#expect more of this au though my brain is filled to the brim with these guys

[tworedplants]

More of them from the past couple weeks

[padfootagain]

Something Good (XXII)

Chapter 22: Toothpaste

Hello! Here is a new chapter for my Ben Barnes series!

Alright, alright, alright, maybe I’m leaning too much into the cuteness, but I’ll soon put these two in ‘situations’ again, so for now, take one more disgustingly fluffy chapter, alright?

Hope you like it!!! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff,  Slow burn, professor AU.!

Summary: Coming out of a divorce and trying to get used to being a single mom, while teaching your classes at University, you thought your life could not get more complicated than it already is. But when you are asked to take care of the theatre club with the colleague that you really can’t get along with, you realize that everything can still get ten times more complicated in your life. And when you start actually liking Professor Barnes, the troubles only grow exponentially…

Word Count: 2474

Masterlist for the series – Ben Barnes’ Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Got home safely!

I’ll see you tonight, darling

xx

You couldn’t refrain a smile as you read Ben’s text.

The Christmas tree still glimmered in your living room, even if the presents had been offered already. Sally was currently playing with the new dinosaur toys you had bought for her, fighting against the evil barbies trying to steal their lego house. You smiled fondly as you caught a glimpse of your daughter sitting there, on the ground, lost in her own intricate storyline.

You settled more comfortably in your sofa, glancing at the time and sipping on your tea.

Your mother would drop by in about an hour to get Sally. They were having a girls’ night together, a perfect occasion for you to have a date with Ben.

You read the same word over and over again, looking for an appropriate answer, but your brain was too busy chanting the pet name.

Darling, darling, darling…

God, you loved him so much, it should have been illegal…

Good to hear! Can’t wait to finally taste this chilli of yours you keep on bragging about.

I’ve missed you, can’t wait to see you tonight xx

It took him less than a minute to answer, with a picture of a paper bag filled to the brim with groceries.

Got everything I need to cook for you. Hopefully, I do a decent job, although you’re making it sound like I’ve created high expectations I am certain I will fail to attain.

Oh, and don’t forget to get some extra clothes and a toothbrush ;)

You were glad he wasn’t there to see how you shied away under his obvious innuendo.

Some clothes? A toothbrush? We’re feeling very confident, I see, Mr. Barnes…

His answer made you choke on your warm beverage.

I’ve been dreaming of all the things I’m going to do to you for over a week, darling. There’s no way you’re sleeping anywhere but in my bed tonight.

You giggled, kicking your feet in excitement and grinning like a bloody lovesick fool, before hiding your face in your hands.

God, he made you feel like a bloody teenager all over again, and you loved every second of it…

Waking up in Ben’s bed was strange.

A nice kind of strange, of course. Warm bed, soft sheets, his arm flung across your stomach, and his face relaxed in a quiet sleep. His dark hair stained the white pillow in messy strands. There was a quiet, almost shy light coming in from the window. Only a faint whisper came from the street. It was peaceful, warm, comfortable. But strange. It was your first time sleeping here. You had come to visit several times, of course, while you were still mere friends. But now there you were, wrapped in his linen sheets, listening to his steady breathing while under his eyelids his eyes moved with the rhythm of dreams. And you were happy to see this sight, to stare at him resting by your side.

Were you worthy of such a privilege, though?

Before you could lean into these thoughts, Ben was stirring, moving slowly at first, but then reaching up to rub remnants of sleep out of his eyes. When he blinked, a smile spread on his lips as he focused on you.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice much lower than usual in this early morning light.

“Morning,” you grinned back, leaning closer as he gently pulled you in his arms.

“Would you like some pancakes for breakfast?”

“Oh! Yes! Please!”

“Deal. I’ll go in a few minutes…”

“Why do I feel like a few minutes will turn into an hour?”

He chuckled against your hair, pressing kisses to the side of your head and temple.

“You’re starting to know me a little too well…”

“Hmm… You like cuddles too much to get out of bed quickly.”

“True.”

And indeed, you didn’t get up for a long while. You merely giggled, exchanged silly jokes, kisses and caresses buried under his warm blanket while outside, the world got buried under a thick layer of snow.

You got ready while Ben was making breakfast, taking a quick shower and getting dressed with the extra clothes you had brought. He peered inside the bathroom while you brushed your teeth.

“Pancakes are ready, darling,” he announced with a bright smile.

He walked inside, wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your hair while you kept on washing your teeth.

You winced once you were done.

“I hate your toothpaste.”

He raised an amused eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah… it tastes… I don’t know, it’s strong. Too minty. It’s burning my tongue!”

Ben let out a bright laugh.

“Burning your tongue?!”

“Yes! It’s terrible!”

“I like it.”

“I’ll bring mine next time.”

“Well, if you keep on insulting my toothpaste, I may not let you come here again. Don’t you know how touchy this subject is to me?”

It was your time to laugh, catching his glance in the mirror.

“Oh, I know. You tell me about it every day.”

“Every hour even!”

“What a strange obsession…”

You leaned back against him, letting him support your weight, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whispered, letting the quietness of the moment crystalise the gentleness that hung in the air. “I know you were gone for a mere week but still… it was strange not to have you around.”

“Yeah… I missed you too. My brother teased me a lot about it, actually.”

“Your brother?” you asked with a frown, turning in his arms to face him.

“Yeah, Jack. I told you about him…”

“Yeah, I know who your brother is… I… does that mean your family knows about me?”

Ben’s smile dropped, and he was cautious as he answered.

“Yes… I mean… they caught me on the phone with you. It wasn’t hard to put two plus two together. Does that make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No! You can tell whoever you want, I just… It’s only been a few weeks… I thought you’d wait for a bit.”

“They guessed, to be honest.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But… yeah, they know about you. Not the whole thing, just… the basics. How we met, that you’re a mother, that we were friends before giving this a try. You know, basic stuff.”

You nodded. He didn’t tell you that they were aware of the depth of his feelings for you though, that Jack had guessed that he was, in fact, in love with you. It was too soon for that.

“Besides, your mother knows. I wasn’t the first one to make a full report to my parents,” he joked, successfully making you laugh while you rolled your eyes.

“Right, of course… when you put it that way.”

There was a pause, when you lowered your gaze, staring blankly at the collar of his black t-shirt. You bit your lower lip in hesitation before speaking again.

“I think I’m going to wait a few more weeks to talk to Liam about us. Like… I don’t know… maybe let the first month pass. And if everything is still going fine by then, I’ll tell him. What do you think?”

Ben shrugged.

“He’s your ex. You’re the one to decide when you’re ready to tell him.”

“In the meantime, we can’t be too obvious in front of Sally. We’ll tell her after I’ve talked to Liam, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I’m not trying to hide or anything, you know?”

“I know. But we need to think about Sally too. And she’s a child: we need to be certain that this is going in the right direction before getting her involved in all of this.”

“I’m just trying to protect her.”

“I know, I get it. It’s okay. I agree with you.”

You rose to your tiptoes to kiss him, and you tasted grateful as your lips closed upon his.

“Well, I’m still waiting for my pancakes!” you joked, breaking the heaviness of the air, making him chuckle fondly at you.

“Actually, they’re waiting for you, my darling…”

Everything went smoothly, it was a little like a dream.

The holidays were over, time to go back to work, and in the whirlwind of finals, and busy schedules, you were still there.

Ben wasn’t certain why he was so surprised by it. You had started dating for about a month now, you were still deep in the honeymoon phase. The initial thrill filled with exciting sparkles and lovely surprises. Still, it didn’t stop him from being surprised by how everything was so effortless with you. Especially because it wasn’t.

He was taking care of Sally more and more with you. His bond with the girl was growing stronger with every afternoon spent playing with her and her dolls, with each messy painting session or adventure at the park. He had learned how to do her hair, the fastest way to tie her shoelaces, the most practical way to put on her coat. You let him take care of her meals now, and she rested in his arms as much as she did in yours when you watched her favourite Disney movies together. It felt more and more like co-parenting. And it was a lot of efforts, an incredibly difficult challenge, to see this pile of responsibilities growing.

And then there was the most basic things to organize and plan. Dates, re-organizing his life around your busy schedule. His quiet weekends were disturbed now by afternoons at the zoo and sleepless nights in your bed.

And he adored it. Every second of it. It was difficult, it was tiring, and it was the most natural thing, too. Fitting into your life was as easy as breathing. He didn’t know how much was due to the honeymoon phase, to the original excitement of a new relationship, or if it was really genuinely easy for him. Was he simply blinded by you? He wasn’t sure. What he did know, though, was that he was happy. Disgustingly so.

So much so that it was hard to hide it. It was hard not to smile when he thought about seeing you at lunch, or about this book he wanted to recommend you, or when he simply pictured your smile. It was even harder not to reach out to touch you when you were at work, to be unable to yield to these urges he had to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, to try to conceal the glances he stole whenever he could.

As you walked together to join the theatre club that afternoon, Ben couldn’t help himself. He knew he shouldn’t, because you were at work, in a corridor, where students could very much walk by and see the two of you, but he couldn’t help it. As he reached out to brush his fingers against yours, he couldn’t stop himself. Having physical touch as his love language could be something of a curse sometimes…

You gave his hand a squeeze, before letting go again.

“Not here,” you whispered.

“Sorry.”

You saw him blushing, looking away in a moment of shyness.

“It’s alright, but… not here.”

“I know. Sorry…”

“Are you free tonight, though? You could eat with Sally and I, and stay for a movie after?”

He smiled, nodding quickly.

“Sure, sounds nice!”

You were both grinning still when you reached the room and were welcomed by your excited students.

There was a lot of work to be done still. Some songs needed to be adjusted, you were still working on the rewriting of several scenes… and you got easily distracted by Ben’s marvellous voice as he sang along to help some students. And Ben was easily distracted by the peek he caught of your cleavage whenever you leaned forward a little too much…

And he didn’t even notice. The way he leaned a little closer to you, the way his eyes always settled on your frame, the way he kept track of your movements throughout the room. It was second nature, almost. He thought he was doing great at hiding his feelings and your relationship, he really did. And so, he didn’t catch on Nathaniel, Daniel and Roberta whispering together at one point. He didn’t understand why Giselle exchanged strange glances with several members of the club either. You seemed to have gathered more braincells that afternoon though, because you made sure to stay away from Ben for the rest of the session, to Ben’s disappointment.

And he noticed the distance that you were forcing between the two of you. Of course, he did, and if he reckoned that it was in an attempt to keep a low profile, there was a voice in his head that made him wonder if you were annoyed with him, if he had done something wrong…

He was quiet as you finished to clean up the room together. It was unusual now for the two of you to be standing in a room for more than a few minutes without talking, or at least acknowledge each other’s presence in some way. You closed the door before walking over to him.

“Ben, you’re alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You’re very quiet.”

“I was simply lost in thoughts.”

“Okay…”

He hesitated, his voice coming out as a whisper when he finally spoke.

“Are you… are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m just fine.”

“We… we’re okay, right? I didn’t… I wasn’t annoying or…?”

“What? Of course not! What are you talking about?”

“You were avoiding me the entire session…”

You heaved a sigh, before reaching for his hand, cradling it gently in both of your palms.

“Sorry about that. But you were being pretty obvious, I didn’t want the students to catch up on us.”

You had a humorous smile on your face, the gentle kind that made Ben’s heart grow warm and mushy and melting beneath his ribs. He wanted to hold your face in his palms in the gentlest way possible, afraid he could break you somehow, and kiss you until it would kill him…

Instead, he merely blushed and looked away.

“Really? Was I?”

“Yeah, you were. That’s alright though. I simply had to save our arses. You were not as obvious as Nathaniel and Daniel though.”

“What?! Nathaniel and Daniel?!”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed! These two have been stealing glances the whole session!”

Ben blushed again as he spoke, but the words were out before he could properly think them. You had this power over him, and he kind of hated it. He couldn’t lie or control what was coming out of his mouth when you were around.

“I was distracted today. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

You looked away, before rewarding his words with a kiss on his cheek.

Alright, perhaps this power of yours did have nice consequences sometimes…

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

Taglist: @reg-arcturus-black @sergeantbuckybarnes @wolfmoonmusic @idek-what-to-put @kpicard @rhapsodyonthethames @friendly-philosopher

[navegandoaciegas]

don’t feed it - it will come back

Pairing: Dabi x f!reader, Shoto Todoroki x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, semi-public sex, quickie, tw:cheating, dabi identity spoilers, slight yandere!dabi?, AU where all events are the same except they happen when class 1A are Pros already so all characters are 21+, Dabi is not a villain yet.

A/N: title and lyrics by Hozier. Minors DNI.

Don't let it in with no intention to keep it, Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it, Honey, don't feed it, it will come back.

You smelled him before you saw him, seared flesh and ashes, expensive cologne to make up for the stench, the same perfume your boyfriend wore, and that you’d bought for Dabi so that Shoto couldn’t smell another man on you.

Dabi. Your addiction, your escape.

His mismatched lips were rough on yours. The staples that patched him together scratched your cheeks, grounding you to reality before you could get lost in your own head, too deep in that special space you shared with him.

“The hell you think you’re doing?”, you hissed, “I‘m on patrol. What if Deku saw?”

You looked around the dingy alley frantically, hoping that your colleague would be busy poking his nose somewhere else. Unfazed as usual, Dabi offered you a lopsided smile, pressing his body against yours, marred forearms resting at the sides of your head, trapping you between him and the wall.

“If he saw,” he hummed, “he’d go tell his little friend how much of a slut his girlfriend is.”

You considered unleashing your quirk and blasting him into the opposite wall just to wipe that smirk off his scarecrow face. Dabi saw it in your eyes, and offered you a more gentle smile, mellow words to placate the fire in you.

“You’ve been mean,” he whispered, something resembling a pout twisting his disfigured face, “Avoiding me and all.”

You snorted at his antics, shaking your head. “I’ve been busy, ‘s all. Hero work. Patrolling, y’know, what I should be doing now.”

He didn’t relent, unbothered by your reluctance. “I waited for you the other night. Two whole hours and you didn’t show up. Didn’t even warn me that you wouldn’t come.”

“Shoto surprised me with a date.”

“Well, I’m surprising you now.”

He sounded like a child throwing a tantrum while looking like a devil himself, a dangerous glint in his turquoise eyes, skin stretched thin over his teeth, staples barely holding him in one piece.

He leaned over you, slow and tantalizing, hot breath fanning over your face.

Seeing him like this never failed to make your brain go haywire, duties forgotten, loyalty buried too deep to even feel guilty anymore.

Just like that first night together, when all the expectations burdening your shoulders had seemed too heavy to carry. When the shoes you’d have to fill had looked too big for you. Daughter of heroes, strong quirk, the public’s favor, a loving boyfriend.

People would have killed to be in your place, and all you’d wanted to do that night was to be someone else, someone whose life was not set in stone the moment they were born.

It had felt like such a dirty secret, blending in with the crowds of civilians on a Friday night, in need to experience all the things that you’d missed on. Clubs and alcohol, dancing with every man or woman that would grind onto you, it had all seemed so bright and liberating.

Then you’d met Dabi, and a drunken conversation on something you couldn’t recall on the cramped dancefloor had ended up in a hook up in the restrooms.

You’d silently cried yourself to sleep that night while Shoto slept peacefully beside you, red and white hair tickling you as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

Your mistakes had only escalated from there, something like an avalanche waiting to crush you, and the man you’d sworn you’d never seen again was the one holding you in his arms in this very moment.

You knew better than to give in, but you still did despite it, parting your lips while boring your half lidded eyes in his, letting him swirl his tongue around yours, toying with the metal bar on it.

You felt your body flush while his hands roamed over you, groping and kneading your ass, your hips, your tits through the elastic material of your flashy Hero suit.

“I bet you missed me too,” he chuckled, palming you between your legs, the heel of his hand pressing against your clothed lips.

Heat pooling in your belly, you ground your pussy on him, trying to relieve some of the tension in your fluttering cunt.

“Eager, are you? Todoroki Shoto doesn’t fuck you like you need?”

You rolled your eyes, catching yourself before you could moan in his ear.

“He fucks me just fine,” you groaned, fisting his stained white t-shirt, “Just make this quick, I got places to be,” you snapped, slotting your hand between your bodies, palming his bulge through his slacks.

“Brat,” he huffed, stifling a laugh, “and if he did you wouldn’t be humping my hand like a bitch in heat.”

Another warning glare and Dabi rolled his eyes, mumbling something about your over sensitive ass. You pulled him in a kiss to shut him up before your temper got the best of you.

He felt so different from athletic, sturdy Shoto. Slouched shoulders, thin arms, ribs dangerously poking through his emaciated skin. So frail and weak that he couldn’t even lift you in his arms to fuck you against the wall.

Maybe spending your formative years around men like Kirishima and Bakugou, and dating Endeavor’s son himself, had fucked up your standards beyond repair, and maybe Dabi was just a normal civilian with a regular body.

Whatever the case, the thought of your boyfriend was gone as soon as it flashed through your mind, and you hastily began fumbling with the buckle of Dabi’s belt. With a click it snapped open, and you undid his fly, reaching under his boxers. You pumped his hard cock, twisting the velvety skin up and down, thumb teasing his slit. You knew how feral he got when your promise ring rattled with his piercings, so you made a show of it, feeling him throb in your grasp.

“Fuck,” he grunted, hips snapping to fuck himself with your fist.

Teeth clattering, rough hands, his breathy panting in your ear, the arousal pouring out of you. Even the fear of Midoriya catching you drove you more insane than it should have, your walls pulsing in anticipation.

Scarred hands undid your own utility belt, shoving your spandex leggings down your thighs, sliding in your cotton panties.

“So wet for me already, and I barely even touched you?” he gloated, bony fingers spreading your arousal around your folds before dipping in, knuckles deep in your warm cunt, “Sucking me in, hm? You like being touched like this, fucked like a whore, don’t you?”

His thumb roughly toyed with your clit while the rest of his fingers flexed inside you, stretching you out, preparing you for his cock.

“Fuck- God, fuck me already, I don’t have all day,” you grunted, biting his upper lip.

He rolled his eyes then, glaring at you. “You sure know how to set the mood right, koneko-chan.”

He twirled you around then, pushing you flush against the wall, a hand on your shoulder, the other pumping his cock.

Your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when you felt his tip prod at your entrance.

“You’re not fucking me without a condom,” you hissed, wiggling in his hold, angling your hips away from his.

“Please, just this time, I promise I’ll make it good for you,” he pleaded, shamelessly rutting against your ass.

“No fucking way, get a condom or you’re not getting any.”

“C’mon, just this once, I missed you so much, I wanna feel you all, feel your pretty pussy on my cock, please,” he whined, his hard on between your spread cheeks, “You should make it up to me anyways, y’know, for ghosting me, leaving me alone all night, waitin’ on ya. Wasn’t nice of you.”

You knew that when the blood drained from his brain and travelled to his cock, Dabi wasn’t his smartest. And you had to admit that you were curious to feel the piercings scattered on his dick pressing inside your cunt, eager to know if they really felt as good as he claimed they would.

But you knew better than to give in. Some risks just weren’t worth taking, and some things were better reserved in the intimacy between you and Shoto in some twisted, sick loyalty that you couldn’t bring yourself to breach.

“You’re not getting inside me without a condom, God only knows where you’ve been before,” you scoffed, tugging his hair to unlatch his leathery lips from your neck before he could leave a mark of his existence on you.

The smell of smoke, ash, and seared flesh you could explain. You made that work, somehow. You doubted that your boyfriend, as oblivious, trusting and lovestruck as he was, would mistake love bites for anything else, though.

“Less places than you have for sure, koneko-chan,” he snickered, trailing open mouthed kisses below your jaw, nipping your soft skin between his teeth, ��The ladies aren’t lining up to get a taste of me, believe it or not.”

“Jee, I wonder why,” you deadpanned.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who hops on my dick like it’s her job.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dabi-chan,” you laughed, no bite to your bark.

You were getting antsy with his insistence and with the prospect of Midoriya walking in on you getting railed like a cock drunk whore behind a dumpster by a sketchy guy while you should have been patrolling instead.

Not very heroic of you.

He relented then, and you heard the distinct crunching sound of foil being ripped open.

He rolled the condom down his length, and you bent over, forearms against the rough surface of the wall while he angled your ass and kicked your legs open wider.

“Just sayin’, you’re missing out on me.”

You couldn’t hold the moan that erupted out of you when he snapped his hips, slanting his cock inside your soaked cunt. Your walls sucked him in, stretching around his girth.

You were so pent up and aroused that you almost came at the feeling of him sheathing himself in you, filling you up to the brim. He gave a few tentative thrusts before setting a faster pace, sliding his cock in and out of you.

Your mewls and whimpers and the sound of his balls slapping your ass reverberated in the alley.

You knew that if anyone saw you, your career would be over. The media would have a field trip, and Endeavor would lay down his life to make sure you’d be shunned from society.

And fuck, if the risk didn’t make you clench on Dabi’s dick.

You could feel a bruise form on your tailbone where he gripped you, and a few scratches and shallow cuts on the back of your thighs where his belt dug into your soft flesh.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, you fuckin’ slut,” he moaned, hand reaching between your legs to play with your swollen clit, “You love my cock, don’t you? You whore, you love being fucked like the bitch you are, hm?”

You gritted your teeth, nails digging into his scalp as you held onto his head, arching your back so his cock could hit deeper inside you, onto that spongy crevice that made pressure built fast and steady in your core.

