped your dress.

“Oh no. Are you breaking up with me? Are you pregnant?” he glanced at you over your shoulder.

“No! And no, that’s just my food baby. It’s just that… basically everything I did for you today, Chloe helped me come up with. I was gonna get you a box of chocolates, show you this number,” you gestured at the lingerie revealed by your fallen dress, “then call it a day.”

“You wanna know the truth?” he asked before reaching into your dresser and tossing you a set of pajamas. “I needed Sarah’s help for almost everything today, too. Obviously it was a great day, but��� I don’t need fancy things from you or huge romantic gestures, despite what our children might think. Your love alone is plenty.”

“Promise?” you asked, pulling on your pajama shirt.

“Swear.”

“Can we shake on doing a massage and getting barbecue next Valentine’s Day, nothing more and nothing less?”

“That sounds perfect,” Joel agreed, shaking your hand to drive in the point of your agreement. “Now let’s go check out that pillow fort.”

Chloe and Sarah snuggled against you as a new, cheesy rom-com played out on the television in front of you.

“So, how was your V-Day?” Chloe asked, looking between you and Joel mischievously. Obviously, the kids were curious about the fruits of their labor, and you genuinely could not blame them. With all the effort they’d put into making your day great, they deserved to know just how pleasant it was.

“It was amazing,” you confirmed, squeezing your daughter’s shoulder.

“We couldn’t have done it without you two,” Joel added, tossing a not-so-subtle wink at Sarah.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Sarah asked with a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

“It means that you two are hopeless romantics, and without your guys’ help, we would’ve had a painfully boring Valentine’s Day,” you explained.

“Can you blame us for wanting to help you two old farts out? You haven’t celebrated this holiday in like 200 years,” Chloe retorted.

“Nothing wrong with that,” you affirmed. “You guys are good eggs. Is it too late to ask you both to be my Valentine?”

“Yes,” Chloe deadpanned.

“Nope,” Sarah said, popping her ‘p’. “But only if you get us heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.”

“I think that can be arranged. Right, Joel?” you asked.

“Fine. I’ll pick up some discounted chocolates after work tomorrow,” Joel said it begrudgingly, but deep down you knew that his softie heart was bursting with love for your family.

“Thank you. Happy Valentine’s day, my lovely loves,” you expressed, pulling the girls next to you closer to emphasize your point.

“Ew, mom,” Chloe squealed, only egging you on to pepper her cheeks in kisses.

This had by far been your favorite Valentine’s Day, and it really wasn’t even close. When you were surrounded by your favorite people in the world, doing something ridiculously thoughtful and sentimental, there was no way you could ever ask for more.

[thorntopieces]

assorted pjo/hoo headcanons pt 2

part 1 - part 2

A popular one, but Percy grew up speaking Spanish with Sally. Once Gabe came into the picture it became something shameful and something to be hidden. In the same vein as him never talking about Gabe, he never gives any indication that he knows any Spanish, not even when people speak it around him

Annabeth and Percy 'adopt' Will. Annabeth the winter session following TLT, Percy and Annabeth together following the Battle of Manhattan. They don't properly parent him or anything, but they check in on him and help him come to terms with being Head Counsellor. At first Will thinks they do it only because he saved Annabeth's life, but no, they really just care about him that much

Something I will elaborate on in a different post: both Jason and Nico have DID (dissociative identity disorder), presenting in very different ways. Nico's alters are all him at varying ages, except for one introject of Bianca and one of Percy (that never fully front, they work internally or influence passively). It could very easily be confused for just very severe mood changes and PTSD. He's not really aware of it and considers himself to just be moody. Jason has a more 'typical' presentation in that the different alters have different names, genders, ages, roles. He becomes aware of it around the time of the Battle of the West Front/Mt Tam, and again learns about it following TLH. It is the only way to cope, caused by both of them being exposed to continuous and repeated trauma at a young age. Nico is aware that Jason has a thing, while Percy knows something is up with Nico. They both just lack the terminology to explain it well. This is one of the reasons why Nico and Jason quickly get along at Camp Jupiter before the kidnapping and then again following the encounter with Cupid

After starting to recover from dissolving into darkness, Nico slowly starts going back to school. He's too busy, too ill and too behind to go full-time, so instead he goes two days a week for core subjects at Goode. To do this he spends two nights a week at Sally and Paul's place. It helps give him some of the normalcy he so desperately needs. The rest of the week he spends at CHB doing various things (teach classes, infirmary work, head counsellor duties, therapy). Will goes to a different school in NYC during the week but they make plans for him to transfer after Christmas break

Will doesn't like crying because it literally hurts him. Whenever he cries it's like his eyes are on fire so instead of trying to figure out why that is, he will do anything in his power to not cry at all

Healing and medicine are two separate traits for Apollo kids to inherit. Lee could heal, but Michael was the one with the field medic skills and thus the one to mostly train Will. When Lee died, the infirmary went to Will because divine healing is prioritised above mortal medicine. Will's not special because he can heal, he's special because he can heal and has an innate talent for medicine. Combine that with the photo- and nosokinesis and he's technically inherited four separate skills, whereas most Apollo kids would only get two (basic good aim/vitals reading/minor powers of prophecy does not count, those are universal). He really is all of Apollo's best and none of his worst

In the Last Olympian it's mentioned that Hades met Maria di Angelo in Washington D.C, but in House of Hades that Nico and Bianca grew up in Venice. Headcanon that Bianca was born in Washington D.C in 1930 but shortly after being born Maria di Angelo moved back to Venice in hopes of escaping the worst of the Great Depression. This didn't work (the Great Depression hit Italy in 1931 and peaked in 1932), but by the time it got bad it was harder than ever to leave fascist Italy, especially through official channels - which they would have to do considering Nico's nonno was an Italian diplomat and fleeing would put him in danger. Nico was born in Venice and in 1939, less than a year after visiting Diocletian's Palace they were cleared to reunite with his grandparents in the States, avoiding the outbreak of WWII.

The reason why the conversation with Venus horrified her so much wasn't because she was upset about not being destined to be with Jason, it was because she interpreted 'no demigod shall heal your broken heart' as having to date someone fitting the criteria (not a demigod, powerful because she has power) and the only person she can think of is Octavian. She absolutely thought Venus told her she was doomed to date Octavian

Percy who is the demigod most similar to Jason in terms of wolf traits developed because they had the same amount of 'established identity' when arriving at the wolf house (young age vs amnesia). Percy who learns to be entirely certain of initiating physical affection without fear after being at the wolf house because he learns that even dangerous beings can be gentle. Percy who is scared of initiating physical contact because he saw how Gabe was and how demigods used to react to him knowing he was a son of the Big Three

[justjams2003]

The Desire to be Loved: 2

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, tell me if I miss any

Word count: 1,8k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

Tags: intothesoul

Masterlist

(I've moved the next part to the bottom)

What a cruel but beautiful creature. To look at me with such entrancing brown eyes that makes something warm flutter in my gut but leave me here. Her aura is that of a setting sun, but her hair is like that of the sun itself. A dear shocked by the presence of a different creature in her woods. Or perhaps shock that I could see her?  

But with the beauty she carries is also something vicious. Another immortal creature who seems to have some recognition behind those doe eyes. And yet knowing who I am and what importance I hold for the mortal world she leaves me here. Without a single second thought she disappeared into a different realm.  

I do not know who she is. Or rather what it is. The human’s son who captured me could not see her. He looked at me with utter confusion, but that is saying so little since they always look at me with fear of the unknown. As they should.  

Clearly something supernatural, but not something powerful enough for me to have known of them before. But in my 50 more years of confinement in this my glass prison I couldn’t help but keep myself busy with the thought of her.  

One of these days, almost on cue, that perfect pink aura suddenly appears in front of the glass bulb. She looks dishevelled. Her braid is messy, several front pieces have fallen out and covers her face. Where last time she wore shoes that made her quite a bit taller than the human Alex. Now, just a few inches.  

But more than that there’s blood all over her hands. Her eyes look glassy with tears but are wide with fear and shock. She’s down on her knees on front of this cage. A shudder pours through her body. Air doesn’t seem to making it into her lungs. Does she have to breathe or is the shock shaking her soul?  

She looks up at me and this seems to make it worse. The dam breaks and tears roll off her cheek. Her chest heaves as she tries to breathe. “I-I-” She mutters trying to comprehend and it seems as if she knows even less than I do now. “I don’t know what I did.” Her voice is just barely above a whisper.  

“He-he said I had to.” She mutters over and over, who is this he? What did she have to do? I wish this damn barrier wasn’t here so that I could see what is this situation. “And-and- I was so mad at him for making me-” another bout of tears overcomes her.  

She then stops and looks at her hands again. “Look at what I’ve done.” I can see how her mind is starting to break.  

That can’t be good. She must play some role in this the human world. Even if only slightly important, it could very well be the beginning or end of this earth. Should I care? Of course I should care. I was made by the first humans subconscious to help the humans. I can’t let all that effort go to waist now...  

But how could I help now? Stripped from all power, locked up and unable to be heard in this glass bubble of mine. I do all that I can think of. My hand slowly slides over the glass to where she sits kneeling in front of me.  

My movement catches her eye almost instantly. Her head snaps up, her ragged breathing stops. Her eyes seem to twinkle like gold dug up from deep in the core of the earth. Time seems to stop and I just can’t seem to understand what is going on. Is she a siren or witch of some sort? Putting a spell on me?  

Her hand, smaller than mine, reaches up and touches the glass where mine is. The blood smears against the glass into a red aura around her hand. The glass makes her fuzzy. Like a halo of red surrounding her as if she’s one of the angles.  

“What the fuck?!” One of the guards exclaim, interrupting this stopped moment in time. This moment, a red haze of ardency. From the human’s point of view, Dream of the Endless somehow just spawned a bloody handprint on the outside of his glass cage.  

The guard stands up from his seat, pistol in hand. “What the fuck did you just do? How the fuck did you just do that?” He says, his pistol raised at the cage. To the humans this seems entirely impossible. Some sort of witchcraft that they fear with their soul.  

The creature who has taken all wisdom from me’s head snaps in a neck-aching turn. Her breathing becomes rapid again after just having calmed her down. She sees the way he approaches my cage and then she turns to me again. “I have to go again. I don’t want him to find out about this this time.”  

With that, she’s gone again.  

For the next 14600 days I could not be there when sun would set and the dreamers were supposed to enter my realm. My dreamers would instead be either stuck awake forever or asleep forever. 40 years of restless, dreamless sleep all because of the Burgess’s. 

I had seen with my own eyes how Alex killed his father by accident or not after a fight about my confinement. He had begged just as his father had. Not for the same thing, but in the same breath for fear of Death. My sister shouldn’t be feared but perhaps he worries about how I might inact my revenge.  

He grows old now, I’m sure, but he has not come to beg again. Humans become frail with age. All entertainment I have is my mind and my plots. Vengeance swirls around in my mind. That and guilt. Guilt of Lucien having to run the Dreaming in my absence. And all of those Dreamers doomed.  

My days and nights are one. I only know the difference from the change of guards. I can’t help but watch their lazy lives. Having to sit and watch me all day. They chit chat of their lives all while the years pass by in front of me. No interruption. No difference.  

And then, there she is again. One second an empty space covered in sand and the next, a dishevelled creature. No heels this time. A pair of these “sweatpants” as I’ve heard the mortals call it. Her hair is no longer in a braid. Golden silk in long mixed wavy and straight hangs on the floor.  

Her eyes are red and look dry and irritated. She appeared standing, but not for long. Her legs seem to give in on her. She sits down on the floor. She pulls her legs up to her chest and just hides her head. I move closer to the edge of my cage. I can see it puts the guards on edge.  

She slowly lifts her head again and rest her chin on her knees. Then suddenly a quiver, assumingly her quiver, appears strapped to her back. She pulls out a single arrow, the only arrow in this quiver. It has a red heart at the very tip. She seems to be inspecting it carefully.  

The creature seems to give a dry scoff. “This is the only soulmate arrow I’ve received in over 100 years.” She twirls it in her fingers and then suddenly it all begins to make sense. A soulmate arrow? And she has them ready to shoot? The humans have so many names for her. Cupid, Venus, Aphrodite, Freya. But I do remember Desire naming her Love.  

Her head falls back on her knees. “I feel so tired...” Her eyes seem to droop. The pink aura she had before is completely gone. The golden sparkle in her eyes is dead. She closes her eyes for a second and lets out a heavy hearted sigh. All soul seems to have left her.  

Then her eyes open again. Again her dead eyes drag over the arrow. “I fear the day I found you here because it has only caused my demise. If I didn't let my own mind wander into the realms of desire and curiosity I would not be weak as I am now. He calls himself Desire but he and his twin are one in the same because now Despair is all I know.” The words begin spilling out of her from a speed unparalled.  

“Something above him, maybe even you, is punishing me for doing as I am told and I cannot take it any longer. All I've done this last century is rip the love from people's hearts. I fear I might have lost the ability to knock an arrow in my bow because I can't even remember how to grant love. Only how to take it.” 

“My soul is kind, I promise.” Her eyes look up at me, her brows pulling together in the middle as if she’s pleading for me to believe her. “If I was not kind I would not be in the state I am in, right?” Again she begs. What for I’m not sure? I do not know of any sins. Could Love ever even be able of causing harm? Is she able of concocting the concept of harming others?  

“There's no love left on this earth. Only this shell Desire has made me and therefore I don't want to live with myself anymore. Him unmaking me would be easier to stand than the hurt I have caused.” It looks painful when she starts to stand up.  

The way she walks, it looks almost deliberate when the salt under her shoes breaks the several circles surrounding my cage. It’s confirmed when she looks back at the now broken salt circles and looks satisfied by this. Then her eyes look back at me.  

The world looks so heavy on her shoulders. Like her head weighs too much for her neck. Her hand comes up on my glass confinement. She steadies herself and then she tells me what sounds like final words: “I will not beg for your forgiveness for not freeing you sooner.”

Her eyes land once more on the arrow glowing in her hand. She takes a big gulp, then she seems to make time stop again. “If you must kill me, I will beg you do it before Desire punishes me.” With what seems like her last bit of energy, life force, she raises her arrow and stabs the glass.  

A large crack breaks through this glass bubble. But she stops before she can repeat the action. Her eyes raise as if she’s listening to something from above. “It seems he was watching me.” Her dried body takes a step back but I catch her before she leaves me once more.  

“Thank you, Cupid. I will find you.”  

If you want to be added or removed from the taglist, just ask!

Part 1~Part 3

[btsgotjams27]

jealous | jjk

you two agreed - sex without feelings. but it all goes out the window when you have to watch two girls fawn over him and he sees your ex trying to make up for lost time.

✨ title: jealous | ✨ pairing: jungkook x noona f!reader ✨ word count: 5.1k | ✨ rating: R / minors dni ✨ genre/au: smut with a smidge of plot | age gap, fwb ✨ warnings: reader is 7 years older (what??? i love noona fics. okay??), ex-boyfriend namjoon, language, drinking, yoongi is drunk (it's his b'day dinner), they both get jealous (obvs), maybe a little possessive(?), kissing, touching, groping, dirty talk, oral (m. receiving) in a bathroom, cum swallowing, slight exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, jk's confidence shows up ✨ a/n: this song sparked this fic, along with the million of keshi songs that fit perfectly as well (just friends, beside you, somebody) | this is part of the naked!couple but can be read as a standalone. also, i have no idea if this is any good? lmfao. welp, enjoy. ✨ tagging: @cherrysoulth @jikooknoona @burnahtsw @sathom013

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] read naked ✨ check out secrets

Kook 2:14 PM Are you going to Yoongi's birthday dinner?

You 2:20 PM Probably. Why?

Kook 2:22 PM Cool, cause I got invited too. I'll see you there.

See, the thing was, no one knew you and Jungkook were fucking, and the friend group you shared would probably scream and scold you if they did. You hoped Jungkook could keep his puppy eyes hidden and not give away what was going on between you.

You 2:30 PM Who did you invite to dinner?

Yoongi 2:45 PM Namjoon, Jungkook, Hyejin, Paris, Winnie, and Jin. Why?

Your lips thinned when you saw Namjoon’s name. Of course, he’d be there. He was Yoongi’s best friend and your ex-boyfriend. And this was why you shouldn’t date within a friend group. Then there was Paris and Winnie. Paris embodied everything that annoyed the fuck out of you–a non-stop chatterbox who didn't know how to read a room. Winnie, you could tolerate Winnie, but the fact she was best friends with Paris–you didn't know how she could stand her. Maybe that's why you didn't have a lot of 'girl' friends. Maybe you were too judgmental. Regardless, you had to put up with them for just one dinner.

You were one of the first to arrive at the restaurant. Hyejin waved you down when she saw you scanning the room. You were thankful it was Hyejin and not the other two girls. The thought of having to make small talk made you dizzy.

“Hey–are we the first ones here? Where’s the birthday boy?” you asked, looking around to see so many empty chairs.

“The guys took Yoongi to a bar before coming here. They wanted to pre-game without the girls or something,” Hyejin mentioned, pulling you in for a hug.

“Ah, got it,” you replied, taking your jacket off and setting it behind you on your chair. “Should we pre-game, too?” you grinned, ringing the bell at your table.

The waiter brought two bottles of grapefruit soju. You’d order more once everyone else arrived, but for now, that’ll do.

“So,” Hyejin narrowed her eyes as she poured you a glass, “Are you seeing anyone yet?” Her lips curved into a mischievous grin.

You licked your lips, then came to bite your tongue because Jungkook’s name automatically wanted to roll off it. Then you shook your head, raising your glass to hers as you both took your shots of soju. You noted to yourself not to have too many before your lips became loose, and you spilled all your secrets. “Still single.”

“Want me to set you up with someone?” Hyejin asked, pouring you another glass. “What about Jin or Hoseok?” She wiggled her eyebrows in excitement.

Your heart almost leaped from your chest when she started with a ‘J’ name. “Why are you always trying to play cupid?”

“Because a laid-you is a happy you,” she laughed, to which you rolled your eyes.

“I’m,” you paused, “I’m happy.” There was no trying to convince Hyejin. You could hardly convince yourself. Technically, you were getting laid and weren’t looking for anything serious, and Jungkook was the perfect fuck buddy. He knew how to please you in bed, along with looking like a Greek god. It’s a win-win, you thought.

“So you're getting fucked?”

“Hey–” Your conversation was interrupted by the Greek god himself. “What’s up?” Jungkook asked, keeping his eyes on you. He was about to sit when the chair pulled out, but Paris sat down, thanking him. He made a face, annoyed that she took the spot he wanted because it was across from you.

“Hey, Jungkookie–Y/n just telling me how she’s happy because she’s fucking somebody.”

