#like i cannot imagine sitting down in a meeting being like. so this is how i'm going to discuss this very personal thing in interviews going

[steifel]

Ok so i've been thinking about the what ifs from the outsiders and the biggest one i've been thinking about (that i haven't seen very many people talk about) is what if the kid was Soda's?....

So anyways here are some head canons about that.

First off you cannot convince me this boy was not secretly a little stoked

I mean obviously he was scared since its quite literally the worst time possible, him and Sandy are only 16, him and Darry are already struggling to make ends meet, etc, etc, etc

However he wants like 12 kids so he is super excited

Soda is definitely terrified to tell Darry

He tries and falls to tell him multiple times

"Hay Darel can i talk to you for a second i got something i really need to tell you" Darry looks up "yeah im all ears go ahead" Soda runs away screaming "nevermind its not important" *insert Darry rolling his eyes and going back to whatever he was doing"

When he finally does get the balls to tell Darry he cant stand to look is brother in the eyes

"Sandy's pregnant" soda finally got the words out looking up at his big brother whos strong hands grabbed his shoulder. "Soda this isn't funny don't joke like that" a silent tear fell down Soda's face as he saw the look on Darry's "I an't joking Darry... Im being serious" more tears start coming from both of the boys as Darry pulls his brother into a tight hug "its gonna be ok Soda im still here it's gonna be ok"

Once they all got used to the idea the whole gang was super supportive

Two bit would be so stoked to be an uncle

"Wont it be great ill be uncle Keith" the whole gang stops and dally stairs into Twobits soul "fuck you mean uncle Keith? Your gonna be goddamn uncle Twobit"

The first thing Soda wants to do when he finds out is tell Ponyboy

This makes the week the boys were gone even harder

When he did finally get the chance to tell Ponyboy he was legitimately so excited

Like imagine them sitting in the hospital pony laying on Sodas lap

"Hay Pony i know you got a hell of a lot on your mind but i got something to tell you" "hmm" the younger boy hummed the only clue that he was still awake "your gonna be an uncle" Ponyboy shot up almost hitting Soda in the face "you mean..." Soda nodded "sandys pregnant im gonna be a dad" Ponyboy pulled Soda into an exited hug "can i name him?" Pony looked at his confused brother "its only fair seeing how you named me when you were 3 fucking years old" Darry started laughing louder than he had in weeks "come on Soda its only fair"

He never got the chance to tell Johnny and that fact will haunt him for the rest of his life

Once he finally feels like Pony is gonna be ok he spends every waking moment with Sandy

Hand on the belly 100% of the time

He is definitely the type of guy to talk to his kid in udero

Random shit too

"So anyway the wendsheald wiper was not coming off so Steve stepped on the hood of the car and put his whole weight into it and..." Sandy looked down at him smiling "you know most dads to be talk to their kids about how much they love them and your telling your future kid about some dumb shit you and Steve got up too" Soda scoffed faking offence " yeah its a funny story besides this kid needs to know what he's getting himself into being born into my gang"

He for sure tried to sneak a peak when Sandy was giving birth and he definitely passed out

Soda is CONVINCED its gonna be a boy

When the doctor announces"its a girl" he is legitimately confused

"What do you mean its a girl? Like he doesn't have a dick?"

Once he gets used to the fact that he has a daughter he is so Goddamn proud of her

He cries the first time he holds his daughter

Its literally adorable he'll be sitting there talking to her

"Hi little lady im your dad Sodapop and i love you so so so so much"

When he gets to show her off to the gang his smile is a mile wide

"Hi guys i want you to meet the newest member of the Curtis family" Soda said smiling as he showed his new daughter to all of his friends "she looks like a babydoll" Steve said softly as he reached for her little hand "hay thats a damn good name Babydoll" pony exclaims as he reaches out to hold his niece

AN: thanks for reading and allowing me to share some thoughts from the craziness that is my brain. As always i am so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes i am just hella dislexic

[1644s]

trust me, I’ve got nothing for you other than love

warnings/tags: minors DNI, 18+, dark themes, implied babytrapping, woc!reader, mafia!AU (background), arranged marriage!AU, pregnancy, lovesick!lando, reader is on birth control but is she really?, manipulation, gaslighting, obsession, possessive behavior, dark!lando, these tags are not exhaustive

wc: 5.3k (what happened here...)

summary: Your marriage vows are til death do you part but Lando sees no harm in ensuring your forever is, well, forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

unedited, unbeta'd, etc. this was supposed to be maybe 2k but...here we are... anyway! there's a bigger background plot going on but I cannot be bothered to expand on it aldkjfas please let me know your thoughts and happy reading!!

also! sinha = lion in bengali :)

“You just have to meet him, sinha.”

Through the grainy FaceTime call, your mother’s patient expression holds a touch of exasperation. She’s not scolding you but it’s a close call.

“No expectations?”

She shakes her head. “No expectations,” she promises and then she softens. She looks less like the wife of a criminal and more like your mom. “If you don’t like him—”

“Let me know what day he is free and I’ll clear up my schedule,” you interrupt, unable to bear listening to platitudes. It doesn’t matter if you like or dislike Lando Norris. Your father needs his family’s power and resources. This is a formality for your sake.

There are no expectations because this isn’t a choice.

You make a show of looking away from the camera as if being called and then look back at her with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I have to go. Someone’s at the door.” Your mother tries to say something else but you interrupt her with a hurried, “Love you! Bye.”

The call cuts. Your mother’s disappointed face lingers for a moment longer and then the screen fades to black.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, you rub at your face. Your parents have a way of forcing your hand and making it seem as if they are doing you a favor.

Objectively, Lando is nice. There is little overlap between your circle of friends and his but there is overlap and it lies with Carlos Sainz Jr.

Carlos has had nothing but good things to say about Lando when the topic is broached.

“A little immature but it is to be expected,” he laughed, wine sloshing in his glass. “He’s annoying. Like a little younger brother.”

That glowing review is all you have to go off of until Xavier comes back from his recon mission. You don’t think following Lando around with a camera necessitates such a dramatic title but it is not your opinion they ask for.

You’ve heard of what he is capable of but it is not the red flag it should be. Perhaps it is misguided and shockingly insensitive of you, but you care more if he will be a good person to you. You don’t need his affection but you do need his respect. And with that, you’ll need him to care about you enough to want to keep you safe. A man who feels obligated to keep you safe is not one you want.

Your phone pings. The screen lights up with a message from your father.

Clear your schedule for next Saturday. Wear something nice. Details to come.

-

Your spoon is halfway out of your mouth when Lando sits across from you.

His hair is perfectly styled to look effortless. A stray curl hangs down his forehead and only adds to his boyish charm.

He grins at you, eyes bright and shoulders relaxed. A backpack is slung over his shoulder and he’s wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants. They are of good quality but the lack of suit emphasizes his youth.

You’re suddenly struck by how young the two of you must look. It will be many years before Lando is expected to take over his father’s position but looking at him now, you can’t imagine such a situation. You know better, though, given his reputation.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

It’s so ridiculous it makes you laugh. “You really know how to keep a girl waiting, huh?” you say, more amused than not.

He’s fifteen minutes late but you don’t mind. Tardiness is the last thing you worry about in a partner. His body count, for example, is a more pressing matter.

The illegal one that is.

“I see you’ve gotten some food though,” he says, nodding towards the parfait you ordered. “Care to share?”

You offer him your spoon and when he reaches out, you pull your hand back. “Any allergies?”

He leans over the table and grabs your wrist. Dipping his head down, he takes a bite. “None,” he says around the granola.

You make a noncommittal noise. So far, he matches what Xavier’s detailed about him. There’s an easy going air about him which loosens the tension in your muscles. However, as much as you’d like this to be a normal introduction, you and Lando are working on borrowed time. So you’ll need to speed this along.

A litmus test might do the trick.

“Alright, let me see it.”

His smile disappears. “See what?”

“The file you have on me.”

He props his head with his hand. He’s careful as he says, “I don’t have a file on you.”

Leaning back into your chair, you cross your arms over your chest. You let the silence stretch between the two of you as you appraise him. When he continues to maintain his confused look, you sigh. It is foolish of you to think Lando will be honest. Honesty has no place for a marriage such as the one you will have with him.

“Okay,” you say simply. You tap your fingers against the table, a quick three beat tune before you give him a singular nod. “Let me know when and where to show up for our wedding. I’m impartial to a courthouse wedding but,” and you shrug, “It’s up to you.”

He straightens up. There’s a predatory stillness to him. “That’s it?”

You reach for your bag. He’s rented out the entire restaurant for the two of you so you’re sure the wait staff are being paid an exorbitant wage today. But it won’t hurt to leave a good impression in case you find yourself back here. You peruse your wallet, thankful you remembered to bring cash with you. “Yeah. Sorry to waste your time.” You’re perfunctory if not a little clipped with your response.

You think you’ll grab some lunch on the way back. The parfait, while good, only served to whet your appetite.

“Hold on.”

You can’t help but glance at your watch but you wait patiently as he gathers his thoughts.

“Why go through all this fuss?” Lando twirls his finger. “If you are leaving within—“ He looks at his watch and clicks his tongue, “Ten minutes?”

“I’ve been here for half an hour,” you remind him coolly. He winces but still offers no excuses nor an explanation for his lateness, so you steamroll ahead. “And if you’re willing to lie to me about something we both know is true,” you spread your hands out helplessly, “Then why bother with this? I’m sure my parents told you they set this up to appease me and you know what? Consider me appeased.”

He mouths appeased silently to himself. “You’re mad because you think I lied?” he clarifies, furrowing his brows.

“I’m mad because you are lying,” you correct icily.

“You really think I’d lay all my cards on the table so easily?”

“A file is all your cards?” you challenge.

His jaw locks. “No.”

You decide to cut him some slack. You dig through your purse and produce a folded stack of papers. Your parents were able to pull a sizable amount of information on Lando. It is supposed to remain confidential but this is your future marriage after all. You will be the one dealing with the Norris’, and Lando in particular, not them. You were rereading them up until you ordered and you presume Lando was doing the same given how last second this meeting is.

“I don’t want there to be an uneven playing field,” you say, waving the papers. “I want us to have a clean start.” Then you grimace. “As clean of a start as we can,” you amend.

He eyes the manilla folder. It’s fairly thick and you’re sure your color-coded tabbing only makes it more enticing. Lando kisses his teeth before reaching into his own backpack and pulling out a file. It’s much slimmer than the one you have on him.

You itch to reach over and take it but you restrain yourself. Placing your elbows over Lando’s file, you balance your head on one of your hands, mirroring his earlier lackadaisical pose. “So, is orange really your favorite color?”