“And you like being my toy, my pathetic little plaything at my beck and call, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer, clenching his jaw as he kept pounding into you, lips enveloping yours in a bruising kiss.

Sticky webs of drool covered your faces, mixing in with the blood that streamed down his face where the staples couldn’t hold him in place.

“I’m close, I’m so close, fuck-, go faster, yes, right there,” you moaned, feeling the knot in your lower belly get tighter with each drag of his cock against your walls.

“I-, I’m right here with you, babe, just let go, come on my cock, show me how good I make you feel. Fuck, show me he doesn’t fuck this pussy as good as I do, you were-, God, you were made for me-“

His rambling turned into low static to you while jolts of electricity travelled through your body, jerking your limbs as he continued fucking you through your high until he too came, chanting your name like a prayer.

You were the first to move away, wincing as his cock slipped out of your cunt.

Mind buzzing, you barely looked at him, hurriedly pulling your suit back on, adjusting the belt on your waist while Dabi tucked himself in, the small, blissed out smile gracing his handsome face soon twisting in something pained and darker when you scurried away without sparing him a second glance.

-

The low buzz of ambient music filled your apartment as you stepped in, and a pang of guilt stabbed your heart when you noticed the candles scattered around.

Shoto was on you as soon as you shut the door, a rare, gentle smile on his pretty round face, telling you about the improvised self care night he’d put together for the both of you.

He pressed a kiss to your lips, grimacing at the lingering taste of smoke on you.

“I know smoking helps you decompress, love. But maybe you could switch to electronic?” he asked, hopeful. You knew he hated the idea of you damaging your health as much as he despised the taste and smell of cigarettes.

The concern made your heart jump in your stomach, and when you grazed into his eyes, his turquoise eye, you almost startled yourself at the similarity of someone else’s.

Guilt was really playing tricks on your mind.

You pecked his cheek, reciprocating his smile.

“You’re right,” you sighed, hoping he wouldn’t notice the bitterness in your words, “Know what? I’ll try stopping smoking altogether for you, hm?”

-

Perched on the fire escape of the building facing yours, Dabi watched his little brother hold you tenderly, swaying you around in a clumsy dance.

He crushed the cigarette under his shoe, and rose to his feet, bile rising in his throat.

He willed himself to be patient, knowing that one day, when he’d burn down the world, he’ll be the one you’ll be dancing with through the flames.

—

Omg, this is my first time writing for a bnha character and I hope I did okay! Please let me know what you think of this! Your comments are what keeps me alive ❤️🥺

[voidcat]

— fangs dipped in wine

characters: chuuya nakahara, you

info: vampire au, lowkey suggestive, 2.3k

a/n: let's all pretend for a hot second bram stoker was an actual author in bsd and that instead of abilities, there are vampires<3 I'll probably do a p2 to this in a timeskip way so itll b more fun yay,,

Several days ago, it was just an idea. A laughing matter. A ‘what-if’ to build scenarios on and giggle.

Several days ago, it was night time too, the taste of alcohol fresh, her laugh right beneath your ear, it was warm, and bubbly and there was a sense of direction, a certainty.

Several days ago your friend hadn’t suddenly announced dropping out and moving out of the shared apartment you two had yet. Maybe she had been considering for a while now but in that very moment, it hadn’t happened yet, your world wasn’t upside down.

“Just imagine!-“ her breath fawned over your ear, glasses clinking against one another. “So I’m talking to this guy, right? Like music stuff, and movies, and all. No feelings whatsoever,” you found it hard not to roll your eyes and was met with a shove. “Not like that!” she protested. “He tells me about his boyfriend, I even helped him plan a surprise party once.”

“You cannot know if he’s faking…” you remember saying, in that knowing tone, smooth like silk and lecturing. “Yea whatever. Anyways! Get this:” placing the glass down in concentration that was foreign to her, you were intrigued.

“They don’t have vampires.”

“No way.” Slowing taking another sip from your drink, it sounded like a fantasy almost. Sure, there were rumors of not every country having vampires but it was numbered, there were so little, and the vampires? They were ever present.

“So he says: ‘Hey, aren’t they all rich peeps always wanting fresh blood? What if you have lots of blood already, and make a deal? You can trick them to pay you loads for it and you’d not even have to have them near your neck!’-“ she paused to let out a bark, you’re sure she’s been doing it since she first saw the message.

“And-“ another pause, to shed a tear, “and he says, ‘and if the vampire is hot? Bonus points! They got those fancy houses, you’d no longer pay rent either.’” The mocking of the voice comes to an end. “Can you believe? A deal, with a Vampire of all people! And he says rent fixed!”

You had to admit, for someone who claims to not met any vampires, it sounded charming on paper, but in Yokahoma?, not so much. At a moment of weakness, you looked at one another, daring, and next, breaking into a fit of laughter and downing the glass in one gulp.

How many days has it been since that night? Five? Maybe seven? It was long enough to miss her presence now, but too short to be threatened by the landlord.

One night you’re at your favorite pub with your dearest friend downing drink after drink. You can remember the stars in the sky that night, you thought it was just your brain imagining it, as well as the crescent moon hanging so delicately.

And next thing you know, you’ve just left this bar, despite the temperature it was cold on your bones, and here stands the redhead, his breath fawning over your neck, mouth open, but not to tell a story for the laughs.

He didn’t bother to hide the fangs and you didn’t bother to leave the place.

An idea you called stupid few nights ago just happened to make sense in that sad sulking state. And then he had to appear, with a glass of expensive wine, locks covering his face just fine, a vest that fits his body perfectly and fangs shining under the dim lights of the bar.

“Oh-kay, that’s enough.” You push his face off with your palm in one go. The ‘thump’ of his hat falling on the floor and the yelp coming from his lips fill the air.

“You’re no fun.” he pouts as he picks up his hat.

“So, how we’re doing this? And no, you cannot drink straight from my neck!” you finish before he can raise a finger.

A moment of silence follows the two of you, it’s a nice place. Expensive looking furniture though it’s more like a house from a catalogue than a home. Still, impressive –he, ‘what was his name again?’, definitely has a taste. The empty crystal glasses sit on the table, next to the bottle, a candle close to burning out completely flickers its flame lazily as your eyes wander.

Your gaze moves onto his sapphire eyes then, watching your every move and breath carefully, but not patiently. You can hear him vibrate with every molecule in his body, trying so hard not to lunge forward or speak up, maybe grab your arm and pull you back towards his chest.

“So? Hello?..” you drag the the ‘o’ and wave a hand in front of his face, “Anyone home?”

Like someone hypnotized stepping out of a trance at a snap of fingers, he jolts, pupils narrow, then widen and focus on your face. “Ah, sorry-“ he starts walking away.

Then he fakes a cough, as if you didn’t catch him staring already… Just how the hell did you find this guy in a city filled with vampires?

He stops, turns back, reaches for your hand and you let him. “Did you drink the wine?” he walks a step ahead, still hand in hand.

“If you ask me one more time, I’ll start suspecting you added some sort of drug.” This seems to get to him, obvious from the way he almost trips on his foot and turns back in a hurry, both hands up in defense and shaking his head like crazy.

“Wh- No- No, no no! It’s nothing like that- I-“ if he didn’t look so embarrassed, you’d even say he looks flustered. His rambling stops when you snort and decide to take pity on the guy.

“Relax I was just joking.” His shoulder drop in relief. “Besides, if you put anything, it’d have kicked in by now.”

“Ah, yeah, right…” he looks down, to his right, and that’s when you see the velvet couch there. He extends his hand, in an offering manner and follows you right after.

Reaching for a pocket in his vest, he whispers to himself, you barely hear. “I just like the taste of wine in blood...”

“Weird, not what I expected, but could be worse. I’ll take it.”

Another silence follows, he avoids your gaze while your eyes never leave his eyes fumbling with his vest and cape. Maybe it’s like one of those cape like jackets, certainly matches the vibe he carries.

Under the shivering candle light, he looks so different from the bold smug suave guy who brimmed with confidence, flashed his teeth like nothing, as if the world belongs to him and anything that does not care for him simply does not exist.

And now with the same face, sits besides you someone else, eyes cast down, hands fumbling, there’s comfort in knowing this is as awkward for you as for him.

(You wonder for a second if there’s something you can do to clear the atmosphere.)

“Maybe you should be having another glass instead of asking me.” You try to say nonchalantly and it takes him a second to get what you mean. Then he smiles, and the hint of a small giggle comes out and his body seems to calm down.

“Give me your hand.” He holds out his, the palm facing the ceiling. “Well? This is the easiest way to do it without leaving permanent marks.” He sounds irritated.

“Or noticeable.” You say and he repeats, a little impatient.

Giving him your less dominant hand, you eye the dagger for as long as you can. When the cold blade meets your palm, you can barely feel its weight.

“Okay, I’ll be honest here.” He stops midway, the dagger in the air. You raise an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. “I’ve never done… this before.”

“So- uh- whatever’s the standart payment, or the whole, you know,” he waves the hand holding the dagger in the air “etiquette for this.” He sounds to be relaxing with each word. And with him, so do you. Then comes back that familiar confidence from the earlier, decorated with a hint of threat and a dare. “Just- Don’t ever try to scam or fool me.”

And goes away the determined face, replaced with surprise, as you start laughing loud, one hand over your stomach.

“Look, listen-“ you stop as you’ve begun. “Chuuya.” He fills the gap for you.

“Listen, Chuuya.” You test his name on your lips. “I’m a broke college student who can get kicked out of their flat any day now. Crossing a vampire is the last thing on my list, trust me.”

Eyes soften, a genuine smile blooms and the silence to follow isn’t heavy anymore.

When he slashes the dagger over your hand, it doesn’t sting. The blood soon reaches the surface, red thick liquid glistening in the candle’s flame, ‘life’ it says.

This is what they want, why they want it, drink it, kill for it.

Hidden in the blood, is life, with all it has seen and will see, warm, moving, trusting.

You watch in a daze as he brings your hand to his mouth. Cold lips make content with your skin, how cold and lifeless they feel against you, you see in clear contrast. The sinking of teeth doesn’t come, you don’t flinch. You can tell he’s making an effort not to bite too hard into your giving hand. Drinking the blood slowly, trying to contain himself from getting greedy, there’s no sound in the air except for your loud heartbeat, echoing in your ear and fastening with each move of his back.

The glimpse of a smile you catch in this scene before you tells, he can hear it too, and probably relish in it.

With each flicker of the flame, his lips start to feel warmer and soon he straightens up. Not a single speck of blood on his frame, he offers you the same smug smile from earlier.

Blood makes place for itself on his face, like roses blooming under the sun. His skin gains color, you didn’t notice just how dull and gray he was up until now. Life spreads so fast in his limbs, soon you can feel his warmth near you, in the air, in your hand, on the spot your knees touch. Once the base color is done, pink decorates his cheeks faintly, most likely an after effect of all that wine.

Maybe if he intervened his fingers with yours, it’d feel warmer, and in a weird way, safer.

Watching your eyes on him with amusement in his crystal ones, he seems to enjoy this, that is until his eyes focus on a spot of yours and cannot stop examining every other spot, every single pore, mark, hair and color you have, memories you carry.

The flicker of the light blends in, the warmth pulls the two of you in, time feels gone, like it never existed, maybe nothing every existed except for the two of you sitting before each other.

A sudden crash, from the outside and the magic is gone with a snap.

Noticing your hands, you pull it back to your chest fast.

His goes back to his head and he looks away, anther shy smile on his face.

“What- How should we proceed next?” he breaks the silence first, attempting to gather back a sense of seriousness to his voice. In a way, he should too, this is technically business, isn’t it?

Glancing at your palm, you open and close it few times. Not a speck of pain is there.

“Once every week maybe? If that’s alright. Although we may cancel few weeks, you never know what comes up last minute.”

The dagger nowhere in sight, probably returned to a pocket of his already, he looks pleased with your reply. “Sounds good to me.”

Without further ado, you get up to look for the door you first walked in.

“Wait!-“ he follows in a hurry, almost slipping, again, and trying to find something in his jacket.

Go you! For forgetting why you agreed to a vampire’s house in the first place. “Is- uh- is this alright? Or is it so little? We never discussed payment, y’know.” He holds out a lot more than you expected, but then again, vampires live for thousands of years. He must have quite the amount lying around somewhere after all.

Unsure what to do with the money he slips into your hand, you meet his eyes. “That’s… more than enough actually. Thanks.”

He rests one hand on hip, taking in your surprised face. “Don’t mention it. I’ve got plenty.” Touching your elbow lightly, he guides you to the door, dragging his feet. By the time you reach the door, he makes no move to open it, not that it was ever locked in the first place.

Turning of the knob, you take a step ahead, motions limited on both sides; dragging, waiting for something to happen, something to be said, for the air to be broken.

By the time you’re one foot outside, he clears his throat with a fake cough, covering his mouth. “Same time, same place, next week?” his gaze cast on the floor, stealing glances to see what you will do next.

You turn to him with a smile. “Works for me.” And tilt your head “but what if one of us cannot find the other?”

“Oh I’ll find you alright.” He chuckles with a grin. Truly a sight to sell the whole vampire image he got going, even if he hadn’t been one.

Feet standing next to each other, you’re out now, furrowing your eyebrows with a look of disapproval to match his grin, unimpressed.

“You sound like a creep. Don’t do it again.”

And with it, you turn your back to him, already on your way. The ginger left behind, an unfinished “okay” hanging on his lips, eyes focused on your form, swallowed by the shadows, waiting for the next night to be spent with you, already impatient.

[bijoharvelle]

CHAYYA you're taking prompts??? I'm using this opportunity to send you an idea I had that originally was going to be a long(ish) fic but I shelved it. I even made a post about it if you wanna check it out. The TL;DR is: It's an AU. Steve has been searching high and low for an old record from his childhood (that his ma would play for him when ill) The internet isn't any help however, a store advertising vintage records leads Steve to Bucky’s store. Music lover!Steve + Record store owner Bucky

mandyyyyyy!!!! i know next to nothing about records/vinyl so let’s all suspend our disbelief for this for the sake of the Boys

He couldn’t say why it was so important that he get an original 1955 record of In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning recorded by one Frank Sinatra for his mother’s Christmas present. He knew that’s what he wanted the gift to be but it seemed trite on it’s own so if it were the original, that would mean something. But Steve didn’t know the first thing when it came to buying records. So he did what he always did when he didn’t know something: He asked Natasha.

She hadn’t been much help, but she had directed him to the record shop in her neighborhood. Apparently the owner was a local fixture and something of an expert.

Steve had expected some tragically hip and condescending scene when he pushed into Sound Purchase. That wasn’t the case, though - the shop was warm and cramped but cozy. The walls were lined with bright cover slips of records and posters for local bands. Toward the back there was a circle of squishy armchairs and a trio of players, with a hand-blocked sign requesting that customers ASK FOR HELP, DUDES! if they wanted to listen to something.

“Can I help you?”

Steve turned to the voice and promptly blanked out. The man behind the counter was unfairly gorgeous. Dark hair gathered into an unpretentious ponytail, bright blue eyes and shoulders that were doing an excellent job of filling out the worn and faded THRASHER shirt. 

“Uh. No. I mean. Yes. Maybe.” Steve closed his eyes and willed the floor to swallow him up. When that didn’t happen, he went on. “I’m looking for Bucky?”

The guy smiled and Steve’s brain made the sound of a dial-up modem. “You found ‘im.”

“Oh. I mean, great. I mean, my friend recommended I come here. I need to buy a record.”

The smile on Bucky’s face pitched up a degree and he cast his eyes pointedly around the shop. “A specific record or will any old one do?”

Steve could feel his cheeks go red and contemplated just walking back out into the New York snow. But no, he had a mission. He would not be deterred by the fucking gorgeous shop-owner. When Natasha had said Bucky could likely help him, Steve had pictured some old hippie who was half-stoned and prone to reliving Woodstock.

“Relax,” Bucky said, and his smile was much softer. He came around from the counter and, fuck, thighs. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m guessing it’s for a Christmas present, right?”

Steve nodded at that and then swallowed. If there was one thing he could do easily, it was talk about his mother. “Yeah. For my Ma. She’s the kind who doesn’t need or what anything, you know? But she loves records and she loves Sinatra, so I thought I’d get her one of his albums but...” He trails off a little, blowing out a sigh. “But I don’t want it to just be, you know, something I buy off Amazon or whatever.”

“Yeah, fuck Jeff Bezos,” Bucky concurs and there’s a bright humor in his eyes. Steve can’t look away from it.

“Exactly,” he says. “So I thought maybe I could try and find an original? If that’s a thing?”

Bucky laughed a little, but it was clear he wasn’t laughing at Steve. “That is a thing. If your mom likes Frank she probably has a favorite song, yeah?” As he spoke, Bucky waved for Steve to follow him. They started down one of the narrow aisles, milkcrates crammed with records on either side of them. They were so close, Steve could smell the woodsy scent of Bucky and count the piercings in his ear (three on the left, five on the right). 

“Yeah. She does. Uh, I was hoping to find In the Wee, Small Hours of the Morning for her.”

Bucky let out an “oof” of a sigh. “Whoa. Heavy album. Sad, sad songs.”

Steve smiled at his toes, nodding. “Yeah, I know. But she loved the way he sang What Is This Thing Called Love. So.”

Bucky turned over his shoulder and Steve had to stop short so he didn’t run into him. He found himself more than a little transfixed by the point of Bucky’s nose. “Well. Your mom is in luck.”

They ended up at a door in the back of the shop, Steve waiting for Bucky outside. And when he reappeared, there was the blue-tone record cover in his hands, Sinatra pensive in the rain with a cigarette. There was a protective sleeve of the whole thing.

“It’s gonna cost you a little more than any old record, but --”

“No, that’s fine,” Steve said with a bright smile, excitement brimming over. “I can’t believe it! Man, I could kiss you!!

Bucky’s eyes lit up at that and Steve realized what he said. His eyes went wide and he stammered. Bucky’s smile was back, though, and before Steve could stumble through some backtrack, he drawled, “Gee, and I don’t even know your name, sweetheart.”

“Steve,” he supplied, intelligently. 

“Let’s get you rung out, Steve,” Bucky said, still smiling. He dropped a hand to Steve’s waist - faint but clear in implication. “And then, if you still wanna kiss me after, maybe I can get your number, too.”

taking prompts!!

[illneverrecover]

going deeper (m) | myg

➛pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader  ➛genre: demon!AU, devil!AU, smut. ➛word count: 2342 ➛rating: M because we goin FULL SMUT YALL. ➛warnings: I mean for smut it’s pretty soft, actually. fingering, vaginal intercourse (unprotected), heavy petting, biting, marking, slight mentions of a certain Jeon Jungkook, some possessiveness, mentions of wings used during sex (not the way you’re thinking, though). ➛summary: You always miss Yoongi when he’s gone, and he’s always gone too long, every time he goes away.  ➛notes: This was my piece written for the @ksmutclub​ ‘s secret admirer project, in which I was given the lovely @sunkoos​ to seduce and serenade. That mostly meant I sent her vague asks on anon in attempts to flirt and get to know her a bit better while she kindly responded acting like I wasn’t an entire embarrassment. Bless her. I hope you had fun with me this past month or so, Nas, and I hope you enjoy this fic! I tried to make it soft & smutty, just what the doctor ordered. Happy Valentine’s Day, bb!  ➛song: Black Swan - BTS (obviously, come on).

His touch is so soft you almost don’t feel it.

A ghost, a breath pressed against your pulse point, your jaw. Pillowy lips trailing an invisible path, tongue sweeping out to taste the subtle sweetness of your skin.

“Yoongi?”

Vibrations rumble against your throat as he hums his affirmation, focused on his task. He is feather light, a gentle breeze - and yet your skin heats rapidly, fire brimming just below the surface. 

Dragging your hands from under the covers, you lace them around his neck, letting your fingers trace up and down his spine, opening your eyes to drink him in. It’s late, unfathomably dark, and yet there was just enough light to make out every sharp outline of his features. He’s shirtless, which was a welcome surprise, his exposed skin delicious under your touch.

“Did you miss me?” he murmurs, voice raspy as if he had been talking for hours. 

Sighing, you let your hands smooth to his front, tracing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I guess…” 

He nips at your collarbone in retaliation, your answering squeal the exact response he was looking for. Pulling away to peer down at you, you can’t help but reach out to touch his face, his lips. 

“I always miss you. You’re always gone for so long.”

His stare is intense, impossibly deep, and for a moment the worry of saying too much crosses your mind. It was his job, you chastise yourself, searching his gaze. The job he loves.

Something flashes in those dark eyes, something you almost place - pain? - before it’s gone, a smirk pulling the sides of his mouth. “I know, love. But I’m here now.”

Nothing but a gasp has time to pass through your lips before he’s pressed against them, nipping and licking until he gains the entrance he seeks. He kisses you hard, deep, tongue swirling like it won’t be satisfied until it knows every inch of your mouth. Hips rolling, you reach to pull him down, closer, always closer - until he’s lain atop of you, knees wedged between your own. 

Trailing from your pout, he sucks at your throat, biting the spot he knows makes you weak until it blooms in violet. “The kid still taking good care of you?” he rasps, lips forming the words against tender skin. 

The kid. It takes your brain a moment to work through the thickened lust and comprehend the words, the puzzle piece finally clicking in place. Ah, he means his colleague, Jungkook. The one he assigned to watch over you in his absence, to guard and protect,  to make sure you wanted for nothing. 