He shook off his jacket, placing it on a seat next to Paris, and now he was sandwiched between Paris and Winnie. You didn’t think much of it. He could sit wherever he wanted. But you did catch that sly smirk of his when he sat down.

“Happy, huh?” Jungkook sucked in his lips, trying his best to suppress a smile. “Whoever he is, he must be good if you’re so happy.”

You huffed, glaring at the handsome young man. “He’s alright,” you seethed through your teeth. He was good, but he wasn’t that good. You had to try and convince yourself this go around.

“Well, he must be good if he’s keeping you happy,” Winnie’s sweet voice chimed in.

“Don’t deny it, love–and come on, we need details,” Hyejin scrunched her shoulders, becoming giddy in her seat.

You couldn’t help but glance at Jungkook, sporting another smirk. He was probably proud of himself right now. “I’m not talking about my sex life with everyone.”

“Give us a name, at least!” Paris exclaimed, nudging Jungkook to instigate.

“Yeah, Y/n–give us their name.” He tilted his head, egging you on.

You couldn’t believe Jungkook right now. He’d love this to be out in the open, but you didn’t want anyone advising you otherwise. All the girls and Jungkook stared at you, wondering if you’d give them a name.

“Ju–” everyone’s eyes and ears perked up, “Stin. His name is Justin.”

“Who’s Justin?” Jin asked, pulling a chair from under the table.

“Y/n’s new man!” Winnie giggled, playfully pushing Jungkook into Paris. Jungkook quickly straightened his posture, tugging his white button-down. You had to admit. He looked disgustingly fuckable in that stupid white button-down. What you would do to him if your friends didn’t surround you at this moment? Probably things you should keep to yourself.

“Don’t listen to them, Jin. They’re all crazy.” Your eyes blazed like a thousand suns towards Jungkook, hoping he’d get the drift to stay quiet. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

“It’s my birthday!” Yoongi exclaimed as Namjoon was practically carrying him into the restaurant. Yoongi couldn’t get very far, almost bumping into every person he passed by to get to the table.

“Whoa, whoa!” Namjoon uttered before plopping him into the end seat, meaning your ex-boyfriend would sit beside you.

Hyejin shook her head, peering over at the birthday boy. “He’s not even going to remember this birthday,” she remarked, raising her upper lip in annoyance.

As Namjoon sat down, you moved your chair to make room. He hadn’t realized he was sitting next to you. “Oh, hey.” He greeted you with a warm smile, dimples on full display. If one thing always made you weak in the knees, it was those damn dimples.

You turned to him, scanned his face, and returned the smile. “Hey.”

“You look nice tonight.” He uttered before shying away and greeting everyone else.

You probably wouldn’t have heard if your eyes weren’t on him, lost in those dragon eyes like you used to do for hours. Your only response was another smile before you quickly turned away to adjust your seat and glanced at Jungkook, who had been watching the two of you. He loved his Hyung. He did–he just hated the fact Namjoon broke your heart.

Dinner continued with more drinks and laughter from the group, telling stories old and new. Paris and Winnie couldn’t have made it obvious that they were vying for Jungkook’s attention and affection. And you didn’t know if he was playing dumb or just plain oblivious to how they would give him innocent touches, place food on his plate, attempt to feed him, ask his opinions on things, or try to leave the rest of the group out of the conversation. But it was clear to you they wanted him. You’ve seen those tactics before; hell, you’ve used them yourself.

“Hey! I’ve seen those necklaces all over Instagram. What’s inside?” Paris asked, pointing to the pendant draped on your neck.

You quickly reached to grab it, holding it between your thumb and index. “Oh, thanks. A–” you looked at Jungkook, “a friend gave it to me, and um, it’s my dog, Pepper. She passed away a few months ago.”

“Pepper passed away?” Namjoon asked, turning to you, and you nodded. His hand suddenly inches away from yours, lightly brushing the back of it. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved her.”

You flashed a small smile. “Yeah, but now she’ll always be with me wherever I go.”

“A friend gave it to you, hmm? Justin?” Hyejin asked, wiggling her eyebrows and rubbing her shoulder with yours. You hummed. “Oh, you have it bad for him!”

“I–I do not!” you stuttered, letting go of the necklace. “He's,” you paused, carefully thinking about your next choice of words. You didn’t want to feed more into Jungkook’s mind because he was watching you, “sweet.”

“Oh gosh! I wish I had someone to make me happy,” Winnie pouted, leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re single, right, Kook? Why haven’t we gone on a date yet?”

Way to be so obvious and desperate, you thought.

Jungkook let out an awkward laugh, clearing his throat. “I, uh–” he stopped when he noticed Namjoon unconsciously rubbing the back of your hand. “Yeah, we should go out on a date.” He was lying through his teeth. He would never date Winnie–she was not his ideal type–the one he really wanted was sitting next to her ex-boyfriend, unconsciously letting her ex-boyfriend touch her. He didn’t even want to think about what the two of you used to do together, but now his mind was there.

Paris scoffed, playfully hitting Jungkook’s arm. “What about me? I’ve mentioned plenty of times how cute I think you are.” And honestly, she would shamelessly mention it whenever she could.

“Ladies, ladies. There are plenty of single, handsome men around this table,” Jin remarked, raising his eyebrow.

You watched as Jungkook whispered in one of their ears, then the other. He excused himself from the table, leaving them to bicker. Your eyes followed Jungkook before you excused yourself as well.

Jungkook entered the men’s restroom, and out of sheer frustration, you followed him. Thankfully, no one else was inside when you pushed the door open. Jungkook looked up at the mirror from washing his hands, surprised to see you standing behind him.

“Did you get lost?”

You folded your arms; head tilted to the side. “What are you doing?” A clear indication that you didn’t find his little agreement back there amusing.

“Washing my hands. What else?” He smirked, continuing to wash the soapy residue off.

Had Jungkook always been such a smartass? Maybe you weren’t paying close enough attention to him these past few months.

“I’m talking about Paris and Winnie.” He had to know what you were referring to. You had been watching the three of them all night. Honestly, it made you want to throw up.

"Are you jealous?" He smirked, walking to dry his hands with a paper towel, then stood before you. His doe eyes displayed a glimmer of confidence as he explored your face.

The mirthless laugh that came out of you reverberated through the empty restroom. You scowled, using your index and middle finger to push him back into the bigger stall at the end, locking it behind you.

You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him, pushing him against the cold tile. "Me? Jealous? Of Paris? She's named after a goddamn city. And Winnie? You mean Winnie the Pooh?"

"You're jealous." Jungkook tilted his head, trying to hide the smile itching to come on display. He didn’t know all it took was a little jealousy for you to claim him as yours. He should’ve thought of it sooner.

"Am not."

He took a step; his body flushed against yours. "Then you don't care if I go out with either of them, right? Since we're just fucking."

Out of annoyance, you pushed his shoulder back. “Is fucking not enough for you?” You huffed. "You can date whoever you want, Jungkook. It's none of my business. Just know, if you fuck any of them,” you paused, “then our little arrangement is over." Your chest heaved, and your heart raced as you stood before him.

Jungkook slipped his hand on the small of your back, pulling you into his frame, his eyes darting back and forth between yours, then dropping to your lips. He wanted to kiss you badly but didn’t want to break your rules. He thought it was so fucking hot at how jealous you were, even though you’d deny it until the end of time. He wondered how far he could push you.

You straightened your stance, pulling back a little, exploring the details of his handsome face. Your eyes locked in on the beauty mark hidden underneath his bottom lip. It was always so tempting to want to kiss it. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, just tell me,” you said. “I’m a big girl.”

He shook his head. His nose lightly brushed against yours, his lips ghosting yours–the closest he’d get to receiving a kiss because he knew you’d never give in. “You’re the only one I want.”

Was it fair to Jungkook? No, but you didn’t want to stop fucking him just yet. A slight shudder went down your spine when he made it known that you were it. He didn’t want anyone else.

The corner of your mouth curved up. “Is this turning you on right now?” you asked, referring to the growing erection against your thigh. He let out a sigh and nodded. “Should I do something about it?”

Jungkook licked his lips, toying with his lip ring. “Mm, yes, please.”

The door to the restroom flung open, the voices carrying on their conversation. Unbeknownst to them, you were about to suck the life out of him. No one could see either of you anyway. You were thankful for the tall stalls right now.

You kissed Jungkook’s jawline and neck before lightly biting on his earlobe. “Do you know what I love the most about your cock?” Jungkook visibly gulps and shakes his head no. “How perfectly it fits into my mouth.”

Fuck. You were really going to be the death of him, he thought.

Your right hand palmed the hardened length constricted by the black jeans. You thought he looked so fucking sexy in the stupid white button-down. It was such a simple look, but it didn’t take long to get you eyeing him all night, wanting to rip it off.

Jungkook leaned forward, his forehead touching yours, his eyes closed. Your hand still rubbing him. “You drive me fucking insane. You know that?”

Your left hand laced through his long hair, settling at the nape of his neck. You gently tugged his head back, attaching your mouth to his neck again, lightly marking him–you had to make it known that he was already taken. “Mm. I know.”

Stepping back, you fumbled at his belt, making sure not to lose eye contact with him, unfastening the button and zipper, pulling down his jeans and underwear just enough so his cock could be freed. You couldn’t help yourself and looked down, your hand wrapped around his length, pumping a few times. Your thumb circling the bead of pre-cum already threatening to fall.

When you dropped to your knees, Jungkook’s eyes widened. “You’re gonna do this right here? Right now?” He had to ask, ensuring he wasn’t dreaming. Because this surely was a fever dream, you about to suck him off in a restaurant’s bathroom.

You chuckled and answered by kissing the tip, causing him to utter curses. His tattooed hand removed your hair as he looked down to get a better visual of you. He’d never seen such a sight before. You, willing to pleasure him outside of the bedroom.

Gripping the back of his thigh, you tugged him closer, swirling your tongue around his head. You didn’t think you could get so worked up by sucking Jungkook off, but here you were, arousal pooling in your underwear at the mere sight of him, your pussy clenching around nothing. God–you wished you were back at your place instead of this dinner. Your tongue continued only working his head, your mouth popping back and forth on the ridge, weak moans escaping his lips, craving more of your warm, wet mouth.

When you fully took all of him in, he exhaled deeply, watching himself disappear and reappear into your mouth. Your lips slick and swollen with saliva, bobbing up and down the length of his shaft. The urge to touch yourself and relieve the ache building within was becoming too much.

He sharply sucked in a breath, trying to hold it together, thinking about anything else to prolong the pleasure increasing inside him.

Hollowing your cheeks, you continued helping Jungkook chase his climax, allowing him to hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag lightly. You pulled off, holding his length, licking the underside where the prominent vein resides. You glanced at Jungkook, his eyes still fully on you, watching your every move. Your lips parted around his cock, sucking only on the tip again. His moans encouraged you to continue and drove out the whispers of those wondering what the fuck was happening in the stall.

Jungkook gently cupped your cheeks, making you look at him. “Noona, I’m gonna come. Where do you want me to come?”

Quickly, you popped off. “My mouth, Kook,” you explained before sucking on him again, tugging him closer. Heat began spreading under his skin, his abs tightening, his heart racing a million miles a minute, chasing the climax that had been building before the two of you stepped into this bathroom.

He bit his bottom lip, trying his best to stifle his moan. The coiling tension is on the brink of finally breaking. Your lips are swollen, and your mouth covered in saliva and his pre-cum–he wished he could savor the moment as long as he could, but at long last, his hips jerked forward, his seed spilling into your mouth as you sucked him dry and swallowed his cum.

"Still want to ask them out?" you asked, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He grinned with his eyes closed, head leaning against the wall, he found it cute that you were jealous, but he'd keep that to himself. "You look better on your knees than they ever would." Jungkook's eyes fluttered open, catching your eye roll. He grabbed your hand, helping you stand before he pulled up his underwear and jeans.

Before you unlocked the door, you did the one thing you swore you'd never do. Staring into his naïve doe eyes and cupping his face, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips pressed into his, and they were as you expected, warm, soft, pillowy.

He was taken aback by the sudden action, but he returned the kiss–lips gliding, becoming entangled. His hands gripped onto your waist, pulling you flush against him. His tongue nipped at your mouth, wanting access, but you came back to reality, remembering that the two of you were still in a stupid bathroom.

“We should go back before everyone gets suspicious.” He nodded. “I’ll go out first, and then you come out in three minutes.”

And it was a stupid thing you did to kiss him, but all you felt were butterflies in the pit of your stomach as you walked back to the table.

"You okay?" Namjoon asked when you sat down.

"'M fine." You cleared your throat, pulling the chair closer to the table and fixing your hair in case any strays were out of place.

Jungkook came shortly after you, plopping down between Paris and Winnie, and your eyes flew down to his crotch, seeing his zipper open. The two of you stared at one another, trying not to make it obvious something had happened between you.

You were trying to get his attention by tilting your head and staring down at his crotch, but he furrowed his brows in confusion. Conversations started up again once the two of you joined, but you couldn’t not tell him about his zipper. So you slouched a tad in your chair, using your shoe to tap Jungkook’s leg. He promptly looked at you, wondering what you were doing, as your pointed-toe boot slid further up his jeans. He thought that you were horny and wanted him to return the favor.

You mouthed, ‘your fly,’ motioning up and down with your hand. He tilted his head, watching your eyes alternate between his crotch and his eyes. You continued mouthing a few more times before he finally caught your drift. Jungkook tried to be as discreet as possible, ensuring no one was paying attention.

Whew. The two of you dodged a bullet.

Technically, no one would’ve said anything, but you were becoming paranoid, thinking everyone would figure out your secret. You didn’t need Hyejin to hype you up or Namjoon to find out you were sleeping with his friend. Not that it would matter because the two of you weren’t together, and you were a grown-ass woman, able to do whatever you wanted, but sometimes, you cared too much about what other people thought about you.

“How’s everything going?”

You picked up your glass of soju, knocking it back. You expected Namjoon to ask you this sooner or later. “Everything is going well,” you said abruptly, without further explanation.

“So, you’re seeing someone?” he asked, trying not to pry too much.

You snuck a glance at the man you were sleeping with, carefully choosing the next words to come out of your mouth. “Um,” you bit down on your lip, nibbling the inside of your cheek, “I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay?” Another bullet dodged because you were sure Jungkook was trying to listen in.

“Yeah, of course. No, I completely get it,” Namjoon explained, knocking back his soju glass.

The server brought another order of steamed perilla leaves, placing it in front of Namjoon, and he reached out with his chopsticks, trying his best to peel the first thin leaf, but the marinade was too sticky for him to do so. Like the sympathetic person you were, when it came to your ex-boyfriend, you used your chopsticks to hold down the rest so he could get a piece. Namjoon smiled, holding the thin leaf between his chopsticks, asking if you wanted one. You shook your head, denying the minty herbal leaf–you never really liked the taste.

Jungkook observed the perilla leaf interaction between the two of you. His nostrils flared, jaw tensed up as he shifted in his seat. There was no reason for him to be jealous because you were never really his to begin with. He agreed to sex with no feelings, but he already fell long and hard for you before this all started. It’s not like he could say anything to you or Namjoon. He had no bearing. To everyone at the table, he was just a friend to you, and they would find it odd if he unexpectedly displayed any kind of envy or hostility when the two of you were just friends. So, he had to play it off like it didn’t matter because you were just being kind and helping an ex-boyfriend.

Yoongi groaned, grasping his stomach as Jin held him up. Everyone waited outside, debating what to do next, but you just wanted to go home for some odd reason. You didn’t feel like engaging in more social interactions, especially if you had to watch Paris and Winnie slobber all over Jungkook again. You grimaced at the thought.

Namjoon nudged you with his shoulder as he leaned over, whispering in your ear. “Hey, can we talk?”

You hummed, following him away from your friend group. You stuffed your hand into your long overcoat, avoiding his gaze by staring at your black boots as you stood before him.

“I miss you.”

Your lips thinned, staring at your shoes before looking up at him. You didn’t reciprocate those words back to him because you had moved on. Could Jungkook be the reason? There was a possibility. “Are you still choosing your career over the people you love?” He wet his lips and shamefully nodded. “I don’t blame you, Joon. I get it. You love what you do. You’re allowed to love what you do, but I won’t get back into this with you. I just can’t.”

He gave a half-smile. “Are you happy, at least?”

It’s not like life was terrible. You had a good job, good friends, lived in the best city and fucking regularly. “Mmhm.”

“As long as you're happy, that's all I really want for you.”

When you and Namjoon regrouped with the rest, you noticed Jungkook’s eyes glaring at you with the heat of a thousand suns. Namjoon strolled over to help Jin with Yoongi, and you wandered over to Jungkook, standing by himself.

You peered at him, trying to catch his attention, but he turned away. “Are you upset with me?” His silence answered your question. “Is this because I helped Namjoon peel a stupid perilla leaf? Oh my god, Jungkook. You can't be serious.”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you towards a darkened alley near the restaurant. You looked back, hoping none of your friends could see the two of you, but they were all too busy conversing with one another to notice.

“Jungkook–what are you doing?” you asked in a hushed tone.

“Don’t do it.”

“Do what?”

Jungkook closed his eyes and sighed. “Get back together with him.”

“I’m–” You looked back at your friends. “I’m not going to, and why do you care?" you asked, with your shoulder leaning against the brick wall, your back facing your chattering friends. You could think of a million reasons why, and maybe you were fooling yourself into thinking that Jungkook would be smart enough not to have feelings, but it was hard to ignore the puppy eyes and sweet texts.

"Because–I just do, okay?" he answered, mimicking your posture. He noticed the glisten in your eyes from the moonlight. It wasn’t hard to tell how much the break-up with Namjoon hurt you. Even though you tried your hardest to hide your feelings, he could read you like a book. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Can I make you feel better?”

“How?” you mused.

He leaned in, closing his eyes as his lips pressed against yours. To his surprise, you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back, the desire within you growing. You knew breaking your rule of no kissing would be bad, but his lips were too enticing to stop. Now you never wanted to stop kissing him.

Jungkook didn’t care if you were just kissing him because you wanted to forget about Namjoon. After all, that was his intention–he never wanted Namjoon to be on your mind ever again. You deserved better than anything he or any other person could ever give. But if he could just distract you briefly, that was enough for him.

He pulled away, the two of you out of breath, his forehead leaning against yours. “Can I touch you?”

Good boy, you thought, still asking for permission from you. You nodded, unconcerned about your friend group, probably wondering where the fuck you two went.

Jungkook tugged you closer, slightly hiking up your skirt, making you grin at his actions. He was becoming bold, wasn’t he?

“Right here? Right now?” you asked, echoing his words from earlier tonight.

He hummed, pulling your underwear down to your mid-thigh. Thank God you were wearing a long overcoat to hide this lewd act. He dipped his fingers between your legs, gliding them along your slit. You mewled when one of his fingers slipped inside your entrance.

