#you’re honor these boys are idiots

[sunlitsorrows]

booo racial slur i’m going to have to black it out of my hard copy before i can lend it to anyone

DONT AT ME ABOUT CENSORSHIP PEOPLE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO READ THINGS WITHOUT BEING SLAPPED IN THE FACE.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Accidentally Falling For a Fae Prince - Malleus Draconia x reader

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

Series Masterlist

Work’s been a disaster from the moment you stepped in. Your boss, who makes dollar bills while you’re lucky to scrape together a few dimes, is in one of those moods. So, instead of pretending to be productive, you do what any rational person would do: you pull up a random webnovel website and let the ridiculousness wash over you.

And oh boy, is it ridiculous.

You start reading "The Villainess's Revenge: My Heart is Colder Than Lukewarm Tea!" and, within the first chapter, you realize it’s like watching cement dry—but with less plot development. The villainess is cartoonishly evil, stomping around in ballgowns with a sneer so exaggerated it’s a wonder her face hasn’t permanently locked in place. Her tragic backstory? She once got served lukewarm tea. And, oh no, she stepped in mud at a ball. The horror. Riveting stuff, truly.

Meanwhile, the heroine? She’s clearly phoning it in. Every scene she’s in, her eyes are dead inside like she’s as exhausted as you are by the sheer nonsense of the plot. If this girl could quit her own story, she would’ve done it yesterday. You can't help but mentally send her your condolences.

Then, there’s the male leads. If you can even call them that.

First, the Crown Prince, whose idea of a crisis is a fashion faux pas. This guy once canceled a whole wedding because his socks didn’t match. His spirals into existential crises every time a thread is out of place would be entertaining if it weren’t so tragic. The way he’s written, you swear he could kill a man with a critical stare over improper cufflinks.

Next up, the Duke. Brooding, romantic, and absolutely incapable of writing good poetry. Every time he spots the heroine, he launches into the worst rhymes you’ve ever heard. It’s so bad that you’re embarrassed for both of them. He follows her everywhere, reading his masterpieces at the most inappropriate times—like during a funeral. Who does that?

And finally, the Hero Knight. Ah, the knight. The epitome of overzealous stupidity. He turned grocery shopping into a three-day quest for the “Golden Lettuce of Destiny,” and vowed to defend the heroine’s honor from…nobody. You’d swear he’s larping 24/7. It’s exhausting just reading about him.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the heroine ends up in a polycule with all of them because the author was so sick of comments asking, “Who will she date?” that they just threw their hands up and went, “Fine, she dates everyone!” The heroine looks exhausted, and you feel for her. You feel for yourself, too, because reading this is actively lowering your IQ.

You sit there, flabbergasted, staring at the screen. This is what you’ve chosen to waste your time on? What’s worse, your boss will probably come around the corner any minute to scold you—oh wait, nope, the corner of the ceiling just gave out and bonk—there goes a chunk of plaster, right on your head.

You cannot believe this is how you get taken out.

You wake up and, somehow, it’s worse. You’re in a four-poster bed, covered in satin sheets, and your first thought is goddammit—you’ve been isekai’d. And not just into any world. That world. The webnovel.

You drag yourself out of bed, feeling a sudden wave of dread. You were the heroine in this mess. The heroine. Goddammit, why does everything bad only happen to you? For a moment, you're relieved you’re not the villainess. But then you remember: you’re stuck in a polycule with three absolute clowns.

Nope. Not happening. You will not end up with any of these pushy idiots. Goal one? Avoid the polycule at all costs.

Suddenly, the door flies open with a bang, and in burst all three male leads, dramatically weeping and crying out how you’ve been in a coma for so long. Their over-the-top emotions would be heartwarming if they weren’t so ridiculous.

“You’ve returned to us, my dearest flower of the kingdom!” the Crown Prince sobs, still perfectly dressed despite the tears streaming down his face. He sniffs and dabs his eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with his own face. Of course.

The Duke starts reciting the worst love poem you've ever heard, right there, in the middle of your room, as if you didn’t just wake up from a coma.

“I wandered, lost, like a daisy in a field of… uh… misery, because you, my sun, were hidden in the sky of my heart…” The rest is a blur because your brain has officially short-circuited.

And the Hero Knight? He’s already on his knees, swearing to protect you from whatever invisible threat he’s made up this time. “Fear not, fair lady! I shall defend thee against all who oppose your grace!”

You manage to kick all of them out of your room with a lot of effort and a lot of heavy glares. The moment you’re alone, you find a suicide note on the dresser, written by the actual heroine. Apparently, she drank poison just to get away from these weirdos.

What an icon.

But not you. You’re not dying again for these guys. No way.

You’re moving through the bustling market in full disguise, keeping an eye out for any knights or familiar faces. Your plan is simple: escape the polycule before any of those nutjobs track you down. With every step, you remind yourself that freedom is just one boat ride away—preferably to a distant land that has no idea who the Hero Knight, the Duke, or the crown prince are.

But as you round a corner, your thoughts scatter when you bump—quite literally—into something solid. You stagger back, blinking up at a tall figure dressed in all black. At first, panic flashes through you—please don’t be one of them—but when your eyes meet his, it’s not the Crown Prince, the Duke, or the Hero Knight.

It’s someone new. And he seems… perfectly pleasant. His strikingly elegant features, crowned by horns, should make him imposing, but his eyes soften as he looks at you. There’s an almost serene curiosity in them.

"Ah, forgive me," he says smoothly, his deep voice lilting with a formality that surprises you. "I didn’t see you there."

"No, no, it’s my fault," you reply, awkwardly waving your hands, trying to figure out why he’s so different from everyone else in this place. He’s polite. Polite. Already, you feel better about this encounter than you have about every conversation with the three other disasters that have been stalking you.

He steps aside, but instead of walking away, he looks around the marketplace with a faint, thoughtful frown. “I seem to have… lost my way,” he admits, glancing back at you. “This place is unfamiliar to me.”

Something in his tone, in the way his eyes briefly widen as he takes in the simplest market stalls—like he’s genuinely fascinated—makes you soften toward him. Ugh, bleeding heart strikes again. Before you know it, you find yourself asking, “Do you need help? I can… show you around.”

He turns his gaze back to you, and his lips quirk into the smallest, softest smile. “That would be most appreciated.”

As you walk together, he marvels at the simplest things—the fresh bread from a stall, the colorful fabrics, the scent of flowers sold at a cart. He’s curious about everything, eyes lingering on each sight like it’s the first time he’s ever seen such mundane wonders. His fascination is oddly endearing. It’s clear he’s not used to mingling in places like this, and his awe at the most normal things is… well, cute.

"Have you ever seen so many people in one place?" you ask, trying to fill the silence, though you’re surprised to find that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

He chuckles lightly. “Not in such a casual setting, no. It’s quite… charming. Everything feels so alive.”

You almost snort at the idea that this guy finds a basic market so thrilling, but you keep it in check. At least he’s not another drama king like the Crown Prince or a bad poet like the Duke.

It’s been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon until your luck inevitably runs out. You spot the familiar, impeccably dressed figure of the Crown Prince moving through the crowd with his knights. He’s scanning the area, and panic rises in your throat.

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath. Instinctively, you grab the man’s sleeve, tugging him down the nearest alley. “We need to go. Now.”

He blinks, looking puzzled but not resisting. “Is something wrong?”

Yes! you think, your mind flashing to the emotional wreck that is the prince. "No time to explain. Just trust me."

But you’re too late. The Crown Prince, in all his resplendent, overly perfect glory, catches sight of you just as you’re about to disappear into the shadows.

“Well, well,” the prince calls out with an overly bright smile. “If it isn’t my darling—oh!” His eyes widen as he finally notices the tall figure standing next to you. “Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley!”

You blue screen.

Your grip loosens on Malleus’s sleeve as your brain sputters. Prince. Fae Prince. You’d just been casually chatting with the Prince of Briar Valley like he was some random lost guy? Did you seriously just… You internally spiral as the realization sinks in. Of course, he's a prince! The horns! The aura!

Malleus, for his part, remains calm and collected, inclining his head toward the Crown Prince. “Ah, it seems I’ve been found,” he says smoothly, completely unaware of the crisis currently happening inside your head.

The Crown Prince gives Malleus a florid bow, then immediately turns his attention back to you. “My dear, you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone. Allow me to escort you to the palace.” His hand reaches out toward you, his smile practiced and princely, but your gut clenches with discomfort. No, nope, no thanks.

You step back instinctively, your unease written all over your face. Before you can even figure out how to politely decline without causing a scene, Malleus moves.

Malleus, who up until now was watching the exchange with mild curiosity, steps forward. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks the Crown Prince up and down. The prince stumbles over his words and backs away under the weight of Malleus’ stare.

The Crown Prince’s smile falters. He hesitates, glancing between you and Malleus, clearly unsure how to proceed. “I—um—of course, Prince Malleus, I didn’t mean to overstep,” he stammers, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.

You stand there, stunned, watching as Malleus’ mere presence makes the most annoyingly confident man in the kingdom back off. Is this real life?

The prince clears his throat awkwardly, then shoots you one last uneasy smile before making a swift retreat with his knights, leaving you standing there with Malleus.

You let out a long, relieved breath and glance up at him, feeling a little less like you’re about to lose your mind. “Thanks… for that.”

Malleus’ lips quirk into a tiny, knowing smile. “It was my pleasure.” He tilts his head, eyes still twinkling with that same curiosity from earlier. “Although, I must admit, I’m rather curious why you were so eager to avoid him.”

You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “Let’s just say… he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

You don't know how you’ve ended up in this mess. One minute, you’re lost in the market, trying to figure out how to escape this ridiculous polycule situation, and the next, you’ve been dragged into a carriage on your way to the palace—with the Crown Prince, your overly dramatic Knight, and the Fae Prince himself.

Malleus, the Fae Prince, had politely asked if you would accompany him to the palace, and in a panic, you said yes. Because, really, how could you admit to both him and the Crown Prince that you’d actually been planning to skip town? So now, here you are, sitting through the most awkward carriage ride of your life.

Your knight, perched beside you, clears his throat dramatically. “Fear not, my lady,” he says in a voice filled with too much gravitas for the situation. “I shall protect you from all perils! Should the wind itself dare to brush against your delicate frame, I shall strike it down with my blade! No harm shall come to you so long as I draw breath!”

You facepalm internally. Please. Stop talking.

The Crown Prince, sitting across from you, adjusts his cufflinks for the tenth time. “I must say,” he purrs, fishing for compliments, “this outfit is particularly resplendent today, don’t you think? The shade of royal blue brings out the depth in my eyes. It was hand-tailored, of course. What do you think, my dear?”

You blink at him, trying to process whether he’s serious. He is. He’s absolutely serious.

Malleus watches the exchange in silent confusion, his eyes flicking between the three of you as if trying to figure out if this is normal human behavior. After all, you’ve got one guy swearing to kill the breeze, another obsessed with his reflection, and you, trying to melt into the upholstery.

“Is this… how humans typically behave?” Malleus asks, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

You shake your head vigorously. “No. This is how clowns behave.” Malleus raises an eyebrow but seems satisfied with your answer, settling back into his seat.

When the carriage finally—finally—arrives at the palace, you’re barely holding onto your sanity. But things are about to get worse.

As you’re ushered into the meeting hall, a trio approaches you. It’s Lilia, Silver, and… Sebek.

Sebek, who looks one step away from a full-blown aneurysm.

"Lord Malleus!" Sebek practically screeches, running toward Malleus like the world was ending. “How could you wander off on your own?! Do you know how much chaos you caused?! I almost fainted from sheer terror!”

Malleus doesn’t even flinch. “I had a guide.” He gestures toward you.

Sebek’s eyes land on you, and you quickly glance around for an escape route. “YOU?! YOU DARED TOUCH—”

Before Sebek can finish, you spot the Duke—one of your many suitors and part of the delegation—striding toward you with his usual brooding expression. You instinctively grab onto Malleus’ sleeve for some comfort (or maybe protection from what’s about to come next).

The Duke’s eyes light up as he sees you, and then… he begins to recite. “Oh, my dearest, like the moon that doth gleam upon a cheese plate—no, wait—upon a field of… toes? Your hair, like the petals of wilted roses in the rain... um… and your eyes… they are like two potatoes, cooked to perfection…”

Even Sebek is speechless. You think you see a vein pop on his forehead, but for once, he’s too stunned to yell.

Lilia, standing beside Sebek, chuckles, amused. “Well, I have to say, that’s… quite something.”

Malleus tilts his head, blinking at the Duke’s strange poetry. “Are potatoes considered a form of flattery in human culture?”

“No,” you mutter. “No, they’re not.”

Just when you think things can’t possibly get more absurd, the meeting begins. Because you’re technically the daughter of a Duke, you’re forced to sit through the whole ordeal. They start discussing the logistics of showing the fae delegation around the city.

“We need someone trustworthy to act as a guide,” one of the officials says, glancing toward the Crown Prince.

Malleus, who had been quietly observing the room, suddenly speaks up. “I believe I’ve already found the perfect guide.”

You freeze. No. No, no, no.

“The young lady who helped me in the market,” Malleus continues, looking directly at you.

The room falls silent. You, of all people, are the last person who wants to be anywhere near the fae delegation or, worse, your insane suitors. But before you can even open your mouth to refuse, the Crown Prince starts.

“My dear,” he says, leaning forward with a princely grin, “while I understand you’ve already formed an acquaintance with Prince Malleus, perhaps it would be better for someone more… experienced to take on this role.” He flashes his most charming smile, which, after everything today, only makes you cringe.

But Malleus just stares at him, completely unbothered. “No. I want her as my guide.”

Silver shifts slightly, glancing at you with an expression you can’t quite place, while Lilia’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “How interesting,” Lilia murmurs, clearly entertained by the situation.

Sebek, however, explodes. “IF LORD MALLEUS WANTS HER AS HIS GUIDE, THEN SO BE IT!” He turns toward the Crown Prince, practically vibrating with anger. “YOU WILL NOT QUESTION HIS DECISION!”

The Crown Prince, for once, looks genuinely taken aback. “I—I meant no offense! Of course, whatever Lord Malleus desires…”

You sink into your chair, feeling like your last chance at a peaceful life just flew out the window. Malleus turns to you with an expectant, polite smile. “I look forward to our time together.”

You groan inwardly. How is this my life?

You had to admit, Malleus was really nice. When you compared him to the absolute circus of clowns you had to deal with, he was practically a gift sent from above. So, you made a decision—if you were going to be his guide, you were going to be the best guide ever. And once they wrapped up this whole diplomatic visit, you'd beg him to take you with him to Briar Valley, where hopefully, your ridiculous suitors would be very far away.

Apparently, being a guide also meant dragging him along to everything you did, including navigating high society. This was where things got tricky. The original heroine had endured these events like a pro, but you? You were just a lowly office worker who'd read bad webnovels to avoid work. Now you were living in one.

First stop: a tea party.

As you sit down with Malleus beside you—who’s awkwardly perched in a chair much too small for him—you scan the room. Of course, all three of your ridiculous suitors are here. The Crown Prince, obsessing over the intricate lace of his cravat. The Hero Knight, sharpening his sword for no reason in the middle of a garden party. And the Duke, scribbling poetry on a napkin with all the grace of a sleep-deprived teenager finishing their homework five minutes before class.

But this wasn’t just about them. This was also your first time meeting the so-called villainess.

The villainess arrived like a whirlwind of petticoats and extravagant headpieces, smiling in that "I'm about to ruin your whole existence" kind of way. You smiled back, trying not to look dead inside when she launched into a diatribe about ruffles.

"And you see," she said, flickering her wrist with an air of superiority, "it was positively scandalous! The seamstress gave me a gown with only forty ruffles. Can you imagine? What am I, a commoner?"

You tried to smile politely. Truly. But Malleus, seated beside you, was staring at her with this fascinated look, as if watching a rare bird display its feathers. You could tell he was having a hard time grasping what the point of her story was. So were you.

But then, of course, the conversation turned personal.

“And the Duke,” the villainess said with a sly smirk, “such a poetic soul. He deserves better than to pine over someone who clearly has no appreciation for his art. Don’t you think?”

You blinked. Was this woman for real? You glanced at the Duke, who had suddenly gone from scribbling to gazing at you with that awful puppy-dog look. The one that meant another horrible poem was probably brewing.

You couldn’t help it. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Please take him.”

The villainess's eyes widened. “What?”

Malleus looked at you in amusement, while the Duke gasped dramatically, as if you’d just run him through with a sword.

You clasped your hands together and leaned forward earnestly. “Please, please take him. I don’t want him. At all. He’s all yours. You can have him—along with his potato-themed poems.”

The Duke visibly wilted. “But—! My lady! You—you wound me!”

“No, Duke, you wound me—with your terrible metaphors,” you deadpan. “And I’m begging you. Take him. Please. For the love of everything holy, I’m begging you.”

The villainess, probably for the first time in her life, looked completely flustered. “Are you… serious?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding. “I will sign papers. I’ll throw a party. I’ll—whatever it takes. Just… he’s yours.”

Malleus and Lilia were practically shaking with barely-contained laughter at this point, while the Duke had dropped to one knee, a napkin-clutched in his hand like some sad bouquet. “My poems… they were written with you in mind. Each line! Each stanza! Crafted from the depths of my heart!”

“Exactly,” you said, unblinking. “That’s why I need you to take him. Before he writes more.”

The villainess stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Then, after a pause, she broke into a smile. “Well, I’ve never had a man gifted to me before. I suppose I can make an exception.”

You felt like you could cry with relief. “Thank you.”

And just like that, your beef with the villainess was squashed. You traded your tragic suitor for peace of mind, and the villainess, now on the receiving end of the Duke’s “affections,” seemed pleased with her new prize.

Malleus leaned in, his voice low but filled with amusement. “I must say, you handled that quite well.”

You sighed, finally able to relax. “I handled that with desperation.”

And just like that, you’d rid yourself of two your problems. Now… to figure out how to survive the other two without losing your sanity.

You barely had time to process your victory over one villainess before a second one spawned out of nowhere like this was some kind of twisted video game. The Isekai Overlords clearly weren’t done with you yet. And this one? Oh, she was worse. The Crown Prince’s younger sister—spoiled princess extraordinaire—who genuinely believed her father was the reason the sun rose in the morning.

But, to your surprise, she didn’t even care about you. Like, at all. She acted like you didn’t even exist. Honestly? You were grateful. At least you could blend into the background this time and—oh no. Oh no.

She was making a beeline straight for Malleus.

You watched, horrified, as the princess latched onto him, throwing herself at him like he was a rare limited-edition collectible and not, you know, the Prince of Briar Valley and one of the most powerful beings in the world. Malleus shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to handle the situation, while Sebek was being barely restrained by Lilia and Silver. Lilia, of course, had that mischievous glint in his eye, like he was enjoying the whole ordeal.

You, on the other hand, were not enjoying it. You could practically see your retirement plans shriveling up in front of you—this had diplomatic nightmare written all over it. If Malleus so much as sneezed, you were pretty sure this princess would declare war on Briar Valley.

So, you did the only thing you could think of: you stepped in.

“Um, excuse me, Your Highness,” you said, stepping between the princess and Malleus. “Could you maybe… not cling to him like he’s a handbag?”

She turned to you with a look of utter disdain, like you were a fly she was too annoyed to swat away. “And who are you, exactly?”

Before you could answer, she pointed an accusatory finger at you. “I challenge you to a duel! For his hand!”

You blinked. “Bro, what?”

The princess huffed. “For the hand of Prince Malleus, of course! You think I didn’t see you fawning over him?”

“Fawning? I’m literally just his guide!” You gestured to Malleus, who, for some reason, looked almost giddy. “I’m not dating him, we’re not engaged, and if you push it, we’re maybe friends.”

Malleus practically beamed at the word “friends.” Was he… happy about this? About being defended like some damsel in distress? You were defending the most powerful fae in existence, and here he was, looking like you just made his entire year.

Sebek and Silver immediately stepped forward, but before they could say anything, Malleus raised a hand. “No. I would like to see how my guide—and friend—defends my honor.”

Your brain short-circuited. What?!

The princess smirked, clearly thinking she had you cornered. “Prepare yourself for the duel then! My personal knight will face you.”

You glanced at the knight, a towering figure who looked like he’d been training for war since birth, and then back at the sword that had been thrust into your hands. This was not how you imagined your day going. You hadn’t even touched a sword before. Meanwhile, your opponent was stretching like this was a warm-up exercise.

Still, you had no choice. With a deep breath and the knowledge that you were about to make a complete fool of yourself, you stepped forward, sword held awkwardly in front of you.

The duel began.

The knight lunged at you with a practiced, fluid motion. You, on the other hand, tripped over a rock, accidentally ducking his strike, and in your flailing attempt to stay upright, the hilt of your sword smacked him right in the face.

There was a collective gasp from the audience.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

The knight staggered, his face scrunched in confusion. He tried again, this time swinging from the side. You managed to parry—purely out of luck—and in the process, tripped forward, sending your sword clattering out of your hands and somehow knocking the knight’s legs out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Dead silence followed.

You stood there, frozen, your sword lying a few feet away. The knight was on his back, staring up at the sky, clearly bewildered by what had just happened. You hadn't even swung properly!

Lilia burst out laughing. “My, my! That was quite the duel! You’ll have to take responsibility now.”

“Responsibility?” you echoed, flustered beyond belief. “For what? I just—he tripped! I tripped! That wasn’t even—”

“Exactly,” Lilia teased. “You won the duel. Now you must take responsibility for defending Prince Malleus’ honor so valiantly.”

Malleus, looking thoroughly impressed, gave you a small, pleased smile. “Indeed. You have my gratitude.”

The princess, meanwhile, was gaping at you like she couldn’t believe what just happened. “This… this is an outrage!”

You sighed, feeling utterly exhausted. “Look, I didn’t even want to duel in the first place. Can’t we just—call it a day? I’ve had enough of knights and duels and—” You gestured vaguely to Malleus. “I’m not even dating him.”

Malleus’ smile widened. “But we are friends.”

Lilia chuckled. “Ah, young love is so complicated.”

You shot him a glare. This was not what you signed up for. But hey, at least you won the duel—somehow.

You were lounging in your mansion’s parlor, the day blissfully uneventful for once. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a cozy glow over the room. Malleus was mid-conversation—no, scratch that—mid-rant about gargoyles. To your surprise, you were actually kind of into it.

“And that’s the primary difference between gargoyles and grotesques,” Malleus continued passionately. “You see, gargoyles are not merely decorative but also functional, designed to channel water away from the structure, whereas grotesques, while similar in appearance, serve no such purpose. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You nodded, intrigued, and cut in with a genuine question. “Wait, so is the functionality the only difference? Like, are they made from the same material?”

Malleus blinked, slightly taken aback that you were not only listening but actively participating. “Yes, precisely. They are often carved from the same stone, but it’s their purpose that sets them apart. For example, in the southern—” He paused, seeming to catch himself, suddenly looking sheepish. “Ah, forgive me. I fear I’ve been talking too much.”

Sebek nearly jumped out of his seat, eyes wide with horror. “Lord Malleus! Everything you say is perfect! Don’t apologize for sharing your magnificent knowledge!”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No, really, I enjoy it,” you said, waving off Malleus’ concerns. “I mean, how often do you get to talk about something so niche with someone who knows this much about it? I actually have a question—do any of the gargoyles in the Briar Valley have, like, historical significance? Like ones that are still functioning after all this time?”

Malleus lit up, and he launched right back into it, going on about ancient gargoyles in the Briar Valley that had withstood the test of time. He even started comparing the craftsmanship of various eras, and to your own surprise, you threw in a few comments about architecture and water systems, things you barely remembered from some random articles you’d read ages ago.

Halfway through a comparison of Gothic versus Renaissance gargoyle styles, a soft knock interrupted. Your maid entered, bowing slightly. “My lady, pardon the interruption, but we need your guidance with something in the kitchens.”

You sighed but smiled, pushing yourself off the couch. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let them bully you into leaving the gargoyle talk,” you teased as you walked out, completely unaware of the effect your comment had left behind.

As soon as the door closed, Malleus stood there, momentarily speechless. His pale cheeks took on the faintest hint of color, and his eyes were wide, as if someone had just smacked him with a metaphorical brick of emotions. The prince of Briar Valley, the most powerful creature in existence, was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Lilia, ever the mischievous one, was already grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, well, well… isn’t this interesting?” he purred, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Silver raised an amused brow, casting a side glance at Malleus. “It’s not every day we see him blush.”

Sebek, on the other hand, was utterly baffled but still overjoyed at seeing his lord smiling so widely. “Of course Lord Malleus is happy!” Sebek exclaimed proudly, though there was a trace of confusion in his voice. “He’s been honored with your presence and your rapt attention, as is only right! I just—” Sebek glanced around, as if trying to understand the subtle undercurrent in the room, “—I don’t understand why he’s so… red?”