You were fond of Jungkook, that was certain. His big brown eyes were wide and always dancing with mischief, and between that and his charming smile, he was hard to resist. Friendship occurred naturally, and you found yourself seeking him out more and more as time went on. Tasks you previously enjoyed alone, you now did with Jungkook at your side - his humor and wit the perfect addition to the metonity of the daily grind. The truth was that in Yoongi’s absence, Jungkook was a welcomed familiar face, and you felt yourself growing close to him in a way you hadn’t expected. 

Smiling, your fingers find the soft dark strands at his nape. “Yes, he is still taking good care of me, just like you asked.” 

“Good.”

“Sometimes I wish he’d take better care of me, if you know what I mean, but I guess it’ll do-”

A sharp sting at your neck had you yelping once more, a laugh already at the tip of your tongue. Instead of rage or jealousy, mirth glows in Yoongi’s lust blown gaze. “If that’s what you want, I’m sure it could be arranged. The kid certainly wouldn’t complain.”

Eyes widening, you glare at the man above you, mouth agape. You’re stuttering through a response when he interrupts, pulling away from your throat to peer down at you. “But we both know that’s not what you really want, is it?”

The smile on his face is maddening, wide and genuine, all gums and hidden secrets. Fire lights low in your belly, and you have the sudden urge to prove yourself to the powerful man above you. 

It only takes a well placed leg around his hips and a strong tug of your wrist to change your positions, legs now straddling his lap as you earn the higher ground. A small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you have only achieved this because he allowed you to, but you shove it away. 

“Oh yeah? And what is it that I really want?”

A warm palm slides up your legs to the back of your thighs, toying dangerously at the apex, just under the hem of your large sleep shirt. Breath catching, you close your eyes to the touch, drunk on lithe fingers and a tell tale hardness pressed to the inside of your thigh. 

He watches you then; the way you slow blink until your eyes roll back, the purse of your pout as you sigh out a whisper of his name, brow creasing slightly when he raises his hips to press against your tender heat. Every single inch of you was art, beautiful poetry, and it was easy for Yoongi to get lost in his thoughts as he let you settle over him like a new skin. 

It’s as he ghosts one long digit over the wetness clinging to your core that he speaks again. “You want me to touch you, right here,” his thumb swipes against your clit, punctuating his words as you mewl. “You want me to touch you here with my hands and my mouth until you come, until you’re ready to take my cock.” 

Whining, you drop your head to his shoulder, allowing your focus to fall to the smooth glide of your pelvis against his own. You’re too worked up to answer, instead dragging your lips in a mirror image of the bruises he had left on your throat, hoping he would heal slow enough to let the love bites take root. 

“Hmm, is that what you want, love? Want me to ruin you, fuck you so good you can’t even think about another man, can’t imagine them touching you?” 

It was with his final word that he spun you again, moving so quickly you barely had time to register the switch until you were pressed faced down in the mattress, hips pulled to rest with your ass in the air. 

He leans over you, the hardness pressed against your ass now free of any fabric - when did he take those off? - naked and warm and demanding attention. His body covers yours, lips ghosting at the shell of your ear. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll make sure everyone knows who you belong to, who you will rule beside.” 

Biting your lip to suppress your moan, you rock back against him, seeking the friction your body so desperately required, fully intoxicated on your want, your need for him. It was like you had been made perfectly for him, a simple word or hint of a gesture enough to have you dripping and ready for more.

Always so perfect for him.

Ripping away your panties, his fingers glide over your silk core, dipping in just enough to hear you gasp. You didn’t want to play games, didn’t want to drag this out - just wanted him, all of him inside of you. 

“Yoongi, please, I’m ready-” a swipe against your engorged bundle of nerves causes you to keen, head lolling forward. “I need you inside me, please, please-”

With a groan, he pulls his hips back, sliding inside of you with the ease of being welcomed home. His fingers remained at your apex, swirling and pinching in time with his slow thrusts, the suddenness of being so full causing your knees to shake.

His remaining free hand travels up and down your spine, pausing for brief moments to hold you in place for his assault against your body, before returning up to your throat to wrap around with a gentle squeeze. He was everywhere, lips and teeth and hands, surrounding and suffocating you with the sweetest poison, the greatest addiction. You couldn’t get enough, being filled with him and yet wanting more, always wanting more.

Yoongi’s moans were softer, lower, but the sound still caused goosebumps to raise on your arms, his pleasured grunts and praise enough to send you over the edge without a single touch from him. Part of you wonders if that’s just some of his appeal, a piece of his power over you, but you know regardless of his status, you would have fallen for Yoongi long ago. 

Picking up the pace, he slams his pelvis into you repeatedly, furiously pistoning in and out of you while never losing rhythm. A skilled and attentive lover, always making sure you were a breath away from crumbling for him, curses and his name always ready on the tip of your tongue. 

“Tell me, love. What are you thinking about, hmm?” 

His voice is black velvet, and you clench at the words, turning your head so you could pant out a response. He never slows, fingers still rubbing mewls out of you, cock lodged deep within your aching cunt. 

“I’m thinking about you, Yoongi. How ah- amazing you are. How much I love you.” 

As if that was the phrase he was waiting to hear, he hisses, a mumble of your name echoing in the room. Through closed eyes, you feel the room darkening, a sudden shadow casting over your form, and a grin pulls at your lips.

His wings.

You always loved when he showed them, let them unfurl and expand until there was no mistaking what he was, who he was. They were bigger than you had expected, feathers a deep inky black that reflected blue and purple in the right light, like a beautiful oil spill. He tended to keep them hidden, his power abundant enough that it could be done without more than a mere thought, but when he let them show, when he let down the invisible wall - it meant he was comfortable. He was at ease. He felt he could be himself, with you. 

The thought made your heart swell. 

Craning your neck, he was a vision behind you - chest naked and glistening, twilight strands of his hair in disarray and matted against his forehead, lips kiss bitten and swollen. His eyes however weren’t closed, instead sharp gaze was focused on your face, your body, as his wings open and expand to their full glory. He was every embodiment of otherworldly, truly an angel, your angel, your fallen prince.

His hips falter when his eyes land on yours, when he sees how intently you stare at him. Adoration floods his veins, his desire to give you the world to rule as you see fit only second to the overwhelming need to protect you, love you. 

“I love you too, baby.” he husks, tongue darting out to lick his lips. His fingers that had been pressed to your fevered heat seemed to double in speed, your eyes snapping closed against the pleasure. “Come for me, love. I need you to come for me.”

You were so close, the precipice within your reach, his utterances only hurtling you towards the end. It was when he leaned over your body once more, lips suckling at the soft space where your neck and shoulder met, his wings cocooning your tangled forms that you finally felt the band in your belly snap, orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. You could feel how hard you were clenching him, the way your thighs began to shake under his punishing movement, and you let out a final cry of his name.

“Yoongi-!”

The high pitched hum had him spilling inside of you,  slowing to pump you full of him with staccato thrusts and groans of his own. When he was sure you were entrenched in nothing but him and his scent, he collapsed, sticky body laying on top of your own, his wings slowly moving to wrap you fully. 

Moments like this were some of your favorites, silence with the exception of tandem pants and gasps for air, hearts thrumming fiercely in your chests as they struggle to return to normal. Yoongi was always tender, almost delicate in how he handled you, but in the minutes after showing you his love with his body he became exceptionally so. Cooing, he dotes over you, pressing soft open mouthed kisses on every available inch of skin as you catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry, you know.” His voice is a whisper, but his eyes are sharp, watching. “For always being gone, for leaving you here alone. I know Jungkook helps some, but it’s not the same as me just being here, and I wish-”

Leaning forward, you shush him with your lips against his. “It’s okay, Yoongi. I understand why you’re busy, why you’re gone. You’re the King of Hell. Your people, your fellow Fallen - they need you.” 

Raising a hand, you trace the delicate lines of his jaw, his lips. “I need you too, of course. But I can always wait until you're done,” He turns his face into your touch until you’re cupping his cheek, thumb smoothing his temple. “I’ll always wait for you.” 

Yoongi smiles then, one of his face changing, soul warming smiles, his wings raising to slowly fold against his back. He wants to tell you that he’d give it all up if you asked, walk away from any responsibility, any promise of power, if only you required him to never leave your bed. He wants to weep at your feet, tell you all the ways you changed his blackened heart, his damned soul. 

Instead, he rests his forehead against yours, a final promise spoken in the air between you.

“And I’ll always come home to you.”

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 4

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE NEXT MORNING

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

“...His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself...” Eivor whispered in fascination, repeating the seeress’ prediction under his breath. At the moment, he was lying in bed after waking up from a long night of vivid dreams and visions, mindlessly tracing a series of words in the air above him as he conjured a poem about his new friend.

“I wish you could’ve met him, father.” He thought aloud. “He was... unlike any other man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. A warrior’s hugr entrapped within the shell of a human, kindled by the heart of a benevolent spirit. His unyielding gaze holding you in place as the songs of those long lost flutter from his lips. A man who seems to be from this world, and yet, beholds it with the look of an outsider.”

Eivor rolled onto his side, staring at the charms sitting beside his bed as his hair spread out underneath him like a fan made of flaxen twine.

“...Was Sigurd the man Ingrida saw in her dream? He must have been. He matched her words exactly. But... how does the wolf fit into all this? Who does the beast represent? Who would try to harm him? And why?”

Part of Eivor suspected it could’ve even been himself that the seeress’ vision was trying to convey, considering his rather violent past with wolves, but... surely that couldn’t be right. Sigurd was to live among them as an ally in the future. What reason would he have to go against him? 

...No. It must’ve been someone else. Kjotve possibly? Or his son, Gorm? Eivor wasn’t sure anymore. And frankly, he didn’t want to think about it. 

So much was already clouding his mind with thoughts of impending war and death. Many of their people had fallen to Kjotve’s axe in the past decade, and he only hoped that this marriage would be the key to finally wiping him off the face of the earth. To think that Ingrida’s warning could become a reality... it was a concern that Eivor wished to push aside for the moment.

He had enough to worry about aside from the seeress’ visions, and he didn’t want to lend them anymore merit.

Tearing himself away from the bed’s soft embrace, Eivor finally decided to carry on with his day and slipped out from underneath the layers of pelts piled on top of him, reaching for his boots.

His eyelids sagged with a heavy sense of fatigue due to the restless night he had to endure, and he felt his body being weighed down by a strong desire to return to sleep. Despite his lack of energy however, Eivor couldn’t deny that he was curious to see whether or not he’d bump into Sigurd again.

The man seemed to operate on a tight schedule filled to the brim with royal duties, but Eivor was secretly hoping that he’d be able to catch him in between. He may have been restraining himself from taking things any further with Sigurd, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to spend more time with him.

He just hoped he wouldn’t come across as clingy. He already found himself feeling more attached to the prince than what was probably wise, and he didn’t even know if the man returned his affections. Sigurd claimed that he would’ve liked to see Eivor again, but even then, the younger man wanted to maintain a reasonable amount of distance between them.

The wedding was less than two weeks away, after all. If any of their plans happened to deteriorate before then, Eivor wasn’t sure they’d have any time to recuperate. Kjotve’s longships still threatened the borders of their seas despite their brewing alliance, and any distractions would’ve simply given them the opening they needed.

Eivor had to stay focused for both his sister and his clan. His current responsibilities consisted of nothing more than providing a reliable axe should the need for war arise, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Stepping away from the limits of the longhouse, Eivor slowly made his way to the top of the hill that he frequented so often as Synin followed him from the skies above, accompanying him with no more than a distant shadow that slithered across the ground.

The morning air was crisp with a frigid breeze that pinched Eivor’s skin and reinforced the snow on Bjornheimr’s meadows, covering the land in a scintillating sea of white. 

Meanwhile, the sun stood proudly above the sleepy village and combatted the arctic environment with a gentle summer’s kiss, thawing the many icicles that dangled from the longhouse’s roof ever so slightly.

As for Eivor, the young man trekked through the icy weather with little to no issue thanks to his fur cloak and climbed the hill’s gradual incline, adapting quickly to its uneven terrain.

He may have been tired, but the frosty sensation of the morning’s touch managed to revitalize his mind, and stimulate him with a chilled gust. It reawakened the parts of his brain that stayed enveloped in a deep slumber, and filled his lungs with a piercing breath of fresh air that caused him to sigh in contentment.

What awaited him at the top of the hill however, surprised him more than anything else.

Sitting alone on the very same bench from the previous night, Eivor spotted Sigurd admiring the angelic daybreak in front of him as loose strands of his hair billowed softly in the breeze, dancing in unison with the fur on his cloak. 

His staunch figure had darkened into a silhouette due to the sun’s contrasting light, and his head remained bowed beneath his broad shoulders in a serene manner. 

He appeared to be completely at peace despite the gravity of his purpose in Bjornheimr, and basked in the golden rays that peeked over the horizon. He was completely motionless in the fjord’s presence, but seemed to travel freely with the stretches of his imagination.

Though, Eivor could only wonder whether Sigurd was here for the view, or for the man himself.

“Hello, Gunnar.” The younger man teased, making the prince throw a glance over his shoulder.

Sigurd’s expression instantly brightened at the sight of his new friend, and a light chuckle escaped his mouth. “Ah, hello, Eivor. It’s good to see you again.”

Eivor strolled towards the bench, gesturing to the nature in front of them.

“Come to enjoy the view?”

“Indeed,” Sigurd said, rising from his seat. “I just finished making an offering to Njord at your temple for our safe journey, and wished to see what it looked like during the day. I have to say, it’s just as beautiful as when you brought me here last night.”

Eivor leaned against a tree, crossing his arms in a casual fashion. “You stopped by the temple? Did you meet our seeress?”

Sigurd nodded. “Ingrida approached me, yes. She’s... enthralling, that woman. I have to admit, I’m not sure what to make of her yet. When she first reached out to me, she seemed... hesitant. Frightened, almost. A strange sense of recognition held onto her gaze, and she spoke as if she knew me. As if... she had seen me before.”

The younger man withheld his knowledge about Ingrida’s vision, uncertain of how Sigurd would react to it. “Is that so? What did she say?”

“Ingrida referred to me as ‘the one who walked with Tyr.’ She mentioned a wolf similar to Fenrir, and even brought up something about Freya’s collapse. I’m not entirely sure what she meant by those statements, but her wariness was quite plain.”

Eivor shrugged in confusion. “I’m afraid I’m as clueless as you are, but you’ll have to forgive her. Ingrida can be rather paranoid sometimes. Try not to take it personally.”

Sigurd furrowed his brow. “I’m more concerned than I am offended. Even though I’m aware that many people will dismiss seeresses these days, their instincts tend to be accurate. It just makes me wonder what the gods revealed to Ingrida to make her so cautious around me.”

“Well, you are a prince. Trouble has a habit of following royalty even if they don’t intend it.”

Sigurd let out a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

The older man suddenly paused, giving his friend a tentative look as another subject crossed his mind. “I-I hope I’m not intruding on your daily routine, by the way. I know you come to this hill for solitude.”

Eivor shook his head, reassuring Sigurd with a welcoming smile. “You’re free to spend as much time here as you please. In fact, I’m happy to run into you again. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

Sigurd laughed. “Likewise.” 

“How did things go with your father, anyway? When you returned to him, I mean.”

The prince waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, about as well as you’d expect. He berated me for being improper and ‘making a fool of myself’ on our first day here. He quickly shooed me away from the feast and told me to find a change of clothes before getting anywhere near Randvi again. Overall though, he wasn’t as harsh as I expected. I think it’s because Arngeir was present.”

Eivor gazed downwards out of guilt. “I hope the king isn’t too angry with me.”

“Have no fear. My father doesn’t even know you were involved. As far as he’s concerned, I spilled that mead on myself. Dag didn’t say anything either.”

The younger man stared at Sigurd in gratitude, admittedly surprised that he would omit his name from their late-night shenanigans.

“That’s... very kind of you. Thank you.”

Sigurd grinned at him, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. “Well, you can repay me with a round of drinks some other time. For now though, let us simply put it behind us.”

The redheaded man turned his head towards the other end of the village and gazed into the nearby woods, bringing up a rather tempting proposal.

“Hey, Eivor. How would you like to join me for a ride?”

Eivor’s head perked up at that. “A ride? Now?”

Sigurd shrugged innocently. “Why not? My father wants to give our clan a chance to get everything in order before proceeding with this marriage, so I have the day off. I was going to explore the forests around the village on my own, but I’d love to have some company.”

“Where were you thinking of going?”

The prince pointed to a distant landmark. “The waterfall to the north. I caught a glimpse of it while I was at the temple, and I’d like to explore it some more. Care to come along?”

Eivor hesitated with his response, practically having to catch the words in his throat before they could leap out.

It was no question that he would’ve loved to accompany Sigurd on a quick jaunt throughout the woods, but he knew that such an interaction would’ve likely caused his feelings to swell even further. The man’s presence alone was enough to send Eivor into a frenzied state of infatuation, and he didn’t know if it would be wise to indulge in his endearment anymore.

But... he wondered if it would be possible to pursue a platonic relationship with Sigurd. It wouldn’t have been the first time Eivor was forced to stifle his feelings for someone, and it wasn’t as if they had a lot of time to get to know each other anyway.

He might have been interested in the man for now, but Eivor assumed his passion would soon vanish. Their gallivanting would only last for so long before the political troubles of Kjotve’s men rose again, and by then, the young man imagined his mind would’ve drifted onto other subjects already.

At least, that’s what he hoped would happen.

“Alright, Sigurd.” Eivor finally agreed. “I’ll join you.”

The prince smiled joyously. “Wonderful.” He began strolling away from the bench, walking past Eivor as he headed down the hill. “Come. Walk with me to the stables. We’ll take our leave from there.”

The other man followed suit and glanced upwards at Synin, beckoning her to glide along with them.

“I’m ready when you are.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE OUTSKIRTS OF BJORNHEIMR

Trotting calmly through the forest, Eivor and Sigurd rode alongside each other as they worked their way around the naked trees, leaving Bjornheimr’s noisy activity far behind them.

A multitude of snowflakes gently floated to the glistening ground around them and twinkled sporadically in the air, occasionally catching streaks of light in their icy clutch. Meanwhile, they swayed elegantly in the gale that blew in from beyond the barrier of trees, and adorned any surface that would hold onto them.

As for the wildlife in the woods, they seemed to be making an effort to avoid the pair of intruders traipsing through their home. They stuck to the shadows being cast by the nature surrounding them, and flitted erratically behind the bushes, causing their foliage to twitch with movement.

An orchestra of vibrant chirps could be heard singing throughout the space, and in the delicate rustling that filled the breeze, Eivor detected the sounds of animals yipping collectively, as if conversing with each other about the peculiar visitors wandering through their habitat.

It was a normal day in the woods like any other, and for that, Eivor was grateful.

“The nature you have here is breathtaking,” Sigurd remarked. “The gods were in high spirits when they created Bjornheimr.”

Eivor gazed at the trees lining the path, speaking contently. “They were, weren’t they? Sometimes I forget we’re still in Midgard when I see the beauty they’ve blessed us with.”

“Do you come out here often?”

The young man sighed. “Sadly, no. My duties keep me close to the village these days. Though, I used to spend a lot of time out here with my sister when I was younger. Thora and I would always hunt together in these woods.”

“Ah, yes,” Sigurd said in recognition. “I’ve met Thora as well. Your father introduced us at the feast. She... didn’t seem too fond of me.”

Eivor chuckled. “That’s how she is with everyone. She’s the oldest in our family, so she’s always been protective of me and Randvi. Don’t worry about it. She’ll come to trust you eventually.”

“I hope so. Animosity will provide little for us in times like these.”

Eivor quirked a curious brow at him. “And what of Ulfar? Have you met him yet?”

Sigurd nodded. “I have. He’s a mystery, that one. Hardly said a word to me, and yet, I feel like he spoke the most.”

The blond man paused at the observation. “Is that so? Hm. I knew Ulfar was quiet, but he’s never struck me as the standoffish type. Then again, he and I have known each other for years, so I’ve probably just forgotten how he is with strangers.”

“You two are close?”

“Indeed. Ulfar’s been in my life ever since Arngeir took me in. He was always there to fill the jarl’s absence when the man was occupied with other duties. He’s almost like a second father to me.”

Sigurd posed a question. “Is Ulfar from around here? I noticed a slight accent in his speech when we talked.”

“No,” Eivor explained. “He’s Saxon-born, but was raised by Norse parents after a viking raid destroyed his village.”

“Really? Well, it seems your clan is full of interesting people.”

Eivor snickered softly. “You don’t know the half of it. We have warriors, poets, hunters, thieves... every walk of life lives among us.”

 The prince smirked. “And which one are you?”

“Me? I... can’t say for sure if I’m being honest. I suppose you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

“A man never knows his own reputation, eh? I can understand that.”

Eivor threw the question back at him. “And what about you? You seemed to know your reputation pretty well when we spoke last night.”

“It’s difficult not to when you’re a prince. Everyone always has an opinion on how you should behave. How you should live. How you should think. Even this marriage wasn’t my idea.”

The other man couldn’t help but notice the hint of frustration in his voice. “It must get tiresome.”

Sigurd let out a defeated sigh. 

“It...” he fell silent for a second, struggling to get his thoughts in order, “...it does, yes. Make no mistake, I appreciate the privileges I have, but sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to live my life for others. I wish... I could just live freely; be my own man.”

He continued his train of thought. “I think that’s why I enjoy spending time with you, Eivor. Everyone else I’ve met so far has expected me to act in a certain way, but... not you. You judge me based on how I am, and not how you think I should be. Sometimes, that’s all I ask of someone.”