“You’re soaking wet already?” Jungkook asked, biting down on his lip.

“I’ve been wet since I sucked you off,” you whimpered as he stretched you out, making you spread your legs for him. It was a bit embarrassing how wet you were. You closed your eyes, leaning into his frame, your palms pressed against his chest to hold yourself up. You weren't expecting him to be so bold and confident in this dark alleyway.

Jungkook continued to spread your slick, teasing your folds, his thumb grazing over your clit. His digits desperately thrust into you, but the stretch was not enough. You needed more–you needed him, his cock pounding into you senselessly. Your moans spurred him on, and you craved his touch, hips rocking back and forth to pursue the climax building within. It took so little to get you going tonight.

Maybe it was Paris and Winnie's shameless attempts at Jungkook. Maybe you wanted him all to yourself and didn't want to lose him. Maybe it was your eyes meeting at the table, trying to keep tabs on each other all night. Maybe it was all of the above. Could the suppressed emotions you've been trying to hide be bubbling up to the surface?

"Hey! Is everything okay?" Hyejin yelled after seeing you lean into the crook of Jungkook's neck. She had seen you talking to Namjoon, so maybe Jungkook was just comforting you.

"Yeah!" Jungkook replied, "we're coming." He grinned at the double meaning before curling his fingers, touching the soft spot of your front wall, quickening his pace, your arousal dripping down his hand, making lewd noises.

You gripped his bomber jacket, your hot breath fanning his neck, trying to keep quiet in this dark alley, but whimpers and moans escaped with curses and his name.

"Fuck. Fuck. I'm gonna come."

The muscles in your stomach contracting, your heart racing, your skin heating up against his, a shiver running down your spine, the coiling tension ready to break.

"Come all over my fingers, Noona," Jungkook encouraged, pumping his fingers in and out frantically, helping you chase your climax. Then you began mercilessly fucking yourself on his fingers, desperate to reach your peak. His thumb circled your swollen clit a few times, sending shockwaves through your body. Your walls fluttered around his fingers as they continued to pump in and out, coasting your high. "Mm–you did so well."

This was a first–Jungkook giving praises. Honestly, you didn't think you'd ever be turned on by it. Apparently, you were wrong.

You pulled away from him, trying to catch your breath. You watched him withdraw his fingers from your pussy to his lips, licking them clean.

"You can go home with him, but know you're dripping wet because of me."

You cocked your eyebrow. When did he become such a cocky son-of-a-bitch?

"Touché," you acknowledged, pulling your underwear back up. There's no way in hell you'd go home with Namjoon now. You'd rather be somewhere else with someone else. You gripped onto his bomber again, pressing your lips on his. "Wanna take me back to your place?"

want more of the naked!couple? check out secrets (coming soon)

[spookberry]

Are there any non-humans in Monster High that are not considered a type of monster?

In g1 we have CA Cupid! She used to go to Monster High before transferring and shes a greek goddess, not a monster. Posea isnt a student but she is a part of the franchise and I'd argue shes a godess as well. I dont really consider either of them to be monsters.

I do wonder about mermaids and whether or not they're considered monsters? We have great scarrier reef where the ghouls all turn into mermaids, and also Finnigan exists. With the existence of Meeshell over in Ever After High. To me it kind of implies that mermaids are a kind of monster and shes more the exception than the rule... I wonder if the underwater world has its own cultural distinctions as well, if you consider how the reef dwellers treat the kraken.

Jinafire and Isi as well count more as mythological/magical creatures than they do monsters in my book.

Invisi Billy actually is one where I'm puzzled. MH doesn't really stick to the lore it pulls from in terms of Universal Studio Classics, obvi, but technically Billy's dad was a human man who fell into a science experiment. Billy in my mind fits in a weird grey zone where hes lumped in with monsters and considers himself part of that community but falls out of most peoples definition of what a monster is. But hes different enough to not he counted as human. 🤔

Also, technically speaking, I don't think ghosts consider themselves to be monsters in g1? Like they exist in their own dimension, and Spectra's family choosing to move to the monster world is seen as kinda scandalous. Monster society I'd say views ghosts as monsters but its not a label all ghosts subscribe too.

G3 lore states that everything is a monster type though, even humans. So in that universe the answer is no.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Too Sweet 💜 Chapter 5 - But who wants to live forever, babe?

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x (f)reader

SUMMARY: Coming from unabashed wealth has its perks — like never having to lift a finger in your life. When that suddenly changes, you end up at a crossroads: how far will you go to have everything you want?

WORD COUNT: 10.5k

GENRE: Crossroad Demon AU (Sloth), smut, angst

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: break-up talk, feelings of abandonement, (f) masturbation, tension, talks of death

A.N. You deal with the consequences of your wishes and your time ends. I hope the ending tracks and hits 💜 (The song mentioned is Ruin my life by Zara Larsson.)

Masterpost | Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

You screamed.

You rolled around in bed, tossing the sheets, kicking the air, screeching some deep anger, or maybe a form of agony. Yoongi couldn’t tell exactly; all he could do was look at you. He had stayed with you all night, making sure to give you comfort while you slept hanging onto him with your rigid fingers. Yet when morning came, he vanished from your eyes as he had vowed he would, and you weren’t taking it well.

“Yoongi.”

What started like a soft call that touched him in ways he didn’t understand became a cry for help before turning into a hateful shout. He didn’t take it personally; if anything, it reached a little deeper. You were probably feeling like you had lost everything, but you had decisions to make. He wanted you to realize that this was an opportunity: to stop counting on him and to make something of your last year on earth as a human.

He didn’t think your first instinct would be to cross your apartment and go straight to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a cigar and a bag of blue, small pills while you were at it. He sighed as he observed you, but did nothing to stop you.

You put everything on the glass coffee table in the center of your living room and ignored the red velvety couch, kneeling in front of it while you poured the whiskey messily. He saw you putting two pills in your mouth before you gulped a half glass in one go. It wasn’t that he was disappointed in your reaction or regretting his decision; more like he thought you knew it wouldn’t work.

You sat for a moment, letting it all sink in before you reached to grab the cigar, but you didn’t make it. You veered to the side and vomited everything you had taken in seemingly agonizing convulsions, before you fell back, panting. 

He wasn’t surprised when people knocked on your door, and neither were you. There would always be someone around to cater to your needs, as per your first wish. You simply sighed, saying you were fine before you grabbed the cigar and walked to the balcony. Yoongi followed you out, keeping his eyes on you while you faced the morning sun shimmering on the cityscape. He always liked how you looked, especially the way your cupid’s bow perked up as if asking for a bite. Your normally light eyes were dark with your thoughts, and your bed hair made you look even more aery. He hoped to see you rally, but you scoffed and put the cigar in your mouth, lighting it up in a quick succession of experimented gestures.

He didn’t even blink; you tried, but in an instant, you were coughing the smoke out, about to gag out of disgust. Someone who was cleaning inside came to check on you and you raised your hand for them to go back inside and eyed the cigar. He saw the moment your eyes lit up in realization — you had asked for this yourself. You asked to be free of the addiction, you couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen or force it upon yourself again.

He tilted his head, observing every microexpression. Technically, you could if you tried really hard. He thought you might, just out of spite, refusing to learn anything from all the sacrifices you had made, but then you rubbed your empty wrists and he pursed his lips. Your attachment to him could be something of an addiction too, and as you muttered his name, he closed his eyes.

No matter how much you called, he would never come to you. Well, at least not that you knew of. He would be there when you called, beyond the reach of your eyes, seeing you adjust and adapt to a life without him. He could feel your time ticking, he could see the sand grains falling in the narrow opening of the hourglass — why couldn’t you?

You spent a week crying, cooped up in your apartment, before you decided to rekindle a glimpse of normalcy in your life — the daily massages. He saw your determination as you made your way to the appointment you had missed for the last seven days, and wondered how you’d react when you made it there.

You staggered when you crossed the door of the spa on the first floor of your building. Jimin got up from the green armchair in the waiting room and extended his hand to you, and you took a step back. Yoongi could instantly see on your shoulders the weight of defeat, of regret. Your breathing changed with the anxiousness tensing you up despite Jimin’s pleas.

“Please, I— I just want to talk to you.” 

He looked hurt, too, with sunken cheeks and lifeless eyes. Now that he was looking at you, his heart beat a little faster, but he was still lost. Yoongi thought you saw it through your own hurt because your eyes watered, and your fingers twitched out of concern. You had rejected his offer when he tempted you with Jimin, but maybe now, faced with him, you’d change your mind.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

You guided him inside the spa and asked for an empty room that turned out to be a meeting room. Yoongi followed you and Jimin in silence. He didn’t care, he couldn’t be bothered, but he was curious about your decision. He wished you could see that, despite the spell, Jimin could bounce back if he was given the right incentive. Love took many forms, as many as there were hearts, and still some. Alternatively, you could just make the best of it and enjoy his affection and company for the time you had left. What you couldn’t do was tell him the truth and let him decide, so he wondered if you’d consider a white lie just so you could give him a choice. A false choice.

You took a few steps away from Jimin and ignored the supposed harmony of the room, with its lowered window blinds and light wall colors with bamboo wavering under an imaginary wind. Instead, you looked resolute.

“I’m sorry,” you started, and Jimin’s breath shook. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it, and I’m sorry I haven’t returned any of your calls. I’ve been— I’ve been trying to figure myself out.”

He nodded and licked his lips, and Yoongi pulled a chair to sit down. He guessed Jimin wasn’t dumb.

“Okay. And what did you conclude?”

“I’m still going through it but,” you looked down, selecting your words. “My decision hasn’t changed. I know it might not make sense to you, but I need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Jimin looked bewildered, “I do! I do, but— this doesn’t make any sense to me! You want me to just trust that ending things is— Is what? Something that needs to happen?”

“Yes.”

“Why?!” He stepped to you and you stood firm. Jimin respected the distance you imposed, and Yoongi thought he truly was a great guy. Better than Yoongi ever was, at least. “I don't get it! Is it your fault I fell in love with you? Sure! But why is that a mistake? Why does that need fixing?”

Your lips trembled and Yoongi saw that you couldn’t speak. You wanted to tell him the truth, but you couldn’t.

“It doesn’t matter, I— I couldn’t fix anything.”

“Of course not!” He was angry and hurt, “You thought I’d forget you that easily?!”

“That’s not what I—”

“I fucking love you! You thought I’d just forget the person I want to spend my life with?!”

You glanced up to the ceiling with tearful eyes, and Yoongi could almost read your thoughts — you wished he could.

“I never said that,” you finally breathed.

Jimin’s jaw twitched, “No, but you don’t believe me.”

“I do.”

“No.”

“Trust me,” your lips trembled. “I do.”

Jimin ran his fingers through his blonde hair and shook his head, “No. I can see it in your eyes,” his voice sounded tight with anguish. “You hear me, you see me, but you don’t. It’s as though I’m screaming mute, and you’re nodding just to accommodate me.” That shook you visibly, and Jimin insisted, “All I want is for you to actually listen.”

You gripped your hands and nodded, and Yoongi supported his head on his hand.

“I knew from the moment I saw you, there was something about you.” His eyes were locked with yours and you gulped. “Call it fate, attraction, love at first sight— I don’t know, and I don’t care! I just knew, and everything was perfect ever since. You and I— I don’t think it’s even contestable how much we fit. I don’t need to draw you a picture because you know. You feel it too.”

You stayed quiet, and Yoongi couldn’t decide if that was a dick move or self-preservation.

“So when you tell me you want to end things, it’s like nothing makes sense! Nothing!” He insisted, voice wavering with the tears in his brown eyes. “Because I know you love me too!”

“You’re right, I do,” you acceded, and it looked to Yoongi like you were opting for the truth. “But I’m not your future.”

“How can you say that?!” Which would upset Jimin, of course.

“Because I know it’s the truth,” your lips curved in a beautiful small smile and Yoongi almost cursed. It would be easier to make the man hate you if you didn’t look heavenly without trying. Jimin would be a stupid man to let you go. “I believe there’s another fated love out there for you. I wish you find each other and live a happy, wholesome life together.”

Jimin shook his head in aversion and confusion, “No!! What the hell are you—?”

He stopped and Yoongi rubbed his mouth. You were saying goodbye and it was quite firm.

Jimin became livid, “If I made a mistake, I—”

“You didn’t,” you countered firmly, stepping forward. “I don’t want you to think that for a second.”

It was the first time you gave him something and Jimin couldn’t help himself, “We don’t have to marry.”

“It’s not that.”

“How can you say that?!”

“Jimin—”

“I mention it, and suddenly you want to end everything! I should have never said anything!”

“No, I’m happy you did,” you stepped again to face him, and you were earnest. “It opened my eyes to the decisions I was making, to— to the way I was living. It’s not about you. I’m not ready, Jimin.”

He looked hopeless, “What?”

“I’m not ready to— to live such a grand love,” you smiled sadly as you said it, and Jimin’s voice wavered as he protested with your name. “I screwed it up for myself, and for you by extension. I know what I’m doing, so won't you please trust me?”

Jimin’s desperation overturned in the tears streaming down his face and Yoongi got up. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry,” you finally raised your arms to offer a hug, and he let you, hiding his sobs in your neck.

You kept comforting him, and Yoongi had to admit it was sweet. You managed to appeal to his senses with a truth that he couldn’t defy. Yoongi could see it in the way his shoulders shook in sorrow — he respected you as a person and your decision. Even to Yoongi, it would always be elusive if Jimin genuinely loved you or was compelled by demonic magic, but that right there could be undeniable proof of authenticity. Hellish magic had a way of warping things, of distorting them, especially feelings. Jimin could have turned out to be obsessive, but he respected you enough to end things. 

“I’ll still be your biggest fan, no matter what,” you promised, still well in his embrace.

“You don't have to lose me,” he pulled away to face you, and Yoongi nodded — there it was. “I don't want you to! We could— We could stay friends or—”

“I can’t handle that,” you confessed, brushing his hair to the side.

He pursed his lips and saw your arms letting him go before he asked, “Will I ever know why you’re making this decision?”

You pressed your lips, but you never answered his question.

Yoongi was proud of how you handled your mistakes regarding your fated love, but he kept checking in on you. At first, you kept calling for him multiple times a day, and he always went to you, even if you never knew. He was there the day you tried drinking again, only to shatter the glass against a wall, and when you tried gambling all your money away only to have more pop up the next day, miraculously.

Because he was always there, he saw the moment you stopped crying and peeked your head out of the sheets, facing your empty wrists. He was sitting on the bed next to you, and your wet, puffy face still revealed to him the extent of your thoughts: he wasn’t coming. It was the way you pursed your lips in irritation and sorrow, not knowing he was right there next to you, right before you sat up and decided to grab your phone and call someone. 

Something changed for you that day, as though a switch was flipped. He never knew exactly what, only that you took a quick shower and headed out with determination. He followed you; you met with friends and tried being lively, and he thought it was sincere. He just couldn’t wrap his head around what it was that comforted you enough to get out of bed.

Time passed and although you’d only call for him once daily, he’d still accompany you for far more than that. You were finding your structure, trying to find things you liked and could dedicate yourself to, and there were green flags all around, but still. He kept showing up, always with an urge, a twitch he couldn’t shake off.

Time passed differently for him, and he was afraid of missing something important. That was why he was now facing the window of that luxurious gentleman’s den — which was really a demon den — while drinking his neat whiskey and ignoring the other demons in the room. A month into stepping away from your life, he found himself more invested than ever before, choosing to see you on the window instead of his reflection. He didn’t even notice his breath caught at the sight — you had been contacting people, but now you were finally at a music label. Standing in front of a studio assigned to you to give it a try, your hand was hovering above the doorknob, hesitating. His heart was racing as if he could rush there and grab your hand around it, taking that step with you.

His lips twitched when you grabbed the doorknob. Then, upon seeing the room, you took a deep breath and entered it. His eyes teared up.

“Are you checking on that soul again?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling that victory close to his heart. He probably shouldn’t feel that way, but he couldn’t think about it right now.

“I personally wouldn’t want to keep snacking on the same soul but…”

Yoongi turned and took his glass to his mouth, seeing Hoseok shrug on the chestnut leather armchair. On the chair next to his was Namjoon, who had originally asked the question; meanwhile, Taehyung was contemplating his options from the liquor cabinet.

“We all know some are sweeter than others,” his tone was velvety right as his tongue peeked between his teeth and he reached for a bottle. “Maybe Suga here was just lucky with this one.”

Yoongi finished his drink, the one from his private collection that, unbeknownst to you, you had helped curate, and placed his glass on a nearby table. The heavy carpet in shades of yellow and black muffled his steps as he gathered a new drink from the four Taehyung was serving.

“Hmm,” Hoseok twisted his nose before he accepted the drink from Namjoon. “There’s something about someone who is too sweet.”

Yoongi didn’t reply nor indulge in their conversation. Instead, he moved back to the window and took another peek: you were sitting down in front of the console, but your eyes fell on the piano inside the recording room, and you couldn’t stop yourself. He watched with bated breath as you sat down, placed your fingers over the keys, and pressed. His heart thrummed in response, and he blinked.

His reflection showed instead, including the unshed tears in his dark eyes, and he was bewildered. He hadn't shed tears in forever. Why now?

“If I didn’t know better… I’d say you’re in love.”

Taehyung’s voice was cloying, the impossibility of his suggestion beyond a tease and far into the realm of absurdity. So it was no surprise the whole room laughed and Yoongi's lips twitched with derision.

He took the glass to his lips, swallowing the bitter choice — he knew he couldn’t love.

Regardless of how many whiskeys Yoongi drank, all made him twist his nose. He couldn’t help it — all carried an acridity that offended his palate, or maybe it was just him trying to recall a fond taste that nothing could match.

The reason for his bitterness came down to the irrationality of his actions. The other demons would tease him at times about his attitude, and it was not that he cared — every single one of them had their illogical moments too. The problem was that he didn’t know why he was acting like this, but he had been giving it some thought.

The tears — it was the moment he was forced to admit it, but there was more. You had accused him of breaking the rules, and he couldn’t deny it, though he was sure you didn’t know how far he had gone. Giving freebies was frowned upon, but preventing you from making stupid wishes? Unheard of. No one would bat an eye at his refusal to take you earlier, as that was against good practice, but fucking you until you took a wish back? Everyone would lose their minds if they knew.

Which they wouldn’t, and although he didn’t care, he still went to you to figure it out. You stopped calling him daily and three months in, you looked well. He observed you leading your life, chatting, sleeping, or scrolling on your phone, with a sense that was unfamiliar and didn’t clarify anything for him.

Not in the beginning, but as he observed you, he ascertained a few things. You knew his name, but he wasn’t worried about it at all. He didn’t believe you’d use it, as you hadn’t, and you never wrote it down or uttered it to anyone else ever since. He didn’t fear you’d take your own life or ruin your life; you were doing well now. So what was it that made him look at the window again and instantly take a look at you?