Lilia patted Sebek on the back, barely holding in his laughter. “Oh, Sebek, my boy. This is what happens when someone gets the attention they’ve long desired.”

Malleus cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to compose himself. “I’m merely… pleased,” he said, though his blush betrayed him. “It’s rare to find someone who listens so attentively.”

Lilia chuckled softly. “Yes, and who knows the difference between gargoyles and grotesques, I imagine. Quite the match for you, wouldn’t you say?”

Malleus, flustered beyond belief, gave Lilia a sidelong look but said nothing, clearly more preoccupied with the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

By the time you returned, unaware of the scene you’d left behind, Malleus was still trying to gather himself. Lilia shot you a knowing smile, and Silver just gave you a look like you have no idea what’s happening, do you? Sebek, as always, continued to beam with unshakable loyalty to his blushing lord.

But hey, at least Malleus was happy—really happy.

It all started innocently enough—you were having dinner with Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. Sebek was, as usual, going on one of his rants about how absolutely divine Malleus was, Lilia was being cryptic and vaguely mischievous, and Silver was dozing off between courses.

You, being the delightful disaster that you were, cracked a joke between bites. “Honestly, if Sebek praises Malleus any more, we might as well commission a statue of him—complete with an audio loop of Sebek’s praises.”

Malleus laughed. Actually laughed. It was such a rare sound, deep and rich, and when you heard it, your heart stuttered in your chest like someone had just jabbed you with a lightning bolt.

Oh no.

You knew, from that very moment, you were in deep, deep shit.

From that point on, everything Malleus did made it impossible for you to act normal around him. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing, the warmth in his voice when he spoke to you—how had you not noticed before? And now, every time Lilia even looked at you, it was with this knowing, mischievous grin, like the universe had finally granted him the entertainment he’d been waiting for all these centuries.

“This,” Lilia said one day, leaning in conspiratorially with a grin that could light up a room, “this is what I’ve lived so long for.”

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t just your mind tormenting you. Oh no. It was like the entire world was in on the joke. You could practically see sparkles in the air every time Malleus so much as glanced your way. Sparkles, for crying out loud. Your heart was in critical danger.

Your solution? Avoid him.

But it wasn’t that simple. You tried hiding behind furniture, ducking into bushes, and even feigning an incredibly inconvenient bout of food poisoning just to avoid being near him. One time, you spotted Malleus coming down the hall and, in a blind panic, dove behind a potted plant. The plant was tiny. You were not. Somehow, you thought it would work.

It didn’t. Malleus casually walked over, spotted you crouching awkwardly behind the plant, and said, “Is there something wrong with that shrubbery? Should I summon someone to tend to it?”

Another time, you attempted to “sneak” out of the palace by pretending you were a passing merchant. You wore a very large hat and wrapped yourself in an oversized cloak. Malleus found you immediately.

“Aren’t you feeling a bit warm in that?” he asked, blinking at your ridiculous ensemble.

He had fae hearing. He could always find you.

Even guiding him around town became a disaster. How were you supposed to be a competent host when all you could think about was how unfairly hot he was? Every word he said carried this charming, ancient elegance, and here you were, a flustered mess with zero composure.

Lilia? Still having the time of his life. He was practically choking on his laughter at this point. Silver, somehow, slept through most of your crises, and Sebek was just thrilled Malleus was spending so much time with him (though he was clearly confused about why you were acting so weird).

Finally, you had enough. One night, under the cover of the moon, you snuck into the garden with the determination of someone completely done with their own suffering. You found a flower—granted, you didn’t know what it was, but it looked nice—and you marched up to Malleus, who was out enjoying the evening air, blissfully unaware of the emotional train wreck headed his way.

“I need to say something!” you blurted, shoving the flower toward him.

Malleus took the flower carefully, glancing down at it. His expression shifted from curious to… mildly concerned? “This flower,” he said slowly, “is traditionally used in Briar Valley to signify deep betrayal…”

You blinked. Oh god.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean—!” you stammered, but before you could backtrack, your brain decided it had had enough. You blurted out the truth, no holds barred: “I like you, okay?! I’ve been a mess for weeks because of how ridiculously perfect you are, and I’m tired of avoiding you and hiding behind plants! So there!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Malleus stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, and then, much to your surprise (and relief), he broke into the widest smile you’d ever seen on him. It was like the moon had just gotten brighter.

“You’re confessing… to me?” he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine joy.

“Yes,” you groaned, face burning with embarrassment. “Now please reject me so I can go lie in a ditch somewhere.”

But instead of rejection, you got happy dragon noises. Malleus gently pulled you into his arms and, with a voice full of affection, declared, “You are mine, then. From this day forward, you are my beloved.”

Cue your soul leaving your body.

When you broke the news to your father the next day, the poor Duke nearly fainted at the sight of the Prince of Briar Valley standing there, flanked by Silver, Sebek, and Lilia, the former general grinning like the Cheshire cat.

The Duke was intimidated—terrified, really—and quickly agreed to let the courtship proceed. But there was a catch.

“You’ll have to tell the Crown Prince and the Hero Knight yourself,” your father said, his face pale. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

Your retirement plans had officially died.

Despite all the chaos that had entered your life since becoming Malleus's beloved, you had to admit—there were perks. One of those was what you’d come to call "fae luck." It became especially apparent during a particularly tense diplomatic meeting involving the fae, the beastmen, and your kingdom.

The room was filled with strained conversations, the kind of diplomacy that could either result in peace or war, depending on how fragile the egos in the room were. You were sitting between Malleus and the second prince, doing your best to avoid looking at the first prince, who had already been giving you way too much attention for comfort.

Then it happened.

The first prince, ever the picture of grace, rose to speak. As he took his first step forward… THUD. He tripped spectacularly, arms flailing, and landed directly in the lap of the Beastmen Queen. There was a collective gasp, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe this could be saved—until he opened his mouth.

“Well, I guess I’ve… fallen for you!”

Silence.

The Beastmen Queen's expression froze. The fae delegation collectively facepalmed, and you could practically feel the tension suffocating the room.

And then the Beastmen were on their feet, growling and demanding the immediate removal of the first prince from the line of succession. One of their diplomats, fur bristling with indignation, roared, “This is an insult to our Queen! Remove this fool from the throne!”

Instead of apologizing, as a normal, sane person might have, the first prince, face red with embarrassment, dug himself even deeper. “It was a joke! Can’t you beastmen take a joke? Honestly, I don’t see why everyone’s so sensitive.”

The Beastmen's amger intensified, and you saw the Emperor and Empress—who had been trying desperately to maintain order—sink deeper into their seats, their expressions a mix of horror and resignation. The entire room was teetering on the brink of an international incident.

And then… you spotted it.

A little green wisp, barely visible, flitting through the air right around where the prince had been standing before his magnificent face-plant.

You glanced toward Malleus, who was sitting beside you, looking perfectly composed, save for the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Beside him, Lilia gave you a knowing wink, his mischievous grin unmistakable.

They caused this.

Within moments, the decision was made: the first prince was officially removed as heir to the throne. His younger brother, the second prince—who had always been calm, composed, and infinitely more capable—was declared the new Crown Prince.

It was glorious.

But before you could celebrate, the first prince turned toward you, his expression sour and filled with desperation. "You—" he began, as if about to drag you into his misery.

Not today, prince.

Finally given the chance to reject him properly, you rose from your seat, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh as you faced him.

“I’ve been waiting so long to say this,” you began, crossing your arms and locking eyes with him. “I reject you. Completely. Wholly. Utterly. There is not a single fiber in my being that has ever been remotely interested in you. In fact, the only thing that’s ever kept me in proximity to you was the sheer necessity of survival.”

The first prince’s mouth opened, but you weren’t done.

“Remember all those times you made those comments about my ‘station’ and how ‘lucky’ I was to be considered by you?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything back then because I was too polite, but now? No thanks. Absolutely not. I would rather spend a century in the swamps than a minute more listening to you.”

Sebek, of all people, burst into laughter. “She’s got a point!” he managed between snickers. Lilia was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and Silver, barely awake, gave a lazy thumbs-up in support.

Malleus, meanwhile, looked positively enchanted. His eyes sparkled as he watched you lay into the former prince, pride and affection written all over his face. When you were done, he leaned toward you, murmuring with a soft smile, “I do love seeing you stand up for yourself.”

The first prince, his face red with humiliation, stammered, “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Oh, but I just did,” you replied with a sweet smile. “And you know what? It felt amazing.”

With that, the first prince slunk away, his tail metaphorically between his legs, while the room buzzed with whispered laughter. Even the Beastmen, who had been ready to rip the prince to shreds, seemed satisfied.

You had never felt more victorious. Malleus looked at you with such adoration, and Lilia… well, Lilia looked like he was already planning his next round of mischief.

It was a good day.

The festival was going about as smoothly as a cat in a bathtub. You were trying to act like you weren’t hopelessly entangled with the most dangerously attractive fae prince in existence, while also managing to survive the company of your absurd entourage.

Sebek was marching around, loudly reminding anyone within earshot of his unwavering devotion to Lord Malleus. His eyes would dart to you occasionally, like he was calculating whether you were worthy of being in the same airspace as his revered master. Silver, half-asleep, was keeping one lazy yet disturbingly sharp eye on you, while Lilia was in his element—practically vibrating with amusement, like he was waiting for you to trip and fall into a cauldron of chaos.

And then there was the Hero Knight. This guy had shown up uninvited, all shiny armor and noble delusions, insisting he protect you from… something? Yourself? Malleus? Winning too many festival games?

“Are you sure you’re safe?” the Hero Knight asked, sidling up far too close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve heard stories about these fae festivals. One wrong step, and you’ll be cursed to dance for a hundred years, or worse—turned into a tree.”

You squinted at him. “Right. I’ll make sure to avoid the face-painting booth. Wouldn’t want to end up as a shrub for eternity.”

Malleus, ever patient, simply raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating whether this so-called Hero Knight was worth the oxygen he was breathing. Lilia, meanwhile, was biting his lip to stop from laughing.

But then, amid your rising frustration, you spotted it: the holy grail of festival prizes. The gargoyle plushie.

It wasn’t just any gargoyle plushie. It was perfect. Chunky, with tiny wings and a slightly disgruntled expression, it radiated the exact energy you associated with Malleus—regal, intimidating, yet somehow huggable.

You pointed at it like you’d just discovered a hidden treasure. “I need that.”

Malleus, ever-attentive, followed your gaze and smiled softly. “Do you desire the gargoyle?”

“Obviously! It’s basically you in plushie form,” you said, already walking toward the game stall. “But, you know, it’s rigged. All festival games are.”

Malleus watched you with his trademark elegant amusement. “Perhaps I can—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m winning this fair and square. No fae magic, no dragon lord intervention. Just pure skill.”

You grabbed the darts, took a deep breath, and began your assault on the rigged game. It wasn’t easy. The darts bounced, the targets mocked you, and you could feel the Hero Knight hovering over your shoulder like a bad itch.

“Are you sure this is wise?” the Hero Knight asked again, his voice dripping with concern. “This feels like a trap. What if they’ve enchanted the darts? What if—”

You whirled on him, fed up. “Listen, Sir Gallant-with-too-much-hair-gel, it’s a dart game. Not an assassination plot. If I can survive dealing with you, I think I can handle a few rigged targets.”

Lilia absolutely lost it. He doubled over, wheezing in laughter, while Silver let out an amused snort. Even Sebek looked like he was struggling not to smirk, though he quickly composed himself.

Malleus, ever regal, simply smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I have faith in your abilities, my dear.”

Fueled by that comment—and the knowledge that the Hero Knight was slowly losing what remained of his dignity—you managed to hit the final target. The plushie was yours.

Triumphantly, you grabbed the gargoyle and turned to Malleus. “For you.”

Malleus, to your utter delight, looked genuinely touched. His eyes softened, and that rare, warm smile appeared. “You won this for me?”

“Obviously,” you said, trying not to melt under his gaze. “A prince should have his own gargoyle.”

Silver, who had been observing the entire scene with increasing clarity despite his usual drowsiness, raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Sebek, who was still processing the fact that you’d just casually given his lord a gargoyle plushie, grunted. “You… you truly care for Lord Malleus.”

Before you could say anything, the Hero Knight, still floundering, piped up. “Well, I could’ve won that gargoyle too, you know. If you wanted to—”

“Oh, please,” you cut him off, turning to the Knight. “You probably would’ve asked the stall vendor to throw in a manual on ‘How to Not Be a Total Wet Blanket at Festivals.’”

Lilia nearly collapsed. “Oh, please stop—I can’t—” he gasped, clearly having the time of his life.

You waved him off and turned back to Malleus, who was still holding the plushie with the same reverence one might reserve for an ancient relic. “Shall we continue?”

Next up was a couple’s game. You had no intention of participating—until you noticed the Hero Knight gearing up to suggest that he join in to protect you. Oh no. Not today. You grabbed Malleus’ arm and dragged him into the game, completely ignoring the Knight’s sputtering objections.

“It’s… it’s traditionally for couples…” Silver noted, giving you a look that clearly said, I see what’s happening here.

You ignored him too.

The game was simple enough: throw rings onto bottles, but for some reason, the tension was palpable. Probably because you were standing next to one of the most powerful beings in existence, and you’d dragged him into a ridiculous couples’ game in front of his overly protective retinue.

But you won. And to rub salt in the Hero Knight’s ego, you fed Malleus one of the sweets you’d won.

“Y-You!” Sebek spluttered, looking as though you’d just committed the highest treason against decorum. “Feeding Lord Malleus… this… this is too much!”

The Hero Knight, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled. “Are you… are you sure that’s safe? What if the sweets are—”

“I swear, if you don’t stop, I’m going to feed you to the fairies,” you hissed, snapping the sweet in half and popping it into Malleus’ mouth. He smiled as he ate it, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time the fireworks started, you had somehow survived the night without murdering the Hero Knight. The sky exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors, and for a brief moment, it was peaceful.

And then, without thinking, you kissed Malleus.

There was a split second of stunned silence. And then all hell broke loose.

Sebek let out a screech that could rival a banshee. “My Lord! My Lord!” His voice cracked in disbelief, but then—surprisingly—he softened. “If… If Lord Malleus must fall for a human, I am glad it is someone… as devoted as you. My lady.”

You looked at him, touched. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Silver gave a rare smile, looking both amused and resigned. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to pull this off somehow.”

Lilia, predictably, was still dying of laughter, barely able to breathe between fits of wheezing.

And the Hero Knight? He looked like someone had just told him vampires were real and lived next door. “This… I… What…?”

You turned to him with a smile that could cut steel. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been trying to tell you for months that I wasn’t interested. I’d rather kiss a gargoyle than you—actually, no. The gargoyle’s got more charm. Better conversation skills too.”

Lilia was full-on cackling now, leaning against a festival stall for support as the Hero Knight’s dignity shriveled up into nothingness.

Malleus, looking absolutely radiant, wrapped an arm around your waist. “Shall we depart? I believe we have a kingdom to return to.”

The next day, you stood with Malleus and his merry band of chaos, bidding farewell to your parents and butler. The Duke was still recovering from the heart attack Malleus had given him when he asked for your hand in courtship.

As you waved to your family, Malleus gently took your hand, leading you toward the carriage that would take you to Briar Valley.

“Well,” you muttered as you glanced back one last time, “this story of mine took a weird turn.”

Lilia, still grinning like a fiend, chimed in. “Oh, just wait until the sequel.”

The last thing you heard as the carriage rolled away was the Hero Knight muttering in the distance, “I could’ve won that gargoyle…”

You smiled. Maybe the webnovel wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Ahh I hope y'all like this one, malleus is one of my favs and I had so much fun writing him.

The Kalim one is being edited because it's a little too somber for me and I wanna make it a little more fun and Azul one is almost fully edited too!

So, here's a poll for the one after these. (They'll all get a turn)

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[peachdues]

WISH

Compass one-shot • bad boy!Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!Reader

A tooth-rottingly sweet one-shot honoring my sweet boy’s birthday.

This takes place a few months into Sanemi x Reader’s relationship in Compass — the main story is still in the hot, sticky summer. So think of this like a flash-forward. Don’t worry if you’re not fully caught up — no real spoilers here!

CW: 6k • MDNI • the cozy comfort winter oneshot of your dreams • mostly sickeningly sweet fluff but enough allusions/references to these horny idiots’ very active sex life • some references to gang violence (not descriptive) • swearing • abuse of cake

COMPASS MASTERLIST

Good birthday?

The two words sit on his home screen, a notification labeled with Genya’s name.

It takes Sanemi a moment to make sense of his brother’s text, until he spies the date reflected in the upper corner of his phone.

It’s November 29th.

For someone like Sanemi, dates are only important as far as they signal when something is due — and when something is late. The only dates that matter to him are the ones he’s told to care about; those hard deadlines that go unmet and require Sanemi to strap his crowbar to his back and his gun to his hip, so he can pay some poor bastard a visit.

Today is one of those deadlines, and Sanemi has a list of obligations to follow through on. But Genya’s text is a glaring reminder of the other thing today represents.

It’s his birthday.

Every year, his brother asks him the same thing — though, admittedly, Sanemi thinks the text is more a reminder rather than a happy wish of another year’s passing. Without Genya’s annual good birthday? Sanemi is fairly certain he’d forget November 29th held any significance to him at all.

I’ll be damned, Sanemi thinks, walking up the back entrance to an old computer parts shop — his first stop of the morning. Made it another year.

As unenthused Sanemi is about his birthday, he usually answered his brother with some pithy little acknowledgement. A biting Still alive, ain’t I? or, if he was feeling particularly festive, he’d simply send a thumb’s up, one that signaled his brother that Sanemi was working and didn’t want to risk smearing more blood and sweat across his phone screen than absolutely necessary.

This year, though — his twenty-second, he realizes after doing a quick bit of math — Sanemi’s not in any position to reply to his brother. Not yet, at least. So for now, his phone will have to sit in his pocket; his hands are about to be busy.

He’s got debts to collect.

—

Two hours later, Sanemi sits on his bike in an empty alleyway spliced between Market and Eastern Avenue.

In the last week or so, a strong front of arctic air had swept through the City, plunging it deep into the throes of winter. For a moment, Sanemi was grateful for the chill of the air; he always gets worked up after a collection, his limbs abuzz with hot blood and adrenaline. Cold air helped him settle down faster, cleared his mind so he could approach the next job with the same, violent precision.

Except, it’s now colder than he likes, but that itch still burns hot inside him. Hence, why Sanemi remains here, tucked away in this dark, forgotten alley, huddled over his bike. He’s got nothing to keep warm with but his worn leather jacket and the cigarette perched his lips, its end flowing a faint orange.

Tobacco-tinged smoke curls around his head, mixing with condensation of his breath as he exhales long and slow. The rush of nicotine is both a welcome distraction and extra sedative and finally, Sanemi feels his shoulders relax.

He’s only halfway through his cigarette, but he flicks it to the ground anyway. He’s not sure whether the burning in his throat is from the cold air or this particular bad habit of his, but it’s enough to kill his desire for anything more now that his edge has been sufficiently dulled. Still, he considers whittling himself down to the occasional cigarette is a marked improvement from the daily half pack he blazed through in his youth, before he discovered other outlets for his stress. Maybe he’ll be able to kick the habit all together by this time next year.

Assuming he lives long enough to see his next birthday, that is.

Sanemi’s in the middle of stuffing his lighter back inside his jacket pocket when he feels his phone buzz. He shouldn’t check it, not when his to do list still has one more name to cross off, but he’s already indulged in one bad habit this afternoon. Might as well go two-for-two.

And boy, is he glad he does when he spies the notification bearing your name.

Tell me you’re coming over tonight.

Sanemi’s lips twitch up with a smile he hasn’t been able to muster in days. Leave it to you to brighten his day in so few words.

What time you want me, sweetness?

A cutting gust of wind tears down the alley, whipping and tearing through the layers of his clothes. Any other time, Sanemi would simply hunch over the clutch of his bike and speed off, thinking only of someplace that wasn’t outside.

Now, he’s got you to look forward to.

Your reply arrives a few seconds later. Got a few errands to run so I’m closing up early. Owner can suck it. It’s cold.

It is, Sanemi mentally agrees, and he feels a rush of relief that closing nearly means you’ll be home — or close enough to it — before dark. The uptick in violence through the City has crept too close to your neighborhood for his comfort, and Sanemi already hates you walking home in the dark without him as it is. The season’s shortened days only makes that particular anxiety of his worse.

Thank the fucking stars you’re less inclined to weather the arrival of winter than he is.

It’s a date, beautiful. He texts back before pocketing his phone. He cups his hands around his mouth and huffs, willing his breath to unfreeze his fingers enough to grip his bike’s clutch.

Another torrent of wind rips through the alley, but this time, it brings with it the first snow of winter, pelting his face with fat, cold flakes.

Sanemi tilts his face up toward the sky and grins. It is a sharp, feral thing, full of teeth and challenge. Good. Let it snow as hard as it wants; let it suffocate the City under a thick blanket of white. He wouldn’t care; Sanemi can’t think of a way better to warm up than by crawling under the covers with you. Maybe he’ll even treat himself and convince you to sleep in with him tomorrow. It’s been a few days since he last had the chance to see you. While he knows better than to be a betting man, he’d wager his odds of keeping you in bed were pretty good.

Huffing nice, twice more on his hands and Sanemi starts his bike, its motor roaring to life underneath him. His fingers are still stiff, but he can at least grip his clutch enough to steer it. No doubt the icy sting of the wind will freeze his hands in place, but he’ll worry about how to unstick himself later.

For now, he still has work to do.

In the northwest corridor of the City is a port marina that harbors a smattering of small house boats. It’s inside one of these drafty little boats where his next target hides, no doubt relying on the sudden arrival of winter to trick his creditors into looking for him elsewhere.

That ruse might have worked if anyone else other than Sanemi had been tasked with hunting him down. Unfortunately for him, his name fell in Sanemi’s lap, and now he’s going to have to play host to some very unpleasant company.

Slowly, Sanemi treads his bike to the end of the alley, eyes squinted against the wind and the snow, sweeping the street for any unsuspecting travelers. Finding nothing but the odd plastic bag being whipped and tossed down the sidewalk, Sanemi kicks his bike into gear.

As soon as he gets this job over with, he’ll get to see you.

The engine revs, and then Sanemi is thundering down the street, a renewed warmth spreading through his chest that even the biting cold of November can’t dampen.

—

It’s just after dark when Sanemi pulls up to your apartment, quickly killing the motor on his bike. He scans the dark alleyway behind your complex once, twice, before he glances up at the series of windows. Once satisfied that there are no unwanted eyes tracking his movements, Sanemi makes his way to the building’s side entrance, and begins his steady climb up the stairs.

He twirls his key to your place around his finger. God, he can’t wait to get kick his boots off, strip down to his sweater, and climb into bed with you. Maybe you’ll let him poach off your neighbor’s cable satellite again, and that way, he can find you a movie to half-pay attention to. Or, maybe you’ve snuck away another handful of advanced release copies from work, and the two of you can get to work reading and reviewing them. Either way, Sanemi is ready for the calm he only feels when he’s with you; he’s ready to relax.

The first thing he notices when he steps into your apartment is the smell of something burning.

“Motherfucker —“ he hears your vicious snarl from the kitchen right as something clatters to the floor. “One more fucking thing go wrong, I dare you —“

Calm is not on the agenda, it seems.

The air inside your studio is hazy with smoke, enough that it tickles the back of his throat. Hastily, Sanemi pushes your door shut before it can spill into the hallway and tempt one of the building’s ancient fire alarms. The last thing he wants is to summon the City’s finest and tip them off that a high profile gang member likes frequenting this neighborhood. Or the reason why.

“It’s me.” He calls out, crossing through your living room to crank open one of the arched windows behind your bed. Cold air floods your apartment, the winter wind chasing out the thickest of the smoke into night. “Baby?”

No answer; only more furious clanging and a particularly fierce “oh, fuck you.”

Cautious, Sanemi pokes his head into your small kitchenette. “Y/N?”

He’s not sure what he expected, but he can’t say he’s prepared for the sight of you, standing in front of your oven, hands on your hips and your foot tapping irritably on the floor. A cooling tray lays by your feet, and you don’t seem to be in any hurry to collect it; not when you’re too busy glowering down at your stove.

Sanemi’s eyes follow yours, and he finds what he presumes is the source of the stench. The worst of the smoke rolls off something sitting on your stove, though it’s too black for Sanemi to even guess what it’s supposed to be.

You whirl around and Sanemi has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

There’s flour on your cheek and dusted all down your front, along with other smears and stains of beige — batter of some sort, if he had to guess, given the cluttered mess on your counter of used mixing bowls and measuring cups. Your hair is a mess, puffed up and frizzed out from the smoke, framing a face scrunched up in pinched fury.

All things considered, you look pretty damn adorable, but he isn’t about to tell you that. The block of kitchen knives you rarely touch are too close within your reach for his comfort.