Sigurd cut himself off mid-sentence, withdrawing from his statement. “F-Forgive me. I did not mean to be so direct. I just...”

“I understand,” Eivor reassured him. “You bear a lot of weight on your shoulders. It must be difficult, especially in the midst of a war.”

“I suppose I should get used to it. After all, I’m going to be a king someday. It’s not like my situation is getting any easier. Better to come to terms with it now than wrestle with it later.”

Eivor raised a more personal question, admittedly somewhat hesitant to hear his friend’s thoughts.

“...Can I ask you something, Sigurd?”

“Of course.”

He quietened his tone, uncertain of the response he would receive. “Do you feel as though I’m pestering you?”

The prince took a moment to process his words, clearly confused by the sentiment. “Pestering me? No, of course not. I just said I enjoy spending time with you, did I not? Why would I think anything else?”

Eivor’s gaze fell to the ground. “It’s just... I feel like you should be riding through these woods with Randvi instead of me. You came here for her, after all. The whole purpose of your visit is to get closer to your betrothed. I worry that I’m wasting your time.”

Sigurd turned to his friend with a look of concern, quick to come to his defense. “Randvi and I have our entire lives ahead of us, Eivor. These first two weeks are merely the start of our marriage. There will plenty of time for us to get to know each other later. Do not fret. Your company is valued.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Still, I hope I’m not causing too much of a distraction from your duties. I know you said things have been stressful for the Raven Clan recently.”

“They have, which is why I appreciate you coming along with me. It would unwise for me to ignore my responsibilities, but even the strongest of men need to take a breath occasionally. We have more than enough war waiting for us beyond the horizon. We need not seek it out.”

Eivor found some comfort in his words. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“But enough of that,” Sigurd said, gesturing to the path in front of them. “We’ve reached the waterfall. Come. Let’s take a closer look.”

Tugging on the reins of his horse, Sigurd brought the steed to a steady halt before hopping off of its saddle and landing in the snow, causing his boots to sink through the thick surface.

Meanwhile, Eivor tailed the prince from behind and followed his lead, sticking close to him as the two of them approached the waterfall in the distance.

He recognized this place, despite not having visited it in a while. The locals often referred to this waterfall as the Tears of Ymir due to the strangely humanoid visage in the rock formations surrounding it. It rested on the edge of Bjornheimr’s outskirts and looked out into the open sea, guarding over its vast waters as if the giant himself were gazing upon his creation.

Meanwhile, a roaring cloud of mist clung onto the bottom of the falls’ foundation and merged into the sea below, creating an illusion that made Eivor feel as if he were standing on top of the world.

It was a glorious sight to behold, truly. Many of the landmarks near Bjornheimr were stunning on their own, but the waterfall had always been something else. It watched over the village from a pedestal of rocks and trees, and seemed to pacify the nature around it with a meditative aura. 

It was no wonder that Sigurd found himself drawn to it.

“The landscapes in this region never cease to amaze me,” the prince said in awe, stepping closer to the edge. “I wish I could stay here all day long. It feels so... disconnected from the chaos of our world. So peaceful. It truly is a luxury to have places like this near your home.”

Eivor joined him at the edge, losing himself in the majestic view.

“Indeed. It feels like a sanctuary created by the gods, hidden deep in the woods to protect it from the touch of mankind.”

Sigurd took a seat on the ground and let his legs dangle off the rock, gesturing to the mountains that dominated the horizon.

“You know, when I was a boy... I always used to have dreams about the mountains in this land. I would see a kingdom nestled in the depths of this world, constructed of architecture far beyond our understanding. There was a great tree that stood in the center of it. It was built out of iron and rock, and did not seem capable of breathing life like the ones you see here.”

Eivor sat beside the older man, intrigued by his tale. “A tree made of iron and rock? Can such a thing even exist?”

Sigurd shrugged. “Who knows? The nine realms are an impossible reality. If a tree such as Yggdrasil can exist, what makes an iron tree so implausible?”

The younger man grinned at the thought. “I suppose you’re right.”

The prince leaned back on his arms, relaxing in the snow. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever had any dreams like that? Seen things that you just... couldn’t explain?”

Eivor nodded. “I have, actually. Ever since I was a child, I always dreamt of the Allfather.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “You’ve seen Odin in your sleep? Are you certain it’s not a vision?”

“It could be,” he conceded, “but nothing in the real world has ever reflected my dreams, so I’m not sure. Ingrida might disagree with me, though. She seems to believe that I carry the gods’ favor.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sigurd admitted. “After all, they call you the Wolf-Kissed, do they not? For the scar on your neck? Not just anyone can survive an attack like that. Someone was watching over you that day.”

Eivor humored the idea. “You think? I hope that’s the case. Otherwise, I see no reason why my parents had to die while I was able to survive.”

Sigurd’s tone grew gentle with empathy. “...Our world is laden with injustices. The gods must’ve spared you so that you could rectify your own.”

The younger man beamed at him. “Which is where you come in.”

His friend returned the expression with a smile. “My clan will not rest until Kjotve lies rotting in the ground, and our people know peace again. You have my word, Eivor.”

Falling into a profound silence, the two of them simply took the time to enjoy each other’s company as they lounged together on the edge of the cliff, listening to the soothing sound of rushing water barreling down into the space below.

By now, the sun had risen to a point where it appeared as if it was being cradled by the mountains’ peaks, and parted the ocean’s tides with a shimmering streak of light.

As for Sigurd, the man seemed to be in an entirely different world at the moment. His eyes traveled far beyond the corporeal edges of their realm, and his temperament remained unperturbed. His mind had broken free of any troubles that once restrained it, and if Eivor didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn that the man was subconsciously leaning closer to him.

He just wished he knew what Sigurd was thinking. The man had assured Eivor he wasn’t bothered by his company, but... the younger man wondered if there was anything else lingering in the back of the prince’s mind.

Did he share the same affections that Eivor harbored? Did he feel just as conflicted about everything as his companion? Did he feel drawn to him too? 

There were about a thousand different questions bouncing around Eivor’s thoughts, but he had no idea how to find an answer to any of them. He’d only known Sigurd for less than two days, after all. It wasn’t as if he could broach the subject without raising some level of awkwardness. 

Still, he wished there was some way to crack the shell Sigurd kept around himself. The man didn’t seem disingenuous necessarily, but it was clear that he was hiding his own secrets. It sounded as if his father often scolded him for speaking his mind, and thus, he had become reluctant to talk openly about his concerns. 

It was a shame, really. Eivor’s instincts told him that Sigurd was a man worth talking to, but he appeared to lock his thoughts in a cage that only a select few would be able to access. He had opened up a number of times already, but even then, Eivor found himself curious to learn more.

He just didn’t know how to break the wall between them.

“...Sigurd?” Eivor said timidly, tracing his finger through the snow. “Can I--”

The prince raised a silencing hand, jolting his head to the side in alarm. 

“--Wait.” He whispered. “Did you hear that?”

The blond man glanced around the environment, finding nothing of interest. “...No? What is it?”

Sigurd propped himself up from the ground and gripped the hilt of his sword, attentively scanning the woods for any movement.

“I thought I heard someone else talking,” he explained in a hushed tone. “It sounded like they were hiding in the woods.”

Eivor followed his line of sight and glared at the wall of trees standing behind them, steadily reaching for his axe as his gaze pierced through the shadows.

“Is someone there?” Sigurd called, returning to his feet. “Come out where we can see you. There’s no use in cowering.”

The two of them waited for a response, remaining completely still.

Leaping out from the nest of trees, a lone arrow suddenly flew towards Eivor and soared straight past his neck, planting itself in the ground behind him. 

Meanwhile, a series of footsteps shuffled around in the woods for a bit, and before they knew it, a pair of men had emerged from the darkness with swords in their hands, intent on slaying anything that moved.

“Shit...!” Eivor exclaimed, instantly recognizing their attire. “Kjotve’s men!”

Pouncing into battle, Sigurd and Eivor wasted no time in fending off the ambush and immediately started swinging their weapons about, clashing with the blades of their attackers.

Eivor swerved to the left in order to dodge another oncoming arrow and confronted one of the assailants on his own, leaving his companion to deal with the other. He deflected their blow with a quick bash of his axe, and swiftly ducked under a second swing before hurling his weapon into their gullet.

A stream of blood came squirting out from their throat following the counterattack, and within the blink of an eye, the man had fallen limp, gripping his neck to preserve a life that was no longer there.

As for the other man, he was still tangled in a fight with Sigurd and currently trying to plow through the prince’s adamant defenses, relentlessly delivering one blow after another. The redheaded man seemed to be holding up alright against the brute’s wild swings, but was clearly struggling to find an opening.

“Sigurd!” Eivor shouted over the commotion, sprinting towards him. “Hold on!”

Diving directly into the midst of the pandemonium, Eivor made a beeline for the gargantuan warrior and frantically searched for a weak point in his armor, raising his axe in preparation. 

Before he was able to provide any aid for Sigurd however, the man flicked his eyes in Eivor’s direction and slammed his sword downwards in a vertical slice, carving his blade straight through the smaller man’s cheekbone.

Eivor was sent flying backwards due to the incredible impact and landed harshly in the snow with a heavy thud, causing his weapon to slip from his grasp. Meanwhile, Sigurd finally found the opening he needed and promptly took advantage of it, immediately turning the tide of the battle.

He heaved his longsword in the air with a fatigued grunt and lined it up with the warrior’s head, practically dropping the blade into their skull while their attention was focused on Eivor.

The man’s limbs twitched sporadically once the weapon made contact with his scalp, and after a few moments of struggling to process what just happened, he collapsed to his knees, toppling over right next to where Eivor lay.

Sigurd let out a labored breath following the end of the fight, quickly switching back into a state of panic once he saw what had become of his friend.

“Eivor!” He blurted out, rushing to the man. He crouched down and cradled Eivor’s head in his hold, checking to see if he was still breathing.

“Eivor,” Sigurd repeated worriedly, shaking him slightly. “Are you still with me?”

The younger man forced his eyes open to a slit upon hearing the prince’s pleas and grinned, wincing at the immediate pain that stung his cheek.

“Oh, relax, your highness...” Eivor teased cordially, his voice straining with effort. “It’s... it’s nothing to worry about...”

Sigurd sighed in relief, his breath turning into mist once it departed from his lips. “By Odin’s beard... I feared he might’ve killed you for a moment there.”

“I’ve hurt myself worse trying to navigate the village after waking up from a drunken stupor. I’ll... be alright.”

The older man wasn’t ready to calm down just yet. “Well, I’m not willing to let my guard down until we get you back to Bjornheimr. There could be more people hiding in the woods.” Sigurd shook his head in anger. “Dammit...! Where did they come from? Do you think these men were scouts?”

Eivor brought himself to a sitting position, relying on Sigurd’s support to elevate himself.

“...P-Possibly, or they could be stragglers. Either way... we need to return to the village and let the jarl know what’s going on. I... I imagine your father will want to hear of this too.”

“First, let’s focus on tending to your wound,” the prince reminded him. “We should bring you to the seeress as soon as possible. It looks like the blade cut you pretty deep.”

Eivor held onto Sigurd’s arm, pulling himself back up to his feet. “Well, whatever we do... we need to get out of these woods. Idling out here isn’t going to do us any favors.”

“Agreed.”

The older man whistled for his horse, offering Eivor a helping hand once he noticed that his steed had fled.

“Come,” he instructed. “I’ll take you back to the village. We shouldn’t waste another minute in this forest.”

Eivor followed Sigurd’s actions, growing increasingly sluggish with every step he took. “...Thank you, Sigurd. I’m glad I had you by my side today.”

The prince climbed onto his mount and took hold of the reins, allowing Eivor to take a seat as the other man wrapped his arms around his waist.

“No. Thank you, Eivor. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Sigurd diverted his focus to the journey ahead of them, comforting his friend with some final words. The man may have pretended that he wasn’t affected, but Sigurd could tell that Eivor’s wound was draining his energy by the second.

“Hush now, drengr,” he soothed in a gentle voice. “Save your strength. I’ll take you back to Bjornheimr. Just rest now. You’ll be alright.”

[star-killer-md]

Hello!! May I please request “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if i have to, until you answer me.” with our boi Kylo? Could it be sweet with smut? Thank you so much!!! DALDOM is such a joy to read, like thank you for quenching my thirst in this drought of a time

Thank you so much for all your support babe!! Soooo, remember when I said this would be just drabbles. Well I went and wrote like what could potentially be considered a one shot and it’s probably not at all what you were looking for but it left my brain and its here now. 

This is loosely based on the Mobster!Kylo x Lawyer!reader AU I’ve been fantasizing about writing for awhile, so you can just read it as modern Kylo to simplify things. 

Prompt: “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if I have to, until you answer me.” 

Warnings: nsfw, angst which y’all just need to expect by now, breaking and entering, feelings, sorta soft Kylo I think, possessive vibes

Word Count: 2k

Message number 27:

Kylo’s voice crackled out of the answering machine sounding warped as the signal cut in and out. 

“You’re not getting away that easily,” he rasped. “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if I have to, until you answer me.”

Your inbox was well and full by now. He’d made good on his promise though. Your phone had vibrated itself off the counter at one point with the amount of incoming calls. An hour or so ago, you’d just turned it off, hiding away under a blanket in the living room and trying to control your breathing. 

You knew it had been a mistake to get involved with him professionally. His business was not exactly of the ethical sort and you couldn’t have any stains on your reputation. But he’d paid handsomely, and you did enjoy the extra funding to spruce up your rundown apartment. 

But it had been a grave error to ever be romantically involved with Kylo Ren. If you could call it that. There was nothing truly romantic per to say about it, possessive was a more appropriate word for him. Ren kept a collection of spoils and you simply couldn’t bare to be just another trophy anymore. 

Although it seemed your greatest blunder was in trying to break things off amicably. You should have just skipped town. Should have broken your lease, took the hit to your credit and changed your name. Should have, would have, etc...

But you didn’t.

And now you were facing the consequences. 

The consequences which were currently trying to break down your front door. 

Footsteps, loud and heavy, pounded up the narrow hall and what was almost certainly a foot connected and splintered the wood of your lock on the first impact.

You jumped clear off the couch, landing in a heap on the floor and crawling away from the door as it swung on its hinges. The knob left a hole in the drywall as it burst open and standing in the remains was the last and first person you wanted to see.

There was a reason you’d only left a message with his assistant and slipped quietly home. There was a reason you’d taken the week off so you wouldn’t accidentally run into him looking for you at your office. 

Because, no matter how much you detested what he did, you couldn’t deny how easily he’d drawn you in. Not just with money but with his air. The cloud of mystery and intrigue, risk and reward that clung to him was intoxicating. And you knew if you had to look him in the eye, he’d pull you right back to him. Have you laid out on his expensive mahogany desk, pussy dripping and cock pounding into you. 

You could hear it now:

“Your fucking cunt better not take the finish off,” he’d growl into your ear, fingers down your throat to muffle any noise. “Gonna lick it clean when I’m done aren’t you?”

He was staring at you now with that same dangerous look which had enticed you in the first place. You shuddered from your place cowering in the corner.

Kylo’s massive hand wrapped around the door and slammed it back into the ruined frame before crossing the room and backing you further into the corner where you sat. 

“What the hell are you—?!” 

You were cut off when he yanked your upper arm harshly dragging you to your feet and caging you to the wall with his chest. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you pick up?” he hissed, lips working over themselves when his jaw twitched. 

“I left a message,” you stated calmly, eyes focused intently on the ground.

“No that’s bullshit and you know it,” he pounded his fist into the wall by your head. 

“I meant it,” you tried to keep your voice level but your hands were shaking at your sides and he was too close and too loud. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His hand found your jaw, forcing it up towards his face, “Look at me and say that again.”

It was a challenge. A dare. Calling your bluff. 

You took a breath. 

His eyes were so pretty though when you finally met them, all the nerve drained out of you. Kylo looked so...enraged, enraptured, betrayed. And you just couldn’t. But you had to.

The words were soft when they slipped past your lips, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” he demanded.

His eyes were flicking all over your face, from your mouth to your eyes and back again. 

You didn’t know how to explain that he scared you. Not him entirely, but what you felt for him, what he did to you was terrifying. It was an addiction you couldn’t shake and you needed to go cold turkey or you’d be stuck in this back and forth forever. 

“What?!” his voice cracked as the shout left him. “What am I not paying you enough? What more do you want?” 

“I don’t want anything—“

“No, no, no,” he cut you off again, hands wrestling against you until he gripped the outside of your thighs and hoisted them around his waist. Your skirt rode up your back and left you nearly exposed to the chill of the apartment. 

“Kylo, please,” you struggled in his grasp. 

Your hands were so small on his chest, barely contained by the blue dress shirt he wore. He was hard in his pants, you could feel the length of him pressing into your core. Your name left his lips right before they crashed into yours. 

You tried to push back, to seal your mouth shut and turn your head but his kisses were your weakness. Few and far between and gut wrenching every time and he knew it. Knew what he did to you. And you couldn’t help but yield to his onslaught, letting him lick into your mouth and trace your teeth. 

He was like a fine wine, or what you imagined people meant when they said that. It all tasted the same to you, but Kylo was more delicious than any of it. And you drank him down despite the little voice in your head telling you to bite his tongue and get as far away from him as possible. Somewhere he couldn’t track you down. 

But really, you knew that was futile, because Kylo Ren could find you anywhere. Once he sunk his teeth in, there would be no getting away without blood on your hands. So you kissed him back and didn’t protest when his lips wandered down your neck, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. 

“You can’t,” he mumbled into your skin. 

Kylo’s hands shifted, fumbling in between your bodies until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your underwear. He ran his thumb along your slit, groaning at how your pussy dripped for him. 

“Can’t what?” you gasped, as he circled your clit through the cotton. 

He tore his hand away and fumbled with his belt buckle, freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. You felt him push your panties to the side and rub the hot head of his length against your lips. He was so warm, so big, so right, so exactly what you always wanted. 

His face was pressed firmly into the crook of your neck, and there was a distinct wetness there and his chest shook when he breathed in the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume. 

“You can’t leave me too.” 

The words were nearly lost in the fabric of your shirt, muffled and strange in his mouth and whatever inkling of resolve you’d had earlier that day shattered like glass in the path of a bullet. You’d never heard him sound like that before. He didn’t say things like that, didn’t tell you things like that. Things that mattered. Things that hurt. 

Kylo rutted his hips against you, coating his cock in your essence and making you squirm as he pressed against your clit with every stroke. 

“Say it,” he sounded so far away, “say you don’t want me.” 

You knew you should. You should tell him to go or call the cops—he had broken in after all—saddle him with legal fees, make some other lawyer get him out of his messes. But there were a lot of things you should be doing, like drinking more water or getting eight hours of sleep or covering your face in pureed cucumber or any number of other things on all those stupid self care lists that normal people absolutely couldn’t have the time for. 

So you said nothing, just shook your head and rolled your hips to meet him, tugging on his hair until he pulled back to face you. His eyes were rimmed red, dark circles puffy underneath and you thought it might be nice to slather yourself in cucumber smoothie if he was there with you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’ll stay.” 

And you choked on the next words out of your mouth as Kylo dives into you, thrusting straight in to the hilt. You feel the sweet sting of him stretching you open, filling you to the brim and you know you’ll never feel this with anyone else. No matter how shady and unethical and terrifying he is, Kylo is not the kind of man you find twice. 

He isn’t taking his time, the way he’s fucking you into the wall—bucking his hips into you at a frantic pace and making you whine—it isn’t for pleasure. No, you can tell by the way he’s keeping you close, not trying to change his angle to get deeper, he wants to be as near to you as possible. 

You realize distantly, as he’s rubbing quick circles around your clit with the pad of his thumb, that this is the first time he’s ever been to your place. You're not entirely surprised he knew where you lived despite that. Maybe you’d invite him to stay the night, maybe he'd actually be there when you woke up. 

But that was probably just a pipe dream. 

It didn’t really matter, not when he was bringing you so close, not when he was still kissing you and biting at your lips like a man starved. His pace began to stutter, rhythm faltering as he neared his climax. 

“Kylo—oh fuck,” you moaned low and long as he bounced you on his dick. 

“Cum for me,” he rasped out. 

And you would.

And you did. 

Because you always did what he asked, no matter how dirty it made you feel. 

So you came screaming his name so loud the neighbors had to have heard it, and he tumbled right over the precipice at the clenching of your cunt around him. You felt him deeply, painting thick ropes of hot release along your walls until it dripped out around his cock. He didn’t move for a while, just dropped his head back down to your shoulder and waited for your breathing to even out. 

After a few moments, he unhooked your legs from his waist, letting his softening length slip from you as your feet landed back on solid ground. You looked up at him, hands resting on his forearms and took him in—dark waves frizzy around his head with sweat and shirt wrinkled from where your nails had gripped the fabric. He tucked himself away, fastening his belt and you watched how his fingers moved nimbly on the buckle. 

“So,” you mused. 

There was still some hint of more in his gaze, something that hadn’t quite been blocked out. And he cleared his throat, humming in response.  

“Does that offer for a higher salary still stand or?”

All the tension melted from his face as it fell back to the familiar deadpan, blank stare you’d become so accustomed to over the last few months. Kylo shook his head at you, eye twitching almost imperceptibly. You couldn’t help but smile, even as his frown deepened. 

Who were kidding? This was the best gig you were ever going to get, and Kylo was a ride you weren’t willing to give up quite so soon. You were sure now you couldn’t escape him even if you tried. 