He closed his eyes, forcing the scent of the cigar to pull him back to the demon den where he spent most of his downtime, like now. Anything to curb the need to find out where you were because one glimpse showed him that you were nervous about something, and now he was unsettled.

“Here.”

Yoongi heaved a deep breath, letting the exquisite combination of woodiness and leather of the cigar’s fume scratch his tongue before turning around. Jin was holding a neat whiskey for him to take.

“Why are you so obsessed with this human?” Jin asked, and Yoongi took a sip, grimacing instantly. It wasn’t right. “She’s already yours.”

Jin sat down on an armchair and the invitation for Yoongi to sit beside him on the other one was clear. They were alone, and Yoongi wouldn’t have bothered sitting or replying if that wasn’t his mentor.

He sat down, “She is.”

His tone was low and quiet, and the way he instantly took another sip didn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

Jin scrunched his nose a little, then suddenly gasped, “Is she related to June?” Yoongi nodded and Jin laughed wholeheartedly, “Ah, that one.” His smile danced on his lips for a moment. “I must confess I still remember her, even almost a century later,” he licked his lips. “Lucky you to get her descendant.” Yoongi didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on his drink. “Is she leaving offspring?”

“No.”

“Oh. Such a shame,” Yoongi could tell Jin meant it. “June had a very sweet soul, it was a total contradiction to her personality,” he smirked, licking his lips again. “Her great-granddaughter would too.” Yoongi still didn’t budge and Jin looked away, “I’ve always had a sweet tooth.”

Yoongi remained impassive, though he was remembering your sweet taste. Your soul belonged to him, no one would ever be able to take it, steal it, or touch it, and so he was at ease.

“I can see you do too.”

Yoongi thought about ignoring Jin, but in the end, all he did was take another bittersweet sip. “Not sweet enough.”

Jin grinned and drew the glass to his perfect plum lips; no, he could guess no one would ever compare to you.

Something echoed in the air, like a doorbell chiming, and both demons knew automatically where it was coming from and whose turn or turf it was. 

Jin kept drinking, and Yoongi nodded, “You can have this one.”

Jin swallowed harshly as his eyebrows shot up. Yoongi could be going through whatever that was, but to refuse a soul was—

He got up and Jin understood without words. “Alright.”

Yoongi took a deep drag from his cigar before vanishing, releasing the smoke as he transposed planes all the way to you. Your soul had called to him at the same time, and if the other soul sounded like a bell chiming, yours sounded like a piano brightening the fluttering wings of a butterfly — quite simply irresistible.

He found you in a studio room with a man, each of you in your own chairs, listening to a string melody coming from the speakers. You were wearing something comfortable, as you did when you went to the studio these days, and were looking down, rubbing your wrists gently as you listened in silence.

I miss you pushing me close to the edge, I miss you

It was your voice, your song, and suddenly the excitement was looking to burst out of him.

You set fire to my world, couldn't handle the heat

Now I'm sleeping alone and I'm starting to freeze

Baby, come bring me hell

Let it rain over me

Baby, come back to me

His grin widened as he heard you, and he let his head fall back, closed his eyes, and enjoyed it.

I want you to ruin my life, you to ruin my life, you to ruin my life, yeah

He loved that the piano set the tone of each verse, that a quick beat mimicked a racing heartbeat, and that it was exulting. By the time the bridge was repeating, he opened his eyes to look at you, and something overheated inside him, like a motor about to explode. You wanted him to bring you hell and ruin your life, and little did you know how much he wanted to grab you, kiss you, and do just that.

He didn’t because the man in the room shook his head in disbelief, “You call this a guide track?”

You shrugged, “Yeah, why not?”

“This— We could record it, but your vocals are—” He seemed incredulous that you were simply staring at him, not seeing it. “It’s good! There’s emotion, and your range is beautiful! If you want to rethink starting a career as—”

“I don’t,” you raised your hand firmly. “All I want is to be free to create as many songs as I please.”

The man sighed and Yoongi lowered his eyes. “Okay, well. I won’t fight you.” You nodded and meant to pass on to something else, but he continued, “But I do want to ask… If you’d be okay with Jimin singing this.”

You stopped and looked at the man, who was in all likelihood a producer, and hesitated.

“I know you guys ended things, but he said he’d like to listen to anything you make.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched in a knowing smile as you thought it over. You had stayed away from Jimin, who had surprisingly respected your decision and done the same. You were both fated to love and care for one another in your own ways, so Yoongi wondered what your response would be: a firm no, or a ceding yes.

“You can give it to him to see if he’d like it, on the condition that he doesn’t know it’s mine,” you decided. “I don’t want that to be a ruling factor on whether he picks it.”

“He’ll know as soon as he hears it.”

“You can tell him I just recorded the track.”

The man opened his mouth to continue giving you arguments but decided to stop there. Your gaze was resolute both in your decision and the wish to move on to work on something else, and the producer got up and left, resigned.

You put black headphones on and started working on something else while Yoongi stared at you. He could hear it in the back of his mind — you asking him so beautifully for him to ruin your life — and it made him want to get on his knees and hold you.

That was the moment that your surroundings hit him and everything made sense, like a card slotting in place. He wrapped his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder as you hummed something. You couldn’t feel him, but he could feel you, and he closed his eyes. You breathed music, you were the kind of muse he couldn’t deny, and he got it.

He wasn’t just proud that you were finally free from your shackles, fulfilling your soul’s desires, he was living it as well. There was an inevitability to it all. The way you two resembled one another, at least the human he once was, pulled a chord inside a heart he didn’t know he had. How else could he justify always going back to you? Pushing you to do better? Getting annoyed when you swerved from the path and avoided your true calling? The color and melody of your soul that he could see so clearly and held so dearly?

He just wished for you to make it. Because if you did, then maybe a part of him, the human remnants, would feel vindicated too. 

But that couldn’t be the only reason why. He breathed in the sugary white raspberry scent seeping from your hair, feeling the compulsion, demonic or otherwise, to own you. To at least be a part of you in any way he could, and as you experimented with effects and chuckled, he almost turned you to face him to kiss you desperately.

He remembered his reaction when you asked for that human, Jimin, to love you. Yoongi had made a mistake that day — he got too involved. He knew that you’d encounter Jimin at that party, and he wasn’t able to resist seeing it happen. He had the distinct impression that your soul didn’t change as much as it should have from such a life defining encounter, but it didn’t matter because when you called for Yoongi, you had Jimin on your mind.

It was no coincidence that Yoongi had gripped your flesh and fucked you onto that mattress, wishing to leave his mark on you. It was not by accident that he didn’t go to you in those six months that you were with Jimin, that he purposefully eradicated you from his mind and was bitter at anything remotely sweet. He thought he had become stupidly attached and even mocked himself for it — as if he, a demon, could get pussy whipped or something. But now, he could see it — and it was so simple.

If you had met as humans, you would have been explosive. He would have loved you madly. A part of him wished that would have happened.

He chuckled; of course, it would have been a disaster. He left you to your creations in that studio room, and his consciousness stretched as he made his way back to his plane. With both your addiction problems, you both would have probably died fairly quickly. But it would have been mad and passionate, and you would have birthed amazing, unparalleled music.

Unfortunately, none of that mattered. He was a demon, you were never alive at the same time and you had a fated love. Maybe that was why he gave you what you wanted and stepped back. If experiencing a bit of fated love would snap you out of it and make you live the rest of your life, then he’d do it. And he did. Only to realize that it hurt you, that helping you made things worse.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. He could only shrug; he was a demon.

But that was when he realized that by trying to help you, he was feeding your spiral instead of helping you get out of it. Leaving and never showing up again was the best he could have done, right after refusing your last wish. 

He couldn’t give you what you wanted and had refused to see why for so long, but not anymore. He couldn’t steal your last opportunity to fulfill yourself and reach a little bit of happiness. He couldn’t punish you and take away the little time you had left, he wanted to see you fly. For his own selfish reasons, maybe, but also just for the sheer pleasure of it.

And now you were where you should have been all along, releasing bits and pieces of your sweet soul. He was proud, even if he hadn’t done anything, or arguably, made it all harder. Part of him hated that he ever offered you a deal, but if it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else.

Now you belonged to him. You wouldn’t consume each other in your love to make amazing music as humans, but fate was not unkind. Soon, he’d have you to himself. For now, however, he would have to be contented with just visiting you and listening without partaking.

That was how he found himself in yet another visit. This time you were in your apartment, windows open with the curtains almost floating in the air. He chuckled, seeing that it was late morning, and you were still in your bed, but then he heard something.

Your moans were short and sweet, almost like a hiss, and he stopped at the sliding doors of the bedroom. His gut twisted and he scowled at himself. The human remnants of his soul were always the strongest near you, as he had come to realize, but maybe it had come the time to squish them. Maybe seeing you with someone would effectively rid him of that annoying trace.

Doors meant nothing to him, he just passed right through, only to stop in surprise. You were alone.

He got near you and kneeled on the bed, swallowing dryly at the sight. You were naked over your black silk sheets, facing up with your legs parted and a hand giving you the rubbing that was making you squirm and huff. He ate the image of you like an animal starved, watching your slick drip down onto your sheets as you bucked your hips to intensify the feeling. 

Inadvertently, his hands found their spot atop your knees, but he controlled himself in time so that you wouldn’t feel it. It was hard for him, though. Your breathing was intensifying, your tongue peeking between your teeth, while you raised your free hand above your head as if you wanted it pinned down. And fuck, did he want to give you everything you desired. Just the sight could drive him mad; he knew how much of a vice you could be, tightening around him mercilessly. He knew how sweet you tasted and how easily he could brighten your soul just by ramming his cock inside you and making you see stars.

He was burning, going mad, delirious from keeping himself at bay for so long. With every moan, he thought the next would be the one to break him. He fought himself with all his might, the claws looking to snatch you for eternity extending and barely grazing your skin, until finally you gasped.

He saw you squirming in pleasure, moaning anxiously as you rolled your hips, coaxing him to drool and leak like crazy right before you. 

When you settled down, he almost cursed you. You couldn’t know how crazy you rendered him; insane and mindless, and he wished he could do the same to you. He wished he was driving you up the wall, but you were but a fickle human. It had been six months since you last saw him, you’d have forgotten him by now, and—

You chuckled with your forearm over your eyes, “Kitten.”

You pulled your knees away as you rolled to put your feet on the floor and step away. The sound of you showering and singing was carried all the way to him, but he was still as you had unknowingly left him: kneeling on your bed, frozen with his head hanging low. 

Six months passed and there were still six more to go, and yet… he was the one you were thinking about.

He pulled the hair out of his face and took a deep breath, your perfume and arousal still hanging in the air, then bit his lip. Something was happening inside his chest, something he didn’t know was possible, and he couldn’t help a sneer. He blamed the single human heart string still left inside his heart, the one that only you could pull.

He never knew he could feel this way, but he was counting down the days. He regretted nothing, and he could wait. The best whiskeys had to sit in barrels for a long time until they matured to perfection. Six months wasn’t long, and he had your music to fill his ears. He could wait.

You woke up with a ping from your phone and as you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom, you let reality dawn on you — that was it. You sat up and pulled the AirPods out of your ears before you rubbed your eyes and let the muffled sounds of the city reach your ears. You couldn’t sleep the night before, both in excitement and nervousness, so you had decided to close your eyes and listen to music, finding comfort in the lullabies and soundtracks you had composed over the last year. Some could have stayed up doing crazy things in their last hours on earth, but not you. You had planned your last twenty-four hours to make sure you did everything you wanted and needed to, and sleeping, even if only a few hours, was fortunate.

You reached for your phone and your chest filled with relief. Finally. 

You got up, put a black silk robe on, and got to your piano room — a fairly recent addition to your apartment, all things considered. You had worried for the last couple of months that the one thing you had decided to do and leave behind wouldn’t become official on time, but you just received good news: you succeeded.

You walked into the room with dark wood floor and floor-to-ceiling windows letting the morning sun and skyline comfort you, and then you sat on the red velvety piano stool and took a deep breath. The nonprofit organization you had founded and coordinated for a year to ensure equal treatment and protection of professional rights in the music industry had been finally officially recognized by the government. This meant that it could provide counseling to professionals and fight for their rights, whether economical, social, or legal. Your shoulders relaxed as you let the worry dissipate from your body; that was one of the items on your bucket list. Now, you could get started on the others.

Your fingers touched the keys, but you didn’t press them. This was a very important moment for you, and it couldn’t be rushed. You had spent the last month composing multiple melodies and accompaniment to what you had hoped to create today: your last song. The only testament that mattered in the end; the only way you’d be able to leave behind the truth to anyone who would listen.

You made sure the microphones were close to the piano soundboard and turned the recording on before adjusting yourself. You closed your eyes, trying to let the moment take you. It would be the last piece of your soul that you’d leave behind, and you wanted it to be as genuine as possible.

You started delicately on keys with more treble, softly pressing them as a chick would chirp after hatching from its egg. You were born in a loving nest, innocent to the world around you darkening as sickness ravished your mother. You matched your innocence with darker tones, establishing a baseline you didn’t quite understand at the time. Yet, everything would take its toll, even on you. As your mother lost the ability to grow your family, it caused a rift. 

You tried to reach out to your parents but soon discovered that you were surrounded by tutors and incentivized to learn as many skills and talents as possible, not so you could make them proud, but so that you’d fit a list of requirements for your solitary standing. They didn’t congratulate you for your swimming medals, prizes for winning obstacle tracks in equestrian competitions, or trophies for your ballet performances. You would strain yourself trying to achieve the highest graces, have good grades, and excel in your piano lessons, but your parents never showed to your recitals or school meetings. Your nanny assured you they saw the videos and bragged about it to all their friends, and you wondered why they wouldn’t celebrate with you, then. The void grew between you and them, and you never learned to fly properly. Rather, you learned nothing could bridge the gap, neither the good nor the bad; they just weren’t there.

You pressed the keys more softly, trying to push the melody from lower to higher registers in an attempt to fill the emptiness inside your chest. Because although your parents never cared, the piano was always there for you. It didn’t hurt you, it listened, and it always let you echo your thoughts. You thought you had found your calling, and you pressed the keys gently, tentatively; the more you tried and delved into the world of music, the surer you became.

But you were naive. The piano was good and tried to keep you safe, but there was this spiral, and you thought it would lead you up, into a higher understanding, into love, but it went down, and down. So low you became spent and graceless, dwindling like a flame smothered by a cup. You needed something to help your broken and abused soul surrounded by nothing but darkness.

You found it in sparks. Sparks and sprinkles, as exciting as the higher keys you were pressing, but equally fleeting. They were a boost, a thrill, a euphoric moment of rapture, and a delusion. Because as those notes became ever ephemeral, so did your semblance of control. The void in their absence imposed grueling efforts to keep you afloat, and you struggled.

Your fingers pressed the keys desperately, oscillating between highs and lows as you tried to keep your head above water. You weren’t good, you were never assembled properly, you had no purpose, and sooner or later, you had to leave the nest. You didn’t expect to be kicked out coldly and at the same time thought it was fitting, seeing the lows you had reached.

Then, the register of your life changed because, in a turn of events, you had a choice. A choice of grand potential for a hefty price. You had no idea what you were doing, only that you wanted to be in the comfort you had known all your life, so you made a deal to ensure you wouldn’t lose what you knew, perpetuating the same vicious cycle that had kept you stuck and in the dark.

However, something unexpected came with that deal — someone. Someone who filled your baseline with shades of blue in a baritone range that tried balancing your deregulated soprano cries. Your life became lavish but eventually guided, and despite your mishaps, he was there. In spite of your mistakes, flaws, and petty decisions, regardless of his enabling role — he was there. 

But you didn’t know better. You refused to open your eyes, attempting to replace one addiction with another until you made the most egregious mistake.

You paused in an attempt to find the right key. Love was like the first sun rays of morning, and fated love was like a summer day. Yet, you knew and valued neither. You couldn’t recognize it from the bubble you were in, and so you twisted your red string of fate until it became feeble. Exhausted of integrity, there was nothing left, and you lost it all. It took a sizable fall for you to realize that life couldn’t be lived without hardships, that struggle brought purpose, that love was worth burning for, and that fate was but a potential course of action. You had picked your love over a year before fate presented itself, and you should have known better than to threaten and push him away.

But there was hope. You realized it the second you recalled the look in his eyes right before a tender last kiss and goodbye — you were given a chance. Because although there was a price to pay for your blindness and recklessness, your potential never waned. It took you a moment to see it, but now you were finally free. There was freedom in solitude, in living for yourself and deciphering what could make your last year worth it rather than living for someone else, or dreading anyone else, including yourself.

That was why your song would end on a high note — on a hopeful spring morning about to dawn. Not for yourself, but for the roots you planted. For others to have opportunities in your wake.

Your fingers stopped, and you looked down, feeling the smooth key surfaces almost as if they were part of you. That was where you wanted your story to end, that was what you were able to tell.

Before heading to the studio room, you stopped the recording and brushed your hand over the piano in a last goodbye. You put your headset on and spent the next hours mixing the other melodies and instruments with yours. You didn’t eliminate mistakes or fill the pauses — you wanted everything exactly as you expressed originally.

Because of your preparation and how long you had spent envisioning your legacy, you finished the song quite rapidly. You were happy with it and right on time for your daily massage.

You smiled and waved at everyone on your way to your appointment, asking your masseuse trivial things before you started. You had since learned her name, that her grandmother was sick, and that she had gotten that job by accident when another professional had failed to show up during recruitment. You had become intrigued with hearing other’s stories, searching to learn and live other experiences through them, since you wouldn’t have the time to do it yourself.

During the relaxing time of your massage, soothed by the ringing of the Tibetan Singing Bowl and the water streaming peacefully from the speakers, your mind wandered. Today was about closing chapters, and you were well on your way and had decided not to bother Jimin. You had spoken with his manager since Jimin had chosen songs of yours to perform and kept in touch. You knew that he was holding up well and although his manager never mentioned it directly, he didn’t have to. Whenever Jimin was seen in public, even now, a year later, he still had the pendant you gave him on your three-month anniversary. You remembered him fondly and suspected he did too. Whenever you crossed paths, he was gentle and never once imposing or invasive — he respected your decision and didn’t hate you for it, which you were grateful for. You’d like to believe he found comfort in the thought of you, as you did of him, and that his love could one day transform into affection for a close friend. Maybe it already had.

It was a good outcome for such a colossal mistake — not caring for him or meeting him, but forcing him to feel something that, in the end, might not have happened to begin with. You realized in hindsight, after processing your feelings and decisions, that you had made your choice before you acknowledged it. Just as you revealed during your song, you had chosen Yoongi before fate presented you with Jimin. And you didn’t do it just by taking the deal, but because you depended on him, opened yourself to him, and yearned for him long before you were aware. Jimin was a calm ocean, whereas Yoongi was a succession of massive waves you were eager to surf.