So, Sanemi takes the pragmatic approach and casually folds his arms across his chest. He offers with a measured nod of his head toward your oven. “I thought we talked about you cookin’ without supervision.”

For all the grief he’d given you about your inability to make anything more substantive than cereal, Sanemi learned rather quickly it was the most you could be trusted with. Once, you’d tried to show off your culinary skills by making him ramen, only for you to stick the dried noodles in your microwave without water. You hadn’t even noticed the acrid smell of something burning until he pointed it out, and by then, it was too late. It was only after he’d thrown the smoking bowl of scorched, blackened noodles into your sink that he hotly declared you were not to use any appliance in your kitchen while by yourself.

He’d thought you’d agreed to that ban but, as he peers over your shoulder to inspect whatever it is that’s about to set off your fire alarm, Sanemi grimly realizes the two of you are not on the same page.

“I wasn’t cooking, I was baking.” You snap, as though the distinction matters. You yank an oven mitt off one hand and snatch a loose fork from the counter, jamming it right into the smoldering center of whatever the hell it is you’ve tried to make. It pops and sags beneath the stab of the fork, more steam hissing out of the wound you’ve opened in its surface.

You hold the fork up for inspection and your eyes widen with outrage. “How is it burnt on the outside and fucking raw on the inside —?”

Sanemi glances at your oven settings and raises an eyebrow. “‘Cuz you have it set to five hundred — didn’t even know ovens could go that high.”

You chuck the fork into the kitchen sink with more force than necessary. “I was trying to get your stupid cake done before you got here. I wanted you to be surprised!”

He blinks. “What cake?”

“Your birthday cake!” You rip the other oven mitt from your hands scrunching it up before throwing it to the counter in defeat. “It’s your birthday, and I didn’t leave the store ‘til late, so I had to rush to get it done because I couldn’t swing a present other than this stupid cake!” You jab a finger toward the blackened pan still smoking on the stove. “And I couldn’t even do that!”

Sanemi’s eyes widen and for a moment, he can’t remember to blink.

All he can do is stare.

As much as he’s tried to forget them, there were a handful of November 29ths that had stuck with him over the years; a wad of chewing gum cemented to his memory that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried scraping it away.

His fifth birthday was spent clinging to his mother’s arm, begging her not to leave him alone in that dinky, unheated shoebox where they lived. His eyes had been teary, and he hated that he was acting like a crybaby, but he didn’t want his Ma to go — didn’t want to be left alone. He wanted her to scoop him up in her arms, to hum fragments of lullabies into his hair as she curled over him beneath their threadbare blankets, desperate for her body heat to sink into her son and keep him warm.

But it was winter, and Sanemi needed something to eat, so Shizu, heavily pregnant, had to go work.

She returned the next day with a lukewarm fast food hamburger Sanemi couldn’t stomach eating. Not when his mother came home sporting a new black eye, so dark and purple that not even her paper thin smile could dull her obvious wince, or the shadowy bruises peppered along her too-thin arms.

He spent his eighth birthday scavenging for spare coins dropped between the sagging, stained cushions of the old man’s broken down furniture.

Genya was nearly three and crying, his belly aching with a hunger he didn’t understand. Their mother was dead, and no one knew how to care for them except for Sanemi, and he’d been desperate; enough so that he’d clawed at the broken wooden couch slats until his numb fingers turned raw; bloody.

Because it was snowing and cold and Kyogo had left his sons at home in the dark, unheated apartment with nothing to eat.

He’d found enough loose change to justify running down to his neighbor’s place, and the old man had been kind enough to give him a packet of stale instant noodles. No seasoning packets, but the Shinazugawa boys had been too hungry to mind.

The only candles he had to mark the day were the mismatched stumps scrounged out of some cluttered drawer. His birthday wish — the very first one he’d ever made — a feeble plea that come December, Kyogo wouldn’t waste the month’s electric bill on booze his sons couldn’t even drink to keep warm. Winter in the Silo was harsh enough.

But December came and went, heralding in harsh winds and thick sheets of ice, and the apartment never once turned warm.

Sanemi never made another birthday wish again.

When he turned ten, Genya brought him home a tiny green race car, no doubt swiped from the basket of loose toys that sat next to the cashier at the nearby corner store. The paint was chipped, and one of the wheels had a tendency to stick whenever Sanemi skated it over the kitchen’s cracked linoleum, but it was a toy, and Sanemi hadn’t had one of those before. So, he ruffled his brother’s hair and the two spent the night rolling the car back and forth to one another across the floor, giddy with that childlike innocence they never got to keep come sunrise.

The corner store it came from closed not long after his birthday, its owner having been dragged out sometime in the night by hooded men, face too swollen and mouth too bloodied to scream.

Not that anyone would’ve helped, anyway. Not here.

Sanemi still has the car, though. It’s since lost a wheel, and the paint has nearly faded away, but it sits in his window sill; a prized token of the boy he’d never been.

For his fifteenth birthday, Sanemi’s lucky ass got not one, but two presents: a broken rib and a black eye. Courtesy of Kyogai, a sleazy had-been in the Corps’ ranks, whose penchant for downers meant he never had enough money to pay his dues to the Corps. Sanemi, a junior at the time, had been sent to collect money Kyogai refused to cough up, and in his youthful arrogance, thought he could simply strong-arm the Corps’ payment back.

That was when he learned never to get between a junkie and their fix — especially once withdrawal set in.

Sanemi returned the birthday generosity on a cold day in January, with his crowbar to Kyogai’s kneecaps. Rumor was he still couldn’t walk without a cane. But he never tried his bullshit with Sanemi again, and he thought that was probably the best gift of all.

So no, Sanemi can’t say he expects much out of his birthdays.

“No one’s ever made me a birthday cake before.”

It’s a breathless sort of admission, one that he’d probably be embarrassed about making if he wasn’t so caught off guard.

His admission monetarily stuns you into silence, and he almost feels ashamed. But you quickly recover and instead offer only a brittle laugh. “Yeah, well. Fucked that up for you, I guess.”

You finally look at him and Sanemi is startled by the tears rapidly lining your eyes.

“It’s just a cake, baby,” Sanemi soothes, hands reaching for you. “And today’s just a day. ‘S no big deal.”

Another great sniff. “It is a big deal!”

Sanemi is all too used to never having and not being allowed to want, so accepting what others want or try to give doesn’t exactly come easy to him. But the sight of you, nearly reduced to tears over the scorched disaster you’d tried desperately to make into something worth marking the day with has him reevaluating twenty-two years’ worth of trained indifference.

Beneath your frustration is clear upset with the situation. Because, you tried.

Sure, Sanemi’s birthdays passed without the usual triumvirate of cake-ice cream-presents he supposes other kids got. Frankly, he didn’t quite see the appeal of it anyway, but that may have been because Sanemi hadn’t known to miss what he never had. November 29th was just a day, after all; the mark of another year gone by without him taking a bullet to the head or having his body dumped in some faraway hole. The watery sun that rose that morning was no different all the others he’d managed to cheat his way into seeing. To him, it’s insignificant.

But not to you. For some reason, you don’t think you’ve given him enough.

Months of being together, and he still hasn’t figured out how to make you understand that he doesn’t need any grand gestures from you. It’s enough that you continue allowing him into your home, your bed, your life; that you soothe his fragmented heart, and chase away the cloud of numbness always lurking over his shoulder with one of your sweet smiles.

He doesn’t want for anything because he already has everything in you.

But you still want to give him more.

God, he doesn’t deserve you. And he certainly doesn’t deserve the tears swimming in your eyes or the frustration that weighs down your shoulders.

Sure, he doesn’t really give a damn about his birthday, but he sure as hell gives several about you, and your defeat is not something he’ll tolerate.

Sanemi fishes his set of keys from his pocket. “C’mon,” he nods toward the door. “We’re going to the store.”

—

“It’s not right,” you sniff an hour later as you hand him an oven mitt. “You shouldn’t be making your own birthday cake.”

“We’re making,” Sanemi corrects, seamlessly pulling the hot pan from your oven and placing it atop your stove to cool. “The present ain’t the cake, anyway.”

He tosses the mitt to your counter and turns to you, eyeing the can of frosting in your hand, one you absently stir a butter knife into, unsure of how else to help.

With a faint smile, Sanemi swipes his finger through the top layer of sprinkled sugar, dolloping it right on the tip of your nose. “You are.”

You roll your eyes, swiping your finger through the small blob of icing and bringing it to your mouth. As you suck the tip of your finger clean, you peer over his arm, nose wrinkling as you as you look down at the golden brown surface of the very much baked-through cake. “Still, box cake mix?”

“A cake’s a cake.”

The kitchen is teeming with the warm, comforting scent of sweet vanilla, one that spreads through the rest of your studio, chasing away the last remnants of burnt confectionary which lingered after your earlier baking fiasco. Boxed mix or not, you have to know that plan b smells leagues better than plan a, even if that means your ego has to take the hit.

“If you say so,” you grumble, shouldering him out of the way as you scoop out a glob of frosting, ready to slap it across the cake’s surface.

“Not yet,” Sanemi corrects, gently catching your wrist before your knife can make contact. “It’s gotta cool first, or else that’s just gonna melt all over the place.”

Your mouth twists into an annoyed grimace. “That seems stupid.” You gripe, stabbing the knife back into the canister of icing, right in its center.

“Chemistry, sweetheart. Didn’t you pay attention?”

“I slept through most of chem back in the day.”

That surprises him. “Weren’t you a goody two shoes?”

You snort. “Not when it came to science. Or math, for that matter. Always got my lowest grades in science and math.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “And a low grade for you would’ve been —?”

This time, you drop your head, suddenly sheepish. “Anything below an A.”

Of course. “Damn, wish I’d known.” Sanemi smirks. “Maybe I could’ve made bank tutoring instead of runnin’ around, bein’ a delinquent.” At the skeptical raise of your brow, he scoffs. “What? You think a blossoming criminal couldn’t also score a few As?”

Math had always come easily to him, though that may have been out of necessity than raw talent. Knowing numbers meant he could tally up debts quickly in his head and calculate the exact interest owed, which meant less time wasted wherein his target might be able to get one over on him. Not once had he ever finished a job short-changed. That’s what made him so valuable to the Corps, even back then.

His academic success across the various fields of mathematics and science (which was math with more words thrown in), was just an added bonus.

“Still, though — tutoring?” You laugh. “Sorry — for some reason I can’t picture you meeting some poor kid in the library to go over formulas and equations. I can’t even imagine someone willing to ask you — I mean —“ you gesture to him, and Sanemi knows that’s explanation enough.

“I might’ve. Especially if a certain pretty girl had batted her lashes and asked me all nice and sweet.” Gently, he pushes your hair back over your shoulder, his eyes watching your breath hitch in your throat; the goosebumps that spread over your skin. Smirking, he leans in and presses his lips right below your ear. “Kinda like how you did last week — ‘cept, you were asking me to give you something then, weren’t you?”

The way your cheeks darken tell him you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It was him. Specifically, his cum; you’d begged for it, actually, your recurring chant of fill me up, fill me up, baby, please! sweeter than music to his fucking ears.

You turn to grab the can of icing, defiantly putting your back to him, if only to avoid having to look at the cocky set of his mouth.

Sanemi’s gloating isn’t over. It’s his birthday, after all. “You know I’m right.”

“Oh, shut up before I make you decorate your damn cake.”

Still grinning, he lets you shoo him from the kitchen. Sanemi plops himself onto your sofa and fishes your tv remote from between the cushions. He busies himself flipping through the handful of channels you get, finally landing on some pro baseball game he only watches with half-interest.

“Ready!” You call a few moments later, and Sanemi tosses the remote aside, the game, forgotten.

You hover in front of your counter, hands together twisting nervously. The moment he appears in the kitchen’s small entryway, you step aside, revealing the fruit of your shared labor.

“Happy Birthday, Sanemi.”

The cake is small and its edges are a little lopsided. The icing looks like it was applied the same way as wallpaper paste. A lone, green candle sits lit in the cake’s center, its flame bright and merry.

Sanemi’s never seen anything more appealing in his life.

“You have to make your wish,” you sternly remind him as he leans over the cake, his eyes glued to the candle. “And you can’t say it out loud.”

A birthday cake; his very own birthday cake.

There’s a part of him that hesitates to blow out the candle, too entranced by the way the little flame dances and bends around the wick. After all, the last time he’d made a wish, it hadn’t come true.

And yet, another part of him — that silly, hopelessly optimistic part he knows better than to indulge — wonders if perhaps his eight-year-old self’s wish hadn’t worked because he’d lit the candles for light and feeble warmth. They hadn’t been intended for celebration, and he certainly hadn’t had a cake to hold them.

Maybe that was part of the magic; the spell’s missing ingredients.

This time, maybe things will be different.

His wish is simple, if not a little selfish. But Sanemi thinks that birthdays might be the chance to be selfish, and he’s not making his wish out loud anyways, so maybe he can get away with this.

Sanemi closes his eyes and he wishes for time. Time with you. Time with Genya. As much as the universe will let him have.

That would be enough.

Sanemi blows out the candle.

“C’mere you,” he says roughly, reaching for you. He pulls you into his side and presses a kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Your arms wind around his middle. “You did most of the work.”

“You made it a birthday cake, though.” He lays his cheek atop your head. “You turned this whole damn day into somethin’ special. Thank you.”

Without you, Sanemi would never know what it felt like to have his own birthday cake or a candle to wish upon.

Neither of you of bother with plates or cutting slices; instead, you hand him another fork and the two of you dig right in.

At the first bite, Sanemi’s eyes slide shut. Cheap box cake has never tasted so fucking good.

“Not bad,” you say thickly through your own mouthful, leaning over your counter. Another bite is already loaded on your fork. “Wonder what mine would’ve tasted like.”

Sanemi swallows. “Like raw cake batter.”

You turn over your shoulder to stick your tongue out at him, not caring that your mouth is full, or for the crumbs that fall on the counter top.

You’re about to return to the cake when a smear of white catches his eye.

“Hold it.” Sanemi sets his fork down and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger before you turn away. He tilts your face up, and smirks.

That’s when he leans in, flicks his tongue along your lower lip. He moans at the taste of sugar, the spare bit of icing left on your lip further sweetening the honey of your kiss, his mouth capturing yours.

Your moan rights everything in his world full of wrongs, your fork clattering to the counter.

The hand he keeps on your chin slides to the back of your neck, tilting your head; the other finds purchase at your hip, tugging you closer into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before Sanemi is drunk on your lips, the warmth of the evening liquid honey that pools in his stomach.

Your kiss tastes like cake and home.

He’d stay here all night if he could, but the fervor of your lips moving with his has quickly stolen his breath away. No matter how much he craves your kiss, his body demands air.

With a faint grunt, Sanemi breaks your kiss. The hand on the back of your neck remains firmly in place, keeping you close as Sanemi traces the slope of your nose with the tip of his. “You had icing on your lip. Had to fix it.”

Through his lowered lids, he can see the quickened rise and fall of your chest as you steady your own breathing; the flush in your cheeks. Your eyes are bright, however, illuminated with equal desire and challenge.

Your tongue flicks out to dampen your lower lip and Sanemi’s eyes narrow. “Maybe you should check for more.”

Fuck oxygen. His mouth is back on yours before you can finish your next inhale.

And then, he’s moving.

Though you’re walking backwards, you’re the one guiding him, your fingers hooked through his belt loops as you tug him through your kitchenette and out into the open space of your studio.

His groan vibrates into your mouth. Sanemi doesn’t have to open his eyes to know where you’re leading him; he’s treaded this very path to your bed too many times to count.

Oh, there’s plenty of time for this later, and he’ll happily indulge himself then. Besides, you’re even more sensitive in the mornings, and that means he’s guaranteed to coax two or three orgasms out of you with just his tongue before you both have to go to work in the morning, never mind what he’ll be able to do once he’s actually inside you. It’ll be worth holding off, for now.

But right now, his heart is too full, and tonight has been mending something inside of him he hadn’t known was broken. Something shy and curious, a remnant from the boy who might have secretly longed to know what it felt like to have a birthday mean something; to matter.

Still, he can’t resist fanning the fire a little, the hand on your hip sliding to your ass and squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to the dip in your thighs.

He lets you strip him down to his underwear and you to yours, since that’s how you prefer to sleep when not otherwise naked. Only when he feels your hand sliding down his bare abdomen does he still you, his fingers wrapping delicately around your wrist.

He feels your frown before he sees it. Cautious, your mouth breaks away from his and you lower yourself down from the tips of your toes.

A dent has notched itself between your eyebrows. “You don’t want —?”

Later, he’ll be sure to tell you that he wants you all the time — so much so that it might be a problem. But that’s not what tonight is about — not for him. For now, he can’t risk you discovering that he’s half-hard already; the second your hand finds him, he’ll be too erect to function, let alone think clearly.

He shakes his head. “Actually,” Sanemi hooks his arm around your waist and tugs you back against the bed, falling into your tower of pillows and blankets with you safely encased in his embrace. “I think I just wanna hold you, if that’s cool.”

Confusion flits briefly across your face before your eyes soften. “Of course. Don’t you know that birthdays mean you get whatever you want?”

He didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. Because this is why he loves you: you know, without him ever having to explain. You understand.

With a soft smile, Sanemi rolls to capture you under him, but braces himself above you long enough to allow you to sit up against the headboard. The moment you settle, Sanemi inches up beside you until he can rest his head on your stomach, his arm hugging your waist.

He swears he can hear your smile as you ask, “Happy?”

Exuberantly so; your body is soft in every way his isn’t, and warm. He’s in a heated, dimly lit apartment with no fear of the lights cutting out or the cold outside making his toes turn numb. The girl he loves, loves him back. Everything he hadn’t dared let himself wish for is now his, carding her beautiful fingers through his hair.

it’s almost perfect. Almost.

“Nah, I’ve got one more request.”

He leans over you and pulls a novel from the top of the stack that perpetually sits on your side of the bed, never shrinking. He hands it to you, meeting your inquisitive eyebrow with his smirk. “Read to me.”

He doesn’t care what book it is — whether it’s something he’s read before, or of a genre he isn’t all that into, it doesn’t matter. He just wants to hear you.

“A bedtime story? Really?” You tease, but you’re already flipping to the first page.

Content, Sanemi turns his face further into your stomach, burrowing harder into you. One hand still smoothing through his hair, you begin to read the prologue, pausing for dramatic effect where the passage calls for it. Slowly, the hours unfold as your voice weaves together the story — some high fantasy set in a distant world. Once upon a time, Sanemi would’ve wished he could dive into the pages of his book; anything to escape his reality.

Now, he can’t imagine being any place better than right here, with you.

—

It’s nearly midnight when Sanemi remembers Genya’s unanswered text still sitting in his inbox. Carefully, so as not to disturb you and your faint snoring, he untangles himself from you. One hand pats across the surface of your bedspread, searching for the small rectangle while the other gingerly removes the book still propped between your fingers. You’d made it about five chapters, your thumb still marking the page where you’d dozed off mid-passage.

Book in hand, he turns and tosses it on your threadbare rug, and it lands with a dull thump. He finds his phone near the foot of your bed. His eyes flick to you once to confirm that his gentle movements have not disturbed your well-earned rest.

Your mouth twitches with another light snore, and Sanemi smiles.

He clicks his phone to life, taking care to keep it turned away from you, mindful of the bright little screen. Quietly, he thumbs his answer to his brother. The moment he taps the send arrow, he tosses his phone back to the ground and reaches across the duvet for you once more.

A few hundred miles away inside a sleeping boys’ dormitory, under Zenitsu’s nasally snores and the odd, violent twitch from Inosuke, Genya’s phone buzzes from its place under his pillow.

Yeah. Good birthday.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS APPRECIATED!!

[unluckiestmember]

can I get the main characters of blue eye samurai with a innocent fem reader? I loved your Arcane innocent reader <3

Coming right up!

Blue Eye Samurai X Innocent Fem! Reader

Characters: Mizu, Taigen, Ringo and Ito Akemi

Tags: Friends to lovers, workers to lovers, brothel, overprotective boyfriend/girlfriend, yandere themes, Ringo being Ringo, fluff, toxic(?) and open ending.

Warning: SFW

A/N: I'm so happy Blue Eye Samurai is getting the recognition it deserves! Who would you date? I'd get with Mizu or Taigen.

Mizu

“The stars are out tonight?... I can barely see them… It’s okay. At least I can see you… You’re beautiful…”

At first, Mizu found you to be as annoying like Ringo. You weren’t as annoying, but it was infuriating to travel with someone who was so fragile and couldn’t even defend themselves. She was surprised that with your demeanor you weren’t in a brothel or married to the next idiot of a samurai. She kept you at a distance, arm's length. But someway. Somehow. You slithered into her good graces and touched her heart.

When you two became a couple, Mizu began to treat you like a porcelain doll. If a man tried to touch you, their hand would be severed from their body in seconds. If someone bad-mouthed you, their tongue was cut out. Suddenly, you found yourself becoming a precious jewel to Mizu instead of a nuisance. During down time, she always checks up on you to see if you’re okay. Expect her to check if you have a temperature, if you’re hungry or thirsty. She wished deep down she could give up her mission to live a perfect life with you because that’s what you deserve. But promising such a thing is hard. At least for now, she has you and she will savor the time you both have together.

Taigen

“That was pretty cool, huh? You know I can teach you a thing or two if you say please… Haha! You’re cute when you pout!”

Unlike Mizu, Taigen found you to be a breath of fresh air on his journey to assist Mizu. He enjoyed how you were so pure in a world that was getting colder by the day. For a second, he was fearful of pursuing anything with you because of his relation to Akemi. But as the days went by and word started spreading fast of his lover’s affairs, the more Taigen lost hope in any future he could have with her. However, he gained hope in a future painted for you two.

Taigen is a mix of a man child and an amazing boyfriend when you two become a couple. He will tease you whenever you are being cute unintentionally or when you mess up doing something. It’s only because he loves your reactions to his commentary. He will also teach you how to protect yourself, preferably with a dagger. If you master using one, he’ll have you use a sword, but even then he’ll be a bit concerned it’s too much for you. On the battlefield, if he’s not showing off and winking at you after every kill, he’s quick to protect you from any harm. Let’s admit it. Taigen can be a pain in the ass. But he’s a great boyfriend.

Ringo

“You really think I can be a great samurai?! Then I’m going to train hard for both of us- I’ll be the greatest samurai for me and you!”

Ringo is a sweetheart. He didn’t expect to go on this journey to end up with a girlfriend, so when he scored one with you, you can imagine his surprise. He didn’t think much at first admittedly, but the more you kissed his cheek, nuzzled into his body on cold nights and threw him words of endearment, the more it settled. And boy did he adore having the title of being your amazing boyfriend!

With someone now to take care of, Ringo pushes himself to be an amazing samurai. He’s more persistent with his master to teach him how to use a sword and possess honor. He’ll even go as far as to ask Taigen to assist him if he can! Whenever he learns something new, he’s excitedly telling you all about it. If he finds anything interesting, he’s grabbing you gently to share it with you. If you’re looking for a ball of sunshine who’s both your friend and partner, look no further than Ringo.

Ito Akemi

“My darling. We will make our own path, away from this prejudice, these men- Everything that’s ever hurt us. That’s ever hurt you… You will never be hurt again. I swear it.”

Akemi knows all too well how it feels to be used and thrown away for your body if not your status. So when she met you at the brothel, she immediately clicked with you. She found your personality to be contagious along with your laughter. She spent every moment staring into your eyes filled with life, gently caressing your smooth skin just to make sure you were still there with her in this hell. You were the most beautiful flower she’s ever seen. You were a flower she couldn’t afford to be tainted.

She didn’t know why she fell for a woman or if it was a curse, but she loved you. She loved you enough to run away and spend as much life as she could with you until she was found by her father. But even then, nothing could hold her down. She was a princess who laid eyes on a commoner she wanted. That she needed. And no one would get in her way of having them. Of having you. She would destroy everything and bathe Japan in flames if it meant she could keep you in her warm embrace. She’d turn everyone into her enemy if you could be her lover. She’d be the villain if you were her savior… And that’s exactly what she was going to do.

If you got any requests for Blue Eye Samurai, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[mellowyellow236]

The TWST boys write letters to Yuu/The Prefect!

All of them except for Ortho+Checka are meant to be interpreted as romantic, but many can be interpreted as platonic as well. The reader is gender-neutral, but more feminine adjectives will be used when referring to them. Characters will probably be a bit OOC.

Minor spoilers for their respective books in each section, but I try to keep it as spoiler-free as I can, except for who overbloted. If anyone has any questions or comments, please leave an ask or comment :) All are under the cut.

NRC:

Heartslabyul:  

Riddle Rosehearts - 

My dearest rose, 

You are the loveliest person I have ever known. It is a miracle that you chose to get to know me, and even more so after I hurt you and your friends so deeply. I have made many mistakes, but you, my rose, look past them. I understand that you may choose to go home one day, but even so... 