‘Never get involved with the Mob,’ that was a thing people said right?

People also told you to ‘go to law school,’ and look where that had gotten you: involved with the Mob. 

Oh well, at least you’d never be bored.

[vegalocity]

Theatre AU

I said I was gonna contribute to the Monkie Kid fandom so here it is; It was suggested the Theatre Au see the light of day first, so... *Will Smith Arms*

As expected this Theatre AU is mostly me projecting my love for Musical Theatre onto a proper AU, and since it's just me projecting it's gonna be using musicals I both know and like.

-

So Our boy MK is an actor for the Flower Fruit Theatre, a local theatre troupe that puts on, you guessed it, musical productions. MK is technically only a trained singer, but a lack of experienced actors means he tends to get a fair few named roles anyway. 

Oftentimes he's in the 'lead boy' position beside his best friend/Adoptive Sister Mei. Since they're super low on manpower most productions, usually taking in green actors from highschools and colleges who are looking for proper theatre experience, everyone kinda does what they can around the stage. Mei is a huge part of their Tech Crew for instance, and MK is brought on with the Theatre's owner Sun Wukong to work on sets in between rehearsals.

Basically everyone in support staff can take up a role too if they're needed, but some of the 'grownups' either would rather not or are needed more strenuously elsewhere.

Pigsy for instance apparently can be quite the actor, and has a running dibs on Max Bialystock in case anyone ever takes his damn suggestion for The Producers but rarely does roles otherwise granted he's directing the orchestra, so 90% of his time is spent in The Pit (that lower ground between the stage and the audience that the orchestra plays in, depending on how new the building is The Pit could be quite literally beneath the stage) yelling at the cello players.

Sandy works props and choreography and personally prefers to be allowed to focus on helping others with their performances without having to worry about his own. However he is fond of playing comedic side characters and in particular had a blast playing LeFou in their production of Beauty and the Beast some time ago. Apparently Pigsy was Gaston and it was hilarious on juxtaposition alone.

The two most Likely 'grownups' to actually be in the play itself are Wukong and Tang. Tang as head of Costuming and research (re: finding bootlegs for Sandy to study for choreography purposes) isn't exactly what you may think of as a powerhouse on first glance, but holy shit can this guy put some energy in his voice. He's a very weak dancer though which means when he IS involved he's usually a villain since villains don't often have dance parts, so much as they strut across stage with dancers around them. You would be surprised at the amount of menace this man can attain when he puts contacts on and the ominous music starts.

And Wukong as the owner of the whole damn theatre not only is the one running the numbers and doing the odds and ends like sets and vocal coaching and is usually the director of the productions, he's kind of their 'Shapeshifter' actor if you'll pardon the pun. Basically if a named character is left uncast for whatever reason He's most likely the one filling in. And it works every time because he's a fucking MASTER at it, he can be the Stuffy Dad in Bye Bye Birdie one moment and Nicky in Avenue Q the next and there's NO gap in quality. It's possibly because he's the only one here whose actually a fully classically trained Triple Threat, but it does mean he's easily the most stretched thin out of everyone, so of course, he takes their new kid, full to the brim with untapped talent, under his wing.

Flower Fruit Theatre is currently in the middle of a sort of rivalry with the Bull King's Theatre, a hoity Toity 'Musicals are for chumps' type theatre. You know the kind, the ones that only put on Shakespeare productions and are the most likely to say things like 'Musicals are an unsigtly tumor on the dignified body of acting' and 'It makes no sense why people would just be singing' that makes every musical theatre kid roll their eyes so far back into their skulls they can see their own brain. And by Rivalry I mean Flower Fruit Theatre is for the most part completely unconcerned over the Bull King's Theatre's 'Bitch Eating Crackers' complex (Wukong is the only one who cares and he only cares enough to laugh about how their own productions keep selling more tickets despite their considerably smaller budget and manpower)

Bull King's Theatre is run by, you guessed it, DBK and PIF, legend says that they first met during a highschool production of Antony and Cleopatra where they were, you guessed it, Marc Antony and Cleopatra, or at least that's the story Red Son tells about his Parents.

Speaking of Red Son though, he was just prepared to be Benvolio in their production of Romeo and Juliet (he'd WANTED to be Mercutio but his mother reminded him he doesn't have the skill for a meatier part like that) when his parents came up with 'the plan'.

Despite only being trained as an Actor, Red has a fair singing voice and was in choir for most of junior high and highschool, and their 'rival's were used to having people with little skill(ouch) So Red is tasked with auditioning for Flower Fruit Theatre's next production, to gather information and of course, sabotage the troupe whenever possible.

Their next production? One of the most well respected pieces of Musical Theatre, Les Miserables.

[fairytsuk1]

falling back to peace (a)

part of the autumn experiences collection.

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, angst

warnings: suicide, blood

words: 2.2k

summary: i miss our warm bed and the cuddles in the morning.

prompt: apocalypse

     Blood splashed noisily on the wall. The drips and the sound of the initial slap were absolutely disgusting; you'd grown used to it. Todoroki yanked the dagger out swiftly and shoved it into its casing before turning to you.

     "How's your ankle? Can you keep going, or do you need to rest?" His eyes flitted down to the foot hovering just above the ground and frowned.

"It's tender. But I can keep going!"

     Your boyfriend crouched down and took hold of the tip of your shoe. He flexed your foot back towards your shin and shushed you when you gasped. The back rooms of the mall you'd been wandering were mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. Obviously, you didn't want to bring unnecessary attention to yourselves if you could avoid it.

     "It's warm. You're working too hard. I told you to tell me if it got worse."

     His tone is sharp and has a slight edge to the natural baritone. He's stressed, you're both hungry and haven't found a single crumb. He didn't want to return back to your newly found group empty-handed. They were already wary of you two. Plus, the streets were not safe to be walking out and about like before.

     He sighed and looked up at you, heterochromatic eyes boring into yours to guess how he was feeling. You looked at the cracks on the ceiling and counted how many stains littered the beige roof.

     "Please look at me," Todoroki felt like he'd go insane if he didn't see your eyes. They were so warm and carried so much humanity, he thought he might seriously lose it if he didn't look at something alive within the next minute, "please."

     Guiltily, you look down at your lover. There's a glassy film that clouds the orbs, and it just barely shines under the light. He offers a small smile before kissing your bruised bone, mindful of the dirt and grime before standing up. You're so little. When you blink, fat tears roll down your cheeks. Quickly, he tugs you into his shirt; he smells so clean.

     Todoroki had made a decision at the very beginning of this nightmare that no matter what, he'd smell the same. It was hard to carry so many bottles of the comforting scent of amber cologne, but he did it for you. You liked the smell of autumn, he figured he would try to be a pillar for you.

"You smell good."

     "I know. Please don't cry anymore."

     You sniffled once, then two times more before pulling away and rubbing at your eyes. He cringed and pulled a tissue out of his bag before patting the sensitive skin. A smile tugged your lips, and he swore his heart jumped. 

"You baby me, you know that? The girls at the camp gave me a hard time for it."

     Snickering, he pecks your nose and turns around, "you are my baby. They must be really jealous if that's what they want to talk about."

      You covered your laugh with your hand and grabbed his own with your free one. You let out a loud final giggle before quieting down and beginning to walk side by side.

      He slowed his pace down for your sake, and you were immensely grateful. Your ankle really did hurt quite a bit. You two were connected though, the same thoughts circling each other like a schoolyard game. The group you two had found was okay, not too small and not too big, but it was harsh. They expected a lot from you two, and you felt sorry watching your Shoto do so much labor while you washed clothes.

      The fact that they wanted you two to prove yourselves was irritating too. Naturally, both of you were hardened and healthy survivors. You didn't need to prove yourselves to anyone! That wasn't how things were dealt with, though; the constant scrutinization was almost as bad as the lack of rations you received.

      Things just weren't fair nowadays, watching all your hard-earned canned goods get used for a stew that you only got a cup of. The anger inside you bubbled once again. You were stuck doing the womanly activities but then expected to pick up the slack and then be told to deal with the unjustness of it all?

"It's bullshit."

     "Huh?"

"The group's shit. I hate it." You spoke with the voice of someone who had felt indignation to the highest degree with a splash of sadness. You were so tired.

     Todoroki sighed and nodded. He felt the same. He was keeping you safe, but that didn't mean it was easy to wake up at five in the morning. He barely saw you as well. Some days, you were stuck inside till the sun went down. Other times, the strain they put on you was too much, and he begged them to ease up. This group had a lot of expectations.

     He missed Midoriya. He just wanted to sleep.

     Your ankle...that was another story. He'd been stealing medicine for you. He'd used to be a good person, to know right from wrong and that stealing was bad. When it came to his girlfriend, he'd kill for her. He knew this, and she knew this. So when he saw the painkillers sitting so openly on the shelves, he took them. He was relieved to see how much better you felt, but he knew that they'd be onto him soon. Naturally, he'd deal with that situation when you two got to it. For now, he needed a map of the mall so he could figure out how to get the fuck out of here--

"Is this a coffee shop!?" Todoroki hadn't even realized he'd spaced out till he saw you peeking your head through a door.

     "What? Hey, be careful!" he grunted and grabbed your waist to support you before opening the door fully.

"Look, it is! There's coffee machines and tons of cups!"

     The simple things nowadays were the best. Forgoing the pleadings of rest from your ankle, you ambled forward and picked up a bag of beans.

"They even have the ones I used to use for coffee nearly every day! You were more of a tea guy, maybe they have a few spare packets…" trailing off, you began to open cabinets like second nature to find food, "I'll try and look for stuff that might have lasted!"

     "If they have black tea, grab me some, please."

     Todoroki let his hand rest on the small of your back before walking past the counter. It seems these people had used their common sense and closed the security gates, effectively locking out the dead. He frowned when the smell of rotting bodies permeated through the air when he passed by the bathroom.

     "Bathroom's out of order, so if you want to go…"

"Hah, you sure that's all you wanted to do in a bathroom?"

     He smirked and winked before turning to the counter of creams and sugars. Nothing useful.

     You, on the other hand, swear that opening the cabinet of boxed mixes might have been like discovering America. Without the genocide, of course. There were tons of mixes for sweets and different types of bread. Pushing them aside, cold metal shocked you as if it was burning hot. You reached in and pulled out the can, a grin taking over your face and your stomach grumbling the loudest it's ever had. 

"Shoto, have you ever had cherry pie?"

     "...Like once or twice, I think. Why?"

"Well, it'll be my job to make it for you then!" you turned and held the can out, the bright red packaging matching his dual-toned hair, "cherry pie filling!"

     For the first time in a minute, his smile matched yours as he quickly rounded the corner. He took the can, and for a second, you saw the boyish grin he used to sport in high school. So genuine, there weren't many happy moments in this life anymore. That's why you treasured every time one showed up. You drank in this moment and seared it into your brain. You didn't name it then. Only later.

     You decided that moment was called, "The last time you were happy."

     Getting out of the mall was easy when you had a seasoned fighter by your side. You swear that your boyfriend could've been an actual samurai with the way he swung zombies out of the way with ease. You had taken brief looks at him as you did your best to run alongside him, the cherry tin bouncing around in your bag.

     His hair bounced with every step, and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. Why did you want to cry so bad? He looked at you and gave you a confused look.

     "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know."

     Perhaps it was the preparation for what would come when you arrived back at the safe zone. There was no warm welcome or claps on the back. It was silent. Though their eyes did the talking for them. The tension in the air was overpowering.

     "You're back," Ryuji stalked forward and crossed his arms, "I'll let you tell us first. If you're honest, I might be lenient on you."

     Shoto stared and narrowed his eyes before using his forearm to prevent you from standing next to him. He was in protection mode. He didn't break the soul-sucking stare with the leader, but his trembling hand let you understand all you needed to know. This was bad.

     It happened in a flash. Ryuji's arm swung up, and guns were aimed from every direction. His yelling was garbled, and you knew Shoto was panicked from the way he kept spinning and spinning. There was no way to escape. The pain in your ankle throbbed. You could practically hear the pulsing in your skull.

"We can compromise this, Ryuji! We got food too! Just stop it with the guns!" You broke through the disassociation and cried out towards the enemy. Didn’t he have any sympathy?

     The gunshot that dug into the ground just next to your feet made you scream and back up into Todoroki's hold. If they kick you out, what about your picture of your class? That's yours in your room. You brought it everywhere. The promise ring that you didn't want to get dirty too. The pressed leaves in your old journal and--!

     "Get the fuck out!"

     You two had slowly begun to back up since the very beginning of the confrontation. You hadn't even realized how much you’d retreated until your back hit the entrance door, causing you to stumble. Your anxiety was through the roof as the guns came closer, you swore you could see down the barrel.

     The doors had opened, and you turned to see...so many. It was like all the zombies in the world had been waiting for a feast. There had to be at least one hundred of them. Shoto squeezed your shoulder, and you flinched when your bag was thrown beside you. They weren't really human, were they? These people were monsters.

     This was cruel and mean. There was no way you'd be able to survive this. Shoto beat down on the doors and screamed for mercy, but you could only focus on one thing. The photo of your classmates smiling and cherry pie. The zombies grew closer. You felt so bare and empty. You knew you didn’t have the strength to keep going. Not like this. 

     You also knew that Shoto had aimed a gun at your head whilst you sunk to the ground. He couldn't, wouldn't, watch you turn. Never in a million years did he want to see those dead eyes. For the first time in a while, the tears started to flow. He'd cried so many times, but he always kept it to himself. 

"I love you, Shoto,"

     "...I love you too."

     Acceptance is the first step. Then you don't feel anything after that. Shoto doesn't feel anything once the shot rings out. The tears drip onto the ground but his head is blank. He supposes he should feel something. Anything. He's done this a few times and always felt awful before. Though he can't find the energy. Motivation. He'd worked so hard in his life, he just wanted to rest. How badly he wanted to close his eyes and sleep. 

     Besides, a part of him had died with you at that moment. He supposes that at least he didn't have to see your eyes. He turns the gun on himself.

     Acceptance is the first step. Then, he doesn't feel anything after that. He's had a long life even if it didn't seem that way to those who thought of age as linear. But he'd lived for a long while. Now, he'd have a long rest.

     When Ryuji came outside later that night, the two bloodstains remained, but the bodies were gone. Burning somewhere, he assumed. The photo stuck out at him. He crouched down and picked it up. You two looked so in love.

     "Too bad. Could've been really helpful."

     The picture falls into the dirt, overtaken by nature. Utterly forgotten.

"Shoto... I'm so glad we can rest."

     "Me too."

[prettylilhalforc]

Forged in Conflict

After many a late night flitting between tumblr, Borderlands, and discord discussions with the lovely @lorecraft my brain could not shake a Luckyverse Borderlands AU with Triple Frontier boys.

Am pleased to present the first chapter of Forged in Conflict!

Summary: Dahl 12th Company, TangoFoxtrot Brigade have been assigned to secure an old asset planetside. Intel has it that a bunch of bandits are wreaking havoc on dig sites around a local settlement. Idiots trying to bust open an derelict mining facility for tech. Amateurs trying to on sell to Atlas.

Should be simple enough, right? Standard in and out.

Secure the asset, eliminate the threat, back to base in 72 hours flat. All wrapped up like a present on Mercenary Day.

Warnings: Military, allusions to violence and conflict, food.

Rating: M at most given the military themes

A/N: This will be more of a slow burn fic with each of the boys meeting their match. Cannot wait to introduce Lucky, Echo, IRIS and Teflon. This is gonna be so much fun!

Any and all feedback is most welcome!

Chapter 1 - Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

The scent of stale sweat hangs heavy in the recycled air. Hundreds of warm bodies fill the mess hall leaving little space to maneuverer. Unit upon unit of troopers lining the facility in orderly rows. Packed in tighter than vacuum sealed standard issue MREs.

Happens like groundhog day. Same routine over and over again.

Wake, eat, drills, eat, sleep.

Leaves him feeling little more than another cog in the fine-tuned military machine that is Dahl.

It’s stifling. Suffocating.

Maybe he’s just been stuck on base for too long. Maybe he just needs to head planetside. There’s this voracious itch that always rears its head between deployments. An uneasy tension sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach. Gnawing, screaming at him that more needs to be done and sitting here is just wasting time.

What good is a weapon in a fight if left unfired?

This was not what Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia signed up for when joining the Corp. Pipedreams and promises of jumping around the system, liberating settlements from the greedy grip of Atlas. Putting down bandit scum.

Life on Pandora prepped him for action, for violence.

Not the bureaucracy of the corporate military industrial complex.

Hoo’ fucking rah.

“Need some motor oil?”, a deep voice cuts through Pope’s musing, Ironhead giving him a knowing look.

“Wha-?”

Santiago’s eyes refocus. Physically shunted back into reality by a light shoulder check from the young blond adjacent to him.

“Can practically hear the gears crunching in your head, Pope.”

Will. Now there’s a company man through and through. Six foot and build like a brick house. Keen blue eyes that shine with something purely predatorial. Nothing gets past his gaze. Lives and breathes the life.

Nerves of steel and unwavering discipline earnt him the well-deserved moniker Ironhead.

Regimented. Reliable. Never fails under fire.

Dahl ‘til the day he dies.

“I hate being… stuck. Feel useless.”

Elbows braced on the slick steel benchtop, Pope runs both broad hands through his salt and pepper undercut. Pulling at strands. Trying to find a physical reset to pull him back from the frustration welling in his chest.

“I geddit. It’s driving me nuts, man, sitting here not doing anything.”

Now, Ben, the boy wonder, is pure unadulterated chaos. If Ironhead is a Doberman, then Benny is a damn Retriever chasing down a car on the highway. Kid had a good heart and boundless energy. Though doesn’t know do with it half the time.

Doesn’t think too often, just feels. Get’s him all sorts of situations.

Fortunately, The Miller boys made one hell of a team in combat. The Hellhounds from Hieronymous. Ironhead’s tactical efficiency paired with Wonderboy’s unbridled fury burnt through scores of Atlas platoons on tour. It was enough for brass to look the other way when it came to the frequent indiscretions they found themselves in.

“You hear that Lima Charlie got shipped to Elpis after Zarpedon’s crew went dark? Fucking bullshit man. Why do we get stuck here while- ”

“Better not let Redfly hear you saying that, hermano, especially after last month’s stunt. You’re lucky all you got was a week in the hole.”

Fish interrupts Ben with a look that can only be described as fatherly disappointment, grease-stained hand waving his fork about to about drive point home. Though underneath the worn cap his warm eyes give away everything, brimming with mirth.

Before Atlas. Before the exodus.

Pope swears he would have lost his humanity years ago if Fish hadn’t have kept him grounded. Practically inseparable, the two pulled each other out of scraps since they were knee high in Haven.

Frankie, ever the voice of reason, reminded Pope why they joined the Corp in the first place.

The guy was too honest for his own good. Has a big heart and wears it on his sleeve for all the world to see.

Made cleaning house during poker night a walk in the park.

“Yeah yeah, flyboy. Wouldn’t have been a problem if that snitch from Whiskey Kilo kept his big mouth shut.”

Benny petulantly spears at a suspect lump slathered in gravy on his tray, nostrils flaring.

“Well, it’s certainly shut now. Wired shut. Heard from Ty in medbay Phillips won't be having any solids until next month” Pope can’t help but chime in, it was a small comfort to know he wasn’t the only one grappling with the inertia being stuck shipside.

A collective chuckle erupts from the group and with that Benny's pout is wiped clean. Boyish face cracks into a smug grin.

And who could blame him?

Kid has a left hook that would floor a bullymong.

Conversation soon flows easily, falling into hopeful speculation about the next operation.

Tensions have escalated as of late between major intergalactic powerhouses. The system is on the precipice of a second Corporate War.

It's not just Dahl and Atlas duking out for supremacy across the stars.

Hyperion has begun to stake their claim, planet by planet. Peacocking with the latest in loader tech. Bunch of Machiavellian suits parading around as soldiers. Would sell their own grandmother to make a profit. And what they couldn't buy, they were willing acquire through "aggressive negotiation".

And Vladof, bunch of commie bastards, took glee in sabotaging years of blood, sweat and tears for the sake of glorious revolution. Whatever that meant. Why waste manpower when you can incite the masses to do your dirty work for you?

The desperate push for colonization in the most bizarre locations didn’t make any tactical sense whatsoever.

Something bigger was going on than just a turf war over resources. Not when this many players had come to the table. Stakes must be high.

“Nice to know that you boys are itching for action.”.

By pure reflex the four rise to their feet. Backs straight. Eyes forward. Jaws tight.

Chairs clatter across the hull floor, food all but forgotten.

The crimson glare shoots pure ice down Pope’s spine. Every damn time feels like someone walked over his grave. No matter how long he served, could never get used to it. Cybernetic eye picking apart every detail of the crew before him with clinical precision.

Captain Tom ‘Redeye’ Davis.

Takes a particular kind of individual rise through the ranks in the Corp. A certain cold bloodedness that makes a man willing to put the mission above all else. Hardly a surprise for a seasoned Dahl Mercenary. Redfly had a track record that would make any C.O. green with envy.

The company couldn’t fault him, no matter how harsh his methods. Ran tight crew and expected nothing but excellence. The Corp chewed up and spat so many bodies in the field, there was little room for complacency.

Or mercy.

“Fortunately for you, Brass has something that will scratch itch. Section-312, Intel Room 4. I expect you all there at nineteen hundred TangoFoxtrot. Copy?”