“They have that in your file?”

He’s torn between being impressed and incredulous. It makes you wonder what they’ve managed to find on you.

You pull out a photo from your file. Flipping it over, you show him at a random dinner a couple weeks ago. You still don’t know how Xavier managed an invite to such a close-knit dinner but you suppose it’s best to not ask questions. “No. You just wear a lot of orange.”

He tries to snatch the photo out of your grasp but you quickly tuck it back into its place. “You have pictures of me?”

“I’ll show you mind if you show me yours.”

He rewards you with a laugh. “Yeah, s’fair.”

You pass over some of your photos and Lando does the same. You’re mildly terrified of how many Lando hands to you but he does not share the same reservations.

Lando flips through the photos. He keeps his expression neutral, betraying nothing as he sees how he’s been tailed without his knowledge.

��Do you have a favorite?”

You take a second too long to answer. “…Yes.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth but you refuse to let him embarrass you. “Do you have one?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he mocks. Without needing to sort through your pile, he reaches over and takes the one off the top. He places it flat down in front of you, waggling his eyebrows as he does so.

You motion for him to hand you the ones he’s holding and he obliges. It takes a short amount of time even with your feigned studying of the pictures to pick one out.

All of them vary in degrees of how off guard Lando looks but this one in particular looks as if it is any run of the mill day for him. He’s laughing, fingers digging into his friend’s arm for balance. His eyes are crinkled and there’s a lightness to him that seems as if it’s attached to him at all times.

You swallow. Heat begins to collect underneath your cheeks. You hope Lando does not realize how much this photo flays you open.

You slide across the table, face down as well, and wait for him.

“On three?” he suggests.

You can’t look at him. You’ve accidentally laid your heart on a platter and now you must let Lando decide if it’s worth devouring. “On three.”

“One…two…”

You don’t know what you were expecting but you do know it is not this.

“Oh my god,” you groan, cheeks warm for an entirely different reason now.

You’re lounging by the pool in an outfit that is appropriate when you think you’re not being photographed by a random man’s family. You’re shading your eyes with your hand, mouth in a pout as you consider someone in the distance. Odds are, you were arguing with your friend Hiba about something stupid.

However, discomfort soon replaces the embarrassment seeping into your skin as you make a mental check of when you last hung out with Hiba by the pool. That had been…months ago. Your parents had made it seem as if this arrangement was a recent idea and not one they’ve been concocting for months.

Your vision flickers for a moment as your blood rushes to your head. At least they decided against springing a surprise wedding upon you, you suppose. It can always be worse.

Lando lingers on his photo and then puts it down. “So lying is a big deal to you.” He frames it as a statement and yet, he glances up at you through his lashes. His bottom lip is tucked beneath his top teeth.

You thumb your stack of photos, hesitant to see the images that have created the baseline of Lando’s perception of you. A sharp pain flares at the corner of your thumb. Blood is smeared across the white edges of the photos. You press your tongue against the paper cut to stave off the pain. Lando follows the quick flick of your tongue.

“It can be,” you admit. You are many things but you are not unrealistic. There will be things Lando must keep from you, husband or not, for your safety and his. But you don’t think it to be too tall an ask for some modicum of honesty to be what the both of you default to. “I want to trust you. And I want you to trust me.”

“So you’ll be willing to divulge all of your family’s secrets then?” Steel underlays the playful tease in his voice.

You keep yourself from rolling your eyes but it’s a near thing. He is so dramatic. “You will be my family when we’re married.” An emotion you can’t place flits across his face. Filing it away for later, you point at him. “And you lied about something easy to disprove. I’d rather us not act like we’re strangers when I practically have a minor in Lando Norris and vice versa.”

He nibbles the granola from your yogurt. “A minor, huh? You’re that confident?”

You tilt your head. “Should I have booked a seafood restaurant instead for dinner then? I heard Mariana’s does an excellent salmon.”

“Ugh, no. They got that correct.”

You share a smile with him. The tension cracks, giving the two of you breathing room. “Look, I’m not asking for full discretion for the…unsavory parts. Just you know.” You shrug.

“A partnership,” he supplies.

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “Is that what we want to call it?”

“Well, I’m a bit of a romantic so…” His voice trails off suggestively. But the brightness in his eyes lets you know he’s mostly kidding.

You bite the bait he’s hanging so lowly in your face. Compromise is one of the commandments of marriage, right? “Oh, are you now?”

He nods slowly. He finishes off the parfait and now points the smeared spoon at you. “Just you wait.”

“Alright Romeo, let’s start with a date first,” you say, unable to keep from smiling. “I promised you that much, didn’t I?”

He slaps his hands against his thighs. “That you did. Steak wasn’t it?”

You make a face. “Boring but yes. Short notice and all.” You drop a couple bills onto the table before slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Ready to sweep me off my feet?”

“Born ready,” he drawls, standing up.

You don’t miss the flash of silver at his waist. The sweatpants don’t do a good job of hiding what’s hidden there but maybe that is the point.

He catches your wandering eye and extends a hand towards you. His fingers are callused and rough but it’s soothing to you. You’ve never known a soft touch in your life and Lando is no exception.

“I take care of what’s mine,” Lando assures you. “You won’t have to worry about a thing with me.”

His smile is all teeth.

-

It’s overwhelming to be the object of Lando’s desire you come to find out.

“Lando, not here,” you breathe, eyeing his closed but unlocked office door. His lips drag across your throat, open-mouthed and with a hint of teeth.

“I’m a newlywed I think I can be forgiven,” he says, rucking your dress up higher on your body. The edge of his desk digs into your thighs but you hardly notice as Lando traces his nose down your hammering pulse. “Or did you wear this—“ His fingers stop crawling around your hips when he realizes there is no scrap of fabric lying against your skin. He runs his hand over your smooth skin again as if to do a sanity check. “Oh, you’re such a tease.”

He looks up at you through heavily lidded eyes and you grin. With how voracious Lando’s appetite for you is, you didn’t think underwear was worth the chance he might ruin another pair of panties. You’re still mourning that hot pink set he ripped with his teeth.

“Didn’t feel like leaving you something to remember me by this time,” you quip, spreading your legs.

Lando groans, sliding his hand down your thigh until his fingers brush against you. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he says raggedly. He nips at your throat, the bite sharp enough to leave the imprint of teeth. The pain dissolves as the fever in your blood heightens. He soothes the faint sting with a wet kiss, apologetic and unrepentant at the same time.

He sinks two demanding fingers into you with ease. You turn your face into his bicep, trying to keep yourself from gasping too loudly. Your teeth dig into the fabric as his fingers curl up, nudging a spot inside that heats your blood to an inferno. You whimper, urging him closer. Lust clouds your senses and makes his teasing touches torturous.

He drags his thumb across your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure cascading down your spine. The muscles in your thighs tighten and your knee hitches up to his side.

Lando huffs a laugh, blowing cool air against your sweaty skin. “Thought you didn’t want this,” he mocks.

“I changed my mind,” you say. Unbuckling his belt, you try to shove his pants down. An impatient whine accompanies you when he doesn’t make it easier for you. “Hurry up.”

He kisses his way down from your jaw to your chest, ignoring how you plead with him. His lips skate across your nipples, tongue darting out to circle them briefly before he drags that same traitorous tongue up the line of your chest.

“Stop being mean,” you whine, trying to push his head off of you.

“You like when I’m mean.” But he acquiesces, shoving down his pants.

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and your stomach twists. The smooth head rubbing against your cunt has you faltering, reminding you of where you are. You almost want to tell Lando to wait but then he’s hiking your leg over his hip as he sinks into you.

A gasp is punched out of you as he stretches you around his cock. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, instead, choosing to press himself into you even further, reaching somewhere in you you didn’t even know existed.

Lando drives into you, his pace so rough that you can hardly catch your breath.

You moan, a broken guttural sound that Lando swallows greedily.

“You don’t want the others to hear, hmm?” he whispers against your ear. His fingers trail over you, featherlight and too much on your oversensitive skin. Yet, you arch into the touch anyway.

Warmth begins to build up in your belly and you feel it down to your toes. Lando slides his hands underneath your hips and yanks you forward, forcing you to take him down to the hilt.

Tears blur your vision. Your blood pounds so loudly in your ears you no longer hear the muffled sounds of Lando’s business partners outside. A shuddering sob of Lando’s name escapes your lips.

“That’s it,” he croons. “Just like that.”

Lando rubs his thumb against your clit, synced with his thrusts. Before long, you’re tightening up and coming all over his cock.

He loses his rhythm as you whine against the sensitivity. With his chest pressed against you, you can feel all of him tense up. He jerks his hips into you shallowly one, two times before you feel the telltale warmth.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he mumbles, resting his head against your collarbone.

Lando lifts your hand and curls your fingers so he can press a kiss against your wedding ring. And you think, yeah, this is a man you can learn to love.

-

The two lines weren’t enough to convince you but the ‘pregnant’ staring up at you is harder to dismiss.

You still rub at your eyes, hoping once your vision clears again, you’ll see the ‘not’ that is surely hidden. You wait a few seconds until your eyes adjust and the result does not change.

An anxiety induced nausea begins to curdle the little food that is left in your stomach.

You’re pregnant.

You’ve only been married for six weeks.

There’s a knock on the door. “Babe? You okay?”

You can practically hear Lando making the mental decision not to jangle the door knob though you know it kills him not to. Instead, he leans against the door. The wood creaks underneath his weight.

Somehow, you wet your throat enough to not have your voice crack as you call out, “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

You put the pregnancy tests back into the box and shove it behind your pads underneath the sink. Carefully shutting the cabinet door, you stand up and wash your hands. Your motions are methodical as if it is someone else commandeering you to scrub at your hands and dry them on the towel.

You turn the door knob slowly, pushing the door outwards. Immediately, Lando gathers you into a hug when you step out.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

You return his hug, perhaps squeezing him a little tighter than you usually do. “I missed you, too,” you say automatically. You’re still processing the two lines and the definitive pregnant you saw. If you had taken only one test, you could have convinced yourself it was a fluke. But two tests from two completely different companies would beg to differ.

“You okay?” he repeats, pulling back so he can look at you.

You don’t know how to lie to him so you say, “Just a little nauseous, that’s all.”

His attention sharpens. “Nauseous?”

“Mm hmm.” You try to duck underneath his arm but Lando holds you back.

“Hold on,” he cautions, running a critical eye over you. “For how long?”

You rack your brain for an evasive answer that will suffice but Lando is like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“How long?” he urges. There’s something wild lurking in his eyes. It cuts a serrated edge to his voice.

You won’t look at him. “I mean,” you hedge. “A while?”