You probably should have never fallen for him, never made the deal, never looked at him twice, never let yourself feel cradled and safe in his presence, but it still happened. And maybe it had been for the best too, because you weren’t sure you would have ever met Jimin or composed any lullabies otherwise. You had become a person so lazy that you refused to get clean, preferring to die on a hill from dehydration and cardiac arrest rather than yield and fight for yourself. Yoongi cured you so you could see past it, and maybe Jimin could have as well, but you doubted you’d live enough to meet to him. You were even too lazy to wait for his love to bloom naturally — it could be that the person you had become just didn’t deserve him altogether.

As you got back to your apartment, you mused over every little choice that led you to the big decisions down the line. You were in love with a demon and about to be taken by him and still, you were nothing but calm. What did that make you? You shrugged and left the elevator — you felt how you felt, it was a bit too late for regrets.

“Ah, miss.” You nodded at the maid who usually tended to your needs, Vera. “The organization has just sent something in for your approval.”

She stepped aside for you to enter your apartment, the black silk robe rustling at your passage. You noticed the big frame on your red velvet couch and went in that direction, pulling the white sheet over it to reveal a portrait. A big portrait of you with a fairly gentle expression, glistening eyes, and long hair falling over your shoulder. Behind you, there were depictions of recording rooms, concert halls with orchestras, and on the corner, a grand black piano that you brushed your fingers over.

You analyzed the drawings around your figure more than your face and noticed something was missing. The portrait of your great-grandmother came to mind and your lips twitched. Unlike hers, yours didn’t involve darkness, but she had portrayed something important that yours lacked. Maybe you could ask Yoongi to add it before taking you.

“What do you think?” You asked Vera, whose wide blue eyes displayed her shock at being asked.

You chuckled; she couldn’t seem to get used to it.

“You look splendid!”

You pursed your lips, “But what about my legacy?” She blinked, caught off guard, and you pointed, “What represents me — does it make sense?”

“Of course!” She stepped forward to your side, and you waited patiently for her analysis. She was shorter than you, but delicate in her mannerisms. At about your age, you hoped she’d have a long life ahead of her. “They could have added children or the cartoons. You know, the ones you develop the soundtracks for.”

“Children?”

“For the lullabies.”

You chuckled, “Well. It might have made it goofy,” you shrugged, though a smile adorned your lips the whole time. “It should be serious, after all. The first of many.”

“You’ll probably have another one done down the line,” Vera mused. You were quiet but your eyes on her were just enough to pressure her to explain, “This is just the beginning of the organization and your leadership will last for many years.”

Your lips twitched; she was endearing, but there would be a new president of the organization very soon. 

“Thank you, Vera. It can stay there while I think about it, but in case anyone asks, it’s perfect.”

Vera nodded and left after probing whether you’d like brunch or lunch, and you refused both, much to her disappointment. You didn’t want her to find you dead and had tried to give her the day off, but she had declined — yet another thing you would bring up with Yoongi.

You glanced at the portrait again and nodded. You were happy everything was set and prepared for your inevitable passing. All your wealth would be left to the non-profit organization, all jobs associated with you would be secured, and your presence would linger in the cartoons and music spread all around, immortalizing you, in a sense. Not that you wanted that, but you did find joy in hearing your melodies played, regardless of the medium, and found the thought that it would outlast you comforting.

You sat by your desk and faced the blank sheets of paper before you. You had thought long and hard and, despite being estranged, decided you should leave something to your parents too.

You thought it would be harder to put your feelings to paper, but it was surprisingly easy. There was no point in grudges or accusations, or in causing pain or reopening wounds. You wanted them to have peace.

You started with your father’s, remembering the letter he had left you the day he kicked you out.

I know you probably regret it, but I wish you didn’t. Your efforts gave me a chance I was not ready to take. As a parent, that was all you could have done. In the end, I’m still thankful for all the opportunities that brought me here, even the ones I couldn’t appreciate before.

Then you wrote the one to your mother. It took you a moment to begin.

How difficult it must have been to suffer for so long to keep the promise to not let me go through life alone. I wish I could erase the pain that both the cancer and the loss of a child marked on your heart. I wish you had not seen me grow to become yet another pain. As always, I wanted to make you proud of the kid you had, or if not, for you to at least remember me. I’m sorry I failed to see that there was no way you could have forgotten. The right way to make you proud was to be happy; I lost track of that somewhere. I wish for you to know that I’ve found it, somewhat. I hope you know I’m happy, and that you can find happiness in that too.

You took a third paper sheet and thought of Jimin. You were afraid of how the news would impact him, and so you kept your message simple.

Please be happy, mimi. I wish for that with all of my heart.

Unlike your parent's letters, left folded and addressed over your desk, Jimin’s stayed in your hands. You looked at the clock and sighed, getting up to sit on your bed as you faced the city out of the window. Asking Yoongi’s opinion could prove unwise, but he would know. You hadn’t seen him in a year, but you trusted the demon you knew — the one who wouldn’t lie to you.

You quite simply waited for him like this. None of what you had done had changed anything — you still sold your soul, committed your sins, and were ready to be taken. You were more nervous about Yoongi’s thoughts on how you spent your last year than anything else. You pressed your lips; you wanted to make him proud.

You didn’t notice the clock pointer rushing over the twelve, only the growling. You turned to the slid-open doors of your bedroom to find Yoongi there, standing in his black suit, looking at you. Your eyes watered at the ethereal sight; not that you could have forgotten, but he was even more breathtaking than your memory could do justice. And he was there, just like he promised.

You glanced at the dogs, each by his side, black fur shrouded in mist with red glistening eyes trained on you. They were growling loudly but didn’t show signs of impatience, and you smiled.

“Legends speak of hounds that chase people like me.”

“They won’t chase you,” he said, and your heart shook.

“I wouldn’t run.”

Tears ran down your face as you got up with Jimin’s letter still tucked in your hands. You weren’t sad per se; you were very happy to see him again.

He entered the room, walking in your direction, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Despite your cry, he didn’t seem worried. Rather, he seemed impatient.

“Did you finish all your business?”

Your lips twitched in a smile, and you wiped your cheeks, “I knew you’d ask.” You raised the letter in between you two, “It’s for Jimin. I… don’t know if I should send it.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to make things worse for him,” you confessed, unsure on how much you should reveal. Gazing up into his eyes, you knew you didn’t have to go into details. “I just wanted him to know that I wish for him to find happiness, but I don’t know if it will make sense to him. You know, when I pass.”

Yoongi was silent, and you raised your eyes to him. There was no judgment on his delicate features; if anything, only understanding. “I can make it look like something sudden that you could be somewhat aware of. Like an aneurysm or a stroke.”

Your lips parted in surprise, and then you considered it, “The drugs… would have made it possible, no?” Yoongi nodded. “And that would justify why I’m leaving a letter like this. Okay, that’s a good idea,” you agreed, though you instantly filled your chest with air. You wondered if it would hurt. “Do you think it will help him? To deal with my— death?”

“I think he’ll be mad about it forever,” he revealed, shifting on his feet. 

“Why? If it was something unpreventable and sudden like this, shouldn’t it be…”

You couldn’t find the words, and he didn’t wait for you, “Whatever little time he could have had with you, he would have preferred it. Especially if you knew your days were numbered.”

You chuckled bitterly, “Then it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he interrupted as you shifted the letter between your hands. “To receive a letter means you thought of him. Thought to give him closure. He will hate it because he had no control over it, but he’ll be comforted by the fact that you thought of him. Love… takes many forms.”

You smiled, “Okay, then let’s do that.” You placed the letter over your nightstand then turned to him, “There are… a couple of things I’d like to ask of you.”

He sighed, but you could see through his exasperation; he wasn’t annoyed, he expected it. “Yes?”

“Could Vera not find me dead? I don't want to traumatize her.”

He frowned, “Vera?”

“My maid.”

He blinked before chuckling, “Sure.”

“And… could you give my portrait a final touch?” He raised an eyebrow, and you pointed out of the room at the couch, “You’re missing in it.”

“This one?” He asked, and as you blinked, he was holding the portrait. 

You hummed, observing his reaction as he gazed upon that depiction of you. He took longer than you would have expected, going over every little detail. You couldn’t help your nervousness; it was as though he was evaluating your performance. Not of the painting, but of your life. You bit your lip with curiosity.

“And I’m missing?”

He glanced at you, and you nodded before he returned to the image with pursed lips. He was taking his time, and you couldn’t have guessed his thoughts — your cupid’s bow was much perkier than that.

“How should I do it?”

You mused about it and let your head lean against his arm as you observed the painting. “Something blue.”

His eyes stayed on you before he rubbed the portrait with his thumb ever so slightly. A shade of blue under the piano replaced its shadow, and you smiled. You felt incredibly at ease — now it was complete.

You straightened up and nodded, and in a second the portrait was over your couch again.

“Thank you.”

“Ready?”

Your smile widened, “Yes.”

You became deaf to the growling, the city noise, or even the thumping of your heart as you faced him. Your eyes drank every microexpression on his marble skin as you waited with bated breath for him to touch you. You didn’t know what was supposed to happen, only that you’d belong to him, and that was enough. You could only hope you’d get to feel his touch before dying, that you could remember the ache inside your chest at your longing, and that you’d see him again.

The back of his finger touched your cheek and your breath caught. The way he was looking at you entranced you and made you forget about everything that wasn’t your reunion. His dark eyes glistened with something you couldn’t decipher, but that had a sweet flame licking up your stomach to your chest, only to tighten its hold when his thumb brushed over your lips. You held your breath, unable to do anything that could stop this when he suddenly leaned in and crashed your mouths together. He raised you to him by the waist, lips voraciously devouring you, your taste, and your every breath. You met his hunger, gripping his dark hair so he’d stay forever on your lips, and you believed then that maybe he had been waiting for this just like you.

You didn’t want your kiss to simmer out, but his hand on your neck reassured you when he pulled away. You could see hunger and maybe even desperation in his glistening dark eyes, but then he blinked, and you knew it was time. He only needed one nod to press your lips ardently again, and you let go. You melted in his arms, guided by his taste and tongue as you abandoned your volition. Whatever he decided was what you wanted as well as long as he never let go, and he wouldn’t. You trusted him absolutely.

The flames of your desire and passion were rampant in you, without a semblance of weakness, not now that he was holding you. But you were used to your fervent yearning, so you didn’t understand when it went beyond your threshold until a second too late. Your heart beat intensely and your nails sank into his flesh, and as your mind flooded with dopamine, all you saw was white.

You woke up utterly dazed and confused, so nauseated you couldn’t distinguish above from below. But as you trashed around, trying to free your limbs and breathe, you realized you were on an expansive bed, fighting silk sheets. 

You sat up with your long hair falling messily over your face and frowned. You were in a wide bedroom with a tall ceiling with celestial scenes depicted and a large chandelier with black candles hanging from it. Over you, were black silk sheets just like the ones you liked, and over them and around you, red velvety pillows and blankets. The walls were dark, just like the floor, and to the side, the floor-to-ceiling windows let an unnatural shine in. You had no idea where you were and as you touched your chest and neck, you noticed your familiar black silk robe. Then you touched your lips, remembering just how frantically you were kissing him and—

You pushed the covers and jumped off the bed, running straight for the door. Tears were threatening to stream down your face not because you regretted or because you were frightened, but because you were alone.

Yoongi.

Your heart called out to him as you dragged the tall mahogany door open and rushed out. The whole mansion had dark walls and paintings whenever there was no door or on the ceiling, and you kept running until you found the central staircase. You looked down and, finally, your heart jumped; you took support on the banister and rushed downstairs until you could reach the first floor.

The stairs ended on a wide, several-floor high hall with only glass as walls. In it, at its center, was a red circular carpet with a black piano. It was as though Yoongi was waiting for you because as soon as your bare foot stepped over the carpet, he started playing.

You held your breath, unsure of what that meant or what you could say, but you still neared him. Slowly, your anxiety melted and your brow furrowed. What did he mean, he’d been waiting?

It took you a second to realize what was happening. He kept playing, eyes closed and head hanging back, and you observed him. You almost opened your mouth, but then you understood. You sat by his side on the long stool and pressed the keys with higher treble a bit tentatively, and he eyed you.

Your lips pursed as you retorted his glance, and then his music. You had been waiting too, you wanted to talk to him.

He heard your notes with closed eyes, and you saw him visibly relaxing before he played his reply.

I knew you’d be the one.

You froze, unable to press any keys, and just looked at him with wide, tearing eyes. He turned to you, reaching to cup your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours, and you were strangely revitalized, swimming in peace.

When he moved away, you asked him, “What now?”

“Now, I have you.”

[baenyth]

Bethany's Bizarre Miraculous Reviews Episode 5-14: The Monkey Miraculous: What the Hell, Kim?

Alright, I've heard a lot about this episode. Apparently it explains the reason why Marinette is such a stalker is because she was traumatized last year from a prank by Chloe when she was confessing to Kim, which makes sense for Kim. He was the third member of Team Chloe in season 1 until Dark Cupid. But apparently he regresses back to his season 1 personality because this is Season 5 and the characterization has gone to hell. Kagami's going to date Adrien's evil twin later in this season. No matter. What's important is Girlsquad Lore.

The eepy sleepy

I know PTSD works in irrational ways, but I have to wonder why it's flaring up now and didn't during Mr. Pigeon 72. They had pretty similar scenarios. Did Kim want to confess to Marinette as well?

Sponge

Babe, wake up! New outfit models! Model! Hehehe, Adrien was a model. Or was that used in season 4?

Alright, he's just being a himbo at the moment...

Straight to the Akuma!

Water physics!

Flashback!

Welp, in my canon it's two years in a row and every year except for one. The Marc year. Also I like how Marinette has a different hairstyle because the pigtails are to honor Soqueline!

Wow, why did Chloe stop pranking Marinette like that during the next school year? At most she did a gum prank.

This is too much even for Ms. Mendeleiev.

1. Where's Alix?

2. Accidental roast

3. To be fair, Mylene, your mother isn't a hyper-famous person that could easily become a role model for you and your father isn't rich enough to spoil you because of how fucked-up you most likely were that your mother left you.

Yes! Soqueline!

The spy

Yeah, this feels kinda OOC.

I mean, people will probably just think you're a jackass, Chloe.

Now that isn't even realistic writing. That's just an attempt as an excuse.

And now he's back to pre-Dark Cupid. >:(

Looking at Ondine's body and why is her abdomen so damn thin?

Also in general the animation feels more robotic this episode.

Laugh track

Chat Noir's fucking PISSED

Technically, Ladybug's the one at fault there. By stopping Chat like that he was an easy target for Dark Humor. Good name btw

Terlet shard

Oh. Another scene to show how eeeeeevil Chloe is.

The flashback half of this episode would've been good if it was set up back in season 1. Other than that I was right on all counts, plus Chloe's evil feels OOC as well. Disrespectful. Either way, I can start doing my Girlsquad lore next!

[aristocratic-otter]

Hey y'all! It's been a busy few weeks, but thank you all who kept tagging me since I last surfaced : @Iamamythologicalcreature, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @cutestkilla, @hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @prettygoododds, @blackberrysummerblog, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello, @rimeswithpurple, @emeryhall, @wellbelesbian, @bookish-bogwitch, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt, and @cosmicalart 

I've got a bit from everything to share today. Though the snippet from Cupid's Shield has technically been posted now, as of this morning.

And yes, I can count, I know some of these are more than six sentences. Do I care?

No.

Lol, I hope you enjoy!

From Saving Simon Snow: 

Baz is dead to the world when I wake up. The clock on the dresser reads ten a.m., which surprises me a little—I can’t remember the last time I slept past seven (other than in my jail cell, where there were no clocks and sleeping was pretty much the only thing to do). It doesn’t surprise me, however, that Baz is still asleep. He’s always been sluggish and cranky in the morning. Besides, yesterday was…well, yesterday was a lot. 

I’m still processing everything that happened, but my stomach tells me firmly that processing is far less important than eating, so I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, and dig through our suitcases for something to wear that isn’t sweated–through or jizz covered. 

From the Heart in the Well

“Who are you?” I shout, and if there’s a faint tremor in my voice, it’s not enough for Baz or the unknown above to tell. (I hope).

The creature above doesn’t respond, at least not in words. Instead, it shakes its head and lets out a ringing neigh. It’s a horse! I stare, bemused for a second, before I realise that what I’m hearing isn’t a typical animal sound. Instead, the neighing takes on the clearly recognisable tone of…laughter. The fucking thing is laughing at us!

From Snow Fox

Fiona’s radiating pride. “Brave as a lion, just like his mum,” she says. “You’ll show that mangy Snow Fox what it means to take on a Pitch.”

I can’t help but imagine my aunt's reaction to finding out that Simon knows quite well how to take on a Pitch. 

On my knees, whenever possible.

The thought prompts an unholy burst of laughter to try to fight past my lips, but I’m a master at containing my emotions. Even so, my lips twitch, but I manage to turn it into a polite cough. 

From TikTok Dancer: 

Snow paces at my side in silence with a pensive expression on his face, his hands clasped behind his back. 

My curiosity about this man is burning inside me, and it churns sickeningly in my gut with feelings of betrayal and animal lust. I want him. I hate him. And I don’t understand him. 

But the one thing I won’t do is be the first to break the silence. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

He starts breathing again, but doesn’t speak to me. Not at first. Instead, he rushes to pile wood on the fire and then fumbles desperately for his own fire starting kit in the pouch he carries tied ‘round his waist. I’ve turned to watch him, morbidly curious about how he’s going to react to my betrayal. And it was a betrayal, I’m not fooling myself about that. I knew that Simon desperately wanted a ship to come. I knew how much getting off this island meant to him.

And I denied him that. 

From Cupid’s Shield:

I would have known something was wrong regardless from the way his smiles disappeared (even if he’d never smile at me, he smiles constantly at most anyone else, and I soak his happiness up vicariously every chance I get). 

I was so disturbed by his misery that I was tempted to invite him home with me. I didn’t—my family would have eaten him alive—but I wanted to. 

That early winter afternoon, we were all roused from the torpor of pre-holiday ennui by screams coming from the great lawn. I was in our tower room when it happened, and when I looked out to see a dragon strafing the lawn and Simon Snow running to face him…well, I didn’t think, I just acted. 

I raced out of Mummers and climbed to the ramparts.

From my COBB project:

“Snow, what the fuck,” he says, his voice coming out as a wheeze because of the way I’ve got him squeezed under my own bulk. 

“Shut up!” I snap. “You idiot! You nearly broke [redacted]!”