“Sir, yes Sir!”

“At ease soldiers.”

Will shoots Pope a wry smile that spreads across the crew like wildfire. It says it all.

Ask and ye shall receive.

[softrenjunnie]

first kisses

pairing: ravenclaw!jisung x ravenclaw!reader

genre: fluff fluff fluff! & harry potter au

warnings: none

word count: 1.4k 

message: so SO sorry for not posting. i injured my shoulder a few days ago so i couldn’t even sit/lay down or even breathe deeply without it hurting, so i haven’t been able to write. it’s finally wearing off (i hope, knock on wood!), so i hope i’ll be able to write more! :) hope you enjoy this! 

21 kisses masterlist l Full masterlist 

”It’s getting pretty late, do you want to leave?” Jisung asked as you drank the last of your tea. You nodded, putting down your cup and standing up from your seat. Jisung walked over to the pay desk to pay Madam Puddifoot for both of your drinks and you picked up your coat from your chair, putting it on before taking Jisung’s coat with you as you walked over to him. You draped it over his shoulders and pulled your arms around his waist, tiptoeing so that you could see the owner of the shop who was currently giving Jisung his change.

“It tasted wonderful, as usual,” you said and Jisung hummed in agreement.

Madam Puddifoot smiled at you. “Thank you, dear.”

“We’ll see you again later!” You both waved to her before leaving the shop.

Jisung had been right, it had gotten late. The sky was completely dark and if it hadn’t been for all of the streetlights, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything. However, the moment you came outside you noticed how the ground was covered in a layer of snow, and you instantly squealed. “Finally! And just in time for Christmas!” you practically sang out and the boy next to you chuckled. He knew how much you loved snow, and how sad you had been when it hadn’t snowed the first time you stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays, so seeing you this happy warmed his heart. And although he liked it, at that moment, he wished that it had been his fingers that had been warmed up instead, because it was freezing cold.

“We’ll have to postpone that snowball fight that I promised, though. Aren’t you cold?” He pulled his hands deeper into his hoodie, giving him unacceptably cute sweater paws that he used to push you slightly so that you were looking at him. You had only been out in the cold for a few seconds, but your cheeks had already turned pink along with the tip of your nose, making you look like a cute witch version of Rudolph. But it worried Jisung. “Put on your scarf.”

You didn’t answer him. Your smile dropped into a guilty look, and he sighed.

“You didn’t bring it?” You shook your head slowly, a small pout now appearing on your lips. He huffed, but reached into the big pocket of his coat, pulling out his Ravenclaw scarf, before dragging the blue and silver material two laps around your neck. It was so wide that it covered half of your face, but you didn’t mind as it made you feel warm. Jisung smiled at the sight and had to try really hard not to rabble about you how cute you looked.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

He smiled and dug his hand into your pocket to find your hand, holding it in his. “Shall we go?” You nodded and you both started slowly walking back to the school.

You and Jisung had been friends ever since first year, when he offered to take you to the hospital wing when you had a headache. You had never spoken to each other before, but he took any chance he could to get out of transfiguration. You’d hung out pretty much every day since then, and it hadn’t been long until you had developed a crush on him. And apparently, he had done the same for you. But it took until just over a month ago for him to actually gather up the courage to tell you about his feelings. Since then, you’d been going on a bunch of sweet dates together; anything from simple study dates in the Ravenclaw common room to going shopping for chocolate frogs and toffees. But when the Christmas break started, you noticed how Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop in Hogsmeade was almost completely empty of costumers. It was usually filled to the brim with couples, so you two had never felt like going there - but you thought that this was your moment. And you enjoyed both the drinks and the surroundings so much that you came had come back several times now these last few days. All of your friends agreed that you’d become very touchy with each other since the day you got to know about each others’ feelings - you were always seen holding hands, hugging or cuddling on the sofas in your common room or on the benches between classes. But you hadn’t kissed yet, and neither of you felt like you were in a rush to do it either. You both liked how your relationship was, and not you nor Jisung would want to trade it for anything, so you didn’t hurry. Although some of your friends always teased you about it and thought it was weird how you’d been going out for a while without even kissing each other...

You two walked in a comfortable silence most of the way back to the castle, just enjoying each other’s company and the feeling of your hands clasped together. As you finally entered the school, you noticed how extremely quiet it was. Not many students decided to stay in school over the break, but some of Jisung’s older friends did and they had been up late every night, making chaos in the hallways and getting chased by your teachers until dawn. But it seemed like they’d finally come to their senses and gone to bed early as you saw no trace of them.

“I wonder where they’re at,” you said in a low voice, scared to disturb the stillness of the castle.

“Jaemin said they would try to sleep outside tonight, so they were going to sneak out early.”

You grimaced. “Outside? In the snow?” Jisung chuckled.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I guess they weren’t expecting it to get this cold.”

You smiled and hummed as he intertwined his fingers with yours. Just a few moments after you had gotten inside, you arrived at the top of the Ravenclaw tower and outside the entrance to your common room. Jisung answered the riddle quickly, even though his brain was all dizzy from the feeling of your thumb stroking against the back of his hand.

You moved towards your dorms, and stopped outside the door to your room as it was the nearest. You let go of his hand to reach up with yours, un-tying the scarf hanging around your neck and holding it out to him. He took it from you, smiling. “You won’t join Jaemin and the boys in the hospital wing with a cold over Christmas, at least.”

“Thank you for that,” you said.

And you both grew quiet again. But this was a different kind of quiet. None of you were quite sure what to say or what to do. Though, Jisung knew what he wanted to do. And he went for it.

He moved one of his hands to your face, brushing a few strands out of your sight before letting it rest by your cheek. You felt it tremble, and the look in his eyes made you understand he was hesitant - so you placed your hand on top of his, giving him a small smile to assure him that it was alright. And then he leaned in very slowly.

His lips just barely brushed against yours, but you could feel the electricity sparking through your body at an instant. Your cheeks grew hot and your eyes fluttered close. When you opened them again after a few seconds, you could see that he was looking down at your feet - but a big smile was plastered on his lips. You took his hand in yours again, and pulled it down before linking your fingers with his.

“So, um...” you whispered.

“So...” he started. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

You nodded. “Sleep tight.” After letting go of your hand, before letting you get into your room, he placed one last, soft kiss to your cheek. And as you sat down on your bed, you knew your cheeks were probably at least twice as flushed as they had been outside Madam Puddifoot’s.

[percyinpanties]

this has been in my drafts since 2018, apparently. I edited this and added to it, and god it feels good to get some words done. have an innocent lil highschool au.

pairing: jercy rating: teen+ (light swearing) 

---------

When something small and sharp hits his cheek, Jason startles out of his thoughts and blinks slowly. His gaze is unfocused, as is his mind - he was so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even quite recall what it was that had his mind this occopied.

Jason blinks again, deliberately slow, trying to clear his vision. For the first few seconds, he isn't sure where he is and what he's doing, let alone what hit his cheek in the first place. Maybe he has imagined it?

His thoughts are still sluggish and Jason has to rub his eyes before the room around him finally comes into focus.

The library. 

Right. Finals.

Jason came here right after his last class, meant to grab some books and hide away in one of the study corners to  go over his notes and force the material into his brain. Apparently the lack of sleep last night, well last week if Jason is fully honest with himself, is catching up to him. 

 Even now, shaken out of his daze by whatever has hit him, Jason's mind is slow to process what is happening. 

How long has he been sitting here? Was he asleep? Did he even read anything before his mind went to a place far far away from where it should be this afternoon? 

Jason looks around. 

On the table, between his own unreadable notes and two open books, sits a small paper airplane. Jason doesn't have to look up to know who the culprit is - the airplane is made of vibrant blue paper and there is only one person at this school who’d even carry something like this in his everyday pack.

“Did I wake you?” The whisper, dramatic and teasing in tone, comes as if on cue from Jason's right. 

Jason aims for a glare when he looks up, but instead ends up meeting Percy's gaze with a weak smile. Unfair paper plane attack or not, Jason evidently had needed the wake-up call. It is probably for the best if Percy's here to distract him, if only for a few minutes.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jason mumbles as Percy pulls out the chair next to him and  turns it around to sit, arms crossed over the backrest. It's only then that Jason realises how empty the library is now. Jason could swear that just five minutes ago, it was brimming with other students and staff, so busy that he hardly found a space to occupy with his own study notes. 

“You didn't answer my texts.” Percy says casually and Jason thinks he imagines there's some concern in Percy’s tone too. “And then Thalia said you hadn't even come home yet. So I thought to myself: Where does one find a nerd two weeks before finals?” 

Jason huffs and playfully punches Percy's arm. There's no heat behind it and judging by the little laugh that escapes Percy, he knows it too.

“How late is it, exactly?” Jason asks, quieter now. 

If it’s late enough that both Percy and Thalia have been worrying, Jason must’ve wasted his entire afternoon sitting around staring at the wall, losing time he can’t afford to lose this close to exams. Sure, his marks have been good this year so far, but that has been because he’s continuously worked for it. His parents, especially his father, have certain expectations and he’s not about to disappoint them. 

Jason takes a shaky breath, closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up to punch the bridge of his nose. He can feel anxiety creeps up in Jason’s chest, like tar filling his lungs. Two weeks is nothing, especially not considering how many topics he still wants to cover again. He knew the content when they were tested on it before, sure, but most of that is months back now and frankly, Jason doesn’t trust his long-time memory all that well.

It’s getting hard to breathe, Jason knows he’s spiraling, but that doesn’t give him any more control over his thoughts.

A hand gently covers Jason's lying on the table and squeezes, stopping the thoughts, if only for a moment. It feels like Jason's heart stutters for a few beats, before resuming its rhythm faster than before. Part of Jason wonders what this means, if it’s only meant to be a calming gesture, but the larger part of him is too scared to question it. None of his other friends are this comfortable being close...

Jason opens his eyes and finds Percy looking at him quizzically. When Percy speaks, his voice betrays nothing. 

“Half past six.” 

Jason groans and drops his head to the table. Of course, he wasted the entire day. He’ll have to stay up again tonight if he wants to make up for it, which means he’ll be tired tomorrow and…

“Which is exactly why I'm here. You need a break, my dude.” Percy sounds half joking, but this time Jason realises it's only to hide the concern. “You need to get out of here. Let's get some food, my treat?” 

When Jason raises his head and looks at him, Percy is watching closely, brow furrowed. 

Food sounds tempting. Jason isn’t sure when he last ate, anyway, not having had time for breakfast in the morning. If it’s already six-thirty, he was supposed to be home for dinner half an hour ago, so all that’s awaiting him there are cold leftovers. Plus, while his mother will hardly have noticed, Jason knows his father won’t be pleased about him missing family dinner, and he doesn’t think he can handle that lecture right now. 

Jason doesn't know how to answer, mainly because Percy's right: This isn’t getting him anywhere right now and he clearly hasn’t done himself any favours by not taking even a single break and studying late most nights. Even so, spending time with Percy now means losing time Jason needs to study and he already knows he’s going to beat himself up for it next week.

“It’s one evening, Jason.” Percy says gently. “I promise you’ll be fine. You’re a smart cookie.”

Jason manages a little smile and turns his hand over under Percy’s palm so his own is pressed to Percy’s. The other boy doesn’t hesitate, he shifts his hand to lace their fingers together and this - this certainly isn’t something that friends do, generally. 

“You gotta take care of yourself, too.” Percy says now, looking at their joined hands rather than meeting Jason’s gaze. His cheeks look a little pink, but Jason is sure he must be imagining that. “And if you can’t, I’m still here to help with that, yeah?”

Jason’s chest feels tight, although this is entirely different than the heavy anxiety that took him over before. It’s not like someone’s tied a too tight ribbon around his ribcage, but rather feels like his heart has grown too big for its case.

It's very quiet for a moment, then Jason sighs. Jason doesn’t really want to face his parents yet, and what is one night, really?

“Fine.” He says, defeated. Percy squeezes his hand. “I’m starving anyway.”

 Percy smiles so brightly that it makes something inside Jason ache, and yet he finds himself smiling back.

Fifteen minutes later, they're walking down the halls of the school toward the car park. Percy is carrying the books Jason has checked out of the library, and even though Jason insisted earlier that he was fine carrying them by himself, he's glad now for the weight lifted from him. At first, every step away from the library had filled Jason with guilt, thoughts of how much time he’s wasting that he won’t get back when he realises in a week how much he’s still got left to study, but with Percy here, with his persistent chatter and teasing, it’s easier to push them aside for now.

He called Thalia, told her he’d be back later, that he needed a little break. He hadn’t even gotten to asked her about it when she promised to cover for him, so their father wouldn’t make a big fuzz about the whole thing. 

“I can practically hear you thinking.” Percy says and nudges his shoulder against Jason's lightly. Neither of them have spoken in a while, and Jason knows it’s mostly because he is overthinking again. “Let it go, just for tonight, yeah? You deserve a break.” 

Jason knows that, objectively, Percy is right. 

He knows that he’s been overworking himself, that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep and not allowing himself enough breaks. He knows that, at this rate, all his studying will be for naught anyway. That does nothing to lighten the anxiety that comes over him every time someone so much as mentions their exams though. Most of the pressure originates in his own perfectionism, Jason knows all that, but even so he can't bring himself to care even a little less. Failing is not an option for him.

When Jason doesn't answer, Percy keeps talking. 

He is speaking quieter and slower than he usually does, which Jason and his tired brain are grateful for. It’s about nothing important, not really, and maybe that is intentional too. Little by little, Jason finds himself relaxing again. Percy’s voice is soothing, there’s no edge to it, no hidden jab or teasing. Jason wonders if Percy knows how much he appreciates this right now.

The walk to the car park isn’t far. Percy has parked his crappy old car close to the entrance and Jason jogs a few steps ahead when he spots it to open the trunk for Percy to dump the books in.

“Perfect. Now, Chinese?”  Percy asks and Jason frowns.  He still has a hand on the back door of the car, halfway pulled down to close it again. It takes him entirely too long to realise Percy is asking about food. 

“Or…” Percy adds with a drawl, grin growing on his face. “We could get milkshakes.” 

Jason perks up at that. Percy knows him far too well and Jason knows exactly which fast food joint Percy is thinking of. He must know it’s Jason’s favourite too, or he wouldn’t look so smug at Jason’s reaction.

“I want a milkshake.” Jason mumbles before he can stop himself. He looks at Percy with his best attempt at puppy eyes, and given his current state he probably looks more convincing than on an average day.

Percy grins at him.  “Milkshakes it is then.”

Percy’s car starts with a sputter. 

As they drive, Jason isn't quite asleep, but he is not really awake either.

Percy doesn't seem to mind.

They don’t speak this time, Percy turns the radio to some random station on a low volume and starts humming along under his breath whenever he recognises a song. It makes Jason’s lips twitch with a smile, and when he turns his head to the side he can see Percy drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and dancing in his seat as well.

Percy catches Jason looking, looks back and winks at Jason before his eyes are back on the road. The action is so quick, Jason isn’t sure if he hasn’t imagined it. Jason feels his cheeks warm, but his gaze lingers a little longer, taking in Percy's profile with his messy hair, plush lips and long lashes. He’s pretty, Jason thinks, then bites his lip and turns his gaze away. The lack of sleep is getting to him, clearly, and he shakes his head lightly as if that would help push the thoughts away from the dangerous path they’ve threatened to go down on just now.

 They get their food from the drive-through, and Percy takes him to the lake just outside of town. The sun’s going down, setting over the water and tinting everything orange and red. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think this was a place Percy would take his dates to. 

It’s blissfully quiet, and luckily just warm enough that they can sit down on the grass outside while they share their food. Jason practically lets himself fall to the ground and Percy isn’t far behind. 

There’s no one around but them, the air is pleasantly crips and this far out and away from school and his family, Jason feels some of the stress fade away. Maybe he can allow himself this, just tonight, to let go for a little while.

“Thank you.” Jason says quietly, picking at their food before turning his head to look at Percy. They’re sitting close, almost touching, and for a second Jason contemplates reaching out his hand to take Percy’s in his own like the other boy had done in the library earlier. Jason knows though that it would be different now, where no one could see, where it’s just them, and when Jason has no real reason to reach out.

Percy knocks their knees together playfully, smiles from behind his milkshake. Jason can’t quite pull his gaze away.

“Anytime.” Percy says, and Jason knows he means it too.

Jason bites his lip, tears his eyes away and casts them out to the lake instead. He’s not quite sure what is going on with him, with them, but this isn’t the first time he’s noticed that more often than not, he feels entirely different around Percy than he does around their other friends. It’s not in a bad way, that he knows, because this, the here and now with Percy at his side, it feels peaceful, and it feels right. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Percy says, and this time, he leans into Jason’s side. It’s unprompted and unexpected, but works as intended, it stops Jason from thinking, at least for the moment. 

Percy’s cheek rests against his shoulders, their arms and thighs pressed together. Jason feels the warmth of Percy’s skin, the soft fabric of his sweater,... 

“I know.” Jason replies, because it’s true, and there is no point in lying to Percy. “I… don’t think I can stop, though?”

It’s phrased like a question, rather than a statement, and it makes Percy laugh quietly before tilting his head back to look at Jason.

“Oughta help you with that, don’t I?” He says, and he grins, and Jason’s heart does a funny little squeeze in his chest. His gaze falls to Percy’s lips, for only a split second, and before he can work out where his thoughts are taking him this time, Percy seems to be moving closer.

Ping!

Ping. Ping.

Jason blinks and Percy stills. For a split-second, neither moves, then Percy shifts back and Jason turns to the side to check his phone. His cheeks are burning, but even so, he has no idea what just happened, or what was about to happen. It feels… important, somehow, like this was a turning point, or a chance that won’t come back, and Jason isn’t sure why or how, but he’s sure he’s ruined it regardless. 

[namfine]

◐ | 𝕬𝖛𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖆 : 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕕 | ◑

Greed is an uncontrolled longing for increase in the acquisition or use: of material gain; or social value, such as status, or power.

                                               - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Γ pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Γ word count: 5.2k

Γ summary: When you’re in need of some quick, flashy jewelry for an event, what better place to go than a pawn shop? However when nothing catches your eye, the shop owner shows you something that you absolutely must have. But when the pricing is much more than you anticipated, you think of another way to get it. Just how far are you willing to go for a bargain?

Γ  tags: 18+, hoseok x reader, unprotected sex, oral (f), monster fucking kinda, sexual bribery(?) (if you couldnt tell, you fuck for the jewelry), he cums in you lmao, ripped panties, hair pulling, demon au, seven deadly sins au

Γ part: 3 of 7 of our Seven Deadly Sins Milestone Challenge.

⋫ Link to Master List here

Γ a/n: Welcome to part 3 of our seven deadly sins! Hope you guys aren’t too full from reading gluttony because now it’s time for a little greed. Things get a lil more freaky deaky in this chapter so I hope you all enjoy it! A new chapter will be released everyday so please look forward to the remaining sins! As always, thot on, sinners ;)

-Fizzy ԅ(♡﹃♡ԅ)

When you had first stepped into the pawn shop, you were immediately taken aback. You were so used to seeing the stereotypical dirty, everything out of place, type shops on tv that you were expecting it to be the same in person. However you were surprised to say the least, when the faint smell of sage drifted through your nose, and if you concentrated hard enough you could pick out scents of leather as well. 

You slowly walked through the shop, eyes flicking to and fro because everything seemed to catch your attention. From the organized shelves of books, to the clear, gold rimmed cases filled with trinkets, to even the perfectly stocked and alphabetized case of video games and dvd’s. However you walked right past all of those things and more to find the jewelry section.

Tonight you were attending a friend’s art gallery event and while you did have an outfit already picked out, you decided last minute you wanted to buy a new piece of jewelry to bring it all together, because let’s face it, those little pearl earrings were not going to cut it. So when you caught sight of a pawn shop you hadn’t seen before on your street, you decided you would probably find something extravagant but also cheap there. You were only going to wear it for one night after all. 

When reaching the front of the store, your eyes flick downward into the clear display full of various jewelry. There were pieces here and there that made your lips purse in consideration but nothing really jumped out at you. Walking towards the right while still looking down, your fingertips dragged across the glass, hoping that something would catch your eye. Too deep in thoughts, you didn’t notice someone calling out to you until your hand softly bumped into someone else’s on the other side of the display.

Your body jumped slightly and you pulled your hand away, an apology ready to come out but dying on your tongue once you looked up and saw who the hand belonged to. 

He was absolutely breathtaking, literally, when you looked up at him you swore you felt your breath get lodged in your throat. Your eyes landed on his gentle smile, causing his cheeks to round up into two perfect little circles, his warm eyes made an odd feeling spread throughout your chest- ‘is it a little hotter in here?’-, and his wavy black hair parted down the middle. He seemed ethereal, with his black blazer over the matching shirt and pants. On his ring finger was a bright topaz ring, a gold band surrounding it, the surface glittering softly in the harsh fluorescent lights. It was strange you thought, ‘He seems a little too overdressed for a pawn shop, no?’, his look making your eyebrows furrow slightly together.

He looked to be out of place, like a queen participating in a hot dog eating contest.

“Can I help you with anything?” He inquired softly, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh...,” You shook your head and cleared your throat, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m looking for a piece of jewelry.” Your eyes glanced down and scanned over the items again. “I uh, have an event later on tonight and I’m trying to find something last minute.” You chuckled sheepishly, looking back up at the handsome man.

“Well what do you have in mind?”