That doesn’t cut it. “How long is a while?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t keeping count!” you snap, throwing your hands up in the air.

“A couple of days? A week? Weeks?”

“Lando.”

He tries to smooth out the impatience in his expression. “My love, please humor me. I’m worried.”

You take a breath and count to ten. Running your tongue over your teeth, you try to remember the first time you felt this bone deep nausea that made you want to take your stomach out of your body. “Five days,” you say. “Now, can we go eat dinner?”

You aren’t hungry in the slightest. But a chewing Lando means there won’t be a talking Lando and you will take your wins where you can get them.

He looks like he wants to continue this frankly riveting conversation but you pout. It works more times than it does not and right now is no exception. He kisses his teeth and mutters an agonized, “You’re unfair.”

You force yourself to eat dinner. Your nausea clogs your throat, making each bite a monumental task as you try and listen to Lando recount his day. The food is heavy in your stomach, a leaden weight that you are overly conscious about.

Lando slows down in his complaints about Carlos. He puts his fork to the side of his plate. You find it hard to hold his attention for long.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Smiling tightly, you nod. Saliva pools in your mouth and you pray you’ll last the five minutes needed for Lando to finish eating. “Just been a long day.”

He doesn’t believe you but he’s always indulged you so he swiftly moves onto discussing the rest of his day. You nod at all the right places and ask him follow up questions. Lando becomes so engrossed in picking at your brain that his suspicions are temporarily set aside.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish eating and for you to make your escape, citing a much needed shower as your reason. You rinse off quickly and run through your night routine before Lando can sneak in. You examine yourself in the mirror with every conceivable angle and find your stomach looks as it always does. Your pregnancy is in its early stages but somehow, you are fearful Lando will know by simply looking at your bare stomach.

He joins you while you finish brushing your teeth. There’s a disgruntled wrinkle to his brows and if you were in the right headspace, you might ask him what’s wrong.

He leans his hip against the door frame as he watches you apply your moisturizer. The wrinkle deepens.

“You feeling okay?”

The nausea has finally settled but your nerves have not. A staticky energy buzzes underneath your skin. “Yeah.”

It has only been two hours since you found out and you don’t think you can keep this to yourself for any longer. God, you guys haven’t even discussed kids yet. Lando deserves a proper announcement but you can’t do that when you don’t know if he even wants kids this early.

But waiting will do you no favors.

“Lando,” you say. Your throat strains and you feel the pinpricks of tears beginning to fill your lash line. “I need to tell you something.”

He tips your chin up. Worry darkens his eyes when he scans your sickly face. Whatever he’s searching for he does not find given by the flex of his cheek muscle. A specific type of misery replaces his worry and it makes your stomach tangle into a knot to know you’ve put such an expression on your husband’s face. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t look like he’s keen on the answer but he smooths his hand over your jaw encouragingly. His shoulders straighten as if he wishes to brace himself.

“I’m pregnant.” The confession is clumsy on your too thick tongue.

For a moment, Lando doesn’t react. It’s as if the words have no meaning to him.

“You’re pregnant?” he breathes. Both his hands are placed against your cheeks, cupping your face gently. “You’ve taken a test?”

You nod, unable to speak. And then you hold up two fingers, hoping he understands.

“Both of them were positive?”

You nod again.

A bright grin spreads across his mouth. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your stomach.

“You’re not…upset?” you ask in a small voice.

He’s quick to snap his attention back to you. “Why would I be upset? Are you upset?”

You bite your lip. You haven’t given it much thought despite how you’ve spent the last hour on the brink of a panic attack. You want kids, that much has always been clear to you.

But you certainly hadn’t anticipated getting pregnant only weeks into your marriage to someone who is essentially a stranger. You like Lando, and in your private moments you can admit to yourself you will come to love him for who he is, but you don’t know Lando.

“No,” you say, testing how it makes you feel. It gives weight to the indecision warring within you so you try to remedy it by following up with, “It’s overwhelming.”

He strokes your cheekbone gently. “We’ll be okay. We’re probably better off than most.”

You cut him an irritated look. Your baby will be provided for but they will also be in danger for the unforeseeable future simply because of who their parents are.

It is something you’ve always known for your kids but you thought you would have more time to prepare for it.

He frowns. “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you. Or our baby.”

“I know that. It’s just—“ You shrug helplessly. “It’s so soon, Lando. We barely know each other.”

He scoffs. “We know each other plenty. Our, uh, what did they call it?” He looks around as if the word will materialize in front of him.

“Courtship,” you offer, amused.

“Courtship! It was long. Longish,” he corrects sheepishly.

Considering how quickly both your families wish to secure this alliance, the period before your engagement was quite long. You’re reluctant to call it dating given that you and Lando knew exactly how it would end but it was a two month period you wouldn’t have been afforded if Lando hadn’t pushed for it.

He had been gracious with your hesitation, promising to go at your pace. For all of Lando’s lightheartedness, he had a maturity about him that surprised you. His patience endeared you to him and it didn’t take you long to stop pushing off the inevitable.

And now look at the two of you: married for six weeks with a baby on the way.

You think you are going to be sick and it has nothing to do with your pregnancy related nausea.

“How are you not freaking out?” You press your forehead against his shoulder.

Lando takes things on the chin. It’s something you admire and wish you could adopt into your own personality with equal finesse. Unfortunately, you are built to overthink and anticipate the worst case scenario.

“I don’t think it’s hit me yet,” he admits. “But when it does, I’ll still be just as happy. It’s me and you. We got this.”

Fear clings to you but it’s tempered by his confidence. “I’ll freak out for the both of us then.”

He laughs. The sound is pure sunshine amongst the doom and gloom you’ve held close to your chest the past few hours. “Don’t you always?”

You punch at his arm, if it can even be classified as that. He laughs again and lifts your head so he can kiss you. He’s smiling so much it’s hardly a kiss but it warms you all the same.

“Where are the pregnancy tests?” Lando asks when he pulls away.

“Behind the pads downstairs.”

His eyes widen. “That makes so much sense,” he says to himself. You look at him weirdly but he doesn’t notice. “Be right back.”

He’s out the door and down the stairs in a matter of seconds. You’d find it cute if he wasn’t literally going to go grab some sticks you peed on. But you also deprived him of finding out with you so you suppose it is cute.

You eye your box of birth control pills on the counter almost forlornly. You were supposed to start a new pack two days ago but with how severe your nausea has been, you didn’t bother taking them the last two days seeing as they would end up flushed down the toilet soon enough.

With a heavy sigh, you pick up the pack to throw it away. When your finger meets the frayed edge of the box, you pause.

You know you didn’t open this pack. You couldn’t have and yet, it pulls apart easily. Pushing the pack out of the box, your eyebrows creep to your hairline as you notice the first two days of pills are missing.

A hand disrupts your vision as Lando smoothly plucks the box out of your grasp and tosses it into the trash. You follow the box as it drops into the trash. The two punched out holes peek at you over the opened edge.

Unease knits itself across your heart. An unfamiliar tightness coils in your stomach, the sort that makes your blood curdle in your veins. Lando wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do this to you.

It would be much easier to convince yourself if a self-satisfied smile wasn’t currently curving Lando’s mouth.

“Guess we won’t be needing these anymore.”

this fic is finished. there won't be a part 2. thanks!

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Pleasure

Pairing: Stucky x F!reader

Warnings: MDNI (SMUT 18+), oral (R+B), sex toys, masturbation, fingering, anal sex, degradation kink, praise kink, threesome, I think that’s it but lmk if I missed something

Length: 1139

Summary: You come back from a long mission to find Bucky and Steve in your bed. What could go wrong?

A/N: Hi! I’ve never written smut like this so any tips would be greatly appreciated! I also must say this: MDNI! 18+ ONLY! I cannot control what you consume so you have been warned!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You and Bucky agreed that you are it for each other. You couldn’t imagine your life being spent with anyone else. But you both agreed that you wanted to open up your sex lives. So you both agreed that letting Steve join the two of you wouldn’t be an issue. And it wasn’t. Steve may have crushed on Bucky in the 40s but he was over it and everything was purely sexual for the three of you.

So it wasn’t odd for you or Bucky to use Steve when one of you was away on a mission or only two of you could go.

Sweat drips down the boys’ bodies. All they can imagine is your perfect body between the two of them.

“Just thinking about her tight cunt,” Bucky grunts as Steve holds the fleshlight between his thighs.

Holding it with their hands didn’t have the same effect. They want to imagine how perfect you would be between them. With you sitting on Steve, his cock pushed deep into your ass, and Bucky on top of you, his cock deep in your pussy. Steve would thrust up making Bucky’s dick bury itself further into your slick folds.

Steve moans lightly as he holds his cock with one hand, trying not to get off on the image of you. Your breasts would bounce between the two of them, your nipples hardening with pleasure. One hand would be around Steve’s neck and the other would be on Bucky’s chest to hold yourself steady. And your mouth would be wide open with beautiful moans coming out.

“Bucky I’m going to come,” Steve whines, bucking his hips up.

Bucky starts to thrust faster, chasing his release. Quiet moans slowly become loud and messy. Bucky kisses the captain’s neck, leaving bite marks anywhere he feels. Steve moans once again and starts to pump his hand faster. Steve and Bucky start to meet each other halfway, thrusting to find their sweet releases. Until they hear the bedroom door close. They stop their thrusting and turn to the door. 

“Don’t stop just because I walked in,” You say as you drop your duffle bag.

The two boys look at each other before starting again. Their thrusts start slow, trying to torture each other. Soon, the room was filled with a slapping sound as their hips began to meet the others and with their loud moans.

You quickly begin to undress, not wanting to miss anymore. You join them on the bed and lie on your back. You spread your legs and start to tease your clit. You can feel how wet you are already, but you don’t want to come too soon.

As you circle your clit, you start to give the boys directions. “Steve, stop touching yourself and stop using the fleshlight.”

Steve whimpers a little before listening to you. With one last pump, he lets his dick out of his hand and spreads his thighs slightly to remove the fleshlight from between him in Bucky.

“Good boy.” You insert one finger into yourself but you don’t start pumping your finger. “Now I want you and Bucky to switch spots but I want Bucky to be on his hands and knees and you to be behind him.”

The two listen to you. Once they’re in their positions, you start to pump your finger in and out slowly.

“Good boys,” You moan. “Now Steve, I want you to use Bucky like he used you.” Both of them moan at this.

Steve scrambles to grab some lube before quickly squirting some onto his fingers. He pushes one finger into Bucky and Bucky shakes with excitement. When Steve adds a second finger into Bucky, you add another for yourself. You and Bucky moan in unison.