Please just give me a moment of your time, a fraction of your thoughts, and I’ll be satisfied. Any inch of you that I can get, I want, even if you still believe me a tyrant. If it pleased you- No, if it only made you look my way, I would gladly break any rule of the queen’s or my mother’s. Understand that, my rose, and I am sure you’ll know what remains unsaid in this letter. 

Yours Truly, 

Riddle Rosehearts 

Trey Clover - 

Prefect, 

Hello. I wanted to thank you, first and foremost, for helping out Heartslabyul so much. You’ve been a very good influence on Ace and Duece, and it’s nice to see Cater open up to someone. Not to mention, Riddle’s been improving every day. I can’t even describe how much you’ve helped me... I just hope you know that I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done. You’re welcome at Heartsabyul at any time. I have some donuts waiting for you if you want. 

From, 

Trey. 

Cater Diamond - 

Prefect, 

Heyyy! Whatcha doing right now? I’m sooooo happy that you came to NRC even if, like, all of the housewarden’s tried to ratio you. I do not subscribe to that, BTW. #NotCool, #Yikes-A-Tron. But,  like... On a more serious note, I am happy that I got to know you. It’s nice to have someone I can just be myself around. No drama, no expectations, just... Yeah. I know that you’re gonna leave at some point, and it’s almost a relief. You’re honest about it, which is something that many can’t say. 

Ugh, that was probs TMI! I’m not trying to trauma dump here, oops. There’s this cute cafe that opened up downtown, totally Magicam-worthy. You wanna meet up there sometime? 

- Cay-cay ♦️  

Ace Trapolla - 

Prefect!! 

I need your help! So, Trein’s got this super hard test coming up on Friday- Like, Riddle-got-a-99-last-year level of hard. Yeah, that’s without the extra credit, but STILL! That’s failure to the tyrant! So, you’ve got to come over to Heartslabyul right now and help me study. Pleaseeeee!!!! I’ll owe you one! 

Oh, and don’t bring Grim. Deuce’s also got plans, there’s no need to ask him. You know, in case that matters to you. 

See ya, 

Ace 

Deuce Spade - 

Dear Prefect, 

Hello, how are you doing? Can you believe that it’s already been so long since we became friends? When we broke that chandelier, I was ready to never talk to you again... But now look at us! I’m on my way to becoming an honor student, and you’re working on finding your way home! I’m happy that you’re going to be able to go soon, I know how bad it feels not to be able to see your family (and probably friends in your case) after so long away, but also sad that you’ll be leaving us. 

I’ve got it! Let’s get your ghost camera, and we’ll take lots of photos of us all over campus! Two of each, so that way no matter what, both of us will always remember what we went through together. That sounds like a good idea, right? 

From, 

Duece 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

Herbivore, 

Hey. You’re an idiot, you know that? You’re stupid and impulsive and don’t know when to quit or give up. That’s why you keep looking for me in the botanical gardens, right? You just don’t know when to stop. I’m sure that you’ll realize I’m not worth your effort soon enough. But until then, you have to come to see me more often. You’re my pillow, I don’t get good enough sleep if you’re not there. 

I’m in the usual place. Get over here as soon as possible. 

- Leona 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Hiya, Prefect... 

I’ve been thinking, and you should let me come over to Ramshackle and fix the place up for you. No upfront cost, of course, but... I want the right to use the kitchen as I please, whenever I please. 

Why, you’re asking? Shishishi... Not telling. You’ve just got to trust me on this, I’ll make it worth your while. Then again, maybe I’ll just blow the kitchen up and you’ll have to live at Savanclaw again! That’d be fun, huh? 

If you don’t want me to, ya better give up your kitchen for a little while! I’ll get that microwave up and running again in no time.

- Ruggie 

Jack Howl - 

Dear Prefect, 

Hello, have you been feeling alright? I’ve noticed that Crowley isn’t the best provider of food. While on my morning runs, I’ve noticed Grim loudly talking about how he doesn’t have enough tuna. He does it pretty often. So, I’ve thought of a solution; You could try eating breakfast with me. I always get big portions, so you could have some. If you want, I could even try lifting you and carrying you places. I need to get better strength training anyway, and then you’ll have a buddy to get stronger with. It’s always better to have a friend with you. 

From, 

Jack 

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

My Pearl, 

Allow me to start this letter by saying that you are truly the crown jewel of my riches and that none can replace your beauty. You are the loveliest, most perfect little pearl, and I adore you with my whole heart. And yet, I cannot seem to convince myself that you feel the same. You say you do, and even if it is a crime to believe your lips hold lies, I cannot believe that to be true. If it was, why? Not just why you would tell me- A scheming man who has hurt you and your friends- that I hold the keys to your heart, but why you would choose what I hold underneath. I’m no good for you in terms of personality or how I look, and yet... You still hold me dear. And for that alone, I want to take you to the Coral Sea where my home lies, but not for a deal this time. Just... Because I want you and my mother in the same place. The two most important people to me meeting... That’s the best thing I can think of, to be honest. 

With Love, 

Azul Ashengrotto 

Jade Leech - 

Dearest Prefect, 

It has come to my attention that you haven’t had a chance to enjoy a proper mushroom dish since arriving in Twisted Wonderland. Now, that will not do for much longer. This letter should contain a box with three containers worth of mushroom dishes. You are to eat them and write back to me with what you thought of each of them. In return, I shall continue to provide you with free food. 

Do be warned, however, that they should all be eaten as fast as possible once you get them in case my brother chooses to throw them out. Also, so that way Grim cannot eat them. I would not recommend it for a cat.

Kind Regards, 

Jade Leech 

Floyd Leech - 

Shrimpy!!!!!! 

You and me. In the courtyard. Now. 

I’m going to squeeze you. 

🐬°˖𓍢✨໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ 

🦐🥢🥢🥢🥢🧨 

I’ll see you later if you want me to or not. 

- Floyd <3333333 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

Hello!!!!

I love you!!! I love you, I love you, I love you! You’re the most wonderful person in this school, and you’ve done so much for both me and Jamil! It would be silly for me not to love you. I love how your hair looked in the wind when we went on that carpet ride, I love how you looked in the school’s uniform and how you looked when you tried on my dorms, and I love how you look no matter how you dress because you’re a beautiful person inside and out! I love you, and nothing can change that! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ 

Hugs and kisses, 

Kalim Al-Asim 

P.S. Let’s go on another magic carpet ride soon, okay? I want to show you how pretty the moon looks when it’s full and you’re flying!

Jamil Viper - 

Dear Prefect,

Thank you for saving me when I overblotted. I am aware that what I did was wrong, and I apologize. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from. Either way, I feel as though I must do something more for you to show you that. Please come to Scarabia tonight. I will make you a special dinner if you do. Please, don’t tell Kalim. I want... something special, for the two of us this time. 

See you later, 

Jamil Viper

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

My Dearest Potato, 

I regret to inform you that you have bewitched me. So much so that I willingly took on a role as a villain in this next movie. The villain falls in love with the hero’s love interest, and then, in a “shocking” turn of events, she chooses the villain to stand by. Of course, they’re both defeated, the hero gets with his childhood friend in some lesson of how love will always be waiting for you, whatever. But I still chose it, even if Neige plays the hero. 

I finally have a love interest, and they remind me of you. You could have stood by his side, you know. You should have. I poisoned him; That action speaks for itself. And yet, you decided to stay with me. Just like how that villain in this story gets the girl the hero originally wanted. 

I’ve won your heart as well, haven’t I? 

Sincerely, 

Vil Schoenheit 

Rook Hunt - 

Trickster, 

Bonjour, mon amour! I could not resist sending you another letter. You see my darling, I long for you like I long for the sunset on a hot day, for an oasis in a desert, for a hint of rain during the dry season, for the sun during the days when it pours. I'd imagine you'd taste like the rain as well, Trickster, and if given the chance, I'd taste again and again, in an attempt to satiate more than just my curiosity. 

Oh, Trickster, have you any idea how you’ve bewitched me? Why, just the sight of you is enough to send me spiraling, wishing for the smallest fraction of a chance that my affections are shared. How cruel is fate, to deny me the right to live and die within your arms? La petite mort would be heaven if it was with you, but death would truly come for me if it wasn’t. 

Je t'aime de tout mon coeur, 

Le Chasseur D'Armour 

Epel Felmeir - 

Prefect, 

I need some help. I found out that milk can make ya grow stronger, and also help you get taller. However, Vil has banned me from drinking it because I drank a carton in two days. Something about it raising my cholesterol or making me break out, I don’t care. So, I need to keep it at Ramshackle. That’s okay with you, right? Well, I sure hope it is, cause it’s getting in there if ya want it to or not! I’ll see ya soon, just make sure it’s in the fridge. I’ll get ya some of my family’s apple juice in return, it’ll be good. I reckon ya liked it last time. 

Epel 

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - 

Prefect, 

Get to my room, and fast. There’s an event taking place, and I need a player two. This one requires another person to be in the same room, so I can’t ask any of my mutuals, and you’re the only one I trust with this. I can’t ask Ortho either, don’t ask why. 

Also I recently got pink lights in my room like those normies. That’s why everything looks kind of pink, it’s not my hair. Just in case you were wondering if I was embarrassed or whatever, you’re wrong. Just get over here ASAP, no time to waste. 

- Gloomurai 

Ortho Shroud - 

Hello, how are you? ( ˵ •̀ ᴗ •́˵) I am very happy to get a chance to talk with you. I have recently learned how to type out these little faces called ‘kaomoji’ that my big brother loves. Here are some of my favorites: 

♡✧( •⌄• ) 

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ 

•ω• 

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ - This one is a cat! 

I would like to share more with you. Please come to Ignihyde so I can teach you how to get them on your phone as well. I can provide free updates while you’re here if needed. (✿˶◕‿◕˶人◕��◕✿) 

Sent To: PerfectPrefect@email.com 

Date: XX/XX/XXXX 

Return Email: orthoshroud2@email.com 

Diasomnia: 

Malleus Dracona - 

My Dearest Child Of Man, 

If Longing was painful, how much farther would I have to fall to crash and burn at your feet? The only answer I can give is that I already would have. I would build monuments in your name and would offer you the world and more if only you would say you loved me back. 

Could this be considered love? Could these feelings I hold deep within my heart, only to divulge in the darkest hours of the night with none but the stars and you to bear witness to my passion, be a form of love? Or is this simply my yearning, a longing for your heart, and wanting to have someone to call my own? 

The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were the one I wanted next. How I wish I could scream your name from the rooftop, and raise my voice in song only to sing your praises. You have the face of an angel, and I am sure that you must have the mind of one as well, for even if the voices in your head remind you of nothing more than pain and suffering, they have still been able to mold you into the perfection you are today. But maybe you have devils as well, trying to smite you as you sleep, but just as I do all of your angels, I will pick them up and kiss their heads if they are a part of someone I care for so much. You are perfection, Child of Man, and this dragon wishes only to live with the crumbs of affection as my treasures. 

Yours Until The End Of Eternity, 

Prince Malleus Dracona Of Briar Valley Hornton 

Lilia Vanrouge - (Okay so for Lilia I could have SWORN that he calls the prefect ‘Beastie,’ but I can find that nowhere. Literally at all, no one seems to have used it for him, but I know that I’ve seen at least one person do it. I now think that it’s a headcanon thing but I’m not sure, if anyone knows who did this or if it’s canon, please tell me. I’ve been searching for far too long and I am in too deep.)

Beastie, 

Hello, my darling~! I have an easy-peasy little request for you, m’kay? You just need to travel over to Diasomnia, and then... I’ll make you a meal! Malleus has been out trying to find this one gargoyle on campus all day since I brought up wanting to learn a new recipe, and Sebek and Silver both ran off earlier to go help him. I don’t know how to tell them that the gargoyle they’re looking for definitely isn’t at Night Raven College. Raising kids is quite hard, especially when things like this come up... 

But you’ll be there for me, won’t you, Beastie? Pretty please? I’ll see you tonight if you want to, a little date if you feel up to it. Mwah! 

xoxo, 

Lilia 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

Dear Prefect, 

I had the most wonderful dream. I think I did, at least. I can’t remember it, but I remember how familiar these eyes were, and I knew it was you as soon as I awoke. And I know it's true, that dreams are seldom what they seem... But if I know how you are, then I know what you'll do; You'll look at me the same way you did once upon inside my dreams. And tell me all about the animals that you found with me when I awoke. What I wouldn’t give to hear you tell me about every birdie that comes to me; I’d be willing to fall asleep in the forest every day if only to hear you cooing to the birds when I come to. I wonder if each little bird has someone to sing sweet things to, a little love melody like what I long to play for you one day. Well, either way, I’m growing sleepy now. The effects of my curse will soon be on me once more. I’ll see you either later today or tomorrow, depending on how long I’m asleep. If you need me or simply wish to keep me company, I’m currently resting in the woods. 

Best Wishes, 

Silver 

Sebek Zigvolt - 

HUMAN! 

I have something to show you; A new notebook to be filled, gifted to me by Master Lilia. He said that it is a ‘scrapbook’, which humans fill up with pictures and drawings of themselves and their friends. To fulfill the purpose of this illustrious gift, you must come to Diasomnia at once! You shall be the first of the first years to be added, along with Silver. Prepare enough of those photographs you have to fill half of the book. The other shall be dedicated to Wakasama! 

Sincerely, 

Sebek Zigvolt  

RSA+NBC: 

Che’nya - 

Prefect... 

When are you going to visit RSA, huh? It would be purrr-fect to get a chance to see you again. You’re quite the pretty purr-son, dontcha think? Or maybe I’ll just drop by at the next unbirthday party... Riddle and Trey would like that, but I wonder what you’d think. Hum-hum-hummm... 

Kitty Kisses, 

Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker <3 

Neige Leblanche - (The Reader is called NRC’s ‘princess’ in this one, but not called a woman or anything)

My Dearest, 

Hello! How are you fairing? Have you been doing okay since the VDC? I know that you looked pretty shaken up back then, so I wanted to make sure that you’ve been okay. After all, you’re NRC’s princess! As far as I can tell, anyway. I’m happy that there’s someone around Vil like you, he always looked like he needed a good cheering up. And you’re like a fairytale! Such pretty hair and eyes and skin; Oh, I’d ride away with you on a white horse if I could! 

Ah, that’s odd to say to someone I don’t know very well, isn’t it? I’m sorry, that’s my fault. You still want to be friends, right? If you do, please come visit me at some point. Or, just send me a letter back. I’ll make sure that you get priority over any fan letter. 

Love, 

Neige Leblanche 

Rollo Flamme -

Mon Amour, 

There are times I wish I could tear you down and take you apart only to sew you back together. Rip you to shreds only to tenderly put each piece back where it should be. Drink from you until there's nothing left and then fill you up with all of the love I could offer, make you mine and mine alone. Those greedy thoughts shouldn't even make their way onto this paper, shouldn’t even be in my head, and yet here I am, penning them in a letter never to be sent. 

I truly wish you never see these letters, for I'd hate to be the reason your face turns to disgust, even if for a moment. Of course, I don't regret writing them. You will never read them, after all, but I believe I should get my thoughts out like this rather than bottle them up, lest I do something stupid and let you see them. I pray that you will never have to see me in a state like how I write to you, over my bedside table in the dead of night, eyes barely open and breath still recovering from dreams of a sweeter pleasure than I should sully your name with. 

I mention those dreams I have of you a lot, it seems, although I mean it in the most innocent way possible. Ever since I met you, you've infested my dreams and wormed your way into my heart like a parasite I can't rid myself of. My dreams are all of the sweet moments I have longed for and never gotten. I only have eyes for you, after all, and a saint may never lie with a sinner, lest they become one as well. 

Bonus: 

Checka Kingscholar - 

To Perfect, 

Hello! I am Checka Kingscholar. I am fiv years old. I like my unca. I like my dad and I love my mom. I love you! Goodbye! •ᴗ•

[harufluff]

asking them to marry you on over the phone (unironically)

warnings - cursing, but that should be it.

genre - crack, fluff, bf!enhypen x fem!reader, established relationship au

wc - 1.1k

inspired by ‘you’re here that’s the thing’ by beabadoobee

yang jungwon

was stunned

actually thought he was having a heart attack for a second

he was doing something as simple as eating his gummies when you suddenly blurted out

"oh god- marry me."

man nearly choked on his gummy

more under the cut :))

"EXCUSE ME??"

if you were joking that was a bad idea cause he is fully prepared to marry you right that second >:(

either way, he's flattered

he thinks its honoring that you feel comfortable enough to say that

eventually you convince him to stop freaking out (it took way too long)

but even then, it still makes the heat rush to his face

thankfully it was just on facetime, so you couldn't see the red at the tips of his ears too much

he knows he's down bad fr 😋😋

lee heeseung

on the other hand mr i'm so confident on stage was like a little puddle

genuinely thought he heard you wrong at first

he was just sitting there zoning out for like two minutes and finally snapped out of it when he heard you say

"just marry me, you dork."

you thought it was funny lol 😎😎

probably should have thought that through cause you just messed up his heart with two words

"w-wait did you just- what did you say?!"

poor hee was so confused

"idk what did i say..."

"YOU SAID MARRY ME IDIOT"

"oh yea lol"

"FUCK YOU YOU CANT JUST SAY THAT"

he was a tad bit mad

just a little

literally walked over to your place so he could give you hugs and kisses 😤

park jay

he's been ready for this moment his entire life

literally got mad cause he wanted to say it

it ended with you having to beg him to stop talking

jay was cooking for the boys with you on facetime cause he was bored and everyone else would get in his way

so he gave you a call and you ended up staying on a call with him for over two hours

but the second he started tasting his food like the gourmet chef he is👌👌

suddenly he heard some of the best words he'll ever hear in his life

"ughhh- when we get married will you cook for me?"

poor baby whipped his head around so fast he almost broke it

"WHAT?? NOW?? BUT WERE ON THE PHONE AND- HEY YOU TOOK MY JOB I WAS SUPPOSED TO ASK YOU!!"

at this point you were staring at your phone with a blank stare

"what."

"you said marriage. you're stuck with me you can't leave me haha sucks for you."

"its ok i didnt want to anyway." 😊

whoops you just killed him with a smushy heart

sim jaehyun

he screamed

long story short, he almost fainted and quite literally did that "mrs rabbit has fainted" thing

the two of you were folding your own laundry together on facetime because, well, he gets lonely

obviously you said yes, because why wouldn't you??

"you look so cute and domestic, i love it. i could marry you this second if i could."

took him a couple of seconds

but eventually your words processed through his head and he SCREAMED

"THIS SECOND??"

"mhm!! you look cute." 😚

another puddle guess what you're the mop. come wipe up your jake puddle babe

he laid on the floor for a solid five minutes just processing.

anyway now hes at your house still a little jake puddle and he's making you watch movies with him on the couch.

park sunghoon

he was ready 🫡🫡

hoon got the phone and everything. he was ready to make the call to all the family

but obviously before that he took it a TINI TINY bit seriously

a tini tiny bit

basically it was morning and he was on tour so he was sad and alone (besides sunoo who was just offended that he even said that)

babe started drinking water until he heard

"i miss you a lot. when we get married, you're not aloud to do this to me."

spit water out of his mouth

it was kinda gross but did he care? no.

"MARRIED?? WHO SAID I WAS GETTING MARRIED TO YOU??"

he's a little mean when he's flustered ok?

"PARK SUNGHOON I'LL-"

"wait, you wanna get married to me? really??"

if you could slap him in the face you would, but truth is he was flattered.

he would marry you any day 💘💘

kim sunoo

also went along with it

you were going through all the snacks you found at the market with sunoo over facetime

to say the least he was just excited you were excited

"i got this thingy, and im not really sure what it is but it looks good."

the call went on with you eating the snacks and reviewing

"WAIT THIS IS SO GOOD SUN YOU HAVE TO TRY THIS SOMETIME."

"ill try it sometime then."

"we have to get it together and maybeeee you can buy it??"

"ill buy you any snacks you want, my love." 😋

"ugh marry me already."

SELF DESTRUCTION

"ANYTIME"

next time you go over to his place he had a little toilet paper boquet for you 😊😊

STOP I LOVE HIM

nishimura riki

my babe fr

another one who was a little too confident

you were on a ft with him late at night just for funsies

honestly the two of you were just messing around while eating snacks and making little crafts

anyway he was like quite literally about to fall asleep and he looked SO DAMN CUTE

like his eyes about to close and his lip is getting all pouty and UGH-

"night, ki"

"nooo i'm not asleep don't leave meeeee"

"lol you're so cute just marry me"

EYES ARE SHOT WIDE OPEN MAN HAS NEVER BEEN MORE AWAKE IN HIS LIFE

"married huh?? you're really that obsessed with me"

huh- OH WAIT THAT WAS A JOKE THO"

"NOT ANYMORE BABE IT'S REAL NOW"

aaaaaaand again you're stuck 😋😊

i literally love him sm

©harufluff 2023

[lovebugism]

I heard you’d like some requests, don’t mind if I do 👹 I could’ve sent 62 but I restrained myself:

*grumbling* "Some people are waaay too touchy."

if it inspires you, please!

emmy (upsidedownwithsteve) 🧡

@upsidedownwithsteve, my love! it was an honor to write for you! i hope you like it :D — eddie munson's a big, jealous grump at the bar (established relationship, fluff, 1.1k)

Eddie’s having a piss-poor night. His beer’s lukewarm, the music’s too loud, you’re too far away, and Steve Harrington hasn’t shut up in ten minutes. 

He could hardly stand the dumbass everyone used to call The King, but even less when he’s got a golden arm thrown over your shoulder. And, yeah, it’s all friendly or whatever, but that hardly quells the wildfire burning in his chest. “What right does he have to touch you like this? Fucking none,” grumbles the wild-haired boy’s inner conscience. 

But then again, no one does. Not even him.

“Think I should go buy her a drink?” Steve asks you over the blaring pop music. His honey eyes are pointed across the bar at a girl way out of his league. His slick mouth is far too close to your ear.

You roll your eyes. “I think you should be a gentleman and feel things out with her first—”

“Oh, I’m gonna feel things out with her, alright,” Steve scoffs, bringing the lip of the beer bottle to his mouth.

“—Before jumping into a one-night stand you only halfway recover from.”

The two of you turn to glare at each other, then. Gazes unwavering. Noses mere inches apart. Eddie makes a faint grumbly noise of protest about it, but the boyish sound of disgust goes unheard under the music.

But when I see you hanging about with anyone—

It’s not unusual to see me cry; I wanna die!

Someone’s been plugging the same goddamn Tom Jones song into the jukebox for six minutes now. Eddie feels like he might as well be in hell at this rate. It’d hurt less, he figures.

You and Steve seem to communicate telepathically until he inevitably caves first. He huffs until his puffed-out chest deflates, along with his stupid ego. He doesn’t know how you always seem to be right about everything. He fucking hates it, actually.

“Right. Whatever. I’m gonna go find Robin. She’s probably lost,” Steve deadpans with a sigh as he slides out from the booth. “Want anything?”

“Can you get me—”

“A spicy margarita?” he finishes for you — like he can read your fucking mind, Eddie grouses bitterly to himself. He hates that someone else knows you as well as he does.

You squint. “How’d you know?”

‘Cause it’s your favorite thing to drink after shots, Eddie answers in his head.

“Because we just had tequila shots. And you always want a spicy margarita after tequila shots,” Steve deadpans, then chuckles when your face scrunches. He pokes the very apple of your cheek and turns to the pouty boy across from you. “What about you, Eds? Want another beer while I’m up?”

Eddie shakes his head with a flat face, then takes a sip of his warm and hardly-sipped beer.

“Next round’s on you two, alright? I’m not your fucking boyfriend— you’re not getting free beers off me all night,” Steve chides lightheartedly before disappearing into the crowd. 

You only smile to yourself as he goes. You know he’ll buy the whole damn bar out if you ask him to. ‘Cause that’s what best friends are for and all. Especially when they’re rich.

A groan bubbles in Eddie’s throat when the upbeat song starts all over again. It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone! the man croons. He drops his head to his elbow and bellows an annoyed moan. His chestnut curls spread wild over his shoulders.

You hide your grin behind your fist. “What’s wrong, Eds?”

“Nothin’,” he monotones, face still hidden.

“You haven’t said a word in twenty minutes.”

“Well, Steve hasn’t shut up in about thirty, so…” he retorts and lifts his heavy head, faking a smile as he tilts his flushed cheek to his shoulder. “Getting you two idiots into a room is fuckin’ crazy, you know that, right? Neither of you knows when to stop talking.”

Your nose scrunches. “Well, that’s what usually happens when you have friends, Eddie. You have conversations.”

“You sayin’ I don’t have friends, sweetheart?” he questions with narrowed, chocolate eyes.

“No,” you answer, grinning all pretty. “I’m sayin’ you’re jealous for no reason.”