“Not sure, I want it to bring my whole outfit together though.” You smiled thoughtfully, feeling your cheeks warm at the smile you were receiving back.

“What are you wearing? If I see the outfit, I can help you out some more.” So you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your photos to find the picture of the outfit you took a couple of days earlier. It was a simple little long sleeve, black dress, with a v in the back. Your simple heels and pearl earrings were enough to make you presentable, but you really wanted to present yourself.

The man studied it for a few seconds before nodding politely, gesturing to another display case further to your right. Upon reaching it, you noticed this one was filled more with necklaces with a few charms scattered about. While they were more intricate than the ones you were previously looking at, your heart wasn’t really pulling towards any of them.

“See anything you like?” There was something warm about his voice, that just made you feel calm. Which was strange, how could a stranger make you feel this way?

“I’m sorry, not really...these are all very nice though. Thank you anyway.” You glanced up at him, giving a short nod before starting to turn around.

“You know, I might have something for you.” The way he said it made you halt in your tracks. It came out as being helpful but there was something laced underneath it, something that made your body feel like it was being wrapped in chills. You turned back to him and cocked your head to the side, silently urging him to continue.

“Come, I have it in the back room.” He stepped off to the side and pulled open a little door for you. You knew it was odd, him inviting you to the back of the store. Why couldn’t he just go and grab it? Your questions continued to rack your brain, even as you began to walk behind the counter. And when you heard the click of the door locking into place, it was only then that you noticed you were the only person in the store. 

--

As you followed the man to the back, the hallway you were in seemed endless, your heart began to thump in your chest. Your gaze went upwards, the yellow lights above your head casting eerie glows throughout the hallway. You looked at the man's back, watching his shoulders move behind his jacket. Soon enough you couldn’t hear the music coming from the front of the shop anymore, the lights becoming nothing but a small dot. It had seemed you were walking forever but it was only now that you had lost sight of the front. A shadow on the wall caught your attention and as you looked at it, it went away. For a brief moment…

No that’s silly, the lights were just messing with your vision.

But…

For a quick second, it seemed like the shadow of the man had horns protruding from the top of his head.

You scoffed and shook your head, the thought being completely ridiculous. 

“Hm? Something funny, y/n?” He looked over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Oh ah, I was just thinking about something. Nothing worth mentioning.” You replied, still mainly focused on the wall. He gave a sharp nod, a smile gracing his face before turning back towards the front. Inhaling deeply, you continued following the strange man, until finally, he pushed aside a curtain and you stepped into a room, the sight making your jaw drop in awe.

“This is where I keep my most prized possessions, too valuable for me to put out there for the world to see.” He murmured, delicately swiping his finger over the surface of something on a shelf. You couldn’t quite make out what it was, for something past him got your attention. You took a hesitant step forward, tilting your head to the side, trying to make sense of it.

A throne sat in the back of the room, the seat filled to the brim with gold coins, a few gems and jewels here and there. You could make out a bottle of wine lodged in the center of the pile, the black color popping out intensely against the bright colors of the gold. But upon closer inspection, you noticed there was an orange light, seeming to only shine on the bottle, making you realize that it was a dark red instead. On one of the arms, was a clear crystal skull, dazzling amethysts acting as eyes. As if your awe couldn’t get any bigger, on the top of the throne was a crown, far more extravagant than the ones you had seen previously. It was jewel encrusted all around, but instead of it being gold or silver, this one was stark black. One emerald stood in the middle while tiny versions of it ran around the rim and protruding from the top of it was a bright green snake, poised as if it was getting ready to strike.

The sound of a throat clearing snapped you out of your thoughts.

He chuckled, “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, sorry. This room is just wow, it’s amazing. I’ve never seen so many treasures in one room before.” You fingertips pressed to your lips, taking another moment to look around the room once more.

“This is the piece I wanted to show you.” You looked to the left to see him behind a glass counter. When you walked up to it, he had his hands spread out on the glass, giving you a small smirk. Your heart skipped a beat and you bit down on your lip, feeling that warmth go through your body once more. He glanced down and tapped at the glass with a fingernail, the noise making a sharp sound. When you glanced down, you felt a chill go down your spine. On the top of the glass his fingernail looked normal but in the reflection was a sharp black nail instead. Your eyes quickly looked over to his other nails to find them exactly the same; sharp and black. When you looked in the middle of where the reflection of his face should be, you had barely registered relief when you saw his eyes.

There was a sinister yellow glow, gleaming right at you. And if that weren’t frightening enough, the man smiled at you, two sharp canines peeking through. At that, your head snapped back up to look at him, but instead of what you saw in the glass, it was just his normal features. With wide eyes, you opened your mouth to say something but were cut off at once by him placing a yellow velvet box on top, the sound louder than necessary.

He opened the top and you were at a loss for words. The inside was a darker shade of yellow, a small mirror on the underside of the lid, and in the middle was a beautiful necklace. A thin silver chain adorned an oval blood red ruby, four thin, sharp prongs on each side, holding it. The lighting from above made them glimmer, causing a thought to run through your mind that they almost looked like claws. He pulled it out of the box and dangled it in front of his face, the gem swaying gently in front of him.

“That’s beautiful…” You murmured. Your throat felt parched all of a sudden, so you swallowed the ball of saliva forming in your mouth, but it did nothing to quench the growing thirst in your mind.

“How much?” You asked, taking a brief second to flick your gaze over to the man then back to the necklace. From your peripheral you could see a smirk grow on his face, his eyebrow raising up a little. The tip of his tongue peeked out to lick his lips and he leaned in closer to you. Yet, you still couldn’t take your eyes off the gem. 

“Well normally the things in this room aren’t for sale, they are for my viewing pleasure only.” He paused, taking in a breath. “But you seemed really desperate to find something so,” He paused again and that was when you finally looked away and at him, catching him eyeing you up and down slowly. When he reached your face, a sly grin appeared.

“$1,000.”

“$1,000? Are you fucking serious?” Your eyes bugged out at his answer and you couldn’t help the harsh tone. However it seemed that the man was unaffected, cocking his head to the side and swinging the necklace delicately. You didn’t know much about gemstones but you were certainly positive that it was an outrageous price, especially for something in a pawn shop. 

“I am actually being quite generous with the pricing y/n, normally this goes for much higher value.” His voice took a condescending ring and his eyebrows bunched together. Worry crossed your face, you really didn’t want to pay that much money for something you were only going to wear for tonight but on the other hand you needed this necklace. It was truly something you had never seen before.

You looked at the piece of jewelry once more, staring directly into the center of the ruby. You didn’t know if you were still reeling from hearing the price or if it was really happening but the middle of the gem seemed to be swirling, looking like a mini vortex. Anger flashed through your body and you had half a mind to just snatch it out of his hand and make a run for it. Your fingers twitched at the thought and it appeared that the man noticed, for he jerked his hand up and caught the ruby in his hand. His fingers clasped shut around it, completely obstructing it from your eyes.

“If you think you’ll be able to get away, you won’t. I’ll have you pinned down before your fingers even got to touch this necklace.” He hissed in a low voice and you didn’t miss the way your body shivered at his tone. You pressed your lips together and chose your next words carefully.

“This is a pawn shop isn’t it? Can we negotiate?” As soon as the last word left your mouth, you felt the tension in the room shift. He squinted at you and leaned in closer to your body, staring intensely into your eyes. You tried your best to not look away, your heart beginning to speed up at his close proximity. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk, the action making your breath hiccup in your throat.

“Depends, what are you willing to give?” He muttered, now looking down at your lips. He didn’t even try to hide it, for his gaze lazily rose back up to your eyes. He was so close that you could see details on his face more clearly, like the mole on his top lip or the hint of yellow slowly whirling in the center of his eyes…

Your eyes widened at noticing it but before you could move away, he brushed his fingertips on the top of your hand. He put his other hand next to your faces, letting his fingers open to allow the necklace to drop. It swung before coming to a stop, the want and need of having it coursing through your mind once more.

You needed this, and you were going to get it one way or another.

You pressed forward, feeling just the barest of touches when your lips made contact with his. He didn’t move so you took that as your sign to continue. You closed your eyes, your lips now fully on his and moved against him, small flashes of yellow going off behind your eyelids. You heard the sound of something, the necklace you presumed, clatter against the glass top of the display. His hands gripped the side of your face, now kissing you back with more ferocity. A nip at your bottom lip caused you to gasp, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth.

You felt like your head was clouded, the lightheadedness making you dizzy. A moan slipped past you and your hands wandered up to grip his suit, the material oddly clearing up your mind, acting as a sort of grounding object to bring you back down. You attempted to jerk him towards you, wanting more of his touch, but he dropped one hand off your face and grabbed your wrists, throwing them off of his body. You stumbled a bit forward and smacked a hand on top of the glass to steady yourself, slightly breaking your kiss. You wasted no time in going back, hands going around his neck now, kissing with such hunger and need. 

The man used his free hand to knot itself in your hair, he tugged your head back and went to bite at your neck, his teeth making you gasp. Your hands dug into his hair and gave small tugs, your breathy moans urging him to bite harder. You needed more so you tightened your hold onto his hair and pulled him back up to your mouth. Surprisingly he allowed you to do so and when your lips locked, you raised a leg and pushed yourself up on the counter. He moved back to allow you more room, sliding your legs down on the other side and opening them to let him stand in between.

He grabbed your waist and brought you closer to himself, the feeling of his erection against you made a wave of pleasure go to your core. Your legs wrapped around his waist to lock him in and he grinded against you, squeezing your waist every couple of seconds. His hands slid down your thighs, fingernails digging into you. The subtle pain made you gasp against his mouth and you almost moaned out loud again when he pushed your legs apart, using one hand to guide you onto your back.

He reached up to unbutton your jeans and undo your zipper, yanking them down when he finished. He tossed them to the side and put his mouth right over your mound, moving his lips against your skin. Your legs went to lock around his head but he delivered a swift smack to the outside of your left thigh.

“Keep your legs open for me sweetheart.” He mumbled against you and dragged his tongue up your panties. You let out a low moan at the feeling, lightly tangling your hand in his black hair. He didn’t protest so you twirled a few pieces in between your fingers, the silky texture easily sliding between them. He hooked a finger into your panties and pulled them to the side, taking a quick swipe up your folds, the abrupt feeling of his tongue made your voice hitch and your hips to jerk upwards. His finger that was holding your panties, went to the center and you felt a sudden pull and the sound of material ripping. You lifted your head to see what had happened, but he suddenly pulled your folds apart and licked up once more.

“Fuck,” your voice squeaked out, head dropping back onto the glass. He dug in, tongue licking up and down your pussy, his nose nudging your clit every so often. Your legs trembled, wanting to lock around his head and you almost gave in until you felt two sharp points prodding at the inside of your folds. Your legs twitched at the feeling but you brushed it away when his tongue shoved into your hole. An obscene moan left your mouth and you tugged him impossibly closer to your cunt. You felt that same sharp point directly on your clit now, circling around it lightly.

Your pussy clenched around his tongue and it seemed to spur him on, the sharp point now pressing slightly harder on you. It only lasted a few seconds before his thumb replaced it, pressing harshly onto your clit and causing pleasure to travel throughout your body. It circled around you rapidly, his tongue now moving at what seemed like an impossible speed inside you. Soon that familiar tug pulled inside you and your hips rose upwards.

“Pl-please, I’m gonna-!” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before your orgasm ripped through your body, your mouth open in a silent scream, your pussy spasming around his tongue. You came down from your high, your breath coming out ragged, and looked down at him. He smirked at you, your arousal glistening on his lips. His eyes looked faintly yellow in your hazy vision. You became slightly more aware that there were more points pricking into your thighs, dragging down. You were pulled up and into a kiss, tasting yourself, his hands going to your lower back. He let you go and grabbed a hand, pulling you off the counter. You allowed him to guide you and when you noticed him leading you towards the throne, you felt your already aching pussy clench.

He barely gave you time to settle before he turned you around and pushed you onto the pile of treasure in the center of the throne. You landed on your palms, feeling some coins slide from beneath your hands. You adjusted to resting on your forearms, the wine bottle directly in front of your face. Upon closer inspection of it, you could clearly make out that it was a dark rusty red color, with a faded label on the side. The glint of the crystal skull caught your attention to your left, but you didn’t have time to glance at it, for you felt your shirt being lifted up and over your head. Before you had a chance to settle, the back of your bra was pulled and you felt it give away. A hand went to your front and yanked it away from you, the coolness from the coins brushed against your breasts and nipples, instantly making them harden.

You heard the sound of clothes rustling and heard a muted thump. Giving a quick side glance, you saw his jacket on the floor. The sound of his belt buckle clinking and then it being thrown to the floor had your hole clench. He kicked your legs apart and rubbed his cock in between your folds, hands going to hold onto your waist. You shivered in anticipation, the combination of him spreading your arousal and the cold contrast of the coins made your mouth water.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” One of his hands left your waist to drag down your back, those sharp points you had been feeling making your spine arch up, you were enjoying them at this point. You gave a meek nod and soon he was stretching your walls, bottoming out in no time. Your fingers splayed out and dug into the pile of coins for support, feeling your breasts touch them when he began to move. 

He wasted no time in pounding into your cunt, the force of his hips making you moan out like a whore. One hand went to go fist in your hair, twisting it around his wrist for a more secure hold. “Look at you, such a greedy little thing. Such a greedy little whore for my cock..” You bit your lip at his words, your eyelids fluttering closed.

“Do you always fuck strangers for things you want? Are you that desperate for material things? You little slut.” Opening your eyes, you could see his reflection in the bottle, that one orange light highlighting the object perfectly. His form began to slowly shift before your eyes, and even though you were getting the fucking of a lifetime, you were still coherent enough for a wave of fear to travel through your body.

Maybe it was all the bright lights or you were still delirious from your powerful orgasm but soon enough you saw two pointed objects begin to protrude from his head, and a pair of wings slowly sprout from his back. Your chest quivered but yet you couldn’t bring yourself to scream, at least not out of fear. Panic mixed in with euphoria, the idea that you were here having sex with something not of this world oddly made your already sopping cunt, gush even more. When his wings softly flared out, you kept telling yourself you were just imagining it, and even when you felt something soft brush against the sides of your waist, a small part of you prayed that it was just because all of your senses were on overload.

The more you stared at the reflection, the tighter your body became. What was even happening right now, why are you still here? Why had you not pulled away and ran while you still had the chance? As you racked your brain for answers, there was a tiny voice that kept pushing through, telling you what you didn’t want to hear. That throughout all this, there was a familiarity from it all. That you had seen this before; the wings, horns, the aura of the creature. You briefly wondered if you were pulling it from an old horror movie you’d seen a while ago, but it didn’t sit right.

As if sensing the puzzle coming together in your head, several sharp pricks were dug into your waist- you quickly put two and two together with everything happening, and deduced that they were claws- you felt him pierce through your skin, the sudden pain making you gasp out loud. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the reflection, and the final nail went in when his eyes locked with yours. With a sinister grin, he blinked and two bright yellow eyes stared right into your soul.

With a cry of terror and pleasure, your orgasm came abruptly, your thighs shaking so uncontrollably that your forearms gave out, and you fell against the mountain of coins. You felt him slam into you a couple of more times before his cum filled you up to the brim, feeling it dribble down your legs after he pulled out. You laid there for a couple of seconds to catch your breath, and you were afraid to turn around and be face to face with whatever just gave you an orgasm of a lifetime. 

Gathering your bearings, you pushed up and silently counted to three, not bothering to hide the shock on your face when you saw him looking normal. No claws, no horns, no wings, no glowing yellow eyes…

He zipped his pants and picked his belt up from the floor, smiling at your expression. When you still hadn’t said anything, he picked up his jacket and folded it over his arm, heading towards the counter. You reached down for your shirt and bra, fumbling around trying to get them back on. When you finished you still had not said a word, silently going to the counter to reach for your pants that he was holding out to you. You put them on but still couldn’t shake off your feelings.

He chuckled softly at you and picked up the necklace, giving it a soft look before handing it to you. Wordlessly you took it, the cool metal feeling hot in your hands.

“Well, a bargain is a bargain. Sorry about your panties by the way. Are you alright?” He questioned with a laugh, moving a hand up to smooth down his hair. It didn’t even look out of place, completely untouched.

You brushed it off, still confused about everything “Um...I’m-I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me, I-” You stopped and swallowed, the realization that you just fucked a stranger for a necklace setting in. A flash of horror crossed your face, and you almost cried until he shook his head and gave you a small smile. 

“Don’t be, we all do crazy things when consumed with greed.” Even though there was a smile on his face, it barely did anything to ease your discomfort. 

“The necklace is yours, come, I’ll walk you outside.” He walked around the counter and nodded towards the front, silently following behind him. The walk to the front was shorter than you remember, the yellow lights you recalled being there, now just white. When you stepped out of the backroom, it was still bright outside, and there were still no people inside. It had felt like you spent hours back there.

When you walked out the door, you still felt uneasy. What exactly had you seen in the reflection of the wine bottle? Why was your need for the necklace so intense?

Something clicked in your mind and deciding that you wanted to leave with some sort of dignity, you turned around to ask him a question.

“I’m so sorry, but I just realized I didn’t get your name,” Heat spread across your cheeks but you continued. “I just got…overwhelmed.” You gave a sheepish smile and he smiled back at you.

“My name is Hoseok.” He grins and gives you a small bow.

“Thank you, Hoseok. For um, this.”

“You’re welcome, next time be careful what you bargain for when you want something.” His tone was playful but chideful, and you couldn’t help but give an exasperated laugh. You gave a politeful nod and turned around to head to your car.

“Goodbye y/n, have fun at your event tonight.”

You almost didn’t register what he said, until you did. You hadn’t told him your name. When you turned back to question him, your heart stopped in your chest when the pawn shop was no longer there. Instead it was just an empty, abandoned building. Deciding that you had enough and needed to get out of there, you sped to your car and drove as fast as you could to your house, wanting to get away as soon as possible.

--

Your nerves relaxed when you reached your house and got ready. The last thing you put on was the necklace, feeling the ruby flare against your skin. You fingered it gently, the memory of fucking Hoseok burned into your brain.

Once you arrived at your friends art event, you immediately fell into the chatter and hustle of everything. Friends were complimenting your outfit left and right, especially the necklace. You met up with your friend, giving her a congratulatory hug and kiss. You were so deep in conversation that you didn’t notice a mutual friend of yours staring at you, or more so your neck. You were about to question what was wrong until she pointed a finger at your neck.

“Y/n, sorry but do you shower with that necklace on?” You bunched your eyebrows together and your hand went up to clutch it.

“No, I just got this today. Why?”

Now your small group of friends were all staring at it, the stares making your face heat up.

“Your neck is turning green.”

You paused for a half second, then took out your phone to access the camera. Sure enough, there was a thin line of green on your skin. As you looked more at the necklace, you noticed small details of rust on the chain and the ruby that was shining so brightly before you left, was now dull and lifeless.

He had tricked you, he had given you a fake. 

[offspring-of-calliope]

Oneshot #1: BillDarcy (Soulmate AU)

Description: A soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you reach the age of 16. It's BillDarcy in the canon era. Slightly angsty but also sweet with a happy ending.

words: 3411

A/N: Am I procrastinating because I should write so many other things? Maybe. Do I regret anything? Maybe but in my defense, I feel like there is a lack of BillDarcy fanfics and I really need to improve my English skills, so... that's a semi-good reason for writing this. It would be nice if you left a comment (maybe also on grammar/spelling mistakes).

I hope you enjoy (because strangely, I don't think that it's that bad).

Sincerely, me,

Lélodie

-----

The softly swaying music was the only thing that kept Darcy sane in this stuffy room. Some people were crowded on the dance floor, dancing intimately close with their partners, whereas others stood around in their fancy suits and dresses, behaving as if they were the most important individuals on earth.

Darcy sighed and held on tighter to his glass of sprinkling water, searching for something to get his mind off the fact that everything here was fake. In the beginning, he hadn't exactly been opposed to the idea of accompanying his father to this big event that was hosted by William Randolph Hearst. But he had soon realised that he literally felt trapped in between all these people. He wanted nothing more than to return to his bedroom and continue to read the latest book he had gotten his hands on. An interesting piece of literature, written by Victor Hugo.

He searched for his father in the crowd, soon finding him being in an animated conversation with another newspaper owner whose name he had forgotten. For a small moment, his father glanced back at him and as if he could read his son's thoughts, he threw him an ominous look. As if to say: “You are staying right where you are, young man.”

Darcy answered with a cautious nod and turned away. That was when he saw him. In a small corner, right next to an open window, stood a boy, who seemed to be as young as himself, staring at the floor and looking obviously out of place. His suit seemed to be too big for his slim body, his short brown hair was drenched in sweat because of the heat and his eyes that appeared quite lively on the one hand, signalised exhaustion on the other hand. Darcy couldn't describe why, but he felt like something in him was dying to get to know this boy. With a last look in his father's direction and a sip from his water, he made up his mind.

It was difficult, getting to the corner where the boy stood. Everywhere were bodies, dancing, standing, swaying, and the general atmosphere made it hard for Darcy to take a breath. But eventually, he ended up beside the boy, who eyed him curiously. Then, he raised his eyebrows, an unspoken question as to why Darcy had come over to him.

“You're looking pretty miserable over here,” Darcy explained, fiddling with the brim of his glass.

The other boy snorted and replied in the most sarcastic tone he could come up with. “Oh, quite the opposite, I actually enjoy being around presumptuous people who hide themselves behind a facade.”