The room fills with the sound of you and Bucky getting pleasured and all three of your moans. You continue to follow Steve but stop with three fingers, knowing that you want to use something else to give you your first orgasm.

As soon as Bucky is properly stretched and prepped, Steve slams his hips into Bucky’s ass. You let out a loud moan, seeing your boyfriend being taken by his best friend.

You quickly reach to your bedside table to pull out a vibrator. The hum of the vibrator makes the boys finally look at you. You smirk as you let it collect your juices before pushing it into you. You can see the jealousy behind their eyes.

Almost as if it is a challenge to see who can come faster, Steve thrusts harder and faster into Bucky. He pulls at the slightly overgrown hair at the back of Bucky’s head causing him to moan at the pleasure. You arch your back as the vibrator hits a spot your fingers could never. You grab one of your breasts and squeeze. 

Quickly your hips start to move, imitating Steves. The boys continue to stare at how beautiful you look as you continue to chase your orgasm. Finally, your toes curl and your back arches as you let go. Your mouth is wide open as you let yourself moan as loud as you could.

Steve takes this as a sign that he and Bucky can finally let go now that you were taken care of. As you catch your breath, you can hear Bucky start to degrade Steve.

“Stop fucking me like you’re a virgin. We know that you’re the biggest slut here.”

Steve once again speeds up and thrusts harder, almost making Bucky fall. Once you take the vibrator out, you move in front of Bucky.

“Eat me out Sarge,” Bucky smirks at you and bites the inside of your thigh, close to your throbbing pussy.

Bucky uses his nose to his advantage. He nudges your clit with it and you jerk your hips up. He smiles and takes a deep breath, smelling you.

“You smell so good Doll.” He presses his tongue flat on your folds, tasting your previous orgasm. “You taste so good too.” And with that, he slips his tongue past your folds.

You gasp at the pleasure. With Steve thrusting hard into Bucky it’s creating a different kind of friction. You arch your back and grab a fist full of the sheets. 

Bucky moans into your pussy. “I’m going to come.”

You lift your hips more, pressing your cunt into his face. You can feel your release building in your stomach, tingles making their way from your head to your toes.

Knowing that Steve is close too, Bucky starts his degrading once more. “Your thrusts are so pathetic Stevie, are you even trying?”

“Do you need me to show you how it’s done?” You mock.

“You might need to get your strap-on Doll, he can’t get me off the way you do,” Bucky smirks up at you.

Steve moans and thrusts two more times and Bucky is putty in his hands. Trying to make sure you get your second orgasm, he thrusts his tongue into your pussy and you come with him.

Steve continues to pump into Bucky until he finds his release, only three more thrusts. He buries his dick into Bucky, making sure every drop stays in. With you catching your breath and Bucky still coming, you decide it’s only fair to clean him up. So you take his cock in your mouth and swallow every last drip, licking whatever drops that landed on his thighs and onto the bedding.

[suiana]

(yandere! prince x female! reader) (for @violetvase) (again im sososo sorry for the late commission catch up😭😭😭) (tw: implied dubcon mentioned?)

"you know i'm mad at you, right?"

he mumbles, staring outside of the window. you gulp nervously, not daring to break the cold tension as you nervously sit at the foot of his bed.

alas, you had been captured by him, freedom forever gone as you had to face the consequences of leaving your dear ex crown prince turned king alone.

you yelp as he suddenly turns to face you, looking at you with cold eyes.

"but you've birthed our two lovely children and... i cannot imagine how they'd feel if they saw their mother miserable."

the king mutters, a hint of a smile gracing his lips as he approaches you slowly. he stops right in front of you, a gloved hand caressing your cheek fondly as he smiles softly. though his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"how shall i ever punish you for such a grave crime, hm?"

he mocks, hand gripping your chin tightly as he forces you to maintain eye contact with him. you could only muster put whimpers, shaking under his gaze as you remain silent. you didn't want to anger him even more than you already had.

"say something darling. i want to know how i should punish a queen who ran away from her kingdom and husband."

he hums, relishing in your behavior and silence. finally, you learnt your place, haven't you?

"mn... maybe I'll put another baby in you?"

he suddenly mutters, looking at you with glee in his eyes as you immediately sputter, shaking your head. no! you didn't want more kids! especially if you didn't really want them in the first place!

"just kidding. having too many kids will be bad for you."

he chuckles, patting your head as he lets go of your chin. it's as if he could sense your every emotion and feeling, manipulating you by keeping you guessing about how he's going to punish you.

"i think I'll just punish you by placing a pretty little collar on your neck. one embedded with jewels and the prettiest of laces."

he hums, hand drifting towards your exposed neck before his eyes darken. you avert your eyes from him, staring down at your lap as you chew on your bottom lip. damn... it was going to be super embarrassing... oh well, at least it was better than another baby.

"I'm being very lenient because I don't want my children to be mentally deprived of a mother. don't disobey me again, understood?"

he speaks up, tilting your head up to meet your gaze yet again.

"I don't want to hurt you, please understand. i just need to... remind you that your place is beside me."

you nod, obeying silently as your husband chuckles softly. you really don't want your punishment to be worse so you'll just suck it up and pamper him for now.

"that's a good girl. i love you."

he mumbles, kissing your forehead before sitting down and cuddling into you. you stare at his innocent behavior, eyes softening slightly as you hesitantly lean into his touch.

man, it's always moments like this that cause you to forget that he's crazily devoted to you. you wish. he were more sane, maybe then you'd be able to fully love him.

[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Imagine Zuko is working at the Jasmine Dragon and you are a regular :)

I love the small town coffee shop/ cafe feel, and when you throw in a romance trope- I will smother that MF in butter and eat it for my final meal. I love my grump x sunshine tropes, if you couldn’t tell. 

This one isn’t really following a proper timeline or story, cuz I’m not using Zuko and Irohs fake names and they really are just chillin in that tea shop for this story, BUT just a fluffy idea I really like. Anywho, fluffy and some steam ;) that gets steamy. (WINK WINK)

WC: ~2100 words

So let’s imagine…

Age of Admission: 18 and Wrinkled

Zuko is a server at the Jasmine Dragon tea shop owned by his Uncle Iroh. It became super popular very fast and you thought you would check it out. You walk in one morning and come to meet the owner, he introduces himself as Iroh. He is very kind and as you two talk, you find it is only himself and his nephew who work there. Iroh points out his nephew and when you turn to look where he motions, a figure disappears into the back. You thank Iroh for his kindness and say you cannot wait to come back. You would end up becoming a regular that would come in and read for a long time when the shop was quiet but leave when it got busy.

When you would come in, Zuko was always conveniently the one to help you. He would take your order, he would give you your tea and come by your table to check if you needed anything. He was nonchalantly cold to you but… not…? You would always smile and thank him and try to make small conversation, but Zuko never really engaged, he wasn’t rude and would agree with you then quickly move on. But over time, you noticed Zuko never stopped at any of the other tables to check on them, only yours. 

Over time it is very apparent that Zuko has the biggest soft spot for you but tries not to show it. He constantly stares at you, but glances away before he gets caught. Iroh obviously takes notice fairly quickly and tries talking with Zuko, but it is short lived. Iroh comments “You two would complement each other quite well. Not to mention the smile she brings out of you, now that's quite the achievement.” Zuko only rolls his eyes as he walks into the back. 

On another day you had been sitting for almost an hour finishing your second cup of tea, in the last few chapters of your book, Zuko was glancing at you from behind the counter as he dried a teapot. Iroh tried again, “You should talk to her.” Zuko visually tenses, “What?! No! What would I even say??” He said in a harsh whisper. “You are overthinking nephew, she always tries to spark a conversation, just let your conversation rivers flow and intertwine!” Zuko looked at him blandly, Iroh gave a soft smile, “A compliment can go a long way.” Iroh patted his shoulder and went to walk among the tables conversing with the customers.

One day you had stayed particularly later than you had thought as a rush didn’t happen and you were very into your book. Eventually Zuko walks over to you and places down a small dessert, it was some sort of pear tart. You smiled up at Zuko and thanked him for the kind gesture. “Yeah, we are closing soon and there happened to be some left that didn’t sell.” Zuko said. You shot up, not noticing the time, “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the time. Can I take it to go?” You say standing and gathering your things, you start apologizing for holding them up but Zuko was only half listening as he looked out the window at the dark street. He was worried about you being out so late and walking home alone. He cuts you off and insists it's fine and to wait till after they close and he would walk you home. Your heart flutters as it was something you knew you wanted but didn’t realize how badly. You smile and nod your head in thanks, but Iroh had overheard and insisted that Zuko could head out now as he could close himself. 

Zuko and yourself walked along the main street, the night was dark but the street lamps lit your way. You hold your book with both hands in front of you as you talk about what happened in the many chapters you read tonight. Zuko and you walk side by side, you smile as you explain the events, Zuko listens but is watching around for anything to be cautious of. You both make it back to your apartment and you thank Zuko for the kind gesture and offer him to come in. To your dismay he declines, you were sad as he turned away and waved goodnight, knowing it was out of good chivalry. After what felt like the longest walk home of his life, Zuko returns to the tea shop. Iroh welcomes Zuko back and asks how it went, Zuko snapped “Do you stick your nose into everyone’s business, or just mine?” Iroh looked at Zuko for a moment, “She asked you to stay, didn’t she?” Zuko scrunched his nose and didn’t reply, he walked back to his room.

You had come down with a cold and didn’t return to the tea shop for a couple days. But little to your knowledge, through those couple days Zuko found himself waiting for you to walk through the front doors. He found himself looking at the door every time someone walked through but disappointment cooling his veins when it wasn’t you. 

After almost a week goes by you show up again, Iroh welcomes you back warmly and insists your regular order will be out swiftly before walking into the back. You smile and take a seat, pulling out your book, not long after Zuko is at your table with your tea. Zuko makes a comment about your absence and you explain how you had gotten a cold and then tease him about missing you. Zuko starts to try and back track his comment, you can see a bit of embarrassment peek through as he tries to cover up his feelings that showed through his concern of you missing. You decide to take a leap and try to show him it's ok. “Well, I missed your company too.” you said warmly, as Zuko composed, someone walked in and up to the counter. Zuko added it was nice to have you back before heading to serve the customer.

A rush started that afternoon so you marked your place in your book, paid and left. You spent some time in the market and on your route home you passed the tea shop. You walked by slowly to see Zuko sweeping by the front door, he looked up and questioned why you were out so late. You smiled and explained about the market, told him about the shops and liveliness. While you were talking Iroh pops out from the back mid question for zuko, but pauses when he sees you. He exclaimed how nice it was to see you again with a warm smile walking to you and Zuko. You return the gesture and brief him about the market that you explained to Zuko. Iroh agreed it sounded fun and insisted You show Zuko, all closing was basically done and could finish up by himself. 