Baz stiffens under me when I call him an idiot, but when I accuse him, his muscles go slack, meaning I sink into him before I can stop myself. I swallow hard at how nice he feels against me, but then I tense up. This is beyond inappropriate. 

Tags and : @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @messofthejess, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @larkral, @confused-bi-queer, @theearlgreymage, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart, @best--dress, @nightimedreamersghost,  @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold, @nausikaaa, @artsyunderstudy, @ileadacharmedlife, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii,

[echoedcrosshairs]

Technical Experience

Summary: Having free time the Batch makes a pit stop on remote planet to kill time before the next mission. On a night out the boys are drinking to much so Tech seeks out and nervous sparks fly❤️Smut with a Plot❤️

Warning: NSFW, Crude language, Self pleasuring, Oral (both receiving), fingering

Word Count: 5k

18+ NSFW NO MINORS

Master list

The bitter smells of people who had to alcohol hit your nostrils but was your favorite little whole in the wall to drink your day away. You slide into a bar stool looking over the drink menu, opting for Norvanian Grog it was potent and cheap although you usually ordered the same thing every time. The one first burned the way down and the second one wasn't much better. You took a moment to look around, it was nearly empty except for a few stragglers and a group of four guys sitting in the corner. They were actually kind of cute.

"Assistance," the bar tender droid said walking up to you.

"What's wrong Oxford?"

"Connection malfunction," he said with light of his eyes flashing on and off.

You walked around the bar and opened up his access panel, "You should really tell me when they problems start, so I can order new parts. I can patch this but I'll need to change it," you said taking out your mini arc spanner and sealer tube.

You went to work patching the electrical connection not realizing you had an audience of one. When you were done you resealed the access panel on the off chance of a flying drink, which often happened with the late night crowd.

"You didn't do that right," said the person watching you.

"Can I help you?" you said turning on your heel to stare at him, realizing he was one of the four soldiers sitting in the corner, "I am perfectly competent in repairing the droids of the town."

"You should have used a stronger sealer to prevent-"

"Okay Mr. Technical, it doesn't matter if I'm just going to have to change the part here within a day or two anyway," you said walking around the counter back to your stool, "I'll get that part ordered for Oxford when I get back to the shop."

"Thank you, that drink is on the 'house'" he said turning back to used glasses.

"I think you misunderstood my intent," the man with googles admitted shifting them on his face, "I was  admiring your ingenuity given limited resources."

"Oh thank you," you said taking another drink, noticing he wasn't leaving, "if you're standing there you might as well have a drink," you chatted taping two fingers on counter stool next to you.

He cleared his throat and sat, you took him in for a moment noticing the strong cupids bow, a perfectly chiseled nose and warm brown eyes. You started him furling your eyebrows and then stared at the other three sitting at the table noticing the resemblance between all of them.

"Either your maternal genes are very dominant or your clones," you said your mouth slightly agape, they weren't like any clones you've ever seen before.

"How perceptive," the grey haired one deadpanned.

"That is amazing!" You blurred out unintentionally getting close to his face looking at  each of the features you recognized but noticing the ones you didn't, "Sorry we get a lot of... regular? clones in here, not any unique ones."

"Ah Regs. We are defective, to my knowledge there isn't anymore that look like us."

"I don't think you're defective, just different. If you were defective I don't think they would let you wear this," you said taping his spaulder with one knuckle.

"Thank you. How long have you been a mechanic?" He asked.

"It's always been a hobby of mine. I love getting my hands on new things to tinker with and see how they work."

"Would you mind showing me some of your work?" he turned to glare at his brothers, "If they drink any more it's going to get unpleasant."

You looked over to see the red on the bigger clones face, "I think you're right. See you tomorrow Oxford!" You called getting up.

The man placed some credits on the table, you laughed and handed them back, giving you a puzzled looked, "This is my bar. I think you may need those if they break anything."

"You will more then fairly compensated if they do."

"Don't do anything stupid! Com us if you need us!" The clone with long brown hair hollered.

"I'm Tech by the way."

"I'm y/n. I hope you like my project," you peered around at all of the broken things, chipped buildings and half lit signs.

"This is your town?"

"Kind of, this way" taking him to the half functional ship, "she's not pretty but she's a work of art."

"I guess it can be quantify as such."

"What do you think?" You said laying down to pulling the panel out from under the dash.

Tech was silent for several minutes observing the work, making a couple minor adjustments that noticed were dangerously wrong. He turned his head to look at you not noticing that you were staring at him waiting for an answer. Your noses dinged together and the side of your lips brushed.

"Apologies, when I'm working I have a tendency to not notice things," he said adjusting his perfectly fitted googles, still feeling where his lips accidentally touched yours.

"I'm the same way," you laughed trying to hide the embarrassment.

A small smiled stayed on your face thinking the micro expression he made while he was working, the way his eyebrows furled slightly in concentration or how his eye movements were expressions themselves. You both stayed up late working the ship, with the alert not going off at the cantina you seemed the boys managed to handle themselves. You let out a yawn which caused your jaw to crank slightly.

"I didn't even realize the time" he indicted noticing the time on his datapad, "Do you want me to walk to you to your domicile?"

"Actually I'm just going to turn in here for the night just so I'm closer to the Cantina in the morning to fix Oxford. Do YOU need to be walked to your domicile?" You teased.

"Tech, Wrecker threw up... on your bunk."

Tech covered his face and shook his head, "Do you mind if I stay here or at the Cantina?"

You laughed, "Be my guest, this way."

"I have prior arrangements for this evening, have him clean it in the morning. Tech out," he said annoyance coating his voice.

"Pick any of them," you offered, showing him the 6 available bunks.

He put himself down on the bottom middle one, in view of both the entry ramp and the cockpit. He laid down, not sure if there was anything to say. With a smirk, you jumped your way to the one above him trying to figure out what he likes about the middle. It hit you he might be nervous about being in a foreign environment because it had excellent view of the entry points.

"Night, Tech," you rolled over to the wall and slept.

The next morning you awoke the sound of wielding, you jumped out of bed and landed on your feet. You found Tech on his back under the dash working. He stopped and looked up at you standing over him.

"Good morning, Oxford has been repaired with a couple small upgrades."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to get back to my ship, shower, change, eat, repair Oxford and get back here to start... tinkering."

"Productive."

"I figured it would be the least I could for staying here last night, I hope that was alright."

"It's more then enough, and actually it's almost lunch. Do you want to go get something to eat?" offering a hand out to help him up.

"That sounds adequate," he said taking your hand pulling himself up.

He was surprised that you didn't move due to the weight difference. He looked down at your hand, it was soft for a mechanic and now with oil marks quickly releasing it. You laughed rubbing it on your already oil stained pants.

"It's okay, it'll wash out."

"Of course, so where are we heading?"

"There a little restaurant down the cantina, in case your brothers are looking for you."

"Actually they have left for the day on assignment."

"They don't need you to pilot?" You questioned.

"While I am obviously the best pilot and it is also my ship, the assignment shouldn't require much evasive maneuvering so they'll be fine. However I will not my breath if the ship comes back needing repairs."

"Why did you stay?"

"I wasn't essential for the mission."

You guys walked talking swapping knowledge about different droids and ships, your hands brushing time to time but he made no notion of pulling away. The day was peaceful, you both fell into a rhythm of awkward looks and brushes but not saying anything. Back the cantina you were both were fixing a holographic transmitted when his brothers came walking in.

"You should have came Tech, it was fun," the big guy side.

"I wouldn't quantify blowing up an empty installation fun."

"You just like blowing things up, Wrecker."

"You're just mad, Crosshair, that where wasn't anything for you to shoot at."

"Told you they didn't need me," Tech said returning his attention back to the task at him.

The next few rotations had the same rhythm, him occasionally disappearing for a few hours but always working on the ship by the time you woke up. It was kind of making you feel inferior at the pace of which he worked, completing project after project and soon enough there wouldn't be anything to do meaning he would probably be leaving soon. Tech left early that night, so you made your way back your bar sitting alone until his brother Hunter walked in and sat next to you.

"I hope you know he likes you," Hunter said barely said it sitting down.

"What? No he doesn't. He just likes having someone who can share his interesting..."

"And all of his time and not attending every mission because he's busy with someone else. He's puts his action and brain before his heart which he apparently has."

"How are you sure he just doesn't enjoy just having a friend?"

"Cause I can your heart rates when you're together. He's should just be heading back to your ship now, you might want to go catch him."

"I still you're wrong, but I'll indulge my curiosity on the matter."

You speeded off to your ship not caring what you'd find there as long as Tech was there. A warmth spread through your limbs, did you even like Tech. That wasn't even a question of course you did. He was kind, completely blunt at times but also always offered helped. You felt kind of silly for being mad that you thought he was implying you were incompetent at your work and didn't see what he was trying to display with his acts of service. Quietly as you could you snuck onto your on ship to find him in the mini engine room. You prayed to maker you were about to make a fool of yourself but crept towards him wrapping your arms around his waist and attempted to rest your chin on his shoulder being on the tips of your toes.

"I didn't notice you come in, I hope you weren't there long," he said looking at you with the corner of his eyes.

"Hunter said I might be able to find you here working on something so I figured I'd see what it is."

"I'm installing an upgraded custom hyperdrive, the original ones on these ships tends to break down faster so I've been building one from scratch... Do you want to test it out? I was just going to text it with out in case something went wrong, even though I am seldom wrong."

"Sure," you lingered around his for a moment before letting ago noticing the nervous tick of fiddling with his googles.

You followed him to the cock pit and got in the copilot seat, "Do you like physical contact?" He asked turning back to the ship.

"You don't?" You questions nonchalantly.

"It is not my area of expertise, I'm extensively knowledgeable in the subject but I don't process it the way you do, but it did make me feel warm is closer thing I can think of," he paused to finish flipping on buttons, "Are you ready?"

"How about if we don't die, I'll kiss you. We are go."

"I am seldom wrong," he said more as a murmur then something to be heard, the ship took off and so did Techs heart rate.

It was rare for Tech to be nervous about anything, he was simple and relied on logic to carry him but when it came to women there were to many unknown variables but that also made him uneasy. Tech punched in random coordinates for the hyperdrive taking them a galaxy away. He smiled, he was correct and the hyperdrive worked. Looking up he found you standing looking out the window in disbelief.

"Have you never been out of your own Galaxy?" He observed.

"Only a couple times but I don't recognize this one."

"We should be relatively safe here, I'm going to go look over the drive before we head back," Tech said getting up and heading to the back room, hearing quiet foot steps follow behind him.

You made it obvious that you were following him. You watched as he bent down and played with the drive behind standing back up, straightening himself right in front of you.

"Yes?" With a fiddle of his goggles.

You got on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss before turning around to head back to the cockpit, but Tech's hand reached and grabbed your wrist before trailing his down to your hand. The gesture shot electricity down your body, you turned and looked up at him not quiet being able to read the expression. He took a step forward and leaned down and kissed you again, this time much slower.

"That was cute," you said once he pulled away.

"I felt quiet nice the first time, I wanted to see if it was like that every time."

"I'm glad."

"Can we do it again just to make sure?"

You made a little mmm sound before kissing him again this time letting your free hand trail up to his hair. You laughed a little into the kiss as his breath hitched over the contacted. He placed his free hand on the curve of your waist, just letting his hand sit there slightly grabbing a little more as the kiss deepened. You pulled away to look at his face, it was a mix of contentment and shock.

"Did you like that? It wasn't to much?"

"I- feel a lot of things at the moment but all of the emotions quiet pleasant. I assumed you liked it?" Noticing your hand still in his hair by his ear.

"I did," you said letting go of his hair, redness spreading.

"Good," he guided you both back to the cockpit, his leg bouncing once he sat his leg down.

"Something bugging you?" acknowledging the awkwardness in the air.

"Not at all just lost in thought is all."

"It was the kiss wasn't it? I am sorry-"

He got from his seat and kissed you again, "It wasn't that, I am not use to physical contact."

"Oh- Okay"

"Was that alright to do with out asking? That might have been rather impolite."

"You can do that any time."

He kissed you again, mindlessly fast before returning to his seat. The air was still heavy and uncomfortable, he let out a sigh and you stared at him questionably. He inspected at you, but then squeezed his eyes shut for a moment because turning his full attention back to the ship and putting in the coordinates to get back. The jump back to the planet was nearly soundless except for our breaths. When we exited the ship we found his brothers standing and waiting outside, noticing our darken faces.

"Well they lived, you owe me two credits," Wrecker joshed to Crosshair extending his hand for the payment.

"Did you seriously doubt my engineering expertise? Do I need to try to make you recapitulate the Maraunder's schematics and explain to me the different-" Tech tried to say before getting cut off.

"I didn't think anything could make that junker fly," Crosshair sneered paying up and walking away with Wrecker on his tail.

Hunter stared at you then at Tech then back at you trying to communicate a private message but failing miserably, nodding towards the direction of the bar. Tech started walking off in that direction while Hunter waited for you.

"What happened? I haven't seen him his mad before."

"That's mad?" I asked before telling him what went on in the ship.

"I was wrong, he's... scared," Hunter bolted to catch up to Tech who had alright put considerable distance between us.

You stayed back out of ear shot not wanting to interfere with whatever was going on. Hunter kept walking but Tech stopped, he didn't turn around to face you but just waited to see if you would walk at his side. You stopped for a moment debating if you should, you looked down to see one of his hands twitching as if he was grabbing something wondering if he meant for you to see it or not. At his side you took his hand, it was a simple gesture to show him you were there.

"I process moments differently, articulating what I am feeling is difficult because I process them so differently. I obviously did not mean for it to appear that I was angry at you."

You leaned your head on his shoulder as you walked not knowing what to say, but this silence was different. It didn't last long when Wrecker started chuckling the moment you both walked in, even getting a snort out of Crosshair. Hunter did his best to hush them but it made it worse.

"Come onnnn Tech hasn't had a girlfriend before."

"I didn't think he could like anything besides his data pad," Crosshair muttered.

"That's how we all feel about you and your rifle," Tech retorted peeved, "Maker knows you spend enough time with it."

Your face flashed red with second hand embarrassment for the man, who reacted like he's never been embarrassed in his whole life. Tech broke contact with your hand and stepped in closer to Crosshair covering you with an defensive stance the moment he stood up. Crosshair tried to swing at him and failed miserably having his own arm twisted against him.

"Settle down boys," Hunter said taking Crosshair's arm from Tech, "Tech go have fun, I'll deal with him."

Tech quickly downed both of our shots one after the other, "I don't know why I did that."

"It's fine, want to back to the ship?"

"That would suffice, a second run of the hyperdrive perhaps with more distance would be adequate to see if it will hold."

"You just want to get away from your brothers," you teased.

"Yes I do."

Back on the ship he waited for the moment you sat down before taking off not even bothering to ask if you were ready, he just wanted to put plenty of distance between them hoping it would fix his sour mood. Once the ship dropped out of light speed, you sat on his lap putting your nose in his neck. He froze solid, not knowing to say to say or do. He scolded himself more, he knew theoretically could he say or do but unaware if it would be the right thing. You felt his rigidness and wanted him to try to relax, you put one of your arms around his neck and the other around his waist but it seemed that only made it worse. The rise and fall of his chest was so perfectly even he had to be pacing his breaths.

"Is this to much?"

"No, I just haven't have been in this position before."

"Just try to relax."

"Easier said then done."

"Tech..." you said moving to face to face him, "Relax," before smothering his mouth against yours.

He gently moved you, letting him be uncomfortably straddled. You enjoyed it even if your legs were getting mildly pinched by the sides of the seat. You enjoyed the awkwardness of his movements and how calculated they were, his hands never moving to indelicate places no matter how much you shifted over him.

"This is rather uncomfortable isn't it?" He asked observing for sixth time you moved.

"Extremely," you said as he picked you up, holding your legs so you could still straddle him as he walked over to the bunks to sit down in a more comfortable position.

You laughed at how effortless the movement was for him, wondering just how much muscle he had under all that armor. You kissed his neck trailing back up to his mouth as a thank you. His breath hitched ever so slightly, his hand fumbled for a second trying to adjust to the sensations. His hands unintentionally fall to your waist kneading every so gently. You lift your shirt ever so gently offering your bare waist for fingers to press. His hands were warm against your cool skin, a small hmm slipping out. You kept your arms around his neck, one hand playing with his hair and one holding the back of his neck caressing your thumb over his jaw bone. Tech attempted to mimic the motion, noticing you pressed down on his lap a little bit which surprised him a little.

"Did I do something I wasn't suppose too?" He asked noticing the squirm again.

"It's just an... excited... reaction, it's fine," you attempted to put it delicately.

"It's surprising how such a little of action can illicit such an reaction," he said letting his finger tips run down the front of you, testing the waters what was allowed, "that's if you don't mind of course."

"Humans and ships are vastly different, you might need to work on your technique a little bit."

"Perhaps you could work some 'techniques' on me for scientific research."

You arched an eyebrow him, his cheeks were a little pink. Your hands trailed down finding the source of his embarrassment. You looked up to see him looking down at you, his expression unreadable. Your fingers played with the armor attachment and he got the hit to take it off. You slide off his lap putting your knees on the floor, fit was thankfully the perfectly height for this science experiment. You pulled down his pants allowing his cock to plop out with a tiny twitch. It was above average but he definitely made up for it in girth. Your wrist looking tiny in comparison, how you were going to fit that in your mouth was going to be a miracle.

You took him into your mouth slowly, waiting for your jaw to adjust to him but you still looked up at him, his eyes were closed and his lips were just barely open with the most serene look across his face. He must have felt your eyes looks on him because he looked down at you, his hand fluttered to his googles adjusting them nervously but that didn't hide the look of hunger lurking in his eyes. Your lips tightened around him vacuuming him, you watch as his hands desperately clutches the bunk and you can feel some of your own lubricant glazing your aching hole so you took his cock further down your throat. Tech didn't mean for his moans to sound so desperate but they came out pleading for you if his life depended on this sensation to end.

You couldn't help me, you drove your fingers into yourself hoping to help soothe the cramp of desire burning in your core, petting the knots of nerves hard and fast quickening the speed of which you stroked him. You felt his cock beginning to twitch harder as you pressed your tongue harder into the strokes focusing harder going down the tip. His twitches grew more erratic, his hips slightly thrusting into the movement and his moans sounding more winded. It wasn't long after you moaned onto his dick while playing with yourself that he exploded inside your mouth. Thick spurts cum came out in waves, his hips were shaking and what he tried to say came out as a jumbled messes not making any sense. You gulped him down finally cumming, he sat there panting as he watched you remove your fingers and the thick bright white cum that covered them. Attempting to wipe it in the bunk, he grabbed them and slicked them off.