His face falls flat at having been found out so quickly. Though he figures he wasn’t exactly being discreet about the whole thing. He grumbles and shifts awkwardly in his seat, feeling too seen beneath your unwavering stare.

“Some people are just way too touchy,” he grouses with a boyish sneer on his features, trying desperately to hide his pout behind the amber bottle in his fist. He takes another sip of the lukewarm liquid and averts his gaze.

Your beam widens until it brightens the dim bar. “You’re the one sitting all the way over there, you loon,” you tell him with a soft giggle that squints the edges of your eyes.

Eddie perks at the invitation. His doe eyes flit from the sticky table to your twinkling eyes. He’s been waiting on the offer all night, too much of a coward to ask you himself, and it shows on his suddenly hopeful features.

You nod your head to the empty spot beside you. “Get over here before Steve comes back and starts yapping again.”

Eddie rises with a newfound life, rounding the table and sliding into the squeaky booth beside you. He clutches his beer with his left hand and throws his right around your shoulder. His arm rests over the back of the booth where Steve’s once was, holding you like he’s been dying to all night.

“Better?” you grin.

He nods wordlessly, wild curls tickling your jaw. He takes another sip to hide his quiet smile when you press your lips to the flushed apple of his cheek.

Steve returns then, with your spicy margarita in one hand and Robin’s wrist in the other. She stumbles in behind him and sways in place ahead of the table — freckled cheeks rosy, ocean eyes glassy.

“Have fun?” you wonder with a teasing lilt.

“I saw something shiny on the way back from the bathroom,” the brunette girl confesses in tiny slurs. “Then I get lost…”

You nod sympathetically. “We figured.”

Steve nudges her ahead of him until Robin gets the hint. She slinks gracelessly into the booth. The boy squints as he slides you your drink. “You’re in my seat,” he observes, as if it weren’t blatantly obvious.

Eddie shrugs. “…Yeah?”

“You could’ve just asked to switch,” he scoffs and slips in beside Robin.

“I was fine,” the wild-haired boy insists, then nods his head over to you. “She’s the one that wanted me to move.”

And even though that’s not exactly what happened, you nod anyway. “Yeah. I got too tired of sitting next to you, Stevie,” you tease the boy ahead of you. “Your cologne’s too strong— you smell like a fucking high school boys’ locker room.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you had a ton of experience in those back in the day, didn’t you?” Steve scoffs.

Your eyes narrow. “Dick.”

“Jesus,” Eddie grumbles like a storm cloud. “Stop flirting.”

[jayden-killer]

Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!

☆

Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,700 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a…

"Child?"

The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!"

With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least.

"Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where she was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes.

"It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied:

"Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!"

"I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply.

"Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse.

I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it.

"Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back.

"HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands.

"What the f...?!"

"You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

[ashdreams2023]

Hiii, could I request a severus snape and little sister reader where she's the opposite of him and so all the students love her until someone insults him one day and she's all snarky and a miniature version of snape and everyone's like ".....maybe they are alike....." while severus looks on like a proud parent??? I love your fics so much!! Thankss!!

The same tree

Severus snape x professor sister reader 

The student body was in shambles the day you were announced as a new staff member, the name snape was enough to send shivers down some students backs.

They barely handled one snape, let alone two!

Everyone expected the worst, 2.0 snape female version then you got to your first class, it wasn’t like anything they had in mind.

Heck you gave house points and they paid attention to the lessons.

"She’s human, oh my god she’s not evil!"

It spread pretty quickly how nice and patient you were, you didn’t show any favoritism towards anyone nor did you encourage any rivalry in your class, as long as they passed it was a win for you.

Your office hours were filled with students coming to you for help, some even asking for help of topics other than what you teach, sometimes asking about stories of your youth but none dared to ask about your brother.

But there were times were kids can get way too comfortable in matters that have no business with them, unfortunately for a certain fourth year Ravenclaw he learned his lesson the hard way.

"I can’t believe that git took points because I added a point to his lesson! It’s fucking ridiculous, he’s a selfish idiot who only wants his way and everyone else is wrong"

"Jesus calm down mate, it’s only ten points you’ll live and he’s like the professor so…"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes "I know the book, I read it piece to piece I know my way around this stuff, he’s just one bitter old son of a bitch-"

"Excuse me you little bird" the boy froze as he felt a hand touching his shoulder, he looked up to meet your piercing dark eyes, they had the dangerously familiar feeling to those of their potion master.

"Professor i-"

"No no no…go on, continue what you were about to say so the oh so great Ravenclaw knows everything, because what? Because you read an outdated, basic, dusty ass potion book"

The boy swallowed, your tone was so different, you weren’t smiling and it reminded him of being schooled by severus snape himself.

"Why so quiet? Snake got your tongue?" You smiled proudly at the look of terror on the boy’s face "Let this be a lesson to you little bird, my brother is no idiot and without him little airheads and know it alls would be dead by now, so know your place, am I understood?" You tightened your grip on his shoulder.

"Yes ma’m!"

"And 30 points from Ravenclaw for showing disrespect to faculty staff members"

The boy’s jaw dropped but didn’t dear argue back and sprinted away with his friends, you couldn’t care less that students were watching, they call all spread rumors or whatever.

"Oh my god…she is like him…"

"Shush she’s gonna hear you! At least now we know not to overstep it"

You sighed and left the great hall, you pumped into your brother by the end of the day, he arched an eyebrow at you when you causally sat down and sipped your tea.

"I see you’ve made quite the impression today"

You shrugged "They’re just stupid kids, it was about time they learn anyways"

Severus leaned back on his armchair "You sound awfully familiar to me, I suppose I am rubbing off on you"

"The apples may look different but they all belong to the same tree" you smirked.

"You’re still terrible at potions though" He remarked knowing well how atrocious you were at his best interest.

"Hey! I was defending your honor"

You glared at him and he glared back then after a few seconds of intense looks you two snorted at each other and went back to having your regular sitting for the day.

Thank you for your kind words and glad you do 🥰

[bosbas]

Epilogue: quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

series masterlist previous part || alt ending

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 2.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love (except not really anymore), alluding to sex, benedict being so down bad for this woman (like down horrendous), this woman being so down bad for benedict, pregnancy and discussions around pregnancy

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: i am so sad to let these bbs go i love them so much!! i will simply have to write drabbles because they are so dear to me oh my

January 3, 1819 – Y/N

A happy new year indeed! I missed you all terribly during the holiday season this year, but John and I had a wonderful time here in Scotland with Michael. It snowed beautifully on Christmas Day, and it made me think of all of you and our often violent snowball fights on your birthday.

In fact, I believe this letter should reach you at around that time, so I am sending you the brightest of birthday wishes as well! While I won’t be able to attend your celebration this year, seeing how we’ll still be at Kilmartin House, I am sending you a wonderfully tight hug and hoping your day is incredibly special. Hit one of my siblings with a snowball for me, please! Preferably one of the boys, but really anyone will do. 

Love from your sister, Francesca

You squinted your eyes in your dimly candlelit bedroom, unsuccessfully attempting to undo the tiny buttons on your dress. Perhaps it was the undercurrent of nervousness that had been moving through you the whole day, but you found your fingers were shaking so much that you couldn’t hold them still for long enough to unclasp the buttons on your back. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you accepted that you were simply not going to be able to do this by yourself, and you gripped the edge of the chest of drawers in front of you as you willed your voice to come out sounding more carefree than you were feeling at the moment.

“Ben, darling, are you still upset about earlier?” you called across the room.

A small huff escaped his lips as he shifted on an armchair in the corner, murmuring something about betrayal and honor without looking up from his book. You smiled and held back a laugh, anxieties momentarily soothed. Per Francesca’s request, you had hit Benedict less-than-gently in the chest with a tightly packed snowball during your annual snowball fight earlier today, and he had taken it quite to heart. Well, that and the fact that you had sneakily teamed up with Hyacinth and Gregory without telling him. It really wasn’t your fault, you reasoned. Benedict had thought you would go easy on him simply because you were married to him, which, of course, was a foolish thing to think. Though he wasn’t as competitive as you were, evident in your much more successful Pall Mall record, you knew today’s loss still stung.

“Well, do you think could find it in you to help me with my dress?” you raised your eyebrows pointedly. “Or are you still feeling too betrayed?”

He immediately looked to meet your eyes, grudge completely forgotten as he nodded excitedly and rushed over to you from the armchair he had previously been sitting in. It was rather endearing that Ben was still giddy every time you asked for his help undressing, even after four years of marriage. 

After a few moments of Benedict concentrating intensely on the buttons on your back, you teased, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

He hummed in assent and smiled at you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Oh, immensely. It certainly makes up for earlier, I think,” he winked as he fiddled with the buttons. 

Honestly, you were inclined to think that Benedict had been secretly asking your seamstress to make the buttons smaller on each new dress she made you so you would have no option but to ask for his help. Even so, you wouldn’t have minded. You, too, enjoyed his sturdy hands on your back, his deft fingers fiddling with your dress and his lips softly kissing your shoulders as you told him about your day.

“A well-deserved win today, Mrs Bridgerton,” he said, never quite growing tired of how sweet the title sounded coming from his mouth. “And on your birthday no less. A stellar performance. I suppose I’ll have to start recruiting Simon and Daphne’s children to help me against the lot of you from now on. And then when we have ones of our own I can form a small army and I will never lose again.”

Your heartbeat sped up a fraction, but you were saved from having to answer when he undid the last button and your dress fell to the floor. Benedict placed his hands on your shoulders and gingerly turned you around to face him, drawing in a sharp breath as he took in your figure covered by nothing but your chemise, completely mesmerized by you. But he was quickly drawn out of his awe when he noticed your nervous eyes shifting around the room. 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on your elbow and drawing you closer. “I wasn’t truly upset about today, I promise. I rather enjoyed seeing you, Gregory, and Hyacinth absolutely obliterate everyone else. It was only a slight inconvenience that I was one of the people you were obliterating.”

You shook your head, sending him a small smile. “No, no don’t worry, Ben. It’s not that at all,” you said, laying your head on his shoulder tiredly, an entire day of worrying having taken a toll on you.

“But it is something, then,” he prodded, desperate to find out what was making you so anxious. 

You said nothing, fiddling nervously with the hem of his waistcoat instead. Benedict, on his part, was growing increasingly alarmed. Usually, he could instantly tell exactly what was plaguing you, but you were being oddly evasive, and he was at a loss. Perhaps the best thing to do was to let you rest and broach the subject tomorrow morning, so he tugged on your hand and sat you down on the bed.

“It’s alright, darling,” he said, softly kissing your forehead. “I’ll ring for some tea, and we can get ready for bed.”

“I think I’m pregnant,” you blurted out before he could let go of your hand to go ask for some tea from the kitchen. Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you immediately felt a weight lifted off your shoulders as you said the words aloud.

“What?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Pregnant. With child.” 

“With my child?”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” you responded, laughing.

He instantly relaxed, rolling his eyes and engulfing you in a tight hug. “Oh, shut up, woman! I was merely trying to process the news,” he laughed, ecstatic that there would soon be a tiny version of one of you running around the house. He looked at you, eyes shining, and shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it. 

“So, you’re happy?” you asked, anxiety still lingering in the back of your mind. It had been four years, after all. Your marriage had happened rather hastily, considering the years the two of you had spent pining after one another, and you had decided to revel in your romance for a while before having children. And eventually, you had wanted them. It was just slightly frightening to know that the time had actually come. You were excited, of course. You couldn’t imagine a better life than one where you raised children alongside your best friend, but you couldn’t help the nervousness you felt as you locked eyes with Ben.

“Happy? I’m over the moon, darling,” he said giddily and pushed you back on the bed so he could plant kisses all over your face. 

“If I knew it would be like this I would’ve gotten pregnant earlier,” you joked as Benedict moved on to kiss your neck and your breathing got heavier. 

---

You awoke quite suddenly, sitting up in bed so abruptly that Ben’s arm, which had previously been wrapped around you with his hand placed on your stomach, fell away from your body entirely.

Benedict grumbled in protest, noticing your absence even in his sleep. Typically, you slept on your side, with Benedict wrapped around you until the moment you woke up. Despite your racing heart, you smiled down at him, placing a soft kiss on his temple and sliding yourself back into his arms. 

But your attempts to fall back asleep were futile. You had stopped tossing and turning but found yourself lying on your side, staring at the wall opposite you while you felt Benedict’s chest rising and falling against your back as he breathed. 

“S’wrong?” Benedict asked sleepily, sensing that you were still awake.

Not wanting to disturb his sleep more than you had already, you whispered, “No, it’s nothing, Ben. You can go back to sleep.”

But Benedict was having none of it. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, turning you around to face him. “That’s alright. I was awake anyway,” he lied, voice husky with sleep. “What’s wrong? I’m incredibly awake. Awake. I am awake.” 

“Sounds like it,” you said, laughing at him softly. You leaned up and pecked him on the lips, secretly thankful for his unrelenting line of questioning. 

Blinking the sleep from his eyes and leaning on his arm to face you, Ben looked at you and smiled fondly. “I am! Promise.” Then, tracing his fingertips on your arm, he pressed you a bit more. “It’s just me, darling. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m a bit scared,” you whispered. “Actually, I’m terrified. Terrified of becoming a mother, and of having to take care of an entire other human being, and of what it might change between us. Is this what you really want? Having a child?”

Benedict’s fingers never stopped moving as he thought of how to best address your fears, knowing the motion calmed you down. “Having a child with you,” he corrected. “Of course it’s what I want! I get to see a little bit of you in an entirely different person. And you’re my favorite person. So, I don’t really see a downside.”

You hummed thoughtfully, feeling slightly calmer. “But what if I’m a bad mother? What if our child is unhappy?” you cried, tears brimming your eyes as you thought of the endless scenarios in which you failed as a mother.

“What if you’re a great mother? And our child is happy?” Ben countered. “Look at how you are with Gregory and Hyacinth. How you’ve always been with them. You’re going to be a wonderful mother, Y/N. Besides, we’ll learn how to be parents at the same time and it’ll be something we do together.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you interlocked your fingers with Benedict’s. “I suppose you’re right,” you conceded. “It will certainly be a hell of an adventure.”

Sensing that you had calmed down significantly, Ben added cheekily, “Don’t forget you’ll finally have someone else you can force to listen to your ramblings about literature.”

You smacked Benedict playfully. “You enjoy the ramblings, might I remind you,” you replied airily. 

Kissing the top of your nose, he tucked your hair behind your ear and winked. ”Mm, I believe I did admit to this, yes.” Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke up gently, “What about you?”

“What about me?” you asked.

“Is having a child what you really want?”

Your heart melted a bit. Even after he woke up in the middle of the night to have a chat with you and was clearly exhausted, he was still making sure you were alright. “Well, obviously. I’m thrilled! Especially now you’ve brought up the fact that I can have a book club of my own. If it’s a boy, I bet he’ll be just like you. A tiny Benedict running around the house ruining our expensive furniture with acrylic paint.”

“And if it’s a girl we’ll name her Daisy, right? Flower names and all that,” he replied sleepily, relieved you were finally easing into the idea of motherhood. “She’ll be just as smart as you are, I bet. I’ll give her the flower encyclopedia as well so she can know where her name came from. I think the one I gave you is still at Bridgerton House. I’m sure we could find it if we look.”

You gasped, having forgotten about your childhood plans to name your daughter after a flower. “Oh, that would be so darling!”

Benedict laughed softly, kissing you and pulling you back into his arms. “It would, wouldn’t it? Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asked, burying his nose in your hair as his eyes fluttered shut. You nodded, squeezing the hand that was nearest to you and interlocking your fingers. 

Ben was fast asleep soon after, but you spent a few moments looking at his sleeping form, chest rising and falling as his breathing deepened. Your heart swelled with love for this silly boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago. He was your husband now! Even after four years, you couldn’t quite believe how lucky you’d gotten. And you would get to raise a child together now. You really couldn't imagine anything better.

—

previous part || alt ending || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirlloriannaa @loliakeoghan23 @cierrajhilll @sadprose-auroras @merlieve @khaylin27 @cherrytop02 @little-duck @angerpearl @shondlenoodle @lyssamay52 @bags10 @angerpearl

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Hi Mo! I hope you are doing well! I really love your writing and the way you capture the duality of Alfie's character. I saw that you were looking for ideas so I thought I'd send one in (please feel no obligation/pressure to write it, this is just spit balling). Maybe something with reader being protective over Alfie. Maybe they're unaware of the infamous title the Camden King holds or they are but they have an overwhelming sense to have to protect him when the two are placed into a dangerous situation. Thanks so much, and again no pressure to have to write this ♥️!

Hi my friend!! You are so sweet, I hope you’re doing well too!! Thank you so much for this prompt! I gotta be honest, for some reason I had a hard time trying to figure out how I wanted to write this! I hope you enjoy it though, and if it isn’t hitting the way you were hoping, message me and maybe we can come up with something together!! Sending my love!!! - Mo

Change of Plans

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

Warnings: fighting, blood, stitches

This was NOT how the night was supposed to go.

Alfie was going to have a late night at the office, finishing up some business with the Shelby boys. Fine enough, you could make his home coming sweet. A fresh chocolate babka would be fresh out the oven, ready for him to cut into and devour. Candles would be lit all over the house, with curtains drawn in to protect from peering eyes and the creeping in cold. And you. You were dressed so pretty, just waiting for him. Hair loose and free, just how he loves it. You had put on that soft pink dressing gown he likes so much. The silk one with the delicate lace at the ends. You even put lavender oil on, extra, just to entice him.

It was SUPPOSED to be a nice surprise. It was SUPPOSED to be an evening where you spoiled him. It was SUPPOSED to be a romantic evening.

But no… here you are. Sitting next to Ollie in the car. Being driven across town to a bar. A bar, where your husband, along with the idiots Tommy, Arthur, and John Shelby, were fighting. Being that Ollie was concerned enough to grab you from home, you could only imagine how bloody it was.

Ollie looked over at you, eyeing the hem of your dressing gown, nervous as to how the pink fabric would be received, “Uhm.. Ma’am, I have a coat in the back… don’t you think maybe-“

“No Ollie I don’t think I want it. If Alfie wants to pull me out of my house this late at night, he can deal with the consequences.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-“

“Ollie you know I love you so very much but I will need you to not speak again until we get to the bar. Yes?”

Ollie nodded, but the stress never left his eyes. You know he meant well. He was only ever looking out for you and Alfie. He was very very sweet. But frankly, Alfie did not deserve to have Ollie looking out for him. He did not deserve common courtesy tonight.

You slam open the doors, and it was exactly as you assumed it was. Regular patrons of the bar were lined up at the edge of the walls, watching the gladiators in the center tear each other apart. There was blood all over the floor. Broken glasses and spilled liquor scattering the floor mixing with the red. Tables and chairs discarded and destroyed in the wake of the brawl. You assumed, that the fight started as Alfie against the brothers. But it looked from your stance now, that it was every man for himself. All four of the men were sporting black eyes, bruises and cuts all over their faces, necks, and hands. You heard Alfie’s laugh above the sounds, “C’mon now!!! You want some more?!”

He didn’t see you yet, but you could see him. He looked like absolute shit, and his mouth was bleeding despite the toothy grin he gave with every punch he gave and received. You rolled your eyes, and felt your rage rise. He was getting far too old for this shit, reveling in his strength and the destruction he could so easily cause. The honor he wanted to protect with the force of 50 men. In normal circumstances you find it honorable. Sometimes even charming. But the way it was going… someone was going to get killed. And if anyone was going to kill Alfie it was going to be you.

You motioned for Ollie to follow you, as you stomped over the bottles, blood, and water. The yells for more blood by the men at the edges slowly turned to whistles as they gave witness to your bare legs, the thin dressing gown, and your steaming rage barreling through. With strength mustered from God himself, you grabbed the collar of John and yanked him back quickly, tossing him onto his back, “What the! Oh, Mrs. Solomons…”

Ollie managed to rip Arthur off of Alfie’s back, and he too looked incredulous at your appearance at this disgusting scene. All that was left was Alfie and Tommy, still attempting to rip each others throat out, entirely oblivious to your presence.

“ENOUGH. STOP IT.”

You screamed, but to no avail. They were entirely focused on one another, on their mutual blood lust. Seeing no other option, you motioned for Ollie’s gun, snatching it from his hand, and shot three rounds into the ceiling.

They finally stopped, looking up to find you as the source of the noise. Where they initially looked like big men, they suddenly reminded you of naughty children.

“Alfred Solomons. Thomas Shelby. Just what in gods name do you think you’re doing.”

Silence. Utter silence. “WELL?! I’m waiting Mr. Solomons!”

Tommy tried to get up, but paused when you pointed the gun at him, “Do not make another move Mr. Shelby. Not only did you ruin a night with my husband, but you also nearly killed him. I have half a mind to shoot you dead right now.”

Not moving from your initial target, you address Alfie, “Have you finally found yourself speechless? Say something.”

With a swollen eye and bloody lip, he manages to smile sheepishly, “Just… just business love. Just… a bit of a quarrel darling nothing more… put the gun down my love, you look beautiful. A right vision darling. ”

“I will decide when I put the gun down Mr. Solomons.”

You begin pointing the gun at each of the four men, “I think we can all agree… that we are ALL a little too old to behaving this way yes?”

Tommy was watching you intently, as was Alfie. John and Arthur hung their heads. Embarrassed for both their behavior and their deep seeded fear of you. You motioned for Alfie to get up, “My husband and I are going to leave now. Mr. Shelby, I expect a handwritten note apologizing for ruining my evening. And Monday you all will convene together, to discuss the issue like fucking adults!”

Alfie winced as he got up, cane nowhere to be found. You walked back out into the cold, with Alfie close to your heels. You push him into the car before you, and slam the door shut, telling Ollie to take you home.

You can’t even look at Alfie. So overcome with irritation and worry. Irritated that he acted so recklessly, and worried about his injuries. As you always are. Alfie fiddled with the coat on the seat, “Coat is back here and you still decided to come out in your dressing gown eh?”

“Be quiet I do not want to hear you.”

“Oh you will hear me though won’t you yeah? You will hear me, because now, all of fucking London saw my wife’s bare legs! I mean what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?! You want to know what’s wrong with me Alfie Solomons? I wait all day for my husband to come home. No no not just wait. I SLAVE around the house all day, make myself look nice, hoping HOPING that my husband makes it home! I worry sick ALL DAY that maybe this will be the day my husband doesn’t come home. And instead of coming home, he goes and acts like a COMPLETE FUCKING MORON and starts a fist fight with the Shelby boys!! You are getting too old for this kind of reckless behavior Alfie! And I cannot let you keep destroying your body like this!”

You begin to feel the hot tears fall down your cheeks, and Alfie’s heart starts to crack, “Aw.. darling I- treacle don’t go worrying about old Alfie now. Your husband is like an ox yeah?”

Your tears keep flowing, harder now, “No Alfie! No i do worry! It’s not about you being strong!! It’s about you being healthy! About you being safe! I’ve never told you to stop the business! I’ve never asked you to leave it! All I’ve ever asked is that you show wisdom! Not to go around picking fights! I can’t see you like this Alfie! You don’t deserve to get cut up and beaten for nothing! For a pissing contest! I shouldn’t have to see my husband like this just because of some… some pride!”

Alfie just placed his bloodied hand on your knee, patting and stroking your thigh trying to comfort you. Once Ollie got you and Alfie home, you silently walked up, freezing and covered in the smell of booze and violence. “Get to the bathroom Alfie. I’ll be there in a minute to clean you up.”

You changed out of your soft pink nightie, and slipped on of Alfie’s night shirts over your body, breathing in the smell of his left over cologne. With a sigh you lugged the medicine kit into the bathroom, where Alfie sat at the edge of the tub, shirt off, hot water running and steaming the room. Silently, you began cleaning the wounds on his hands and chest. Once the tub was sufficiently filled, you nodded for him to get in.

With a grunt he lowers himself in. It was getting harder to get into the tub. His muscles tighter than they used to be. You begin your work, stitching up the deeper cuts on his chest and face. It was like nothing to you now.

The first time you stitched him up, he had to talk you through it, giving you more comfort than you could him. It was a rough first try, the scar is still pure white between his shoulder blades, and you can feel it under your fingers at night. But now, you know your way around the needle and his skin, it’s a familiar ritual to you now, though you wish it wasn’t.

“You look as beautiful as you did on our wedding day.” Alfie says suddenly, eyes glossy, and forehead sweaty.

You shake your head at him. Of course he’s trying to flirt with you while you’re stitching him up, “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delirious.”

“Nah. I married an angel darling. You make those shirts look like them French magazines.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Damn him, he knows how to sweeten you up. You finally finish up the stitches, 10 different gashes in total, and you begin putting on the salve and bandages when he finally speaks again, “My sweet heart, you should not have gone down there. It would’ve been ok. You don’t need to be involved in all that.”

God he’s irritating. Throwing your hands in your lap you bite back, “Alfie don’t give me that. One of us has to have some sense! One of us has to care about you.”