You and Zuko made your way to the market and walked around, there were many food stands, flower stands, jewelry stands, fabric stands, anything you name it was probably there. As you both walked and you talked, a cool breeze started setting in so you looped your arm through Zukos and walked closer to him, commenting on his warmth. Zuko only hummed and continued on with you, even though his heart was totally a butterfly exhibit at that moment. Once the market was fully explored, Zuko offered to walk you home again as it was very late and he should get you home.

Once again you both ended up on your apartment door step. You thanked him for a great night and him walking you back, you unlocked and opened your door, offering again for Zuko to come in. Zuko starts to insist he leaves but you cut him off with a kiss. Zuko was surprised for only a split second, but kissed you back, placing his hands on your waist. You pull away and look up at him through your eyelashes, “Please, stay for a bit”. He looked at you, “Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his hold on your waist, your shirt parted slightly from your pants and the warmth of his hand hummed against your skin. You held his gaze while you grabbed his hand, taking him inside. 

Once you were both in, you handed Zuko the keys, he closed the door and locked it. The second he turned around you moved in, you placed your hand on his jaw and chest. Zuko lavished in your kiss and put his hands on the small of your waist, bringing you in as close as possible. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, but craved more. You grab the bottom of his shirt and pull up, Zuko releases you and grabs his shirt, yanking it off quickly, returning to your lips. But this time his hands didn’t fall on your waist, they reached to the back of your thighs, hiking you up with ease as pleasant yelp of surprise from you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. The kiss was so hot you pulled away, your head falling to the side as Zuko moved to kiss your jaw and neck. “Zuko…~ah!” He hummed in response, “Zuko, bedroom… behind us…” Zuko promptly moves to the door you mention, pushing it open with his foot, stepping in and swiftly closing it with a firm but gentle kick.

Zuko set you down on the bed, you eagerly took off your shirt and you laid chest bare, not having worn underclothing today. Zuko’s hands were immediately on your torso, and chest. As Zuko kissed along your neck and collar bone, you scrape your nails down his shoulders and slide your hands along his arms, feeling the lean build of his muscle. Zuko asks if this is ok, what you both were doing, you wasted no time in confirming you were more than ok with it. You grab the waist line of his pants and pull him close, he grunts and pushes himself further against you, you gasp. Zuko goes to remove your pants, you raise your hips to quicken the process. You now laid bare before Zuko, everything for him to see. You could feel the vulnerability creep in and the natural urge to cover, but you knew you were comfortable and this is what you wanted. Your hands worked his trousers and slid them off. Zuko stood proud as he hovered over you, laying between your legs. Anticipation slid around your stomach, you kissed deeply, you could feel Zuko at your entrance, you gasped. He leaned back and looked down at where you met, grinning. Pushing forward slightly, his head pushing against your kitten. “~mmh… ah!” You moan out as he pushes further in, Zuko lets out a breath as he rests on elbows over top of you. He pushes in all the way and an audible gasp leaves your mouth as you could swear he hit an organ. He pulls out and slides back in, in the most devilish way of feeling like he is hitting deeper with every thrust. Your eyes roll back as his hips move in the perfect way, feeling his skin against yours, his muscles move against your body. Zuko puts his arms under your knees and spreads your legs wide and pushes them up, giving him better access as well as deeper penetration, which is baffling to you in that second until he continues. Now nothing is going through your mind except Zuko's breath and your moans in the air. You felt a knot in your stomach form, you tapped on his shoulder and told him you were close. He groaned and kept going as you fell apart under him, almost reaching his peak as you became so sensitive you couldn't contain the moans coming from you. But before you could think, he was about to climax. Zuko cursed and pulled out, cumming on your stomach. You both are absolutely racked from the events, Zuko takes a deep breath in, kisses you and says he will be right back. He comes back with a towel, cleaning you up and laying next to you. 

You lay on his chest and relax, both being out of breath, Zuko said something that shocked you. He exclaimed how he missed you the week you were home sick, and not at the tea shop. You smiled sweetly and cuddled closer to his warm body, explaining how everyday you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

[ponderingmoonlight]

hiihihi can i request prompt 55 for megumi?? maybe reader texted him late at night and wanted him to sneak into her dorm after curfew? (maybeee gojo caught them a lil while later 👀 only doing rounds cause he was nosy and wanted to snoop lmaoo)

I’m an absolute sucker for Megumi, thank you for this request! It’s a little goofy, kinda got inspired by my dress up darling xD Hope you like it though, please let me know :) 55. "I'm tired. Don't make me angry."

Caught

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: Megumi knows it isn't allowed to visit you after curfew late at night, but the temptation is just too great. However, it is percisely this night that Gojo noticed the both of you and finds you in a rather unfavorable situation.

Warnings: language, mentions of smut, it's getting a little heated

Yo loser, you still awake? 🖤

Stop calling me that, yes I am (y/n).

Wanna come over? I’m bored as hell :(

Not my problem, remember curfew? I don’t want to get into trouble because of you.

You sign at your screen and roll your eyes in annoyance. God, Megumi is such a pain in the ass when it comes to following these stupid rules. You are mature enough to decide on your own when and who you want to visit. And how would they know? All the teachers are sound asleep anyway. Not even Gojo has the nerve to stay alert all night just to make sure that Megumi won’t visit you, right?

You just have to be silent. Shouldn’t be hard for you.

I’m tired. Don’t make me angry (y/n).

Pleeeaaaassseee Megumi, I’m begging on my knees :(

Megumi throws his phone to the side in irritation. Why do you always have to bother him this late at night? Of course his heart beats out of his chest just thinking about seeing you alone, but why does meeting you always bond with getting into trouble?

Still…maybe he is even able to hold you in his arms until the sun begins to rise. He’d ditch sleep a hundred times if it meant that you are by his side. As noiselessly as possible he sits up in bed and glances at Yuji who is breathing peacefully and is keeping his eyes closed. Megumi stands up, puts on his slippers and walks to the door. The girl’s corridor is down the hall, quite a stretch that cannot be explained if someone catches him there.  Why does he keep doing things like this for you?

It doesn’t matter. As if in trance his feet carry him to your door. His knuckles brush gently against the hard wood, eyes swaying around in alert.

Your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of him in the dim moonlight. He really came! With a wide grin on your face you grab his hand and pull him into your room.

“Megumi!”, you cry out in excitement.

“Shh, you want everyone to know that I’m here? Maki is next door”, he hisses.

A glimpse of you is enough to make Megumi blush in an instant. You are covered by nothing but an oversized Shirt, your butt just barely covered by it. Are you only wearing underwear underneath this? He always knew and appreciated that you are comfortable around him, but the sight of your naked thighs does thinks to him and lets his mind wander. Why do you have to be so ridiculously attractive anyway?

“Come on, Maki sleeps like a rock and who cares about you being here anyway? Except for me, of course. You can’t even imagine how happy it makes me that you really came”, you shyly admit.

He looks as breathtaking as usual, maybe even better with his loose black sweater that shows off his tight muscles underneath so perfectly. Nothing ever happened between Megumi and you. You’re just friends that meet up late at night and lay in your bed until the sun rises, talking about everything and everyone. Megumi never touched you, never cuddled you, never intertwined his hand with yours. But oh how much you wished he did. Since you joined Jujutsu High alongside him, your feelings for the black-haired boy grew day by day. Now you can’t imagine life without him, your heart starts to dance whenever you see him.

“You know, I just really like your company”, he responses, scratching his head awkwardly and avoiding your gaze.

Your heart skips a beat, face lighting up by the sound of his sweet words. It is rare that he says such things to you, Megumi isn’t the vocal one anyway. Actually you are, but not when it comes to him. He is the only person that lets your outspoken and confident self get soft and all flustered, not even brave enough to give him a hug.

“Wanna lay in bed? You said you were tired.”

Not anymore. Your sight alone is better than the best sleep and wakes him up every time.     

“Sure.”

His gaze brushes over your moonlit features as you climb into bed, sliding against the wall and invitingly padding the sheets next to you. It makes him nervous to lay this close to you, knowing that you wear nothing but a shirt and that you are absolutely breathtaking beautiful. His heart almost beats out of his chest when the mattress gives in under his weight and your bare arm brushes against his skin while he lays down. Everything smells so good. He can immediately scent your sweet shampoo on the cushion under his head as well as the delicious fragrance of your body spray that hangs in the air and tingles in his nose. But the sight of your glistering eyes is what sends him over the edge.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

The words escape his mouth faster than he can react, hands covering his mouth in shock. Did he really just say that? Fuck, you must think he is really awkward, that all he thinks about are your good looks.

“I-I mean…You’re pretty smart as well…”, he stutters, face flushing immediately.

A cute little giggle escapes your mouth, cheeks heating up at his sudden outburst. Here and there a few compliments slipped out of Megumi’s mouth and left him all flustered. You adored the blush creeping up his face and the way he always scratched his head awkwardly in silence.

“(y/n), you need to be a little quieter. I don’t want Gojo-sensei to find us here”, he whispers, gaze creeping to the door.

“Don’t worry, he never did!”

Little did you know that Satoru just woke up from his light sleep and your giggling that echoed through the otherwise quiet halls of the dorms. He straightens himself and puts on a pair of sweatpants, a yawn escaping his lips. Why the hell is someone awake this late at night? Putting on his slippers, he leaves his room and roams around.

Another giggle. His eyes narrow. This sounds like you. Why are you giggling? Maybe someone is with you. Gojo doesn’t waste any more time and traces into the girl’s corridor. The ruffling, giggles and muffled voices grow louder as he moves towards your door. That other voice, it sounds so familiar…His eyes widen in surprise. Is that Megumi? What are you doing in there, after curfew alone in your room late at night? Fuck, he didn’t prepare Megumi for any for this. Does he know how this works? Is he using protection? Gojo’s pace picks up in an instant, panic mode completely activated.

“(y/n) and Megumi-chan, I know you’re in there. Get dressed within the next ten seconds”, he announces.

Your eyes widen in pure horror. Fuck, Gojo is here. Why the hell is Gojo here? He never caught you over the span of many months. Why today? Why when Megumi’s arms are this close to you, ready to hug you tightly?

“I told you!”, Megumi hisses through gritted teeth, panic written on his face.

“I’ll lock the door”, you proclaim with determination and lift yourself up.

This will give Megumi enough time to hide somewhere. You frantically swing your leg over his body, almost losing balance on the soft mattress underneath and your body tangled within the blanket in your rush.

“Fuck”, you mutter and search for hold, hands landing on his chest.

Instinctively, his hands grab your hips tightly just in time before you fall onto the ground.