Tech was mortified at the sudden action, not realizing how turned you were and that he didn't reciprocate but managed to get anyway so fast. He was still trembling he pulled you up on your wobbly legs on to the bed next to him. He moved one arm around you holding you tight against him and used his other hand to trail down your abdomen towards the still sensitive part of you, you didn't stop him when he slid in two fingers finding more of your cum coating your walls.

He looked you and then down where his fingers we tucked into and then back at you, "Is that because of me?" he asked nervously.

"That should have been obvious," you whispered.

Tech cleared his throat awkwardly, "You should have told me. While I was not very vocal about how I feel, I did attempt demonstrate it instead. I could have offered my assistance whether or not it would have been helpful is a different question," he rambled, pulling his fingers out to inspect the slick covering them.

"I was more then happy just to spend time with you, I didn't want to run the risk of ruining it."

"I was more than happy just to spend time with you also, after kissing you I no longer had doubt about how I felt and it startled me. I doubted I would make a suitable partner, then fretted if I had made a mistake," he said spreading his fingers to watch the strands that formed between his fingers that created a webbing effect before licking them off, "Then Hunter made the point I was ruining something before I had even given it a chance. He said that to choose the option that scared me more."

"What was the choice," you said trying to keep a level head because perhaps the best time to have this conversation.

"Choosing to leave and hurt you or finding out if I would ever be capable of love," Tech's face was solemn, "I am indeed scared of both options, but at the end of the day you have to be able to look at yourself... I don't think I could have if I left."

You brought a hand to his cheek, "I'm happy you stayed."

"Me too," he said pulling your hand from your face, kissing the back of it with his eyes closed before returning it to his cheek but the solemn expression still stayed.

"What is it?" You asked.

"I picked a bad time to say that did I?"

"A little bit."

"I'm sorry," he leaning forward and kissing you, "but I can try to make you forget about that," still able to mildly taste himself on you.

His fingers trailed back down the warmth between your legs, sticking his fingers back into the opening searching for the place that had you twitch against his fingers. He mischievously smiled, finding the movement and rhythm that made you cling to his armor for dear life. He kissed you while you moaned against his mouth which got him to go faster. Your eyes half closed with the heated passion for this very observant handsy mechanic. He moved on top of you placing himself between your legs but never stopping his hand, staring at you to observe every moment and moan.

Noticing the change of consistency in your slick, “Cum on on my fingers,” he lustfully whispered, “so I can taste you again.”

Your breathing shifted, no longer being able to take in or let out a full breath. Heat covered your body from your ears to your feet, the gaze he was giving you just wanted you to come undone for him. Your core starting tighten and you flexed tighter on his fingers holding them against the knot of nerves. He tilted his wrist a little to get better hand and finger movement allowing him to apply more pressure on the spot.

“Tech-“ you let out, you’re head push back against the pillow.

He pulled down your pants further, putting himself back on his heels and face first on your pretty folds. His fingers stroked and sucked gently at first and progressively sucked harder letting his tongue tongue you. You started trembling on his face and your back arching up, he took his other hand used it spread you more. The noisy that escaped you as you came got even louder then he pulled out his fingers letting his tongue slide in and out of you devouring you. Once he was sure he cleaned you of your delicious favor he came up and started down you, your hands trying to hide the scarlet embarrassment of your lust which covered you cheek to cheek. He saw you looking at him between the slit of your fingers, he took his time licking his fingers casually wiping them on them on his shirt when the armor didn’t cover.

“Did that make up for it?” He smiled

You violently nodded at him, not trusting trying to talk. He gently pulled your pants back up carefully trying to have them rub against the sensitive ache. He laid back down next to you wrapping both arms around you. Both of you falling asleep embraces each other until Hunter rudely both woke you up.

“Tech, what’s your status?”

“I was enjoying a mid-rotation nap, in the silence of space” he scowled at his wrist com.

The com went silent, and he switched it back off with a groan. He looked at you stifling laughter back and perked up that you weren’t mad at his brother for interrupting the best sleep he’s ever gotten. He noticed the slight bulge starting from waking up. Tech rolled his eyes but found your smirk cute.

“How about some Technical Experience trying something more mutually pleasurable?” he proposed.

[eremorte]

Royal/Rebel swap au 2/7

This section covers Ashlynn, Hunter, Blondie, Cupid, Cerise (and honorarily) Ramona.

So technically Ashlynn and Hunter count as wave one and I didn't realize that at first, so whoops. I haven't read the books in a while so if anything is explained there and is heavily contradicted y'all can let me know.

Also, most of these are more cannon compliant than I realized once I typed them out. It might as well be me rehashing cannon but with context.

Ashlynn:

Rebel->Royal

Ashlynn's father by nature of destiny is a serial husband. I will assume that Ashlynn's dad is the prince, but as destiny demands (or perhaps this is just how he is) he has to follow in the footsteps of Ashlynn's Grandfather (maternal). However because he's a prince, women flock to this man in order to achieve the coveted trope of rags to riches. Once they realize they're not the protagonist but the villain they become bitter and cruel. Ashlynn realizes this and does not fault her stepmother and sisters for their rightful anger. However due to their abusive actions towards she hesitates to help them. (This is basically cannon why am I typing?)

One thing she tries to do is run her shoe store to accumulate enough money for herself to leave so that she doesn't have to suffer for too much longer and her step family can live the life they were "robbed of" although that is secondary to her freedom. Her other goal is to find a way to make the rest of her mother's life easier because she wants to take her too. Her parent's marriage was one of convince and over the years Ashlynn can recognize the true love was desperation, she's seen it first hand from her abusers.

When she meets Hunter and befriends and then falls in love she realizes through their conversations that her father's influence/policies have also given him a harder life than necessary and reluctantly goes back to being a princess to change that, though with a new found confidence that Hunter has taught her from being the lovable dope he is. (and then she passes some law that is ballroom worthy and hosts a massive party with the hope of finding Hunter in the crowd somewhere)

Hunter

He's a sympathetic Rebel like Madeline in that his main reasons for rebelling don't actively contradict his moral code in the fairytales he's a part of. He just falls in love above his station that's his only crime. He heroically saves Snow White from the evil queen, and he has to cut a wolf open because the wolf has eaten a girl who is both someone he knows and is actively being digested (both wolf and girl live in the end too).

Making him actively a Royal would just be getting him to acknowledge that marrying rich is actually a thing for guy's too, or rather, the main focus of Cinderella isn't that she marries a prince (admittedly the easiest way to escape the situation she's in given the resources this man has) it's that she has the means to escape her abusive household. Which Hunter provides already. He can be proud of his destiny with her in his life. (in Farrah's diary they make Hunter the next Cinderella because he's the poorer one).

Blondie:

As a journalist she is persistent and reports on whatever she can that is interesting and eventually her thieving hands unwittingly capture hard won proof that Headmaster Grimm and the system is garbage. Although being the kind of person she is she has to find that out for herself she cannot be told by anyone else what to do. She has no sense of danger at all.

Cupid:

As a myth Cupid is free to pick a lot of destinies and personally I am not about to research this. The first myth that comes actively to my head is Eros and Pysche as told by OSP but as she originates from Monster High I'd like to imagine that a more "Royal" Cupid is more Freaky-fabulous, the kind of Royal that boosts the untold stories and would call into question how stories are chosen to be told at all.

Cerise:

Her parents shower her with love and affection, but that's roughly the only place she receives it being truly herself. When you're bombarded by the message that a part of your heritage is evil day in and day out by everyone else, you're bound to internalize something. I imagine Cerise both in cannon and in this hypothetical one having massive imposter syndrome (cannon Cerise just manages better). She's not scared of Ramona, she's not scared of her destiny anymore because she know's breaking free is possible. Her parents, herself and her sister, are proof of that. She's just paralyzed with fear and dread because she doesn't know how to climb out. Her destiny doesn't involve her leaving Hood Hollow, she has to make the best of it here. The easiest thing to default to is destiny because she knows how deeply everyone believes. One day she's bound to crack under the stress and wrongly trust someone that she shouldn't and be hurt by it. (Raven is a good call, but Cerise was also terrified when Kitty threatened her with her secret. I wouldn't be surprised if she was willing to tell someone else had Raven not been where she was). Self fulling prophecy and all that.

Ramona:

Because there's so little proof of her existence anything goes really. This part isn't so much rebel/royal as it at this point a better counterpoint for Cerise more extreme anxiety.

I'd like to imagine Ramona is more proud than scared of her wolf heritage like Cerise would be. Before Professor Badwolf officially obtained his teaching license and could manage a classroom, he and Ramona schemed ways to protect the family and keep them afloat. Badwolf discouraged it because she shouldn't have to worry but Ramona insists/found ways to include herself. (small head cannon example: Badwolf was a landlord to the three little pigs).

Because of this she has become massively resourceful and she believes in her capability no matter the odds. However convincing Cerise the same in herself doesn't work the way Ramona hopes. Despite their fights they are fiercely loyal to each other and someday Ramona will find a way to break through to Cerise and convince her there is a place for both of them, even if that means leaving home.

[pantherastevens]

His Sunshine in the Darkness: It All Started With Her Smile

Hello everyone~ I'm back, and it's with a new little series (technically, it's really just one extremely long story, but I broke it up in parts because if not, this post would be dumb long). I literally read two Yandere!Miles fics and kinda been obsessed with the idea (?) ever since.

Here are the two works, written by the lovely @l0v3morales (please write more of these, I'm begging you):

Stay With Me

Yours Forever

Thus I present to you, His Sunshine in the Darkness: Part One! This will most likely be divided into three parts (because I'm still writing this story, I'm currently at 12,838 words and counting. Buckle up kiddies, this is gonna be a long one).

I title Part One, "It All Started With Her Smile." I'm gonna ease y'all in with some fluff. Enough of me rambling. Enjoy!

Warnings: None, unless you're allergic to fluff

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It all started with her smile.

Miles Gonzalo Morales was the new kid at Visions. It was the middle of the recorded school year, and he was a new kid. He wasn't a huge fan of the school, but his parents insisted it would be good for him... whatever that meant.

The first few days, he pretty much kept to himself. Socializing wasn't his strong suit, and he didn't desire to make a fool of himself in front of his new classmates, who seemed to understand that he didn't belong like the rest. It just so happened the school was "wise" enough to recognize he had a brain and offer him a scholarship to be there. His only escapes were his dorm (Ganke seemed like a cool enough guy), his home, and his art class.

Miles loved to draw more than anything. Whether it was his pencils, markers, or his uncle's spray paints, he found his freedom—the freedom to be himself.

And she noticed it, too.

Panthera Stevens was a fellow freshman who shared quite a few classes with him—including art. Upon seeing her for the first time, Miles swore Cupid must've stabbed him when he wasn't paying attention because he must've died and was meeting one of God's angels.  She had to be the prettiest girl that he'd ever seen. Smooth dark chocolate skin, thick dark shoulder-length sunbleached locs, naturally full, thick brows, plump lips, and almond-shaped expresso-colored eyes. She was on the short side, about 5'5 if Miles had to guess. While Miles was raised to be a gentleman, he was still a teenage boy. He had eyes and could see that Panthera was slowly developing a sweet little figure. He admired the girl from afar, seeing how he wasn't sure how to approach the beauty (Miles didn't care what his uncle said. The "hey" trick had to be the stupidest and most embarrassing thing he'd ever heard).

So you could imagine the boy's surprise when he heard the screech of a chair being pulled up next to him and found her big dark brown eyes staring into his soul.

"Hey, you're Miles, right," she said with a smile. The boy could feel his face heating up at the sight.

'She even has dimples... Buen Dios Todopoderoso, ella es tan linda...'

"U-uh... yeah, that's me," he said, fidgeting with his pencil. Panthera giggled, making the boy's blush worse.

"Nice to meet you, Miles. I'm Panthera. I couldn't help but notice that you're always by yourself and... well, I was wondering if you wanna be friends," she said; a bit of shyness could be seen in that smile. The boy blinked owlishly at her.

His crush wanted to be friends with him? The awkward, quiet new kid?

"I'm sorry. Was I being too forward?" Panthera asked softly, mistaking the boy's silence for rejection. Miles mentally slapped himself, urging his mouth to form words.

"N-No! Not at all. I-I would love to be friends with you!" That could've come out much smoother, but it still did the job.

Panthera Stevens's smile could rival the sun at that very moment, and Miles wanted to bask in its warmth forever.

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

Panthera and Miles became close friends very quickly. They would have study sessions at least three times a week and pretty much hung out every other weekend. Miles brought her to meet his parents toward the end of their freshmen year.

As expected, Panthera was the perfect angel. She came to the apartment in one of the prettiest dresses he'd ever seen with a bouquet in hand.

He always remembers her soft laugh at his dumbfounded expression.

"What are you staring at, Mi?" God, that nickname will always make his stomach explode with butterflies...

"I-uh, it's j-just that..." Panthera blinked those pretty eyes at him, waiting for him to finish.

"You look so beautiful, gatita," Miles muttered breathlessly. Panthera did a cute, shy shuffle. A sweet smile was on those soft lips.

"Thank you, Mi. My Baba always told me a good first impression is everything." Miles nodded mindlessly, eyes still trained on her lips.

"Mijo? Is that your friend at the door? Don't keep her waiting now!" Rio's voice broke the boy's trance, and he promptly ushered the girl inside. Miles secretly smiled as the girl slid off her shoes and left them by the front door, already knowing his parents would like that.

The meeting went even better than the young boy expected. Panthera greeted his parents with the same smile as when they first met. She called them by their last names. She gifted his mother with the bouquet, who happily accepted the flowers—even going as far as explaining the meaning of each one.

"I wanted to find something to represent the family you two built. The Black-Eye Susans represent justice, seeing how you live to serve and protect Mr. Morales. The Daylilies represent the Chinese emblem for the mother of the home, something you're doing such a wonderful job at, Mrs. Morales. And finally, the honeysuckle represents your love for each other and your son. I hope you like them."

The more his parents talked with the girl, the more taken they were with her. Rio insisted that she stay for dinner, which Panthera gracefully accepted. As the two women entered the kitchen, Miles turned to find his father looking down at him with a knowing smile and a teasing glint in his eye.

"You know, son, you seem pretty taken by Panthera... you sure you two are just friends?" Jefferson did his best not to laugh too hard at the sight of his son's red face.

"C'mon papá, stop it. W-we're just friends, nothing more," Miles huffed, not without shooting a glance of longing at the kitchen.

Panthera and his mamá seemed to chat joyfully, Panthera even stepping alongside Rio to help cook dinner. Rio's green eyes glowed with approval as she taught the girl how to make Mofongo.

God, if that didn't do funny things to his heart...

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

Miles knew his feelings were getting stronger by the day in their sophomore year. There wasn't a sketchbook he now owns that didn't have a sketch of Panthera somewhere among the pages. After meeting her, Rio insisted he bring Panthera around as often as possible. His room started carrying the faint smell of her and her vanilla and cocoa musk perfume.

If he cuddled his pillow that carried the scent of her hair oil that smelt like honey and cocoa butter, that shouldn't be anyone's business but his own.

The boy had it bad.

Everyone in his family could see it.

Uncle Aaron had demanded that he introduce the girl he was partially head over heels in love with (Miles can't even deny it anymore; it's been at least a year). Only to find out it was Eric's little girl, whom Aaron had basically adopted as his niece when she and her father first came to Brooklyn. The man was ecstatic, privately telling Miles that Panthera would make a kickass future wife. Miles nearly screamed that he was too young to think about that (even though that thought has passed his mind... multiple times).

She was invited to his dad's party to celebrate his upcoming position of becoming the Police captain. It was a little embarrassing having his family coo and giggle at the two of them, excitingly asking Miles if she was his girlfriend. Panthera was nice enough not to laugh out loud at the permanent blush that settled on his cheeks.

Miles thought his head would explode when his mom had the DJ play a song with everyone breaking into couples to dance bachata. 

"C'mon, Miles! You could dance with Panthera," Rio encouraged as she danced with her husband, who looked a little awkward trying to keep up with his wife's graceful movements. Panthera cocked her head at the boy, reminding him of the animal he, oh so fondly, nicknamed her.

"I don't mind dancing with you... but I don't want to step on your toes," Panthera offered. Miles focused on the girl, not the heat melting his face.

"I doubt you could do that, gatita. I could show you some basic steps," Miles said. Panthera nodded, relaxing as she allowed the Afro-Latino to guide her through the dance. Once she felt she got a feel of it, she was able to flow much easier with the boy. Miles' could feel his heart pounding away at his ribcage as he twirled the girl under his arm before holding the beauty close once more.

"I don't think I ever told you how beautiful you look tonight, gatita," Miles said softly as he rested his forehead against hers. Panthera's dark eyes twinkled at him.

"Thank you, Mi. I asked my dad to take me shopping for the occasion. Since I was gonna meet more of your family and all," she said shyly. Miles couldn't help but drink at the sight of her for the umpteenth time that night.

"I'm going have to send him a thank you card then. Not for just the outfit but for siring the most beautiful girl of all of Brooklyn," he said, a flirty grin tugging on his lips. Panthera laughed freely, the sound reverberating deep in her throat.

"Mi! Such a flirt," she giggled as she was spun about yet again. The girl seemed at peace, humming contentedly as she felt the heat of Miles' palms bleed through the material of her dress. Miles couldn't help the easygoing smile tugging on his lips as he lost himself in the music and those sparkling eyes.

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

"Your dad's speech was beautiful." Miles turned to look at the girl next to him. The pair decided to get some air from all the people. Panthera was looking out at the party lighting up the rooftop, her face glowing from the bright lights. Miles knew this image of her would be the newest addition to his sketchbook later that night when everyone went home, and he was alone in his room.

"Yeah, it was," Miles said softly. Panthera turned to him, reaching up to cup Miles' face with her hands.

'So soft...' Miles thought as he was pulled to Panthera's height. Puberty finally decided to be nice to him these past few months and give him some inches, much to Panthera's annoyance.

"Something in me is telling me to say this, so listen to me for a second, yeah?" Panthera could be reading dictionary definitions to him, and he would still hang onto her every word like he was now.

"Y-Yeah, sure. Anything for you, princesa," Miles mumbled. Panthera chuckled and shook her head at the nickname. Miles could tell he managed to fluster her a little, which he joyfully counted as a win.

"Never for one moment think you're alone. You have beautiful parents who love you more than life itself. You have a dope ass uncle who considers you his own son. And you have me. I wasn't sure what would happen the first day I sat next to you in art class, but I can say this is something I cherish deeply. You will always have me, Miles. Even if you feel like the world is crashing down around you... when you feel as if you have no one left... when you want to fall into the darkness... I'll be there to shield you as best I can. I'll be there to hold your hand. I'll be there to show you the light. I love you, Mi. Always." Miles felt his heart stall.

'I love you, Mi...'

Miles knew that Panthera could just be confessing her love for him as a friend, but his lovesick brain wouldn't let him see it as such. He wants to believe that Panthera sees him as something more. See them as something more.