“You are making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Or are you forgetting what it is that I do! I ain’t a soft man treacle.”

“Do not even try to spin it Alfred Solomons. I will not be made to be looked at like a hysterical and stupid house wife. You will not make me feel crazy Alfred Solomons. I am your wife and you will listen to me.”

A beat of silence. And two blinks from Alfie are your queue to keep speaking, “Never. Never have I ever told you to stop. I told you that I would always support you. That your people are my people. You want to continue the business. Absolutely. You want to drop it all and go to Margate. Beautiful. I will always be here for the aftermath. I will always be there to discuss. I will always be there to stitch you up. But this Alfie… this type of… reckless nonsense… you got slashed in the chest Alfie! I will not be made a widow Alfred Solomons. Especially in the wake of something which was preventable. I refuse to watch my husband kill himself for a fucking pissing contest.”

He stared at the water in the tub, losing its steam and washing away the grime from his day. In this moment he wasn’t the King of Camden. That mask left the moment he walked through the threshold. Right now he was Alfie Solomons. Your husband. The man who was to love and protect you.

“Alfie… don’t you see how much I love you? How much I want you to be safe? I hate seeing you in pain, it makes me sick. I don’t know what I would do if you were suddenly not here. I think… the sky would turn black. I would not be able to breathe.”

Alfie hummed, and began to rise out of the tub, “C’mon… let’s get to bed yeah?”

With a sigh you nodded, helping him out, and cleaning up your tools before leaving him to dress for bed. Already bundled in between the soft white sheets, you look above your book to watch him limp into bed, and your heart breaks. He grunts as he gets in, but then pulls at your shirt to bring you closer, “C’mere darling. Need you.”

You toss your book to the floor, huddling closer, letting him guide your head to his bare chest. He hums put a tune from his childhood, stroking your hair as he thinks. After a bit he whispers, “Do you know what would happen if you weren’t next to me anymore?”

“Hmm?”

“The world would stop spinning. Lose all its color. Food ‘d lose its taste. Music would be horrible. I’d stop breathing. There’d be no reason to breathe. No reason at all.”

You begin to feel tears fall again, but he kept continuing, “I love you my darling. You add meaning to all this… I’m sorry I made you feel… as if you didn’t matter. As if your feelings didn’t matter. They do treacle. Your husband is stubborn, and it ain’t right. Ain’t right to make my wife cry and worry. You’re the best a man like me could ever ask for. You put up with so much… I promise not to be such an ass yeah? Start using my head before I start up some nonsense. Deal?”

You nod, clutching his chest, kissing him wherever you could reach, as Alfie hums again, kissing the top of your head. “Now Treacle. Tell me all about these plans you had for tonight.”

[ozzgin]

Baki Characters x Yandere! Reader Headcanons (I)

The roles have flipped! Featuring Baki Hanma, Yuujirou Hanma, Kaiou Retsu, Pickle.

[Baki Masterlist]

Baki Hanma

You pace around your room, furiously biting your nails. You heard the girls at school teasing Kozue about confessing her feelings for Baki already and her laughing it off. The nerve, the audacity! As if you’d ever allow such nonsense to unfold. With your gaze fixated into the mirror, you notice the damage you’ve done to your fingers.

You’ve been Baki’s best friend for the longest time, and you’ve been to every underground fight to support him. You understand his quest for revenge and do your best to motivate him everyday. You scoff again at the little conversation you’ve unwillingly witnessed. To talk about feelings when you don’t even know the person fully. It’s fine, you don’t mind. Should you take care of her? No, she’s a neighbor. Too obvious. You don’t mind, anyways. You stare at the cooking knives before closing the kitchen drawer with a loud thud. You just have to confess first.

Baki is just really excited and surprised to have a girlfriend, especially if it’s you. He’s always found you attractive, but he wouldn’t risk ruining the perfect friendship you have. And now you’ve just taken all of his worries away, in the most unexpected turn. You hug him and you can feel your shoulders droop, as if a massive weight has just been lifted. You can finally rest.

Yuujirou is the first one to congratulate his son for finding himself a proper woman. He’d been wondering if Baki was too much of an idiot, since he hadn’t asked you out already. You have to hold the young boy back, whispering soft words to calm him down under the Ogre’s resounding laugh. Though you can’t help the grin that’s creeping on your face. Damn right. No one else will love him as much as you do. You’ll make sure of it.

In the Underground Arena, everything is permitted and there are no rules. This stands true outside the ring, so it’s not uncommon for fighters to try for a rematch out of the audience’s eyes. Baki has always been a bit disappointed by his rare ambushers. He would’ve liked a spontaneous fight every now and then. Unfortunately, you have your girlfriend duties. You can’t let scoundrels potentially mess with his training. Baki might be honorable enough to only rely on his fists and strength, but you’re not. And based on your count, you’d say you’re pretty creative when it comes to weaponry.

Hanayama has witnessed your ruthlessness first hand (and had to help with the body disposal), so every now and then he’ll pat Baki on the shoulder and remind him to be thankful for his woman and never upset her. Baki always responds with a clueless laugh. Of course he’s grateful for his darling (Y/N). He couldn’t ask for a sweeter girlfriend, and he finds it downright adorable how you stare down his opponents. He’ll tell you to be careful, because the men here can be very dangerous. Your reassuring smile makes his heart melt.

Yuujirou Hanma

Not another crazy bitch; He’s already had to deal with Emi Akezawa. This would most likely cross Yuujirou’s mind if he actually knew about your unhealthy crush, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know of your walls plastered with his photos, or the videos you’ve taken of his fights in order to memorize the smallest details in his technique. What he sees is your distracted, indifferent expression whenever you happen to cross paths in the underground arena.

In fact, he might even be slightly annoyed by your complete lack of interest. You seem to praise all the other fighters after their win, yet your compliments fail to reach the strongest of them all. He wouldn’t mind, of course, if he knew you’re just terrified of him (as most people are), but he can tell you lack any kind of nervousness towards him. What’s up with you?

In a moment of anger he faces you and is about to deliver his signature devastating blow, against the gasps of protest from the passerby. His eyes widen in shock after realizing, however, that you easily dodged it. He didn’t expect you to be this good of a fighter. And you aren’t, really. He’s just predictable. Maybe not to the average person out there, but you could guess with your eyes closed what his next move is going to be. Depending on his mood, the person he’s facing, his facial expression, the slight tilt of the foot onto the pavement, the smallest contraction of his deltoid muscle that indicates the arm about to swing. You doubt you could win against the Ogre, but you certainly know his fighting style better that anyone else.

Once you start dating, Yuujirou becomes completely infatuated with you. The fact that you know him so well can only mean you’ve been watching him, and that pleases him greatly. Though he’s maybe a little embarrassed to admit he was this concerned about you noticing him.

You mainly show your affection through acts of service. Yuujirou most definitely doesn’t need you to protect him, but if small fry approach him you’d rather spare him the boring attempts to a challenge. You’ll stand in front of him and announce that weaklings need to get past you first and no one should dare to waste your man’s time otherwise. Yuujirou is very amused by this and his ego skyrockets. If the opponent is someone you can’t handle, he’ll gently move you out of the way and thank you. “It’s alright, I haven’t worked out in a while. This should only take a moment.”

Sometimes he may catch a glimpse of your unhinged jealousy whenever another woman approaches him and he’ll instantly be turned on by your bloodlust. He could have anyone else in the world, but why settle for just anyone when there’s you?

Kaiou Retsu

You’ve been mesmerized by the martial artist ever since you’ve witnessed his fights in the Underground Tournament. After he lost to Baki, you couldn’t help but wait for him at the exit and express your deepest admiration with a bow to the ground. Retsu was speechless but equally grateful for your kind words. A renewed sense of pride erupted from his chest, knowing he’s won someone’s appreciation for Chinese Kenpo.

Right…well, why not? You don’t mind starting off as his biggest supporter. You’re good at gathering information. To Retsu’s excitement, you always meet him with a brand new question about a particular technique or historical fact check. He’s eager to tell you all about his past and time spent at the temple. He’s so lost in his stories that he doesn’t notice your dark orbs that remain still in his direction, unperturbed by any movement or blinking.

Retsu’s obliviousness is a running joke among the fighters. Katsumi finds great enjoyment placing bets on whether the Kenpo master will ever notice that the woman that’s always by his side might be in love with him. You laugh along, not minding the humor. Where’s the hurry? You like his innocence, among many other things. It’s not like you have to worry about competition. You’re rather confident you can get rid of anything that might serve as an obstacle.

Some days are harder than others, however, when it comes to hiding your feelings. Despite your repeated protests, Retsu insisted on fighting this recently revived prehistoric man. You felt yourself spiraling the moment you heard the wet gnawing sound of his lower limb detaching. Pickle had begun dragging him into the halls to continue his feeding routine. Your ears began to ring and before you could ponder the situation, you found yourself between the same walls. Pickle could only stare in amazement at your wild, rabid expression as you sank your teeth into his arm. For a brief moment he felt like he was gazing at his own reflection, the same ferocious eyes filled with nothing but instinct to act.

Retsu awakes groggily and spots you sitting stiff at the end of his bed. Your face looks slightly smudged, but he’s still too dazed to tell. You fumble with the bloodied cloth in your lap and ask if he’s feeling better. He’s ashamed of his broken promise, confessing to you he might’ve not been prepared to die. Poor, honest Retsu. No matter his intended outcome, you would’ve never allowed it. You might be selfish for it, but your love for him comes before any kind of battle honor. You weave his long, silk hair through your fingers. Your teeth are still sore and you chuckle lightly. He really brings out the worst in you.

You hoped you wouldn’t encounter Pickle again, but here you are in the empty audience seating, standing between Hanayama and Retsu and looking down towards the young Hanma. Pickle seems to study your form with a curious smirk. “Why is he looking at you like that? Did something happen during my… I hope you weren’t-“ Retsu’s voice is choked by growing panic as he recalls the TV reporter. “It’s nothing like that, Retsu-san. He’s teasing me.” You shyly hold onto his hand and he flinches at the sudden touch. What was this smug creature hinting at? Some sort of unspoken acknowledgement perhaps, from one predator to another.

Pickle

You don’t watch TV and you don’t care for the news. And yet it just so happened that at the time you were mindlessly browsing through channels, you landed on the latest announcement concerning the prehistoric human. Your watched as the poor reporter trashed around for help before the live was interrupted. You felt your eyes tearing up; you had forgotten to blink.

You can’t focus on anything else. It can’t be random coincidence, just some mere stochastic chance that you were made aware of this ancient individual. You dare to dream of the possible meanings and implications. Perhaps the best answer will be offered upon meeting the man himself, and you happen to have the right friends for it.

When Baki mentions to you, entertained, that a bunch of men managed to sneak into Pickle’s enclosure, you can feel your jaw clenching and your teeth grating under the sudden pressure. You were supposed to meet him first. They don’t deserve it. You impatiently begin planning your own forced entry, if needed.

Pickle lowers himself over Retsu’s unconscious body, ready to devour him, but his ears pick up the rapid approach of another human. Could it be a new challenger? He quickly turns his head and locks his eyes with yours. You’re panting and gasping, trying to refill your lungs with oxygen after sprinting all the way to the arena. You almost got tricked once again into missing your fateful encounter, given the secrecy of this fight. No matter, you’re here now. A wide smile of pure adoration forms on your face. Pickle is taken aback, unsure of how to read your expression.

The Jurassic man is spellbound by the little human that’s now following him around. You easily communicate with the other humans and even though he can’t return the same speech, you seem to know what he wants or needs. The strange smelling chloroform clouds that would make him very sleepy have now vanished, together with the men holding the equally strange tools always pointed at him. He doesn’t know what you’ve done, but he’s very grateful to have a little peace. You’re his bridge to this modern, confusing world.

They can’t decide what’s scarier between Pickle and (Y/N) in their overly protective anger. Pickle himself couldn’t be more delighted. He finds it incredibly cute that despite your size, you always jump to his help. Sometimes he’ll even pretend to be confused just to see your determined face as you do the task for him. He wonders if other people also have their own (Y/N) at home, though he suspects he’s the only lucky one.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

The Only Place That I Call Home - No Love Love Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: The real tragedy in No Love Lost is The Boys having to watch Her and Ben pretend they're capable of being normal about each other. Title from Heartlines by Florence and the Machine.

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary/Warnings: It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, pre-established relationship, smut (blowjob, some fingering, p in v sex)

“We’re not playing codenames,” MM snapped. “The ban is fucking permanent, so drop it.”

“It’s a stupid ban,” She muttered, glaring at Ben’s hand as she turned it over between her fingers. It was hard to focus when She touched him like that. So natural and thoughtless, like he’s only an extension of her. He might be. She was perfect, and Ben would gladly just be a fucking extension of her. There wouldn’t be another goddamn idiot pussy he’d rather just be a weapon or tool of. “You’re just a sore loser-“

“We ain’t sore losers, Love,” Butcher snapped. “We’re just bloody sick of you always winning. Because you fuckin cheat.”

Ben almost snorted at the look of indigence on Her beautiful face. It was adorable, how She looked so genuinely offended by the very idea that she’d ever cheat, when they both knew that she cheated at almost every goddamn game they played with the team. Codenames is just the only one everyone else has caught.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She stuck her chin up at Butcher, and it would be regal if she wasn’t full of such fucking bullshit. “I’ve never cheated in my life, Butcher, and I’m wounded you’d think that low of me.“

“I’ve thought a lot fuckin lower,” Butcher drawled Her name, and she scowled. “And you are cheatin. Because that cunt,” Butcher nodded to Ben. “Always helps you.”

Her hand folded fully over Ben’s as she held Butcher’s glare. “Last time we were on different teams-“

“And that motherfucker sabotaged everyone for you,” MM grunted. “No fucking codenames.”

Her sharp eyes turned to Ben. Are you going to fucking defend our honor.

You don’t have honor, Sunshine. He grinned, kissing the top of Her head. And we do cheat. All the fucking time.

I don’t make you cheat-

My loyalty is to you. He shrugged. Not whatever pussies I get put on a stupid fucking team with. And you never complain-

Because I like winning, Benjamin, and-

You don’t have any fucking honor.

Fuck you.

At the dinner table? In front of everyone? He raised his eyebrows, smirking down at her pretty, flushed face. That’s fucking disgusting-

I hate you.

No you don’t. Ben smirks, pulling her closer to his side. You love me.

I do, She sighed, whacking his arm before dropping her head on his shoulder. You’re such a fucking asshole, but I do.

“You twats want to clue us into your secret bloody brain sexting-“

“No.” She shot Butcher a glare, and he was smart enough to just wink back. “If it’s not codenames, what are we doing.”

“We could do Monopoly-“ 

Annie shook her head, cutting Hughie off. “Butcher always wins Monopoly, and he’s always a smug ass about it after.”

“It ain’t my fault I got killer business instinct-“

“I think you’re just a heartless dick,” Annie shrugged. “Only psychos are good at Monopoly-“

“You’re just real fuckin salty, Starlight, cause you hate admittin I’m good at somethin-“

“Oh, shut up-“

“What about Clue?” Frenchie cut off Annie this time, flinching slightly at her glare. “My apologies Annie, but I would like to begin with a game before it becomes midnight-“

“No Clue,” MM grumbled. “Those two cheat with that one as well.”

Ben decided not to punch MM, because they did in fact cheat at Clue, and Her annoyed pout made him want to pick her up and suck on her lips until she moaned, and they did end up fucking at the dinner table.

Ryan raised his hand slightly. “Could we, um, could we do Uno? I like Uno.”

The table fell silent, nobody willing to point out that She and Ben would almost certainly be cheating at Uno when Ryan looked so fucking hopeful, and Her glare made it pretty damn obvious she’d kill anyone who shot the idea down.

“I can do Uno,” Hughie mumbled, and when everyone gave small nods of agreement he rose up, going to retrieve the game from wherever the fuck they kept it.

Ben felt a tug on his arm, and looked down to find Her very pointedly not looking at him, attention focused on Frenchie, explaining Uno to Kimiko.

What.

Are we cheating.

He coughed, failing to cover his laugh as Annie gave him an odd look. No fucking honor, darling-

Shut up. I had a fun idea, but if you’re going to be a dick-

Ben tangled Her fingers between his, muttering Her name between their heads. If you want to cheat and win, I don’t give a fuck about it-

I want to win. She glanced up at him. But I can win at multiple things.

Ben frowned. What the fuck are you talking about.

No cheating, a smile played on her pretty lips, and Ben wanted to trace them with his hands and mouth and cock. She was so fucking beautiful, it was an issue to his attention as she continued. Because we’re competing against each other.

Why the damn hell would we do that.

Because whoever wins gets to be in charge of sex tonight.

Christ, he fucking loved Her. You sure you want that, Sunshine? Ben leaned down, bumping his nose with Hers, smirking as her heart jumped slightly. Because I’ll fucking kick your ass, my love. And you won’t get off easy, he nipped at her lower lip, and her mouth fell open. When I win.

If you win.

He chuckled. Brat.

Cunt. You in, or are you too much of a fucking pussy-

Ben tangled his hand in Her hair, pulling her up into a deep kiss. I’m in. Get ready to fucking lose.

Take your own advice, Pretty Boy. She pulled back with a wide smile, and Ben had never seen anything better. I’m going to make you regret being born.

That wasn’t fucking possible. Ben didn’t think he’d ever regret a thing again, when whatever he’d done before had gotten him here. Feeling all Her love for him in every corner of the world, with her perfect, sharp, bright eyes on his and her body fitting like a missing half against his.

She was real fucking serious about winning—she’d stood up, moving to sit beside Ryan across the table so Ben couldn’t see her cards—and it was going to make it so much more satisfying when Ben emerged victorious. He was already lining out what he wanted to do—maybe some edging, make her moan and beg and squirm under him as he teased her—but he was adaptable. If they got home and he realized she was already fucking dripping through her underwear, he’d probably just fuck Her. But he had to win first.

They’d had to combine two Uno decks—nine people was apparently too much for one fucking pussy deck to handle—and it took Ben about fifteen seconds after Frenchie dealt to realize that he couldn’t fucking remember how to play Uno. And when he looked up at the casual, sharp amusement on Her face, he realized She’d fucking expected that.

You cheated.

We’re not cheating, Benjamin. We agreed on that-

I didn’t fucking say we, I said you.

I don’t know what you’re implying. She glanced up from her cards with almost fucking sparkling eyes, and Ben felt like someone had dropped a building on him. Actually, he’d had a building dropped on him. This was a whole lot fucking better, because it was made of all her love and adoration and perfect, clever brain and smart fucking mouth. Are you getting worried, Pretty Boy? Want to call it off?

Never in a million goddamn years. Want to hear how I’m going to fuck you when I win?

She hummed, looking back to her cards. I think that’s foul play.

This whole thing is foul fucking play. Distracting Her with dirty talk was also the only fucking chance Ben had to win, but she didn’t need to know that. I’m going to finger you first, darling. See if we can get three fingers at the start this time, if I make you wet enough. Her heartbeat picked up, her eyes becoming slightly glazed, and Ben pushed on. You might already be fucking wet enough, you’re always so fucking wet for me, but I’d like to get you so wet you fucking squirt all over me. Make you fucking scream-

Ben. She shot him a half-hearted glare. Shut it. Stop cheating.

You started it.

She wrinkled Her perfect nose at him. Fuck you.

I will. With three fingers, then my tongue, then my cock, until you’re a beautiful, wrecked mess-

A crumpled up napkin hit him in the face, and when Ben glowered at Her, she just shrugged. I told you to shut it.

Ben didn’t shut it. By the time the game was halfway done, he’d gotten hit in the face with five more napkins, a plastic spoon, and a cup that still had some fucking water in it. But he was still fucking losing. By a lot. Half the damn deck was in his hand, She was down to two cards, and there was no actual warning in Her glares or distress trading between their bodies, so Ben kept telling her every single filthy thought that crossed his mind.

And he still fucking lost. Kimiko—despite only learning the game twenty minutes ago—won first, but everyone groaned to keep going for second place. When Ryan won soon after that, it became about third. Ben was hardly able to hold his cards in his hands—everyone had a fucking vendetta against him, and he’d been hit with so many plus two cards it had to be some sort of targeted fucking play they’d all agreed on behind his back—and the game was between Her and MM.

She won, with an overdramatic slam of a green five on the pile, and a wide grin around the table. And when Her eyes met Ben’s, already blown out and thirsty, he felt his dick twitch in his pants.

“If you losers will excuse me,” She stood up, still holding Ben’s gaze. “I’ve had to shit for the last fifteen minutes.”

MM’s face twisted in disgust. “You could’ve just fucking left, you don’t need to tell us-“

“Sorry,” She shrugged, clearly not fucking meaning it. “If you wanted not to hear about my bowel movements, you shouldn’t have shot yourself in the foot by changing it to green.” 

As She turned away from the table, walking off to the dining hall bathrooms, her voice rang in Ben’s head. Give it five minutes, then follow me.

He gave it three. They were now going for fourth, nobody seemed to think he was a serious contender for the title, and Ryan eagerly volunteered to play for him, so with a grumbled thanks and half-run to the bathroom, Ben followed Her.

She was waiting for him, arms crossed as She leaned against the wall. “That was not five minutes-“

Ben locked the door behind him, and slammed his mouth onto Hers with a groan, swallowing every single moan and pulling her half off the ground as he touched Her fucking everywhere.

“Ben-“

“So fucking smart,” he muttered, dropping his head to her neck and sucking on that one spot that made her like putty in his hands. “You’re such a fucking brat, Sunshine-“

“And I won,” Her voice was breathless, but still smug. “So I’m in charge, Benjamin-“

He chuckled Her name against her skin, moving one hand under her shirt, palming at her breast. “We both know this ends with me fucking you, darling, so just damn say how you want it-“

She pushed him off—her hands heated enough to grab Ben’s attention, but not to burn him—and dropped to her knees, smirking up at him as she ran a hand up his thigh. “I’m in charge. And I want to suck your dick. Can I please-“

Ben had never moved fucking faster. Belt off, pants down, freeing his cock to press against Her pretty, parted, slightly swollen lips. Even if she hadn’t won that stupid bet, he’d never fucking turn Her down for this. Not when she was smiling up at him under her lashes, playing with his balls as she swirled her tongue over the head of him, teeth scraping as she squeezed him and he bucked forward slightly.

He growled Her name, fighting every single instinct in his body to just pick her up and fuck Her. Push himself into her perfect pussy, make her breathing as heavy and ragged as his was. Cover himself in the wetness he could see dripping onto the bathroom floor, her pants having been tossed off to the side so she could fucking finger herself. “If you don’t move-“

She leaned back, giving him a fake pout that made his cock jump in her hands. “No.”

“Christ, woman-“

She started to stroke him, gentle and almost fucking painful with how goddamn slow it was, and he groaned.

“I won, Ben. And I want you to fuck my face,” He hissed through his teeth as She licked the underside of his cock. “But if you’re going to be an ass-“

“You won,” he grunted, gripping the sink with one hand and tilting her head back with the other. “You fucking won, and I’ll fuck your face any goddamn day-“

She nodded, grinning. “When I tell you, pull out.”

“What-“

“Trust me.”

He nodded slowly, and when Her mouth fell open, Ben pushed himself down her throat, almost fucking moaning at how good she felt. Fucking sinful, Her tongue swirling around him, Her pretty eyes fluttering as he bumped the back of Her throat. He was pretty sure that he could find release just like this. Watching Her below him, her cheeks hollowed out and one of Her hands playing with herself as she held his gaze. She was fucking threat to Ben’s health, with how goddamn perfect she was. With a little drool escaping her lips as Ben’s cock rested between them, a hand steadying herself against his thigh, grinding onto the fucking floor-

That’s what got Ben to move. She was squirming against her own touch, and he could fucking smell how wet she was, hear her whimpers around his dick when his hips rutted slightly, and he wasn’t allowed to take care of Her until after this. So he tangled his hand in Her hair, tugging her almost fully of of him before slamming her back down, bucking his hips before repeating it over and over until She was moaning, pretty eyes rolling back in her head and her lips perfectly fucking puffed.

He was close. She’d started to suck on him when he hit the back of her throat, and lick the tip of his cock when he pulled back, and Ben could feel the coil in his gut growing tight and hot, and fuck She was so perfect and beautiful and he felt goddamn high-

He hissed Her name as her nose bumped his lower stomach, her high and desperate whine making him rut up into her. “Christ, you’re so fucking good. Gonna fucking paint your perfect fucking body in me, darling, fucking love you, look so fucking beautiful with your pretty fucking mouth stuffed with my cock-“

Her nails began to sink into Ben’s skin, Her hips rolling against her own touch. Ben had never been fucking jealous of someone actively sucking him off, but god fucking dammit it should be him touching Her. She should be squirming under Ben’s touch, not having to fucking drip all over the bathroom floor. Everything was fading into a daze of Her, bright and soft and so fucking full of love it made Ben a little insane, and he was so fucking close to cumming right in her fucking vice of a mouth-

Out. Her voice was breathless in Ben’s head, and his hand loosened on her head before he’d even fully registered the words.