Time stands still, your eyes stare right into Megumi’s ones. You’re sitting on top of him, thighs pressed against his with his big hands resting against your hips, squeezing them. You can feel something twitching underneath you, Megumi’s heartbeat bangs against your hands. Oh god. Is this really happening? All you can do is hold your breath and stare at him, every cell of your body refusing to move.

You sit on top of Megumi Fushiguro.

His hands grab your hips.

You know exactly what is moving beneath you.

“We didn’t even talk about this Megumi-chan, get back into yo- OH MY GODNESS.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gojo entered the room, gaping at the both of you with his mouth wide open and completely frozen in his tracks.

“I-It’s not what it l-looks like…I-I promise!”, you stutter, full panic mode activated.

You stumble off him, body swaying back and forth. Did you really just sit on Megumi? With Gojo catching you mid-action?

Megumi hectically covers his lower body with a blanket, face dripping in sweat, embarrassment and heat. You just sat on him. He got hard and you probably noticed. Gojo saw all of this. He doesn’t know what to think or say anymore, mind completely occupied by what just happened. Did you really sit on him?

“Listen kids, I don’t care about curfew or anything, but please make sure to use protection and be…y’know…quiet.”

Even Gojo stumbles over his words at this point, avoiding gazing at your poorly dressed figure.

“We didn’t do anything. It just looked strange”, Megumi finally speaks out.

You want to be swallowed by the ground and hide in a tiny hole for the rest of your life. Your sensei thinks that you two got intimate. But not only that, it looked like he caught you mid-action. But more important than that…You sat on Megumi and he was very excited about that. Does that mean that he…likes you?

“Sure. Listen, let’s talk about this tomorrow or even better, never again. Just make sure to be quiet…Ehm, have a nice night I guess.”

And with that, Gojo closes the door behind him, leaving the both of you with his fast steps echoing down the hall.

Silence fills the room, you don’t dare to look at Megumi.

“Maybe…You wanna cuddle for a bit? Doesn’t make any difference anymore I guess.”

Your heart skips a beat. Did this words really just left his mouth, the mouth of Megumi Fushiguro, the boy who never even tried to put an arm around you? This night truly just keeps getting crazier.

“Aren’t you worried about what Gojo-sensei thinks?”, you question, face still hot in embarrassment.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. We don’t have to if yo-“

“No”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I would love to lay in your arms.”

And that’s what you did. His warm arms welcomed and held you tight through the rest of this eventful night, heart still racing uncontrollably.

“I think I like you more than a friend”, you admit into silence, face buried against his chest.

“Me too.”

“Yeah, I noticed that”, you remark before you can stop yourself.

Megumi pushes you off his chest, face red as a tomato almost instantly.

“Can we please just stop talking about that, (y/n)?”

[colourstreakgryffin]

Big bad Overlord Husk does things to me... Can you please do something for him with a reader who combs his hair and makes sure he is presentable by doing things like adjusting his bowtie? (Romantic, please!) Thanks!

Hehe~! Oooh~! I like this idea a lot and it kinda reminds me of that Overlord Husk + Casino-Bae Angel Dust AU thingie! Why not make us the Casino Bae or I’m gonna call the ‘Casinofly’? I also need to start asking for gender, because I always default to female for most of the guys *sigh*

Overlord! Husk- Dolling Up

How did you manage to land being able to spend so much time with the Gambling Overlord? Not even you know, you’ve just become his personal little casinofly. The pretty face that gets to pamper and doll him up every single day, who may or may not be his current girlfriend

Husk enjoys the feeling of your cute little hands running over his blackish-gray feathery hair, gently combing the smooth semi-hard bristles of a brush over his head. The attention you put into grooming him

Husk knows this routine instinctively. He’ll sit down on his bed and order you to enter his room, waiting for you to brush his hair, style him up, spray him with some cologne, clean him to utter perfection so he’ll glow for his casino. You’re the only one he wants to be his pamperer

Husk can’t help but purr and purr loudly with every kiss and brush you give him. Kissing his ear tips or kissing the smoothly brushed back of his hair. He loves it and he couldn’t imagine anybody else doing this for him. He ends up walking out of the room with you on his arm whilst purring under his breath

“So… is today a Overlord meeting, hey?” You ask smoothly and elegantly in a soft-tone, lips perking out slightly with the nice black lipstick that your not-so-secret boyfriend, Husk, the gambling Overlord of the Pride Ring put on for you. A powerful, influential figure amongst this huge city so you’re pretty surprised he would spare you time and especially allow you to be his little pamperer. The lady that gets to dress him up and make him look presentable for the day

Husk nods slowly and carefully as you brush and style back his hair with a precise scoopful of gentle slick rather expensive hairgel, making sure it stays still, attractive and appealing. Making his quite tall tuft-tipped ears pop out a bit more as you clean off your fresh hair briefly with the nearby makeup wipes laid on the bed besides your makeup bag, before beginning to tie up his business meeting bowtie. It’s a different one than the usual bowtie

“Well yes, love. It’ll be for a hour or two. Now, may I ask you something?” Husk purrs out in his strong, deep and almost hypnotic voice, his hands laid in his lap as his high collared shirt snuggles his hips and his arms well, big feathery red and detailed wings drooped over on the bed comfortably. Sat down on his own grand silky bed in his mighty suite, fitting his appeal and his style very well. You’re the only one allowed into his room, just the pretty casinofly he has his eyes on

“Yes, Sir?” You ask warmly and almost delicately responding to your own boss, the Overlord that has both your soul and your heart in his grasp effortlessly, as your own gentle sparkly eyes focus on readjusting the bowtie around his neck slightly to make sure it’s neat and presentable for this important event. You want Husk to shine out the rest of his fellow Overlords, which is why you’re being precise but you’re always so precise, you always want him to look incredible

Fixing up the collar cuffs of the white dresshirt, you make sure his hands are free and smooth, the fur brushed and clean. All of his fur is brushed and clean, just as you desire. As soon as you’re done, waiting for Husk to speak once again after the few seconds of silence that radiates throughout the magnificent fancy room, the Gambling Overlord finally speaks again. His voice has that certain charm that can always put you in a trance

So effortlessly, you cannot believe just how effortless and impressive this demon is

“I wish for you to accompany me to this meeting. Do not worry about being unable to enter with me, I’ll let you in” Husk saying this so confidently and fearless, he is very certain about what he wants and he doesn’t suspect that you will not say no, but, he is surprised by the way you respond; widened glowing eyes, hands halting at putting on his suit jacket over his shoulders, your lips parting. You look so kissable and he can’t wait to kiss your pretty little face as soon as he can. For now, he’ll stay put and listen out for your own response

Controlling your nerves and your beating heart. The idea of being around so many powerful sinners is intimidating and the idea of Husk wanting to bring you up to the Overlord meeting. It makes your cheeks burn up, you never thought he’d ever want to show people that he’s dating you, outside of the casino and outside of his domain. He must really like you! It almost feels unbelievable…

You quickly shake your head and begin to continue putting on his suit jacket, his three-piece suit for the business. Almost completely ready, Husk is waiting patiently and sitting silent like a curiously watching cat. As soon as your done, attaching a golden suit tassel chain, the Overlord towers over you as you step back and he smoothly picks up your hands, beginning to slide your bicep-length silky sparkly gloves. Finishing up the touches of that pretty classy yet semi-sexy ‘casino bae’-style of yours

Your eyes sparkled a bit more at Husk dressing you back, slowly and strongly turning you around. He offers his arm out and waits for your next action, sharp golden yellow eyes gleaming in your direction, almost sizing you up. He is waiting for you to accept his invitation, he wants you to join him for this meeting and he’d be disappointed if you said no

Your heart dropped a bit at hearing the usual yet soothing vibration, humming through the air, of cat purring. Of Husk purring

“Shall we head out now, sweetheart?”

[hyunjin-mylove]

First morning of forever

You open your eyes to a brightly lit room. The morning sun coming in through the balcony doors that have been left open.

As your eyes adjust to the morning, you take in the room. The hotel sheets are warm and soft around you. Clothes litter the floor - your cheeks flush at the memories of last night. A water bottle has been left on your bedside table and you sit up to take a sip. The breeze from the open doors spreads goosebumps down your bare arms. It's then that you notice the empty spot next to you in the bed, quickly losing warmth.

You look over to the balcony, spotting your husband of not even 24 full hours. Instantly, you're warmed by the image of his figure standing out on the balcony, taking in the world below. His tan skin glows in the morning sunlight, almost like he's some angel and not a mere mortal. Hyunjin always had that aura about him and you were left completely speechless every time you recognized it. The silky robe he threw on when he got out of bed sways gently as another breeze rolls in. This time, you barely notice, too enraptured by the man you get to call your husband.

The ring on his finger sparkles in the sun, catching your eye. A smile finds its way to your lips as you recall how excited you were to put it on him the day before that your hands couldn't stop shaking until he guided your hands to his. Tears begin to well up as you recite his vows in your head, poetic by nature, and you need to lean back into the pillows to brunt the force of love and emotions hitting you all at once.

As if sensing you've awoken, Hyunjin turns to meet your eyes with his own. A gentle smile graces his face as he carefully takes in his bride. You're sure your hair is a mess and your pajamas were never the cutest, but there was not a hint of judgement in his eyes. The sun hit his eyes in such a way that plain old brown could no longer describe them, but no matter what colour they were, pure love was all you could see in them. It was all you'd ever seen when he looked at you.

Gracefully, almost as if he's floating, his long legs take him to the bed where you lay. He sits next to you and cups your face in his large hands. A kiss is pressed to your forehead and his thumbs swipe away the tears that fell when you closed your eyes in contentment at being held by him.

"Good morning, my love," he mumbles against your hairline. Hyunjin pulls away to look you in your eyes once again. "Happy tears or sad?"

"Happy," comes your wet reply. The grin on your face pulls at your cheeks in a way that you know he's restraining himself from pinching. "So very happy. Just overwhelmed by how much I love you."

You watch as tears begin to well up in his own eyes at your admission before he finds refuge in your hair. Even now that you're finally married, those three words coming from your mouth will always overwhelm him. His arms squeeze you close. The warmth radiating from him is grounding on this gentle, early morning.

Hyunjin's response comes as soft words whispered into your hair.

"You have no idea just the depths of my love for you. I meant what I said yesterday when I said I'm with you until the end. You've taken my heart and soul; I cannot live without you."

You gently push him away so you can see his face. He easily goes but before he can continue his speech, you pull him to your lips. The kiss is wet, both of your tears mixing on each other's cheeks, but it is no less gentle than he promised the day he learned your first kiss would be his to cherish. His hands find their home on your cheek and around your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your grip pulls him even closer to you, where he's practically laying on top of you, but it's exactly where you both want him to be. The plans he made for your first day as a married couple can wait, if it means you can stay in each other's embrace a little longer.