Miles' shaky hands found Panthera's waist, tugging her closer.

"T-Thank you, Panthera... a-and I-I love you too," the boy whispered, breathless by the sheer intensity of it all. Her eyes, her warmth, her scent, her lips-

Miles nervously licked his own as he focused on Panthera's. So many times, he's daydreamed and dreamed about those lips. Full, soft, and oh so kissable. He often saw her put on some tinted lip oil (she barely believes in chapstick, only having one or two as a backup) which made them all the more enticing. It made the boy wonder what flavors she uses and how good she'll taste.

He may have kissed his pillow pretending it was Panthera for practice, but again, that was nobody's business but his own.

Miles leaned in, gauging the girl's reaction to him. Those lovely dark eyes lower, eyeing his wet bottom lip. Her hands migrated to his shoulders as she carefully balanced herself on her toes.

"I love you, mi vida," he whispered in the small space between their lips. He could hear the soft hitch in the girl's breath at his quiet confession.

There was no denying it. He loves Panthera Genesis Stevens. And finally, one of his fantasies was about to come true.

Miles closed his eyes as he felt their lips brush against each other... only for them to snap open when he heard,

"Hey Miles, you up- WHOA, MY GOD!" Miles and Panthera instinctively jumped away from each other to find an embarrassed Jefferson and an exasperated Rio.

"Dios mío, amor. I told you that there was a chance they would be up here and to leave them be. Now look what you have done," Rio playfully scolded her husband. Miles groaned out of embarrassment, tugging his braids while Panthera laughed nervously.

"Sorry about disappearing like that, Mr. and Mrs. Morales. Was there something that you need," Panthera asked, hoping to ease the tension and move on from... what almost happened between her and their son. Jefferson, still fighting off his embarrassed blush, let out a chuckle.

"Nothing crazy important. We just wanted to let you kids know that we're about the cut the cake Miles brought. Just in case you wanted some." The pair nodded.

"Yeah, we'll be there in a few minutes. Thanks for letting us know, papá," Miles said, finding the city skyline much more interesting than it was a minute ago. He could hear his mother's quiet laughter, dragging his father away to leave him alone with Panthera again. Before he could turn to her to apologize (for what, Miles wasn't entirely sure because, damn it, he wanted that kiss to happen), he felt something on his cheek.

That something was Panthera.

He turned to the girl, whose arms wrapped around one of his. She had a goofy smile.

"Don't apologize, alright? We're fine, I promise. Now come on, I heard you got red velvet, and I always wanted to try it!" Miles allowed himself to be dragged away by the cheerful girl, hand on the cheek that held a faint kiss print.

Not exactly what he was hoping for... but he certainly isn't complaining. And also trying to figure out how was he going to wash his face but preserve the mark...

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

Tags: @444morales thanks for being an amazing friend to listen to all my random ideas at odd hours at night. 💜💜💜

-Translations-

~Spanish~

Buen Dios Todopoderoso, ella es tan linda : Good God Almighty, she's so cute

Gatita : Kitten

Mijo : Darling

Papá : Dad

Princesa : Princess

Mi vida : My life

Dios mío, amor : My God, love

[yonemurishiroku]

Please tell me you actually plan to write that Time Travel Nico AU or if it's written somewhere. I also wonder in this AU, how Older Nico would manipulate his younger self to act around Percy and the others. Would he tell him to tell Percy about his crush before so they can be real friends from now on or just to be a true lone wolf?

OH MY GOD someone's interested in my Time-Travel AU!!! 😭👀 Hiiiii I just want to say that I'm so glad you like it jadhsajkda

To answer your questions:

Technically, I have no plan for the Time-Travel AU with Nico as the antagonist, since, you know, I don't even have a plot. 🤣 All I have is concepts and random scenes I think would be cool if I were to write that. I don't do multi-chaptered, long fic either. I did once and it didn't end well, so I have been writing oneshots every since.

HOWEVER, I am planning to write a Time-Travel oneshot! 🤗👀✨ It won't follow the outlines I posted but is basically a rewrite (does it count as a rewrite if technically Rick didn't even write it?) of what transpired between The Titan's Curse and The Battle of the Labyrinth; featuring:

1/ An Older Nico, who is a God and cares a lot for his younger self.

2/ Luke Castellan (and Minos if I have enough willpower)

3/ A little bit Hades in Nico's childhood in Venice.

It would take some time since I'm snowed under with schoolwork atm but I'd definitely write this just bc no one else would but me. 🤣 This is a lot different from my original Time-Travel AU plot. If anything, I do hope you'd like it. 🥺

To your second question: I think it'd depend a lot in what kind of people the Older/Future Nico is, but ultimately, he wouldn't force his younger self - both in the canon universe and my AU.

Because more than anyone - he understand the clearest how painful it was to hold that crush, and how horrible it felt to have your secret ripped out of your chest. The Older Nico know how much his past-self was struggling, and he experienced Cupid too. He absolutely would not bestow it upon himself.

The only thing he would do regarding the crush is perhaps reassuring Nico, that it's fine - and it'd be fine. Things may be hard (lowkey foreshadowing Cupid), but there's nothing wrong with him or his feelings. The F!Nico - knowing the challanges awaiting - wouldn't alter the course of events as he believes it'd cause consequences, but he can offer the Present Nico some support he knew would be appreciated to overcome said challanges.

I did write in another post (in the same Time-Travel AU), that the Future!Nico would demolish Cupid once the god finishes his business with the Present Nico. The F!Nico wouldn't stop Cupid - the past needs to stay as the past - but whatever doesn't affect the Present Nico's experiences, he can do as he wants. Including taking revenge on Cupid.

As I've said - it'd be widely different if we follow the canon universe and imagine the F!Nico as a happy person, nonetheless, since we're taking this in MY AU - aka where the Nico of the Future has fallen to his devastating fate, I'd say all concepts of friendships and companions (with Percy or the Seven - Hazel is a bit of a special case) are unforgivable to him.

Since I've built this AU with the Older Nico as the antagonized antagonist, it's natural that this Nico would be filled with despair and vengance. He would know better than be outright hostile to the Seven or the other demigods, but he doesn't have any reason to be peachy with those who would later betray him either. So yeah, basically more of a Lone Wolf.

He'd also manipulate his younger self, yes - that's the whole thing why I came up with this AU in the first place jashdjkahdksa. The Nico from the Future has gone through horrible betrayals - he definitely wouldn't wish that on his younger self, now that he's here to warn him.

But time has its course, and the Older Nico would know better than accuse people of something they technically haven't committed yet - we all know how protective Nico is of his friends. He would stay by the sideline, planting seeds of doubt in Nico's head whilst preparing him of what's waiting.

That's everything I currently have in store for this AU. 🤗🤗🤗 Again, thank you a lot for the chance to ramble LOL this AU is my dedication and I'm dedicated to it on a spiritual level, the same goes to every Time Travel AU that has Nico taking care of his younger self ajksdhkjd.

If anything, don't be hesitate to share with me what you have in mind for time travel AUs too!!!

[cosmicredcadet]

I don't have many chosen one plots because I'm a big advacator for people choosing to be heroes rather than being chosen to be heroes. But the ones I do have are like...sort of chosen ones but the heroes also choose to take action when they don't have to. Like I don't ever do anything with destiny and things being set in stone to always play out. it's more like some characters getting warnings and they choose to act on the warnings they got.

Starting with my girl Holly from my story Shattered Legacies (My warrior cats inspired world). She is sort of a chosen one but it's pretty vague about whats going on with her. She keeps getting visions of fire that seem to be trying to show her or warn her of something. She decides to follow the visions and finds out that they've lead her to what is basically a cat cult but shhhhh. her long lost Aunt runs the cult and because Holly's black fur turns a sort of reddish orange in the sunlight (rusting hehe) her Aunt declares she is a chosen heir to the colony and takes her in. So now she's stuck between trying to figure out what her fiery visions mean while also dealing with her Aunt attempting to groom her into becoming a cult leader. She is uh...She's doing her best with what she's got.

The next one is my OC, Starlight, from my 80s cartoon (think rainbow brite and care bears) inspired universe Starlight Sailor. She is known as a Starling, which is a being that is made from the stardust after a Star goes super nova. It's rare to happen and usually a Starling being born means that the universe has been placed off balance and is in need of help. Starlings have the ability to talk to stars and view a stars memories. Starlight basically acts as a sort of magical girl super hero for the universe, traveling around it in search of those who need help while also trying to figure out why she was born in the first place as it usually means the galaxy a starling inhabits is in danger. She's probably the best off because she is in the least amount of peril for most the story and she also has friends to help her out on her quest to figure out whats wrong.

Cupid from my story Lovesick could technically count as a chosen one for the sole fact that she is Aromantic in a bug alien invasion where the bugs man power is forcing people to fall in love with them so that they can use them as food and take over earth. Cupid, being Aro, is unaffected by the bugs charm ability and uses a magic bow and arrow to act as an opposite Cupid basically. Anyone shot with it becomes cured and immune to the bugs charm. So like...in a way they are a chosen one through the fact that they are aromantic and thus immune and able to fight back. She's coping pretty alright over it. For how crazy a bug alien invasion seems she's handling it pretty well.

Annnd that's about it i believe. those are the OCs i have that are the closest to the "chosen one" arch type which kinda shows you how little I really like the whole "Chosen one" route. I like my characters having more agency in their stories because i feel like it builds them up more than if they were just passive and letting the plot happen to them, which tends to happen to prophecy driven chosen one stories haha

If your OC is a kind of chosen one, or the subject of a prophecy, how do they cope with this?

[justjams2003]

Desire to be Loved- 4

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, tell me if I miss any

Word count: 1,8k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

Tags: @intothesoul @briskesby coffeebeforewater @i-voluntears @dreamingblueberries @idkamt @deniixlovezelda

Masterlist

(I've moved that next part link to the bottom)

Once he saw it, it was hard to ignore. The human world looks so dull. So empty and lame. While he’s been in the waking world a century, he hasn’t been around the humans. He hasn’t seen how the humans built new castles and then broke them down. And as he waits outside this church his mind wanders again.  

When speaking to the Fates, they were vague as always. Not to mention, he only had three questions he could ask. He had to weigh what was more important to him. Finding answers or finding his tools. And while her being missing does have an effect on the humans, he has to trust, even a little, that Desire wouldn’t put his shrewd need for power over the well being of the humans.  

While he did say he wouldn’t go in search of the woman, doesn’t mean that he has much control over where his mind wanders to. Why hasn’t he seen her before? Suddenly one day she stumbles into the right basement of the right house at the exact time he’d been caged?  

Is that some strange coincidence or an act of Destiny... Should he go visit Destiny? No, no, that’s not right. He shouldn't bother Destiny about something that doesn’t have anything to do with his realm. About something paranoic jumping up and down the walls of his brain.  

“Constantine!” This woman does have that redish hue coming from her heart. He fights hard to control the twinge of his lip that tries to sneak up on his face. The remanence of love seem to be everywhere. The woman stops in her tracks. “My gran used to tell me stories about you lot.”  

“What do you want with me?” Johanna asks, still keeping her distance from the man clad in black. “Something of mine came into your possession. A leather pouch filled with sand. I need it back.”  

It hurt, seeing Johanna fight and cry over her soulmate. Of course, she doesn’t know that they’re soulmates. She can’t see the red hue grow bigger when they get closer together. Seeing her in this state, before he wouldn’t really care too much. Now...no, no that’s not it. He gave her something just for the last minute of pain.  

Dream didn’t realise love could hurt so much... 

The crowds of hell are all cheering with excitement at the sound of a challenge. “You know the rules, Dream Lord. If I win, you will return my helmet. And if you lose...” The demon slows down. There is so much and so little that can be taken from the Dream Lord. Lucifer's smiles at this. Her wings stretch out in excitement.  

“Why don’t we keep things interesting...? If Morpheus loses you get to have Dream’s soulmate as a slave to serve you in hell for all eternity.” The Sandman’s head snaps up to Lucifer. “Soulmate...?” He asks, his brows furrowing and his lips pouting like it always does.  

The ruler of hell pretend to act shocked. “Oh? Don’t tell me you didn’t know...?” She smirks, a wicked one. She’s playing Dream, but how would she know? Dream is clearly thinking, his jaw is locked. His soulmate? The red arrow Cupid left him, is it their names carved in?  

Did Desire know about this before? Had he been planning this with Destiny? Does Desire and Destiny make soulmates? The same question is if Desire and Dreams make love. That could be the only way that Desire would’ve known to keep Cupid away from Dream. A soulmate... If soulmates are a thing, can Endless have them too?  

“What will it be, Dream? Your helm or soulmate?” Lucifer asks, circling Dream like you would a shark. “You’re bluffing.” He says, the words jumping from him. He doesn’t usually act impulsively. Usually he thinks things through for at least more than a few seconds.  

“If you believe I’m bluffing it should be an easy choice to make.” The Devil points out, still only just fighting off her smile. Is this why it scared Cupid so much to read the names on the arrow? Did she fear Dream that much? Or rather what Desire would do to her if he found they were soulmates?  

That implies that Desire doesn’t know that they’re soulmates. “I accept the terms.” Now he most certainly can’t lose.  

“You have a soulmate?” Mattew caws when they make their way to the storage unit where his ruby is being kept. “I...did not know I had one. I did not know Endless could have soulmates.” The crow looks up at him. “Doesn’t everyone have one?” Dream just shrugs his shoulders. “Not my department.”  

The crow scoffs. “Who’s is it then?” They enter the storage unit. “I did not know soulmates were a thing until now. It seems that there a huge part of the human’s working that’s been kept hidden from me by my sibling.” He explain, already reaching out for the ruby in the box.  

The waking world is looking much better now. Again, he can’t not see every few people having a pink aura. The pigeons gather around him, pecking at the bread he’s thrown on the ground. “What are you doin'?” Dream sighs looking up at Death. “I’m feeding the pigeons.”  

“You do that too much, you know what you get?” Death asks, putting her hands on his hips. Dream doesn’t answer, he just watches the pigeons jumps about after the bread. “Fat pigeons.” Again just more silence from the dream lord. “That's from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?” His eyes slowly turn up to her. “No.” 

The grass is green around the lake. Children run around, giggling with laughter. Dream’s eyes wander for only just a moment. But in that moment he catches a twinkle of a pink dress right in his peripheral vision. His head snaps in that direction. 

Just quick enough to see Cupid come and go in a flash. He stumbles forward to grab her but he’s just too slow. He gasps, his eyes rapidly jump around trying to find her again. Any glance of a pink tule or golden strand of hair. But, nothing.  

He and his sister continue walking. Over a bridge where... there it is again! He runs to the edge of the bridge, leaning over trying to see it again. He saw her, crouching behind some poor human who likely just had their heart broken. His heart is in his ears again but why?  

His sister stops and furrows her eyebrows. She didn’t say anything but Dream knew. “When I was captured, Cupid visited me three times. She was the one who helped free me.” He explains to her then lets the arrow form on his hand. “She left me this. Lucifer placed my soulmate as a betting card before even I knew I had one.”  

Death takes the arrow from him, she too can’t read it. “Cupid, she’s one of Desire’s creatures. Why haven’t you gone to her? See who’s names are on this?” Morpheus doesn’t say anything. His eyes tell it all, that and his reluctance to speak. She rolls her eyes at him, then continues walking on her mission.  

“I wanted to wait until I had all my tools back and now I’m more powerful than ever and yet...” He trails off, is that why he was feeding the pigeons? Waiting for the right moment to go and see her? What if she’s been harmed by Desire? Clearly not, he just saw her, doing well. 

“You’re not scared of Desire, you went to hell with only your sand. It’s something more...” She trails off inspecting each of his reactions. “You are more scared of her. Or rather that it might be true.” Dream scoffs at this. “Just think of the power a soulmate could have over an Endless. If I accept this, anyone could hold her over me.”  

She sighs and shakes her head. “You have one friend, Dream. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you think it’s going to be?” Again Morpheus refuses to speak. “She’s just too pure. Have you seen her before? She has this glowing semblance surrounding for. It...seemed to stop time. And these eyes that just... holds all the pureness in the world. Could you imagine something so... innocent? No malice, no harm, no intent for revenge.”  

“What? Are you scared you’ll taint her with your broodiness?” She chuckles at him. “I’ve had past lovers and none of them...wanted this life forever. Something always goes wrong and I don’t want for it to be the same this time.” He thinks over each word he speaks. When did his heart become this attached to this girl? 

She glances over her idiotic brother. Brothers never know anything about anyone. “Who says it will? Think about it, your previous lovers didn’t work out because they weren’t meant to. You had a soulmate, this time it will work.” They continue down the path, winding back to the park.  

“I cannot force this to happen. Love me because you’re supposed to. I’d be just as bad as Desire, puppeteering her for my lonely heart just as he had.” They slowly find back down to the park where the pigeons still wait for their bread.  

“It won’t be. If it’s meant to be, it won’t feel forced. I have one last appointment. Just try and see what happens?” Dream’s lips only slightly raise in a smile. “It seems I too have multiple missed appointments.”  

He watched her, from the corner of his eye he watched her every step of the way. She flew. Used the wings made for her for her and followed him all the way to Hob Gadling’s little Inn. She thought he couldn’t see her. But it’s strange it feels like she’s breathing down his neck either way.  

“There’s something watching you.” Hob says after a while, looking over Dream’s shoulder. Dream shivers, “I know I can feel her watching me.” He says, his back feels burnt with her glare. “Do you mind, Robert, if I cut this short, it seems there are some urgent matters to attend to.” The English teacher just smiles at him. “Go.”  

In one swift move, Dream stands up from his seat and grabs Cupid, right by the wrist. Like his body just knew where she’d be. “Cupid.” But something is wrong. There’s no reaction from her. She doesn’t pull back or gasp or speak. She just sort of stares at him, swaying on her feet. 

She looks right through him. Worst of all, her eyes they look dull. Her usual glittering brown is now more like dry dirt under your nail. There is no warm inviting pink aura coming from her. Looks like her, but nothing feels like her. She looks hollow, like a shell. Love looks entirely loveless. 

This isn’t Cupid.  

If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask!

Part 3~Part 5 (coming soon)

[ck2k18]

Adrienette kid: mom, dad, when was your first kiss?

Adrien: it all started at a museum.

Marinette: that was NOT our first kiss.

Adrien: yes it was. I remember it like it was yesterday.

Marinette: well if you want to get technical, then dark cupid was our first.

Adrien: I can't remember that one so it doesn't count! We were both conscious and aware in the wax museum-

Marinette: don't remind me

Adrien: so that was our first kiss! One of my fondest memories.

Marinette: If by "fond" you mean "embarrassing", then same.

Adrienette kid: how many "first" kisses did you have?

Marinette: I lost count.