“What-“

She surged upwards, grabbing Ben’s face and pulling it down to hers, and he let every fucking instinct of Her, Her, Her take over. Spinning them around, slamming her into the wall as one hand dropped down, pinching and flick at her clit until she became putty in his arms, running one finger between the lips of her pussy, teasing at her opening but never pushing in-

“Ben-“ She gasped as he dropped his mouth to her neck, biting that one spot as he pressed his thumb around her clit, rubbing slow circles everywhere around it. “Fuck-“

“So fucking good, Sunshine-“

Ben’s words were cut off with a strangled groan as her hand wrapped back around his cock, pumping him so fast he was pretty goddamn sure it might make him pass out.

“Inside,” She whispered, lips brushing against Ben’s ear as his arms tightened around her. “Want you to cum inside-“

Ben dropped one hand to Her thighs, pushing them open without a further fucking question and ramming himself into her with a half shout of pleasure. He felt himself bottom out, rolling his hips just enough to angle himself against that deep part of her that always made her scream, and when She came—her moans and shouts of his name in his ear, her pussy contracting around him, and her hands scratching at his back—Ben cracked the wall as he slammed up into Her, relief crashing through him.

“So fucking tight, darling.” He growled against her skin, and she whimpered. “Good girl, taking me so fucking well. Fucking love you-“

Someone slammed their fist against the door, and they both froze.

“We can all hear you horny cunts humpin like bloody rabbits! Keep it in your fuckin pants!” Butcher shouted through the walls, hitting the door one last time.

“Either we cheat or we fuck,” Ben drawled back, letting Her bury her beautiful, flushed face in his chest. “So let us cheat, or buy some goddamn earplugs.”

“You could just not fuck,” MM yelled, sounding a little further away. “Not fucking is an option-“

Ben rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back where it belonged. With Her.

“If we run,” he muttered, forcing himself to pull out of Her and ignore the way he was already half-hard again from the sight of his cum, dribbling down her thighs. “We can get you back to the apartment, and keep fucking without any goddamn interruptions.”

“I, um,” She leaned against him as they dressed, and Ben realized there was a slight wobble to her knees. He’d fucking done that. “I don’t want to run-“

He scooped her up into his arms with a smirk and a kiss to her brow. “Hold on.”

“Wait,” She looped her arms over his neck, playing with his hair as she studied his face. “I’m still in charge. When we get home.”

Ben snorted, hauling her further up his chest to mutter against Her lips. “Tonight you’re in charge, Sunshine. But next time, I’m fucking winning, and you’re going to cum so many times you can’t walk for a goddamn week.”

She swallowed, mouth parting, and Ben pushed his tongue between her lips, sucking on the lower one in a silent promise.

“And if I win again-“

“You won’t.” Ben pulled back, giving her a wink. “Because we’re going to do a team game, and I’m going to take Ryan. And you’ll lose for him on fucking purpose.”

She scowled. “Cunt.”

“Brat.” Ben grinned at Her, and her pretty lips—still fucking swollen from his cock—pulled into a smile as pure, raw fucking joy painted Her feature. “Let’s get you home.”

End Note: I feel like the Boys would have the most foul Jackbox night. Things would be said that should've never been said in the first place, and will never be said again. She and Ben would make a voting block. MM would quit when his smart joke lost to Frenchie writing "massive balls" for the seventh time in quiplash. Someone would break the TV.

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Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[seasirengirl]

LEO VALDEZ DATING HCS

pairing: leo valdez x reader (godly parent not specified)

a/n: sorry for the super duper slow updates, my life has been a mess🫶🏼

ೀ friends to lovers is a trope owned by leo valdez and no one can change my mind

ೀ he’s such a shameless flirt

ೀ nicknames in spanish.

ೀ i repeat

ೀ nicknames in spanish.

ೀ he’s such a fun person to be around

ೀ always cracking jokes and all that

ೀ but

ೀ hold up

ೀ he doesn’t crack jokes at times when you don’t feel like hearing them, even though he’s known for doing that to others, you’re his exception

ೀ you two went everywhere together

ೀ quest? together

ೀ spending nights at bunker 9? not without you

ೀ he felt guilty for making you stay there though

ೀ but then you started ranting about how much you loved staying there

ೀ and he just couldn’t say no to you

ೀ or your pretty face

ೀ but we all know that you didn’t really think bunker 9 was the most comfortable place to sleep in

ೀ you just wanted to stay with your repair boy

ೀ after being two idiots who were very much in love but would never admit it

ೀ your friends got sick of it

ೀ y’know what that meaaannssss

ೀ at first percy and annabeth started talking about it

ೀ apparently piper and jason also had discussed it before (mostly piper)

ೀ frank and hazel are just there yknow

ೀ chilling

ೀ with no clue about what’s going on

ೀ anyway

ೀ doing very couple-ish things all together

ೀ there were eight of you.

ೀ obviously meaning that

ೀ you and leo had to be dragged into all of that

ೀ which neither of you complained about

ೀ but you wouldn’t say it

ೀ going on carnival dates <3

ೀ well they weren’t technically dates for you and leo

ೀ but they felt like dates

ೀ the other six ditched you every second

ೀ and you two still managed to be clueless

ೀ smh

ೀ honestly thank the gods for piper

ೀ when you AND leo both found out about your feelings at the same time

ೀ you were both ranting to her

ೀ cause she’s the daughter of aphrodite

ೀ ykyk

ೀ and also a great friend

ೀ but she needed a break atp

ೀ hearing both of you yap about each other not knowing that the other feels the same

ೀ until one day she had ENOUGH

ೀ bro was tired fr

ೀ so she decided to make both of you a bit jelly

ೀ not a bit tbh, a lot

ೀ yk, telling leo that the new guy from cabin 7 was talking about asking you out

ೀ or telling you that one of her sisters were going to make a move on leo at the bonfire tonight

ೀ leo couldn’t let some guy try to make a move on his girl

ೀ and you couldn’t either

ೀ so

ೀ both of you decided to confess at the same time

ೀ leo walked up to you just as you were about to find him

ೀ “can we go somewhere private?”

ೀ such a simple sentence left you speechless, only managing a nod

ೀ “i don’t want you to go out with him” leo blurted out

ೀ “with who?” you asked, did you have a date you forgot about?

ೀ “andrew, the new guy from 7?”

ೀ “i’m not going on a date with him, oh wait- piper...”

ೀ silence. total silence.

ೀ “i have something to-“

ೀ “i have to tell y-“

ೀ you couldn’t help but laugh at that, “go ahead.”

ೀ“i would say ‘ladies first’, but i have to say this, ever since i stepped a foot in camp, i’ve had a crush on you, so will you do the honors of being my girl?”

ೀ “i’d love to.”

ೀ “so would it be okay if i-“

ೀ “shut up, valdez”

ೀ and he did shut up, because his tongue was too busy being down your throat

ೀ ok what.

ೀ anyway

ೀ after that night, your friends wished they never set you two up

ೀ they were just jealous that you two were a better couple than them

ೀ or that’s what you thought

ೀ leo was actually the best boyfriend you could ask for

ೀ he would make you the coolest gifts ever

ೀ any kind of jewellery a girl could dream of

ೀ he made it

ೀ flowers that never die, all yours

ೀ honestly you can’t recall a night that you haven’t slept without leo in winter

ೀ slept.

ೀ he kept you so warm when it was cold out

ೀ cause he’s your fireboy

ೀ he’s so touchy and always has to have his arm around you somehow

ೀ but he wouldn’t be much of a pda guy

ೀ especially it it makes you uncomfortable.

[deezee112]

The worst ending 6 : The Lion’s Lament

The worst ending 5 | The worst ending 7

Yandere!Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader

A/N : I'm starting to feel sorry for them. I mean, y/n, you've been dying in every route. Bear with it a little longer, there's only 21 rounds left.

Warning : possessiveness , obsession , and emotional manipulation. , Depictions of toxic relationships and controlling dynamics. ,Themes of death , grief , and emotional distress. , Scenes that may be unsettling or triggering

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

“ Well. ” you muttered to youself as the boy sat up, his amber eyes green with intelligence. “ This is going to be... interesting. ”

The boy stretched languidly, his sharp teeth peeking as he yawned. He gave you a slow, assessing glance, as if judging you worth.

“ I’ll name you Leona. ” you decided.

He tilted his head slightly, but said nothing.

“ cool. ” you muttered, crossing your arms. “ You look like trouble already. ”

Raising Leona wasn’t easy.

From the start, he showed signs of stubbornness and pride, as if he were born believing he was king of the world. He would ignore you calls, sulk for hours when reprimanded, and refuse to admit when he was wrong. But for all his arrogance, there was something endearing about him.

He was fiercely protective. When you burned your hand on the stove, he hissed at the pot as if it had personally offended him. When you worked late into the night, he’d drag a blanket over your shoulders, muttering, “ Don’t catch a cold, idiot. ”

Still, there were moments you could barely tolerate his antics.

One night, You woke to find your chest feeling unusually heavy. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see Leona sprawled across your body, his head resting on your stomach, his tail lazily flicking.

“ Leona. ” you groaned, trying to push him off. “ Get off me! ”

“ Meow. ” he replied, deadpan, refusing to budge.

“ Don’t ‘meow’ me! You’re not a cat! ”

“ Could’ve fooled me. ” he muttered, eyes still closed.

“ Leona! ”

He finally rolled off you with a dramatic sigh, flopping onto the bed beside you. “ You’re so uptight. You should be honored I chose you as my pillow. ”

“ Honored, my— ” you cut yourself off, glaring at him as he smirked smugly. “ Just go to your room! ”

“ Nah, too far. ” he replied, closing his eyes again. “ Night, herbivore. ”

Despite your irritation, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. He could be insufferable, but moments like this made you feel... less alone.

As Leona grew older, his attachment to you deepened, but so did his jealousy.

He despised seeing you interact with others, especially men. The few times someone came to visit you, Leona would sulk in the corner, glaring daggers until they left.

“ Leona, what’s your problem? ” you asked one day after a particularly tense encounter.

He shrugged, not meeting you eyes. “ I don’t like them. ”

“ You don’t even know them. ” you pointed out.

“ Don’t need to. ” he replied, his tone clipped.

“ Leona— ” you began, but he cut her off.

“ They’re not good enough for you. ” he said firmly, his green eyes meeting you with startling intensity. “ No one is. ”

You sighed, ruffling his hair. “ You need to work on that temper of yours. ”

But Leona didn’t see it as a temper. To him, it was justice. No one else deserved you time, you attention—you affection.

The day everything fell apart was supposed to be ordinary.

You had gone out to a local gathering, leaving Leona at home. He had asked to come with you, but you insisted he stay. “ It’s just a few hours. ” you said. “ You’ll survive. ”

But he didn’t feel like he could.

Every minute you was gone felt like an eternity. The thought of you laughing, smiling with strangers, made his blood boil. By the time you returned, he was pacing the living room, his tail swishing furiously.

“ Leona, what are you doing? ” you asked, frowning.

“ Where were you? ” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“ I told you, I went to a gathering. ” you replied, setting down you bag.

“ With who? ”

“ Does it matter? ”

“ Yes, it does! ” he snapped, his voice rising.

You stared at him, taken aback. “ Leona, you’re acting ridiculous. ”

“ Am I? ” he growled, stepping closer. “ You just leave me here, alone, while you go off and— ”

“ Enough! ” you interrupted, you tone sharp. “ I am not going to justify myself to you. You’re not a child anymore, Leona. You need to grow up. ”

His claws extended involuntarily, his anger bubbling over. “ You don’t get it, do you? You’re all I have! ”

“ And that’s the problem! ” you shot back. “ You can’t keep clinging to me like this. It’s not healthy, Leona! ”

The words cut deeper than any blade. For a moment, he froze, staring at you as if you had just betrayed him.

And then he snapped.

Leona’s claws swiped out before he could stop himself. The force of his strike sent you stumbling back, you hand clutching your side where his claws had torn through you shirt and skin.

Blood seeped through your fingers as you stared at him in shock.

He took a step back, his green eyes wide with horror. “ I... I didn’t mean to— ”

You collapsed to the floor, you breaths shallow. He dropped to his knees beside you, desperately pressing his hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“ Don’t die. ” he whispered, his voice trembling. “ Please, don’t die. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t— ”

You hand reached up, weakly brushing against his cheek. “ Leona... ” you murmured, you lips curving into a faint, forgiving smile. “ It’s okay. ”

But it wasn’t okay.

You hand fell limp, your eyes closing as your body went still.

Leona sat beside you grave, his head bowed, his hands trembling.

“ I killed you. ” he whispered, his voice raw with guilt. “ You were the only one who ever cared about me, and I killed you. ”

The wind rustled the leaves above him, but no answer came.

For the rest of his days, Leona carried the weight of his actions, haunted by the memory of the one person he had loved—and destroyed.

In the end, he was a king without a kingdom, a lion without a pride.

And it was all his fault.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 6: IF ONLY IT WAS WARMTH

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He would drink half of his body weight in liquor by the time the clock struck twelve, maybe, honoring the tradition of forgetting the past year. He would be able to forget all the ways he’d caused you pain from his carelessness and his inability to communicate transparently. And then, maybe, he'll start the year anew with a kiss on your mouth. He could stake his claim on you officially, in front of everyone.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , oral sex, fingering, threesome, alcohol usage

ੈ✩ wc: 7.4k

ੈ✩ a/n: happy birthday to my pookie suguru and happy new year to all of them, especially reader, because god knows she needs it

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

Shoko’s short hair is in low space buns – proper ones, her hair now long enough for her to not look like she had haphazard tufts of hair sticking out of her head. She'd begged you to cut it for her before the formal, complaining that longer hair was too much to deal with. You’d snorted then – it was only down to her collarbone, just barely.

She holds out a cigarette to you as you lean on the glass of the storefront, your cheeks cold and bitten by the wind. 

“Thanks,” you sigh, inhaling and trying your best not to choke on the smoke. You almost do, a tickle in your throat about to rumble before you exhale. Shoko laughs. You still haven’t gotten used to Seven Stars, but you knew it was because she always preferred menthol the same way that Satoru preferred strawberry sake. Something to get a taste of to deflect from the damage it was doing to their insides. 

Utahime emerges from the front doors, flustered by the immediate temperature change. 

“Did they catch you for shoplifting or what?” Shoko teases.

“Never,” Utahime scoffs. “I’m not a delinquent like you.”

Shoko rolls her eyes, a sly grin on her face. You had only been shopping with the two of them for an hour and a half, yet the two of them were able to find their dresses unfairly quickly. Shoko had chosen a dark plum silk dress with purple floral details. Utahime had picked a simple red dress with a square neckline and straps that tied into bows at the shoulders.

“You wanna keep looking at other places?” Shoko asks you.

You smile graciously, shaking your head. 

“You said you guys were hungry, right? We can go back to shopping after lunch,” you shrug.

“Oh, yeah, that idiot texted,” Utahime murmurs absentmindedly as she looks at her phone. “The boys are running a little late. Let’s get a table without them.”

“The boys are coming?” You try your best not to sound nervous, though your voice comes out small.

“Not surprised,” Shoko jeers, dropping her cigarette on the pavement to snuff it out with her combat boot. “Satoru’s never been on time in his fucking life.”

Your stomach flips at the mention of his name. There wasn’t any reason for the boys to come since it was a girls’ day out, you thought. Then again, this is Satoru’s friend group. You wonder if Mei Mei would show up. The possibility makes your chest a bit tight.

You’re too afraid to ask the girls about her, so you lay your head low and listen to their conversation as you all walk to the restaurant, only chiming in with head nods and insignificant comments. 

The izakaya is a bit crowded, but you’re thankful for the warmth granted to you when you enter the restaurant. The smell of cooked meat makes your mouth water. As the three of you settle at your table and wait for drinks, you find your eyes straying away from the girls and toward the front door. 

Utahime is explaining the specifics of one of her most recent missions when you feel a commanding presence in the restaurant, immediately locking eyes with a pair of blue pupils staring back at you. You suck in your teeth, toying with the sleeve of your sweater as you attempt to appear nonchalant. 

Satoru and Suguru seem to steal the attention of the whole restaurant. You see the flustered look on the hostess’s face and it makes you cringe. Satoru’s cheeks are twinged pink, eyes bright as he speaks to her. You notice that patrons around him are also looking at him. Moths drawn to a flame.

When they arrive at your table, Suguru smiles at you warmly. Satoru is quick to slide into the booth next to you and Shoko while Suguru sits across from you, next to Utahime. The boys are dressed similarly – both wearing a white button-down and black jeans, though Satoru is wearing a black suede jacket and Suguru has opted for a denim one. 

Shoko leans against your shoulder to look at the menu, flipping immediately to the end of the menu for the beer and wine section.

“Shoko, we aren’t–” You’re interrupted by her hand covering your mouth.

“You really don’t go out much, jeez,” she chuckles. “They never card us here.”

With that, she orders three beers for herself, Utahime, and Suguru, a plum wine for you, and a chu-hi for Satoru, given how sugary it is. 

You’re quiet as everyone talks amongst themselves. It’s mostly Satoru and Suguru bickering over trivial matters, which ends up with Satoru bickering with Utahime over nothing, just because he likes to push her buttons. Shoko is quick to be the mediator in every situation. She’s able to interrupt with her own stories about volunteering at hospitals – private endeavors funded by Jujutsu Tech.

You listen to her, only bombarded by the sensation of a hand on your thigh. You kick Satoru lightly, but he doesn’t let up. Your face darkens when the waitress returns with your drinks, paying extra attention to Satoru, who unfortunately indulges her. 

“Any luck with finding a dress?” Suguru asks. He’s asking everyone, but his gaze ends up pointed at you.

“Not yet. Shoko and Utahime found theirs, though,” you smile. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Oh, I bet,” Satoru nods, smoothing his palm over your thigh again, making your breath hitch. You clench your jaw. “What were you thinking of getting, Twigs?”

“I don’t know, yet. Whatever speaks to me, I suppose.”

“You’ll look amazing in anything,” Suguru says. You smile at him in response, noticing the way Satoru straightens in your peripheral.

You sigh in relief when the food comes. The five of you dig into several shared plates, the smell of them wafting under your nose. Satoru piles pieces of tonkatsu and fried tofu onto your plate before you can protest.

“I can serve myself,” you mumble to him, irritated.

“I know what you like,” he shrugs.

Unfortunately, he’s right – he’s able to arrange your plate just the way you like it without any of your input. You’re honestly surprised at him remembering what your preferences are — you hadn’t shared a proper meal with the Gojo family in a few years. Even then, you considered your short hangouts with Satoru insignificant, fleeting enough that he wouldn’t care to remember what kind of food you liked.

You don’t speak much during the meal, mostly entertained by watching your friends debate and bicker. They’re a colorful bunch – you’d almost feel out of place if it wasn’t for each of them looking to you during a conversation for your input. All of them care about your presence. It’s something you aren’t used to.

“I think you should get something super sparkly. Or sheer and sparkly. Honestly, you could show up in a trash bag and still look hot as fuck,” Shoko murmurs before she attempts to chew on a peculiarly long piece of beef dangling from her chopstick. 

“She’s right,” Suguru adds, smiling at you as he holds his jaw in his hand casually. You smile shyly in response. You can feel Satoru’s eyes burning into your head. 

“Don’t be too pressured by them, though,” Utahime says. “Again, you’d look hot in anything, so don’t sweat it if you end up wanting to wear a kimono–”

“She’ll wear a dress,” Satoru interjects, lazily prodding a piece of pork on his plate. “She always looks the best in dresses.”

You cough lightly. It’s not enough to attract attention, but you do feel eyes on you as you down your plum wine in an attempt to calm down. 

“You guys are making me feel like a Barbie doll,” you joke, attempting to distract from your flustered state. You nearly wince at the feeling of Satoru’s palm on your knee. Unfortunately, his small strokes on your clothed leg do relax you a bit, like you’re being petted like a dog. 

“It’s your first Gojo ball, baby!” Shoko chimes. “You are our little Barbie doll.”

You feel more relaxed when she rests her head on your shoulder. It’s enough to make you forget that Satoru is touching you underneath the table, his hand rising higher than it should. When your eyes wander and end up on Suguru’s face, you freeze for a millisecond, nervous, as if you’re being found out. However, his eyes grant you solicitude and comfort. Or maybe it’s the plum wine making you warm.

It’s a miracle that you’re all able to pay the bill and leave the restaurant considering how many beers Utahime was craving, but Shoko had reminded her that you still needed a dress. In all honesty, you felt better off borrowing something from your mother. Something from Satoru’s mother if you were truly desperate, but the prospect of having to approach her for it made you want to die. 

After getting boba (per Satoru’s request), the five of you enter a vintage boutique that smells like black tea and tatami floors. It’s dim inside despite it being daytime, but the warm light of several hanging lanterns illuminates the place amiably. 

The boys go off to a corner – Suguru looks through a rack of jackets while Satoru tries on nearly every pair of sunglasses displayed on a mid-century bureau. He tries on a pair with lenses that resemble moth wings, three of them overlapping. He looks ridiculous, yet somehow still charming.

“Twigs, look!” he beckons.“Six Eyes.”

“Funny,” you nod. You chuckle at his face falling into a pout when you aren’t as enthused as him.

Your attention gets stolen away from Shoko, who is shoving a dress into your hands as she ushers you toward the dressing rooms.

“Try this on.”

“Wha– how do you even know my size–”

“Trust me!” she giggles, pushing you into the stall and promptly pulling the curtain closed.

You’re left to stare at yourself, dreading the act of taking all of your layers off. The dress in your hands barely looks appropriate for a formal event, short as it is. You put it on anyway, frowning at the way it barely hits above the middle of your thigh. It’s lacy and frilly with a corset top, making you feel like a triple-tiered cake, but it’s oddly… flattering. You feel like a Harajuku doll.

“Shoko, I can’t wear this to–”

“Oh!” Utahime gushes. “You look adorable!”

“She’s so cuuuuute,”’ Shoko adds.

“Oh,” Suguru blinks. “Come here.”

“Um–” Your breath hitches when he spins you around to tie the straps on the back, tightening them. 

“Better?”

“I– I think?”

Satoru watches Suguru move your hair out of the way and scowls. His eyes widen when he notices the length of the dress on you. Or lack thereof, rather.

“I feel like I’m wearing tissue paper,” you mumble.

“You look hot as fuck,” Satoru says bluntly. You roll your eyes even though he makes you flush.

“You should get it,” Shoko nods in agreement.

“Wh– we’re here for a formal dress!”

“Who thinks she should get it?”

Everyone raises their hand and stares at you. You blink at them in horror. 

“Okay, maybe, but this isn’t the priority.”

They leave you to your own volition after that, except for Satoru, who has resorted to following you around like a stray dog. You have to swat him away several times from trying to sip your boba until you eventually give up. 

“This one,” he points at something silk. “You like blue.”

“You like blue, Satoru.”

He sighs dramatically, watching you as you pick through dress after dress. The image of you in that white lacy number is burned into his mind – the way the hem exposed most of your legs, neckline showing off your chest. Despite the complicated straps, he imagines he could probably wrangle you out of it somehow, or at least be able to flip the skirt up—

His daydreaming is shaken by the blur of your rushed body into the dressing room. He follows you in without a warning.

“Satoru,” you hiss. “You can be without me for two minutes.”

“I can’t, actually,” he deadpans. Fuck, he’d made himself a little hard thinking about you. It doesn’t help that the dress you’re trying on is halfway on you, exposing the side of your breast to him.

The dress is beautiful – a light taupe color with tulle over the silk lining. The sheer fabric over it is adorned with crystals. 

“Jesus.”

“What?”

“Nothing, you look – um,” Satoru swallows his words. He’s never been fucking speechless in front of a girl before.

“Zip me up.”

His large hands scale the length of your bare back gently, making you shiver. His fingers close on the zipper, tightening the dress as he helps you. It feels more intimate than it should. When he catches your face in the mirror in front of him, he blushes and looks away.

He fixes your hair for you, watching you in the mirror as you examine yourself. He presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder. The feeling of his breath over your collarbone makes warmth pool in your gut. 

“You have no idea how hard you made me.”

“Control yourself,” you snap. 

God. Even that riles him up a bit more. 

You ignore him, stepping out of the dressing room to see three stunned faces. 

“Oh, uh, I needed help getting zipped up,” you mutter when Satoru emerges from behind you.

“Oh, wow!” Utahime muses. “Holy shit, this is the one.”

“Agreed,” Shoko nods.

“Really? It’s not too much?” you ask, tilting your head in the mirror. It’s flashier than your usual taste, but the fabric softly hugs the curves of your body in a way that’s comfortable despite the elaborate design.

“It’s perfect,” Suguru says. “You look perfect.”

You smile as Shoko adjusts the left strap of the dress for you, plucking out the tag from behind. When you notice her eyes widen, you strain your neck to look. 