Hi!! Thank you so much for reading! The moment those pictures were released, all I could imagine was what it would be like to wake up to him the first morning of your honeymoon and this is what came about :)

[i-made-a-bg3-blog]

Look, it’s not like Astarion intended on becoming a Harper, it’s just - well, burglary and pickpocketing are a little more difficult when you can’t enter homes without an invitation or go outside during the day, and he’s grown rather accustomed to a certain elevated lifestyle. There are other places he could turn to for money: the city owes him an estate and a title at the bare minimum. But, there’s something to be said for self-sufficiency, and, though he hates to admit it, he wouldn’t make it through three weeks as a noble without being bored out of his mind.

The Harpers need warm bodies (or cold ones, as it were) to rebuild their ranks after Orin’s doppelgangers, and Jaheira’s a savvy old crone who never learned to take no for an answer. She pinpoints Astarion’s two weak spots: a heavy coinpurse and kidnapped children, street kids, the kind no one would miss.

They’re decidedly amateurish criminals, and it doesn’t take him long to track them down and dispatch them, messily and painfully. Four children sit huddled in a cage, and Astarion knows he must look every bit the monster as he picks the lock with hands covered in gore, but they don’t shy away in fear when he opens the door. One of them slips his chubby little hand into Astarion’s and refuses to let go until they reach the safehouse. It’s…odd.

“Good work, Harper,” Jaheira tells him after, and Astarion makes it explicitly clear that he’s simply an independent contractor, an expensive one. 

Jaheira just smirks like the witch she is.

So he contracts. He infiltrates the Guild (and feels insulted when Nine Fingers doesn’t recognize him; he’d like to think he’s rather unforgettable), foils an assassination plot or three, even teams up with Minsc and a turncoat Thayan to stop a gaggle of Red Wizards from doing…whatever it is they do. It’s a good business, he supposes. A hero’s reputation is a small price to pay for a hero’s coffers.

Jaheira’s wise enough to know when to hang up her blades, and it makes her more of an insufferable busybody than ever, which - somehow - becomes Astarion’s problem. First, it’s his own cell, then suddenly he’s the field contact for four others. He’s dragged to the most dreadfully tedious logistical meetings imaginable. The only reason he agrees to any of it is that Jaheira can turn an offhand comment and a raised eyebrow into the kind of challenge that itches beneath Astarion’s skin. It should be all too familiar and just as unwelcome, that burning need to prove himself, but it’s not. It’s different, perhaps, when he isn’t being set up to fail.

Jaheira passes away peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of one hundred and ninety-two, and Astarion’s convinced he can hear her grumbling about that all the way from the Fugue Plane. She would have rather gone out fighting, but, privately, Astarion feels like she deserved something gentler than bleeding out on a battlefield. He never did tell her how much he admired her (though he doubts she would have appreciated such open sentiment: ‘I did not realize I looked so terrible that you’ve already started my eulogy.’), but she must have known. He thinks he’s really going to miss her.

Right up until the moment Rion is handing him a pin and leading him to a library full of dossiers and documents. Then, he’s ready to cross the Astral Sea just so that he can bring her back and kill her again. Independent. Contractor. What part of that did she not understand? 

He goes home and locks the door with the full intention of ignoring every Harper that comes knocking. But Harpers are nosy little shits, and after he nearly disembowels one who surprises him by breaking into his house just to tell him the most idiotic plan to dismantle a smuggling ring he’s ever had the misfortune of hearing, he realizes hiding isn’t going to be an option. Besides, Astarion cannot be privy to such levels of incompetence and sit idly by. 

So he helps. Provisionally. Just long enough to find a decent replacement, and then he can wash his hands of the whole thing.

Unfortunately, it’s not as easy a task as he had hoped. Every potential candidate lacks something: consistency, creativity, confidence, the common sense to understand Astarion’s eminently logical filing system. It takes him three decades to accept that not only is he excellent at the job, but that he enjoys it immensely. 

When they make him take a title, he chooses Spymaster. It suits him - dashing, mysterious, questionably moral, because he’s never been a hero, and it would be foolish to pretend that he is.

They all call him High Harper anyways.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it. 

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions. 

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery. 

“So I was thinking,” he says. 

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals. 

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached. 

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so. 

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises. 

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin. 

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both. 

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats. 

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake. 

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks. 

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed. 

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy. 

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs. 

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. 

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks. 

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines. 

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe. 

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head. 

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination. 

Your eyes snap up. 

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake. 

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later. 

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

[senanatheskenana]

Being Their Soul Mate <3

Tanjirou, Zenitsu, Inosuke x reader (separate)

Tanjirou Kamado

From the moment you got close enough for Tanjirou to smell, he knew you were his soul mate. And before you know it, he's sprinting towards you, following the perfect smell. He stops in front of you, blushing like a fool from head to toe.

You can feel the pull towards him, even without an introduction. Your eyes can hardly leave each other, basking in the overwhelming silence. You smile at him, your own cheeks tinted pink, holding out your hand to him. He jumps out of his daze and grips your hand enthusiastically, bringing it to his lips to place a heartfelt kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm sorry to be so forward, i really should have introduced myself before. Please forgive me!" he bows deeply- so deeply you think his head may hit the floor. You fight back a sheepish laugh, shaking your head.

"My name is Tanjirou Kamado, it's beyond a pleasure to meet you," he still holds your hand carefully, loose enough for you to pull it away should you desire to. You don't.

"I'm (f/n) (l/n). I never imagined my soul mate to be as sweet as you, Tanjirou," you can see how his face turns even redder at your words, stuttering out broken sentences.

You gently squeeze his hand, "Did you want to join me on my walk? we have a lot to talk about, I feel"

He nods eagerly, letting you pull him through the streets, all while staring bashfully at the way your hair sways as you move. He thinks he might already be in love.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

'Marry me!'

Those were the words inked into your wrist. A brash, scribbling handwriting. Admittedly you were worried about the circumstances of you meeting your soul mate, given the intense first words.

Evidently, the situation was not nearly as sad as you worried it could be. You weren't being married off, no.

Your soul mate was just super weird.

You shake your leg, hoping to remove the boy from his hold. He's sobbing on the floor, mumbling incoherent pleas at you, still shaken up from the demon he would have been attacked by, had you not struck.

"W-what the hell? You can't just spring that on someone!" you squeal. Finally, he lets go, a look of shock on his face. A moment later a shockingly warm sensation takes over the two of you. You grip your wrist, and he scratches at his shoulder, letting out yelps of 'ouchies'

You look down at your wrist to see the letters glowing gold, pulsing against your bones. Zenitsu gazes up at you momentarily before bawling and returning to clinging onto your legs. You take the time to help him up while his two friends watch in confusion and embarrassment at his actions.

He holds both of your hands and brings them to his cheeks, and you can feel how hot his face is. "Y-you're my soul mate. That means you have to marry me"

You sigh but smile. At least he was enthusiastic, you guessed.

"Maybe let's just start with a date and we can go from there" His tears disappear at your words, replaced by a gigantic smile, not even you can resist.

Inosuke Hashibira

For as long as Inosuke can remember, he's had the name (f/n) (l/n) engraved into his collarbone. Too bad he couldn't read it without Tanjirou's help.

"(f/n) (l/n)..." Tanjirou taps his chin in thought for a moment before gasping, "I got it- that's the ice pillar's name! "

Zenitsu fawns at the idea, "Wow, imagine having a soul mate strong enough to be a Hashira"

He hears the word strong and immediately puffs out his chest, "If they're strong, I'm gonna beat 'em!" Tanjirou now realises that Inosuke doesn't know the concept of Soul Mates.

By the time he tries to explain it, the boy is sprinting through the courtyard, dodging pillars and kakushi.

"Inosuke-" Tanjirou cannot finish his mortified plea.

"ICE HASHIRA COME HERE AND FIGHT ME!" everyone turns towards him in shock and confusion.

"Don't be so loud! if you really wanna see them, they're sitting on that bench" Sanemi scowls at the group of boys, making Tanjirou blanch, uttering apologies.

You're peacefully lying across the bench, nose planted firmly in your book when a shadow falls over you. Slowly you gaze up at the man towering over you before moving to sit up straight.

You recognise the boy in the checkered haori, smiling "Hello Tanjirou. It's nice to see you again. Are these your friends"

Before a smiling Tanjirou can respond, Inosuke brings his sword down beside your hand.

"FIGHT ME!" his face flushes with blood as he seethes under his mask.

You give him a serene smile, "I'm sorry but I believe it would be dangerous for you if I were to fight back."

He pays no mind and swings his sword above him. He looks down only to find you gone in the blink of an eye. In less than three seconds, his katanas are wrenched out of his hands as he is pinned to the ground.

Tanjirou gasps at the embarrassingly short battle- if you could call it such. "Inosuke! Are you both alright?"

'Inosuke?'

You glance down at the man under your foot, "Is your name Inosuke Hashibira?" you ask as calmly as ever, gently releasing him from the hold.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" he scowls under his mask. He doesn't know why he's so nervous around you but it's pissing him off.

"My name is (y/n), the ice Hashira," your smile has an unanticipated calming effect on inosuke, "it would seem we are soul mates"

he blushes at your giggle, still not understanding what a soul mate is. He looks at Tanjirou for help, who sighs.

It was going to be an agonising conversation. He drags the boar boy away, inosuke still staring at you as you wave them goodbye. He wouldn't admit that he missed you already.

[satyricplotter]

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened.  for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.               

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films?  he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of  a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else.  in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict follows you and Lord Montclair with a frown on his face. He seems to love to torture himself when he agreed to accompany Daphne as she chaperones your promenade with the marquess.

His eyes glance down to your arm hooked around the other man's and his brows furrow. Daphne looks up at her brother with a smirk, "Something the matter, brother?"

Benedict suddenly looks away clearing his throat, "No, no. Just, um, thinking about a piece I need to work on."

Daphne hums unconvinced, looking back at you and Lord Montclair, "They do make a handsome couple, do they not?"

"I suppose," Benedict replies as he casts his eyes down, paying more attention to the path rather than you and the marquess.

"Are you upset with me?" Daphne asks, pulling her arm away from her brother's and stopping to look at him.

Benedict looks at her with confusion, "Should I be?"

She purses her lips, "Well, I was the one who introduced the marquess to Y/N and considering your feelings-"

"Please, Daphne, I already endure this from Anthony and Kate. I do not wish to hear more of it from you," he takes a quick glance your way as the distance grows wider between you and he, "I may love her, but I cannot give her what she desires. He can," he nods to Lord Montclair.