Once again, Darcy wasn't able to breathe but this time for an entirely different reason. He had expected everything but not that. When he was younger, his mother had always told him stories about soulmates. Two people that were so perfect for each other that the universe graced their skin with the first words one would say to the other so that they would be able to recognize the right person when they met them. The words usually appeared when one turned sixteen. The days before Darcy's sixteenth birthday had been torture. He had realised at a very young age that he wasn't able to look at girls the way he was supposed to and he couldn't feel anything but shame and fear. A tiny part of himself had hoped that his soulmate would be a girl and he had simply been confused.

But no. The words that he had memorised ever since he had seen them for the first time had just been spoken. By the boy right in front of him. Who was now looking at him with concern in his eyes. Why was he looking concerned? Why wasn't there recognition in his gaze? Didn't he have Darcy's words as well? Had he just not registered them?

Still a bit stunned, Darcy cleared his throat. “That was really the first thing that came to your mind?”

Now it was the other boy's turn to be confused. “Why? Is there something wrong with what I said?”

“No, no, it's not that,” Darcy assured him quickly. “It just...” Think, Darcy, think. In his head, he cursed his brain for not being able to form coherent thoughts any more. “It just makes me glad I approached you.” He was quite satisfied with this spontaneous explanation because the other boy flashed him a smile that made him feel things he never had experienced before.

“Thank you for the compliment. You are the son of mister Reid, aren't you?”

Darcy nodded and stretched out the hand that wasn't still holding his glass. “Yes. My name is Darcy. And you are?”

“I'm Bill. The unfortunate son of today's host,” Bill introduced himself and shook Darcy's hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bill.” His skin was very soft, Darcy noticed, yet he couldn't help but see faint traces of ink on his fingertips. It made him smirk. Bill's hand was perfect. And it was being pulled away by its owner far too soon. For a moment, the two boys just stood next to each other, observing the room and the people in it. Upon realising that every person in this room, except for Bill, was kind of old, Darcy had an idea. “You appear to be the same age as I am. Are you sixteen as well?”

Bill shook his head. “No. I turned fifteen, two months ago. My mother always tells me that I look older than I am though.”

Darcy hoped that his relief wasn't too obvious. So this whole soulmate thing was not necessarily one-sided, at least regarding the role of the universe. But after this short moment of relief, reality came crashing down on him. Even if Darcy's words appeared on Bill's skin on his sixteenth birthday, that didn't mean that Bill wanted to be with Darcy. Homosexuals were very despised within society and he hadn't ever heard of a same-sex soulmate couple that was openly together. Or maybe that wouldn't bother Bill but he still wouldn't be attracted to Darcy. Was Darcy even attracted to Bill?

At the end of the evening, Darcy completely dismissed the last question. How could he not be attracted to Bill? Bill, who had asked him if he wanted to leave the party to show him his father's printing press, after Darcy mentioned his interest in printing. Bill, who had been so gently when he had adjusted Darcy's spectacles. Bill, whose eyes were big and glistening with joy when he talked about things he loved.

It was like Darcy was falling without having planned to jump.

*

The stars in the sky were especially shiny that night, or maybe that was just Darcy's imagination. He was staring out of the window of Bill's bedroom, sitting on the spare bed and awaiting the moment the clock would strike twelve. Part of him was curious. He wanted to know if Bill would really have his words on his skin. You're looking pretty miserable over here. In addition to Bill's words on his chest, he had his own memorised, repeating them over and over like a prayer.

The other part was afraid. His mind was being flooded with the same questions he had asked himself nearly a whole year long. After the party where they had met each other, Bill and Darcy had started to hang out more and more, sometimes even with Katherine Pulitzer, a childhood friend of Bill's. They had never talked about this whole soulmate topic, at least not when it was just the two of them. Katherine had told them her words at one point but that was it. Darcy had noticed Bill's curious look in his direction when Katherine had asked him if he wanted to share his words. But Darcy had only made a dismissive hand gesture and started to talk about the latest news.

He didn't know what to expect. The only thing he knew was that his body was aching, aching for something that he just couldn't put his finger on.

Suddenly, the room was filled with the faraway sound of ringing bells. It was twelve o'clock. Darcy hadn't gone to sleep the night before his own sixteenth birthday, so he remembered clearly how he had been hugging his knees in anticipation. The abrupt pain in his chest as the universe drew words on his body, his skin, right above his heart. He had wanted to cry. He had known that he wouldn't be able to read with tears in his eyes, however, so he had gripped tight onto the edge of his bed, waiting for the pain to subside. Then, he had run towards his mirror, a flickering candle in his hand, and had nearly ripped off his shirt.

His memories were interrupted by Bill's cry. The other boy had been fast asleep for at least one hour, so Darcy had thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to feel the pain. Alarmed, he turned his head in the direction of Bill's bed and saw that his best friend was clutching his chest, still half asleep and panting.

“Bill,” Darcy called out, softly, so that he wouldn't wake up Bill's parents. Bill didn't respond. Instead, he was blindly searching for something to hold on to. The blanket, then the bedsheets. “Bill.” As fast as he could, Darcy left the spare bed and ran over towards Bill. Bill, his soulmate who was in pain and whom he couldn't help. “Bill, sh, it's alright, I'm here. It's going to be alright.” Bill's wandering hands were suddenly in reach, so Darcy took them between his own, tenderly, as if Bill was made of glass.

Still gasping for air, Bill seemed to be able to take in his surroundings now. Through half closed eyes, he looked at Darcy, trying to process what he was saying, while holding onto his hands like a lifeline. “Darcy, it hurts, why does it hurt?”

Now, that was a good question. In every story his mother had ever told him about soulmates, she had never once mentioned the pain that came with getting your words. He had felt betrayed and he had told her so afterwards. But she had just hugged him with an encouraging smile and mumbled something along the lines of: “Nobody wants to remember the downsides of the beautiful things.”

“I know. I know that it hurts, but don't worry, Bill. It will stop eventually. I'm here. I'm with you,” Darcy whispered, softly drawing patterns on Bill's palms.

“You won't leave, will you?” A sob escaped Bill's lips and Darcy wondered if the pain was different for everyone. His own chest began to hurt upon seeing Bill like this.

“I won't leave. I promise.” Carefully, he put his arms around Bill, holding him as close as he could, showing him that he wouldn't go away that easily. He could feel Bill trying to hold him tighter but the tiredness and the pain had taken away the strength of his arms.

For a long time, the room was filled with sobs and affectionate words. The sound of the bells was long gone and the intensity of the stars only an obligatory background.

The next morning, Darcy was awoken by Bill's shuffling. He distantly remembered falling asleep in each other's arms, with their legs tangled under the blanket but in retrospect this might've just been a part of a sweet dream. The bed was creaking and he could feel Bill standing up. Muffled sounds escaped Darcy's mouth. He was nevertheless too sleepy to open his eyes. He could hear steps. Fabric being moved. A gasp.

“Everything alright?” Was the only thing he was able to say in his condition. He wondered if being hungover felt like this. It took him some time, but that didn't matter since Bill wasn't responding anyways, before he finally could open his eyes. Only to see the other boy standing in front of his mirror, shirtless, examining a little thread of ink on his skin. He tried hard not to stare. Then it hit him. “You got your words.”

Bill turned away from the mirror, in his direction, and smiled. “You're looking pretty miserable over here,” he recited. “What do you think? Am I gonna meet them when I am coming out of a fight? Maybe I will join a revolution and a time will come when I don't succeed but then I meet them and everything turns out to end good,” Bill speculated, like the dramatic boy he was. Always dreaming about defying laws and doing something great.

It took Darcy embarrassingly long to register that the words on Bill's skin were his own. It took him even longer to realise that Bill had no clue that he had already heard these words before. For a moment, a short little moment that could easily be missed, he contemplated telling him. But he couldn't. Not when Bill started to go on and on about some fictional soulmate, already planning out their lives together. Some fictional soulmate. Some soulmate that wasn't Darcy.

Maybe Darcy should at least tell Bill that he shouldn't get his hopes up. That he shouldn't go through the streets, thinking that he will meet his soulmate. That he should instead go and find a pretty girl to settle down with. But he didn't.

Instead, he just stood up, wished Bill a happy birthday and pretended to be as invested in Bill's soulmate scenarios as the boy himself was.

*

A cool wind was blowing through the streets but that didn't bother Darcy. He was just content with walking an overjoyed Bill home. It was an easy concept. After being persuaded by both Katherine and Bill, all three of them had joined the newsboy's cause and helped typesetting and printing an article to get the working kids of New York to unite. Bill was convinced that he was finally part of a big rebellion, so he nearly began floating with delight. And when Bill was extraordinarily happy, he became the most beautiful person on earth. Walking side by side with the most beautiful person on earth was making Darcy the luckiest boy on earth. So some tiny, chilly breeze became nothing to him.

Right now, Bill was talking about the commitment Katherine had shown and how surprised he had been when she had told him that the strike leader himself, Jack Kelly, was her soulmate. “Wouldn't it be nice, being part of a revolution alongside your soulmate?”

Darcy snorted. “I suppose.”

Bill threw him a strange look. The last few days, he often wore this exact same look and it drove Darcy crazy because he didn't know what it meant. Suddenly, Bill slowed down his steps. He hadn't exactly talked loud before, considering the fact that they were walking through the city while most of the people were asleep in their beds, but nonetheless he began to decrease his volume. “Say, Darcy, do you remember what we saw before we left the building?”

Darcy's heart stopped beating for a moment. Of course he remembered. It had shocked him to see two boys kissing openly in front of so many people but then the shock had turned into jealousy. How badly he wanted to do the same. Kissing the person he loved. But these were newsies. They lived after their own rules, as long as nobody got hurt. They may have been treated badly by life but they could be who they are. He wasn't a newsie. He wasn't allowed to follow his heart's desire. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was wondering, you know... If two boys could be each other's soulmates,” Bill stated. His hands, that had been hanging by his sides, were now fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Darcy wanted nothing more than to reach out to them.

Why couldn't Bill stop with this whole soulmate talk? And since when was he so interested in same-sex soulmates? Suddenly, Darcy felt nervousness crawling up his skin. Did Bill suspect that Darcy wasn't interested in girls? “I... How would I know?” He stuttered out.

Silence. Then, without a warning, Bill grabbed his hand and led him into the nearest alley, away from the lights of the street lamps. The smell in this alley wasn't exactly pleasant but Darcy had other problems than his stinky environment. Bill was close. So close. And he hadn't let go of his hand.

“Darcy, look, I desperately hope that I am not wrong but if I am, let's just forget about this whole thing, alright?” Bill's words didn't make any sense to him. However, he nodded, if only to learn what was going on with the other boy all of a sudden. “The party where we first met. How did you think I looked?”

You're looking pretty miserable over here. He remembered. Bill remembered, didn't he? Beads of sweat were tickling Darcy's forehead now as he contemplated his options. He could name a random adjective or act like he didn't know what Bill meant. Or he could be honest and finally get his rejection. But why would Bill be so keen on rejecting him? I desperately hope that I am not wrong. All this time, Darcy had thought that he understood Bill pretty well, but now he wasn't so sure any more. “You were looking pretty miserable,” he breathed out. His heart was beating faster than ever and he distantly registered that his hand was still in Bill's. Bill's wonderful hand that was so often decorated by ink stains.

“Thank God.” It seemed like Bill let out a breath he had not known he was holding. And then, he pressed his lips to Darcy's.

Darcy's brain short-circuited. What was even happening? Was he dreaming? No, he couldn't be dreaming. In his dreams, his kisses with Bill were always perfect. But in reality, neither of them had ever kissed someone before, so it was an awkward touch – lips to lips, with a little too much saliva. Darcy pulled back in bewilderment. “What do – But you didn't remember – What was that?”

Bill let out a shy laugh. “I know I didn't even consider the possibility that someone had already said my words when I first got them. But the longer I thought about some fictional person I realised that I didn't really want them. There was only one person on my mind and I couldn't get rid of all these thoughts about you and then I remembered our first meeting. I knew I said something to you about these presumptuous people but I couldn't remember your words. Context, hope and Katherine were what led me to at least hope that you could be my soulmate. And I just had to know if I was right.” He made a face like he was thinking about something. “Why hadn't you told me before?”

“I didn't want to scare you away. And you were so happy with your idea of an ideal soulmate. An ideal soulmate that wasn't me.”

“I am so sorry, love. It wasn't my intention to make you feel this way. But you have to know that there is no ideal soulmate. There is just you. You and me. From now on.” Bill used the hand that wasn't holding Darcy's to stroke Darcy's cheekbone, trying to not knock the spectacles from his face. “If you'll have me.”

Darcy couldn't help but smile at being called love by Bill of all people. “Of course I'll have you. But... what about everything else? Our parents? The rest of society? I want to make this happen, I promise, but I have to remind you that the position we're in is not exactly an optimal one.”

“I know. I know and we can think of something tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow, I mean, we may be a little busy with joining a revolution. But please, please let us be only us for a moment.”

Darcy didn't even have to think this time. He nodded, feeling tears of relief forming behind his eyelids. Then, he took a deep breath and decided to lift a weight off of his chest. “We are soulmates, Bill.” It felt indefinitely good to say it out loud.

“Yes, we are, love.” Bill had never looked more beautiful to Darcy than in this moment.

[kny-secret-santa2019]

From: @3rdgymbros​

For: @knybits​

message: hi, lovely, merry christmas! i was watching mulan and this was the result - i really hope you like this oneshot! i’ve been a big fan of your blog, and i love the creativity and effort that you put into writing scenarios! thank you for all your hard work!

— pairing; tanjirou kamado x reader ( modern au )

— prompt; want to help me get my parents off my ass about not having a date?

The matter of you finding a date for the annual family Christmas party begins to obsess your Grandmother. She won’t let the matter rest until your Grandfather and Father both take up the refrain; and once the men of the household are of her own mind, Grandmother immediately goes through the list of prestigious family connections. One such date includes the eldest son of an abalone cannery millionaire. A prospective date is suggested and your protests dismissed entirely.

“Only one date. If you like him, you can have another,” Your Grandmother says, with an impatient wave of her blood-coloured nails, the scent of Schiaparelli and mothballs wafting about her.

It’s unbearable. You lock yourself in your room and refuse to come out, anger and fear drumming through your body. You throw yourself onto the bed and listen as your Grandmother beats her small fists against the door.

“Do you want to be an old maid?” She screams.

“Yes!” You howl in return. Outside you hear whispering, and you know that your mother is there.

It’s unbearable. You’re only in High School and already your life is being squeezed into a box, all those rules and expectations laid out for you, and you’re expected to play along like the good daughter that you are. No one cares that you’ve been acing all your classes, that you’ve been nursing a secret hope that you might win a scholarship and go to England and study law when you graduate.

At last you’re left alone, and you hear the tiny shuffling steps of your Grandmother, supported by your Mother, fading away down the corridor. After a while, you get up, and, opening the window shutters wide, observe the slender branches of the Mexican lilac pushing up beneath the sill, wondering if it will hold your weight.

It’s not easy to reach the tree without falling from the window, but at last you grasp a strong branch and you swing yourself forwards, your sneaker-clad feet scrabbling for a hold against the trunk. Almost at once, you hear a loud crack, and falls with the branch the short distance to the ground. Your knee is scraped and you feel your shoulder throb with the beginnings of a bruise, but nothing more, and scrambling up, you run off through the main gate of the family estate.

An hour later, with nowhere else to go, you find yourself in the Kamado family bakery, pouring out your sorrows to a sympathetic Tanjirou, who nods in response at your story, as your tone rises to a high, fevered crescendo, and how your face wrinkles in distress at the impossible situation that your family has forced you into.

You pause for breath, and look around the Kamado family bakery. Nezuko, a baguette in her mouth, mans the cashier and counts out change for a waiting customer. Bells of all sizes, from tiny jingle to massive cow, chimes out entrances from hooks on the back of the door. The combination of scents envelops you: vanilla and cinnamon and warm chocolates with hints of lemon and cherry. As you sip on your frothy latte, you inhale the pockets of aromas, each one a comforting embrace of all that is good in this upside-down world.

Tanjirou slides a cream éclair over to you; you moan at the sight of the chocolate-covered confection, a specialty of the bakery, and your favorite dessert. “It’s on the house,” He says, smiling warmly, and a twinge sadly. “I wish I could do more to help.”

You seep deeper into your chair, letting his words roll over you. Tanjirou’s always been a good friend of yours, helpful and eager to please, and when he smiles, oh, when he smiles, it’s almost as if the sun itself is unfurling its rays and bringing light to your dreary existence. You have to battle back a blush, along with the realization that this little crush on your classmate isn’t going away anytime soon.

A plan slowly begins to form in your mind. You almost feel guilty for what you’re about to propose, and you promise yourself that you’ll buy all your bread from The Kamado Family Bakery for as long as you live.

“You can.” Propping your chin up with the flat of your palm, you motion Tanjirou closer. “So. Want to help me get my parents off my ass about not having a date?”

Tanjirou smiles, his face wrinkling into the lines of one used to joy and gentleness. In your chest, your traitorous heart thumps all the harder, a shoe knocking about noisily in the dryer. You swallow. Hard.

“Sure! What do you have in mind?”

This is the first thing that you think: that this whole situation seems like something right out one of Zenitsu’s trashy romance novels. This is the second thing that you think, somewhat in a daze, with cheeks painted red: Tanjirou cleans up well.

You make a beeline for Tanjirou as he hovers by the door, a paper bag clutched uncertainly in his hands, even as an uncharacteristically timid smile graces his lips; but as your attention is currently being occupied by your Grand-Aunt, who has forgotten your name for the third time in a row, and it’s your Mother and Father who, as one, both move intercept him, cutting through the crowd to greet him. Though, you suppose, it’s better your parents than your Grandmother, who is bound to be watching the boy you’ve brought home with an eagle-eye from her place of honor at the head of the table.

“You must be Tanjirou,” Father says, his face impassive as always, giving nothing away. “( Your Name ) has told us about you.”

“I-It’s very nice to meet you!” Tanjirou says in response, a little too loudly, and his cheeks color pink as everyone in the room turns to look, sizing him up from the top of his hair, plastered to his brows with very strong hair gel, all the way down to his neatly polished shoes. He bows, stiffly and formally. “This is for you!”

“You brought bread?” Your mother asks, taking a peek into the proffered bag. She inhales the yeasty goodness and her eyes light up. “Everyone here loves the bread your family bakes! Come, let me introduce you to the family.”

The tension drains out of Tanjirou’s frame, his expression morphing into one of pride. Mother takes him by the hand and circles the room, making introductions. Every set of eyes smile at him. Father nods discreetly at you before stepping into the kitchen, and you heave a silent sigh of relief. You catch Tanjirou’s eye as he moves about the room, and you smile and nod encouragingly, trying to push calm energy at him.

Step one, passed.

Step two is getting through dinner.

Although you already know how extensive your family is, every year you still find yourself marveling at the sheer amount of people currently occupying the family dining room. The glow of fairy lights adoring the walls gives the large dining room unworldly appeal. The sound of laughter, chatter and greetings competes with the Christmas music playing from the speakers.

Everyone sits down to eat almost immediately. The table is an impressive expanse of solid burl wood, topped with glass. Each place setting bears a napkin starched white, silverware, and a stiff card embossed with individual names. Blessedly, your seat is next to Tanjirou, and directly beside your Grandmother, whose beady eyes always seem to linger on the boy at your side. Her wrinkled lips are pursed into a thin line, and she only nods as Tanjirou introduces himself once again.

You’ll never be able to please her, you think bitterly, staring down at your silverware and your rainbow-hued cup, filled to the brim with sparkling juice. Still, you do feel a tad guilty that it’s because of your hare-brained scheme that Tanjirou is currently in this mess, and so, under the table, you brush your hand against his own. You hope that Tanjirou feels you in that moment, a mix of gratitude and apology wrapped in that one touch.

The moment is fleeting, but the warmth of his smile grounds you and wrings the air out of your lungs all at once. You close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation, how the butterflies in your stomach seem to flutter to life at this one simple touch.

Juicy, garlicky meatloaf, creamy scalloped potatoes, blanched greens with slivered almonds, French bread, and salads full of bright colours and textures are placed on the table and passed around family style. The conversation is pleasant but not heady. The star would definitely be Tanjirou, who gracefully answers every question thrown at him; though you do end up stepping in as soon as you catch his face twitching as he forces out a lie – good, honest Tanjirou, you think, would make a terrible poker player.

How did you and ( Your Name ) meet?

We’re classmates. She invited me for dinner.

How old are you?

I’m 16.

Doesn’t your family own a bakery downtown?

Yes, the Kamado Bakery!

The bread there is so good, my daughter stops there every day after school.

Thank you for your support, my dad would be really happy to know that you like his bread so much!

As the conversation tapers into a lull, your mother stands, slips into the kitchen and brings out dessert on a silver tray. There are slices of fruit cake, mince pies, and a chestnut log cake donated by the Kamado Bakery.

You spear a fork into your second slice of log cake, tasting thick, velvety chocolate coating your tongue. You let out a long hum of satisfaction. Various faces around the table are also glazed over with satisfaction, as they refill their plates.

Your Mother turns to Tanjirou then, with a smile and friendly eyes. There’s no doubt in your mind that she fully approves of Tanjirou. “Why don’t you come back again tomorrow with your family? Stay for dinner?”

Until, finally, your Grandmother speaks up, for the first time in the evening. Her voice is completely serious. “Would you like to stay forever?”

You choke on your next spoonful of cake.