“This shit is vintage Dior,” Shoko snorts. “Damn, it’s almost 300,000 yen.”

“Oh,” you frown. 

“We have all day!” Utahime offers. “There are tons of stores in the area–”

“I’ll pay for it,” Satoru interrupts. You draw a sharp breath.

“Satoru, I can’t let you do that–”

“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as a grad present. Get the other dress, too.”

You look at him, bewildered. 

“It’s not worth the trouble, I’d only wear it once–”

He interrupts you again, the sound of your name a firm warning despite the pleasant demeanor in his eyes. He gestures towards the dressing rooms.

“My mother will love it. You’ll look gorgeous,” he says. “Now go on so we can check out.”

You’re obedient, sighing in defeat and slight embarrassment. Shoko and Utahime look at each other, both raising their brows at Suguru, who shrugs at them, looking mildly amused. Satoru pays no mind to anyone’s reaction, merely returning to the accessories to look at sunglasses once more. 

He’s placid as he holds your bag for you, strangely gentleman-like as the five of you leave after checking out. You think there has to be a punchline waiting for you at the other end of this. Whatever this game of his was.

“So frowny today,” he murmurs into your ear. The two are slightly behind the others, who are engrossed in a debate about Godzilla movies. “You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep it up.”

“What are you plotting?” you ask him, narrowing your eyes. 

“Nothing,” Satoru shrugs. “Just want you to look your best, s’all. I know how much you wanted that dress. Should I pay you to let me fuck you in it, too?”

You know you’d let him for free, which pisses you off. It makes your cunt ache.

“I’m not your whore.”

“Of course not, baby,” he grins, ruffling your hair. “I’m yours.”

New Year’s Eve, 2008

The banquet hall is more extravagant than any parties you’ve seen thrown at the Gojo estate. Fairy lights drape over each other, hanging from the dark blue ceiling in a way that looks like stars. 

The last time you spent New Year’s Eve with Satoru, the both of you were thirteen. Your mother had made everyone toshikoshi soba before the two of you had gone off to the local festival together to watch the fireworks. Your mother’s hand-me-down kimono on you was a bit oversized, but she had braided your hair, gathering it into a bun held together with hair sticks that were a gift from Satoru’s mother. 

You wear them in your hair now in a bun with the rest of your hair cascading down, borrowing from Suguru’s usual style. You feel odd in a gown that costs more than anything you’ve owned. 

“Cute,” Satoru had remarked, poking the dangling jade charm that hung off of your hair sticks. “I remember these.”

You calm your nerves with a glass of champagne offered to you. The menace next to you wasn’t helping your anxiety for the night – Satoru had been attached to your hip since you’d arrived. You didn’t even get a chance to see him with his date. You’re thankful that someone from his clan sweeps him away for a conversation, leaving you to scan the crowd for any sign of Suguru, Shoko, or Utahime. 

You’re startled by the feeling of a hand on the small of your back, but your face relaxes when you turn and see your dark-haired date. Suguru looks like a model, as expected, standing tall in a suit that mirrors Satoru’s. His hair is gathered in a bun, his bangs framing his face.

“There you are,” he greets you, placing a kiss on your jaw. Your eyelashes flutter. “Having fun?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer lightly, taking another sip of your drink. 

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Suguru says in your ear after leaning down. You were going to need copious amounts of alcohol before you could get used to his mere presence in a suit like this. “Gonna give Mei a run for her money. She always treats these things like the red carpet.”

You follow his gaze until it lands on Satoru and a girl with bluish-silver hair talking with who you assume to be members of the Gojo clan. Her hair is in an elegant updo weaved with baby’s breath, leaving two parallel face-framing pieces of hair in the front. Suguru is right – she has the look of a Hollywood movie star, shining in a lilac dress that compliments her pale skin. 

“Don’t worry,” Suguru says, smoothing a hand over your shoulder. “Her family stopped trying to marry into the Gojo clan after her father invested in some global conglomerate. Not to mention, she’s getting promoted to Grade 1 very soon.”

“Why would I be worried?” you laugh nervously. 

He shrugs, flashing you one of those soft, reassuring smiles of his as if he knows something you don’t. You suppose he does. If you were a cat, you could purr at the feeling of him gently stroking his fingers through your hair soothingly. It calms you. It feels wrong for you to get used to it. 

“The girls are here.”

You hear Utahime before you see her. She runs toward you with a squeal, arms wrapped around you happily as she compliments you.

“Utahime-senpai pre-gamed a little too hard,” Shoko explains.

“Don’t call me that. And it was two beers!” Utahime whines. She holds your head a bit too tightly, though you don’t mind. “God, you look so pretty. I guess Gojo’s trust fund can be used for good, occasionally.”

You’re grateful for her hands in yours – it makes you feel less out of place. You had to remember how to breathe earlier, walking around the banquet hall with only Satoru to accompany you. Underneath his scrutiny, you felt small despite the elegance and ostentation of your attire. There were many eyes on you and you assumed it was because of the crystals of your dress. However, there was a part of you that assumed it was because you weren’t welcome. You were a new face. A stranger.

Another glass of champagne gets shoved into your hands – golden liquid that dissipates the creature inside you that continues to pry open your insecurities. When you follow Suguru and the girls to the dancefloor, your shoulders sag in relief.

“I didn’t know Y/N and Suguru-kun were a couple. They’re adorable.”

“What?”

“Did you introduce them, Satoru?” His mother awaits his response, sipping nonchalantly at a glass of wine as her eyes wander towards the sight of you and Suguru on the dancefloor. 

“They aren’t dating,” Satoru mutters.

“Oh,” she hums. “Well, they look lovely together.”

They don’t.

Satoru wants to scream, maybe pull his hair out, but when he observes the way Suguru rests his gentle hands on your waist as he dances with you, he thinks that maybe his mother is right. He’s downed at least three glasses of sugary prosecco, hiccuping in conversation more than he means to. The two of you together are lovely. Alluring, even.

He’s too exhausted to mingle with more of his family. All of it is politics to him, anyway, which he doesn’t care for at all. As Satoru watches you dance with Suguru and the girls, something in his chest aches, something akin to jealousy. He would never say it out loud, always choosing to suffer in silence.

Your face brightens when Suguru whispers something into your ear. It used to be the way you looked at Satoru.

He stumbles up to the bar now, knocking back a shot of tequila. The taste of it is grotesque – he could never understand why his friends enjoyed liquor. Even the taste of sake, mild as it often was, made his nose crinkle in disgust. But he needed the boost if he was going to survive the night.

“Drowning your sorrows all by yourself, handsome?”

“Oh. Hey.” He nods a half-greeting to his date. Mei Mei smirks as she tips back Japanese whiskey, her dark lipstick still in place.

“Got a crush or something? You keep staring at that girl,” she muses. “I’m sure Geto-kun would share, no?”

Satoru feels provocation bubble up in his sternum as Mei Mei giggles at his plight. He knocks back another shot and resists the urge to vomit.

“She’s my best friend. Her mother– she works for us,” Satoru slurs.

“Cute. A Cinderella story.”

“Sure,” he mutters.

“What, Geto beat you for Prince Charming? Girls your age are easy, Gojo-kun,” Mei says. 

“Not her.”

“If you wanted her all to yourself, you should’ve just said so.”

Satoru’s face tightens. He bottles up his frustration and the new realization that Mei Mei is completely right – his obligation to be her date didn’t mean much. Perhaps, it never did. He was already mildly wasted when he had talked to the more important members of the clan earlier – it wouldn’t have mattered if you or Mei Mei were wrapped around his finger for the duration of these talks. 

He feels helpless now, watching all of you. Outside of himself. He twists the ring you gave him on his finger anxiously.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Mei snipes, pushing him lightly on the arm. “Your moping is depressing me. Go over there.”

For once, Satoru is grateful for Mei’s input. He had always been a bit selfish, but not to the extent that she was. She had always been unabashed about what she wanted, in a way that was blunter than Satoru, if that was possible. Then again, she only cared about money, anyway. But when it came to you, he wanted everything, but he couldn’t express that to you in a way that felt normal. He couldn’t tell anyone.

It had already made him nervous to claim you in such an unspoken fashion, knowing that his friends were catching on by the second. Suguru obviously had to be teasing him for the sake of it. Maybe that was why he decided to take you as a date at all—to spite Satoru. The thought makes his blood boil.

Satoru is glad for the after-party – the function of the ball was for networking and matters that he could give less than two shits about. The bonenkai that started an hour before midnight was always a gathering of the clan’s youth, along with whoever was in proximity to them. 

He would drink half of his body weight in liquor by the time the clock struck twelve, maybe, honoring the tradition of forgetting the past year. He would be able to forget all the ways he’d caused you pain from his carelessness and his inability to communicate transparently. And then, maybe, he'll start the year anew with a kiss on your mouth. He could stake his claim on you officially, in front of everyone.

This is what he tells himself. Though, through blurred vision and slurred words, Shoko and Utahime are belligerent in their teasing of him. 

“You’re going to get alcohol poisoning if you keep it up,” Suguru tells him with an air of concern. 

“I’ll be fiiiiiiine,” Satoru groans, rolling his eyes. “Twigs! Come sit on my lap.”

You don’t protest, but you don’t sit on his lap, either. His heart beats erratically at your proximity, especially since you’ve changed into the white dress from the boutique that Shoko had picked out for you. It shows off a good amount of your skin. It makes him feel fucking feral.

“C’mere,” he pouts. “Acting like I have fucking cooties.”

“I’m not letting you throw up on me,” you joke. Your cheeks are flushed. Your hair is tousled to perfection, missing your hair sticks as you let your locks flow freely around your shoulders. 

Satoru wants to touch you. Devour you. 

Utahime makes a joke that has your laugh tumbling out of your mouth like a gift. Bursting with joy. 

Satoru sighs, settling his head on your lap as he stretches out his limbs on the couch you’re sitting on. He expects you to protest, but you don’t. You welcome him with a hand through his hair as if he was still yours. As if you hadn’t been ignoring him for ten days straight.

Through the window, fireworks are already bursting through the night sky. Shoko and Utahime pull you off the couch for a shot, leaving Satoru to fend for himself. 

“You good, dude?” Suguru asks him. He barely registers his friend’s presence until Suguru grasps him firmly on the shoulder.

“Fuck, ‘m so fucking drunk, Sugu,” Satoru slurs.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” he chuckles. Satoru doesn’t answer – he’s too focused on trying to fix his blurred vision. Even the Six Eyes isn’t susceptible to the effects of excessive alcohol consumption.

You, on the other hand, are drunk by the influence of your peers, senses on fire in the best way possible. It greatly contrasts the last time you had gotten this drunk, blacking out at Shoko’s birthday party. At the moment, your heart is full and your head is light.

Utahime’s arm hangs over your shoulder as Shoko grabs your attention, prompting you to pay attention to the countdown into the next year. You blink wildly as you stumble to your feet. It hadn’t even occurred to you that it was this close to midnight – you were mingling with everyone at the ball just an hour prior, hadn’t you?

“Five, four, three, two, one… Happy New Year!”

You giggle drunkenly. The arm wrapped around your waist feels like home, and when a hand turns your face just slightly, your eyes close on the feeling of ardent passion.

Your mouth is met with another’s, lips soft and tasting of the same champagne you had drowned yourself in for the night. When you open your eyes, you’re met with amber-brown ones – fox-like, full of ardor as they gaze into you. Your hand caresses porcelain skin in adoration.

You blink once. Suguru kisses you again. His hand is clutched in your hair, body slotting with yours in a way that lets you feel his palpable desire. The rapid beat of your heart. The feeling of his lips on yours is new, unprecedented. A blooming fruit ripened to the perfect sweetness. You moan at the feeling of his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip. He’s insatiable – he’s holding you so close that you think you might just melt into him.

When you break apart, you exhale sharply, touching your fingertips to your mouth as if to remind yourself of reality. You take a step back in surprise. Eyes blown out of lust and astonishment. 

“Happy New Year, darling.”

It’s whiplash to your senses. You’re yanked by a set of warm hands.

When you look up, it’s Satoru who’s urging you towards the hallway, an elevator awaiting you. Suguru follows behind with his hands in his pockets, his expression full of mirth.

“Satoru, what are you–”

“Shhh,” he interjects, capturing your jaw in his hand easily as he kisses you. He can taste Suguru on you – champagne and mint and the hint of smoke. It makes him moan into your mouth.

“Don’t get too worked up, Satoru,” Suguru murmurs.

“Shut up. You’ve been hogging her.”

“Ha, now that’s hypocritical.”

Your lips twitch as Satoru tugs you once more like a ragdoll. It takes you a bit of swatting to convince him that you can walk on your own. 

“Satoru, what the fuck–”

“Relax, my uncles own the hotel. I already booked a room–”

“Presumptuous of you,” you retort. You look at the two boys, dizzied. Still processing what the fuck is going on, though there isn’t time when Satoru is pushing you into the elevator. Suguru maintains his distance in a way that’s almost teasing.

“You weren’t invited,” Satoru mumbles, sticking his tongue out at him. His companion only laughs darkly. 

“You don’t have the balls to kick me out, though, do you?”

The elevator doors open. Satoru sighs dramatically as he takes your hand and leads you down the hall. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you enter the room – a large suite with two queen-sized beds. It’s luxurious, for sure, in a way that looks unreal. Fireworks are still bursting outside in your periphery from the balcony. There’s a fucking balcony.

You gasp when Satoru pushes you onto the bed forcefully, his arms caging you in. When you look at Suguru, he only smirks.

“Satoru–”

“Be gentle with her,” Suguru chuckles.

“Can’t believe you stole my fucking New Year’s kiss,” Satoru slurs. “Fucking prick.”

“You snooze, you lose,” Suguru drawls, bored as he sits on an armchair beside the bed. “Order another bottle of champagne for us, rich boy.”

“Whatever. After I fuck her.”

“Satoru!” you hiss, shoving him away. You look at the two of them in bewilderment. Suguru is unperturbed, merely looking at you with curiosity. Satoru is, of course, pouting. The moment of reprieve allows you to take a moment for yourself. It also lets you realize how truly drunk the two of them are. As your head swims, you realize you aren’t any better.

“Baby, I don’t even really want him here,” Satoru complains, rubbing his hand on your thigh. “Kick him out.”

Suguru looks at you expectantly, his grin sugary-sweet. Your bottom lip throbs at the memory of his tongue in your mouth regardless of how brief it was. 

“Who said I wanted to fuck you tonight?” you frown at Satoru, who looks like he’s about to cry from your statement alone.

“It’s been two fucking weeks,” he mutters into your neck. “Can’t take it anymore.”

“What a baby,” Suguru comments. “Maybe you should toss him a bone, princess. Then maybe he’ll stop whining.”

You’re flustered beyond repair, warm in your body despite how little of it your dress covers. It doesn’t help that Satoru roams his palms over your skin, making you flush from the heat of his touch. It also doesn’t help that Suguru’s eyes on you alone make you feel like you might spontaneously combust. 

Satoru has always been expressive, but you’ve never seen him so… emotional. It’s odd, the way he looks at you. Like you have him in the palm of your hand and not vice versa. As if you were the one who dragged him into this hotel room alone.

Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder speaking to you in your head or the massive amounts of champagne in your system from the ball, but something makes you rise from the bed, leaving Satoru limp and pliant. You lean over him as you stand, pushing his hair back to feel the warmth of his forehead.

“Drink some water,” you coo to Satoru, stroking his cheek gently. Your voice is so sweet. It makes his cock throb underneath his slacks. “You need it, baby.”

Satoru curls into himself as his body settles onto the bed, eyes stuck on you. Staring at you with helpless baby blues, which widen as you sit on Suguru’s lap. He groans a bit in annoyance, rolling his eyes when he rises to take a water bottle from the mini fridge and downs a third of it in one gulp.

“Come here, please.”

“No,” you laugh. “Rest for me.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, obedient. Desperate. He looks pathetic, like a sad dog. “But I want you to sit in my lap.”

“You have to earn it then.”

As if on cue, Suguru snakes a hand to your abdomen, holding you gently. You adjust in his lap, absentmindedly grinding into his thigh. Satoru groans at the sight of it. He feels fucking insane – his drunkenness makes him feel like he’s losing his fucking mind. He hasn’t fucked you in two weeks, and now you were grinding on the thigh of his best friend right in front of him.

Suguru is gentle as he strokes your bare thigh, but it makes your core pool with desire nonetheless. You’re sure he can feel it, which would make you flush with embarrassment if you were sober. Feeling the hitch in his breath behind you only fills your chest full of lust.

You turn your head so that you’re nose to nose with him. His lips are centimeters from yours, though you only drink up his low exhales. His mouth glistens, you notice – the remnants of your lip gloss stuck on his mouth. 

Satoru whines in front of the two of you like an animal that’s been kicked. You’re both good at ignoring him. It awakens something dark inside you. Something hungry and heinous.

You’re too drunk to initiate anything, you realize – you’re perfectly content with being used. It’s degrading, maybe, but you trust them. Both of them. 

You turn your head, curling yourself into Suguru’s grasp so he can kiss you fully. You moan as he prods his tongue into your mouth, tasting the remnants of champagne on your teeth. His hand rubs on the inside of your thigh, hiking up your dress until it’s pooled around your waist.

“Don’t fuck her with your cock,” Satoru growls. “I wanted to be the one to do that. If you fuck her in that dress before I do, I’ll actually kill you.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Suguru sneers. 

Suguru knows better. He wouldn’t fuck you so quickly while you’re this inebriated regardless of how much you could beg for him. For now, he circles his fingers on the skin of your thigh until you move his hand higher. When his fingertips graze your wetness, you moan.

You can barely move with the way Suguru holds you, his arm around your waist iron-tight. It excites you. Satoru had always been rough with you, but he had also been your first. The feeling of someone else wanting you so much has you dazed, head staggering each time Suguru touches you in a place that feels new.

You aren’t sure if you enjoy being watched or if you enjoy watching Satoru squirm. Either way, you decide to make a show out of it – your voice moaning louder than usual when Suguru slides a finger under the fabric of your panties. Circling the core of your leaking pussy.

“Sugu,” you whine, desperate.

“I know, baby,” he coos. “Be patient.”

Satoru groans. You almost laugh when you see him palming his cock over his pants.

“So fucking adorable,” Suguru muses, his fingertip rubbing on your clit, now. “So pretty. Can’t believe Satoru’s been hiding you from me for so long.”

“Fuck off,” Satoru rasps, his drool spilling onto the bed. “She’s fucking mine.”

“Ours, now.”

Suguru grins widely, pressing into the swollen nub of your clit more intensely while his other hand prods at your hole. You gasp when you feel a finger move past your slick, gliding in between your walls as they tighten.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he chuckles. Satoru groans again at the sight of your glistening cunt, his rasp something in between pleasure and anguish. “He’d look good tied up, don’t you think?”

You nod, breathless. Eyes half-lidded. Drunk on him, drunk on yourself.

“Go ahead,” Suguru encourages, freeing his hand to take off the tie around his neck. “Know you wanna.”

You exhale deeply when he lets go of you gently. It terrifies you – the notion that you enjoy being held down. Trapped under a man’s grasp. Suguru still has a hold of you, has his hand circling your clit before he stops and nudges you toward the bed. Your knees feel weak as you crawl to Satoru with Suguru holding you from behind. He massages your shoulder gently. 

You crawl on the bed, pinning him down. Satoru lets you tie his wrists together without complaint, his eyes blown out. He’s too clumsy to kiss you properly, missing your cheek by a hair.

When Suguru pulls you back onto his lap, he’s seated back on the chair, now pulled closer to the bed. Your cunt, bare and wet and exposed, makes Satoru’s mouth water. His face is just inches away.

“So fucking tight, baby,” Suguru taunts as he pushes his index finger inside your cunt. “Has he really fucked you so much or am I the first?”

“Suguru,” Satoru warns. 

“Sheesh, we should’ve put a muzzle on him, huh?” 

Suguru presses down on your clit and then presses two fingers into your wet cunt, making you moan. With his other hand, he discards you of your lace panties and shoves them in Satoru’s mouth.

“Sugu– more–” you whine. Satoru groans at the same time as you, his white lashes blinking quickly in succession as he watches you writhe under Suguru’s grip.

Suguru adds another finger and it’s enough to make you cry out. You feel so fucking full. You shake lightly in his grasp, moaning sweet nothings until he kisses them up, his tongue laving over your wine-stained bottom lip. 

He thrusts his fingers into you in a steady rhythm that makes your legs shake. When he curls his fingers inside of you, you cry out at the feeling of his fingertips stimulating your G-spot. You’re stunned at how quickly he finds it – it’s as if he’s fucked you before. His thumb circles your clit at the same time, making you melt into him, catching his mouth in a kiss as he works you through your release.

Your head is clouded. Underneath his hands, your plasticity has no bounds, able to bend and twist the way your boys want you to. But Suguru simply holds you as you come down, adoring the way your eyes flicker. 

Your attention is stolen by the sound of Satoru’s moan. When you look at him, he’s helpless, which is a first. He’s squirming on the hotel bed, eyes dark and desperate on you. 

Suguru soothes his fingers over the skin of your thigh soothingly. His teeth nip the skin of your jaw in a way that makes Satoru’s face darken. Even after your orgasm, you grind over Suguru, desperate to get him as excited as you. You nearly cry out at the feeling of his hard cock underneath you.

“You cum in your pants or what, Satoru?” Suguru taunts after exhaling deeply, catching your breath in a slow kiss.

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Satoru unties himself, easily. You’re still drunk, confused as you watch him, wondering if he had just figured out a way to untie himself on his own or if he had always known, waiting until you finished. You never understood his games. At the moment, you’re much too far gone to care.

You’re pleasantly surprised when your body is thrown onto the bed. Satoru has you pinned to it with his hands on your hips. It’s all a hurried blur, but the taste of him on your lips is familiar. It makes you soften to his touch as he pries your legs open.

You barely have time to react when his tongue circles your clit, then penetrates your cunt. It’s sloppier than what you’re used to from Satoru, but you don’t blame him. He watches you for your reactions, his eyes wide with desire-fueled mania, pupils taking up the ocean of his irises. Wide enough to make you feel shy under his gaze.

“Tastes so fucking good,” Satoru mumbles, exhaling into your cunt. You roll your eyes back at the feeling of his mouth on you. When you turn your head, you see Suguru palming his cock. 

“So pretty for us, princess,” he smirks.

Satoru pauses, if only to have his hands crawl up the length of your body to pinch your nipples. You shiver at the feeling of his hands on you, roaming your soft skin. You feel vulnerable like it’s your first time all over again. 

“S-Satoru– oh, fuck–”

He hums, pleased. He keeps his mouth on your cunt, lapping up your slick rigorously as his free hand stimulates your swollen clit. You hear a low gasp that doesn’t come from Satoru.

You can barely grasp language when you cum – shaking underneath Satoru’s hold on you and whining his name in the aftermath. He grins when he hears it, rises to his feet just so he can kiss your exposed collarbone and the expanse of your bare breasts. 

He kisses you then, reveling in the whine that emits from your mouth when he licks into you. Your hand curls into the back of his neck, caressing the softness of the white hair on his nape as he kisses you. He’s rutting into the mattress out of desperation. 

Satoru only stops when Suguru holds him back, literally, with a pull to his white dress shirt.

“Greedy whore,” Suguru scoffs. “Blow me later.”

“No,” Satoru replies, rolling his eyes. When he turns back to you, his demeanor is sugary-sweet, looking at you with adoration. He’s breathless as he stares at you as if he’s committing the image of your nude body to memory. “You okay, baby? Want me to fuck you?”

“Not now,” you breathe. You must look like a mess in front of them. You’re sweating through the lace of your dress, which is currently bunched up to your hips. It hadn’t even occurred to you that you were bare everywhere else. “Sleepy.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Suguru purrs. “Satoru, help me get her to the bathroom.”

The boys manage to strip you of your dress and convince you to wash your face, which you do half-heartedly until Satoru takes matters into his own hands. 

“I don’t know if this is the moisturizer you like, but it has, uh, ceramides?”

You’re barely listening as you sit on the toilet, stretching your legs. Satoru plays scientist, fumbling over a toiletry bag that he’d usually kept for you underneath his bathroom sink.

He massages your face underneath his fingertips. The sight of your fresh face makes his heart beat erratically. For a moment, he wishes Suguru would leave or fall asleep just so he can keep this version of you for himself. The version he knows best. The one’s he’s committed to memory.

“Ready for bed, sweetheart?” Suguru asks. 

The sound of both of their voices is lost to you, fading into the background of your mind as you fall into the bed. You feel comfort in being naked until the boys dress you in your discarded underwear and someone’s oversized dress shirt. The action is a blur to your senses, because the moment they release you, you hit the pillow with heavy eyes closed.

“Love you. Love you so much.”

You don’t recall who says it back. It won’t matter to you when the morning comes, you suppose.