Daphne sighs, hooking her arm around her brother's once more, "Regardless, I cannot imagine this being easy for you."

The second eldest Bridgerton sighs, "'Tis not. Hopefully, with time, it will be."

_____________________________

You hide your laughter behind your fan as you walk the path with Lord Montclair. He relays a memory he had of when he was a boy. How he tried to capture a frog and in his attempts, it jumped on his face, causing him to fall into a lake.

"That reminds me of when I was a child. I was probably two and ten years old. Be-I mean Mister Bridgerton and myself decided to sneak away onto a row boat. We had seen a fish into the lake and leaned over the edge too much. We both fell in. Our mamas were so upset with us, but we had a good laugh," you state with a giggle.

Lord Montclair chuckles, "So you have known the Bridgertons for a while?"

You nod, "Almost my entire life. They are like my second family."

"And you are the closest with the second eldest, Benedict?" the marquess asks with intrigue as he guides you to a bench for some rest.

You nod, following him to sit, "Yes. He is my dearest of friends."

Lord Montclair clears his throat, leaning closer to you, "I do not want to seem too forward, Miss L/N, but I think I have made my interest quite clear. Is it safe for me to assume that there are no romantic feelings between you and Mr. Bridgerton considering," he gestures between you and him.

You cast your eyes towards Benedict, who is now entertaining two women in conversation while Daphne speaks with their mama. You feel a twinge of jealousy as the women laugh with Benedict. No. You shouldn't feel this way. He is not yours. He never will be.

You turn back to Lord Montclair and give him a small smile, "I can assure you, my Lord, there is nothing between Mister Bridgerton and myself except for friendship."

Happy with your response, Lord Montclair changes the subject and shares another story of his youth. You nod, smile, and laugh at the appropriate times, occasionally glancing back at Benedict. Every once in a while, your eyes will meet and then look away. Your heart strings tug a little more with each wavering gaze.

It seems you like to torture yourself since you cannot help but keep your eyes away from Benedict entertaining women that wasn't you.

_______________

After your promenade and lunch with Lord Montclair and the Bridgertons, you arrive home to see your father waiting for you.

His eyes were glossy and his body slightly swaying, signifying that he was already drunk once more.

"I heard a marquess is courting you," he practically mumbles out.

"Yes, papa. I am certain he will propose before the end of the month," you respond plainly, no emotion and no love for the man who you are now unfortunate to call your father.

He hums, "And does he know of your...hobbies?"

"He only knows I enjoy reading poetry, not writing it."

"Good. A man does not want a woman who is too well-read."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to suffer from a potential strike to your face like previously, "Of course, papa." You dryly reply and head to your room.

You proceed to isolate yourself for the rest of the day. Although Lord Montclair is exactly the man many women would kill to have court them, you still cannot find yourself to fall for him completely. You don't think you ever could. You've lived a majority of your life loving Benedict Bridgerton, you aren't sure how else to live. Even if Benedict could never love you back, you will still continue to hold him dear in the depths of your heart for you and only you to know.

You didn't lie to your father that you are sure Lord Montclair will propose soon. He had spoke of marriage, children, just your potential future in general. Both of your desires and goals line up perfectly with one another and you are certain he sees it to.

Now only to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable.

________________

Benedict's heart drops to his stomach when he hears the news from Daphne: Lord Montclair plans to propose to you soon.

Obviously, he knew it was bound to happen. Of course he would propose to you. You, perfect, beautiful, intelligent, cunning, funny, wonderful you.

It was inevitable and it was becoming even more real that Benedict would lose you forever.

It was then that Benedict decided to drown himself in his art. Go to parties, brothels, bars, whatever he can as much as possible to forget the pain in his heart.

If only he wasn't so stubborn and truly listen to his heart and his family. He could be with you and give you everything you want and deserve.

But alas, he was just too blind and hard headed to see it.

Lady Whistledown, however, made it well known to the Ton of how she as well as a majority of Mayfair, expected him and you to marry.

__________________

Two weeks. It took two weeks of courting until Lord Montclair asked your father's permission to marry you. It was an easy "yes" from him, obviously. With the status of being the marquess and willing to pay well over your dowery, well, how can your father refuse?

Even though you were expecting it, you still felt hesitant. Your aunt joined you in the sitting room, watching as Lord Montclair, James, as you learned his name was, knelt down and presented his mother's beautiful ring.

"Mon cher, you have made me so incredibly happy these past few weeks. I think we can have an amazing future together. Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

You know you should say yes. But your mind immediately goes to Benedict. Your best friend, your first love, the man you saw yourself marrying and growing old with. But he didn't feel the same. If he did, he would've courted and proposed to you by now.

It was officially time to let go of your silly fantasies and face reality.

"Yes, of course," you reply breathlessly and James slips the ring onto your finger.

Aunt Eliza lets out a breath of relief, "I am so incredibly happy for you two! I plan to hold a ball in your honor at the end of the week, so be prepared for the fan fair that will be headed your way."

James takes your hand and kisses it, "I shall go. I must begin contacting my family so they can be here for the wedding."

"Of course, my Lord."

James smiles at you sweetly, "You may call me James now, mon cher."

You return a sweet smile back, "Of course, James. Then you may call me Y/N."

"I will see you later, future Marchioness Montclair," he gives you a wink and heads out.

You look down at the ring, the diamond sparkling in the sun. Your aunt rushes to your side and kisses your temple, "You did it, dear. You did it. You will be free soon enough."

You gulp and nod at your aunt, "Yes. I will be free."

____________________

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It seems that wedding bells are to be heard soon with now the engagement of Miss Y/N L/N and the Most Honorable Marquess, Lord James Montclair. The marquess had turned many heads since his arrival with Duchess Bridgerton. Many ladies of the Ton had hoped for a courtship from him. However, it was quite the surprise that our very own Miss L/N, one who has previously rejected the idea of marriage, set her sights on the marquess and lured him with her charm.

As I am sure many of you are disappointed by the engagement, I am certain no one is as disappointed as the second eldest Bridgerton son, Benedict Bridgerton. For we all knew those two were always at each other's side. This author thinks that perhaps the second eldest never proposed to Miss L/N because he knew he could never provide for her as a second son.

Nevertheless, I do look forward to see how Miss L/N will take to the role of marchioness. Will she crack under pressure or will it be smooth sailing? This author waits in anticipation.

Benedict crumples up Lady Whistledown's newest edition, tossing it across the room. His family's eyes are all on him.

His heart rate quickens, he feels a sweat coming on. The walls are closing in and he can't breathe. He doesn't like how his family looks at him with pity. They all know now. They know how he feels for you. There is a chance know how he feels for you now. A part of him hopes that you don't believe what Whistledown has to say. Not everything she says is always factual. Nevertheless, it makes the Ton talk.

"Excuse me," he abruptly stands from his place and Anthony stands with him, "Brother-"

"Please, don't. I need a moment alone," Benedict quickly says as he rushes out of the room.

[hedwig221b]

omg qween goddess supreme hedwig221b can you please, pretty please rec me some regency and/or historical sterek 🥹

hoping you have a good day/night (idk your timezone lol)

Hi, love! You know me so well... historical aus, my beloved 💜

When All the Pieces Fit by NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Elskende by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is an omega concubine, kept sequestered away in the city of Beacon Hills, waiting for his lord Gerard Argent when the Wulver take the city and the alpha takes the omega.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Meant to be One by sunhazeheart

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.

The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse

"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight." Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

Where the Shadow Ends by Green

Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

The Hills Call

Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

I encourage you heavily to go through the works of Dexterous_Sinistrous and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace), these two are my crushes and I am in awe of their work, it's so good. I could genuinely sit here and list dozens of their fics - I already did list some of my most beloved fics of theirs...

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | possessive Derek | baby/mpreg | outsider POV

[thebadboyfanclub]

It Is Time (Daemon x Reader)

This is probably the softest imagine I have written and it was so much fun. I was listening to line without a hook so you get the vibe I was going for.

To be married into the Targaryen was considered a chance of a lifetime for most, however a marriage with the princess of the Summer Islands was a miracle, when (y/n)s father send the raven of her being open to wedlock Jahaerys was the first to respond, offering Daemon as a suitable husband, to align such foreign force was a must for the Targaryens, Daemon at first had retaliated, denying to part take in a loveless marriage with a woman he had never seen to just be a pawn of the king.

That quickly changed when (y/n) visited kings landing, “The diamond of the Summer islands” she was known for her bewitching nature, as she walked next to her father like she owned the place Daemon swallowed thickly at what his eyes were experiencing, it looked like she was a mystical fairy merely flowing instead of using her feet, she was a different type of beauty, a thicker frame with tanned dark skin from the place of endless summer, tall frame and curly hair, her eyes resembled that of a fox, full of mischief and secrets. The daughter of house Truefyre had brought Daemon to his knees with a single glance, once he greeted her and got a hold of her hand he felt shivers down his spine.

“It was the first time I felt like the Gods smiled down at me”

Their wedding was the talk of Westeros, (y/n) and Daemon danced the night away, whispers a of a the union growing strong took over as Daemon was seen tending to his lady wife in every way, shape and form, he was put under a spell that he never wanted to break free from.

“What is it my diamond?”

“I haven’t… bled”

“Oh…. Oh!”

Realisation hit daemon like a stone in the head, Daemon and (y/n) had been every affectionate with one another, Daemon would always have a hand touching (y/n) and there have been rumours of Daemon letting his hand slip in more inappropriate parts, how could he resist? His lady wife was the most perfect creature, his precious diamond that he held close in hopes to protect her forever.

Daemon was not a man of exaggerating declares of happiness, at the news of his wife being with his child he simply smiled and placed a kissed on her forehead before kneeling to be in the same height as her belly.

“I cannot wait to meet you little one”

(Y/n) had wished to reside to the Summer islands, away from duties and pointless dinner with backstabbing lords that would arse kiss in front of her face, her father was gracious enough to offer a castle right next to the sea shore as her wedding gift, Daemon could not deny his love such joy, he also secretly wanted to have a quiet life with his family.

As the morrows came and went (y/n) was changing by the hour, her lady nature kicked in with impeccable strength, compelling the princess to shed tears at the sight of a cat playing with her kittens, her hand was always caressing her growing belly as she sang to the babe while sitting in a swing located in a beautiful orange tree, the breeze passing through her as she rested in the shade and enjoyed the sounds of nature.

“The princess requested for deer meat with… peach jam”

Daemon found himself giving her strange requests to the cooks more than he liked to admit, it was almost a daily ritual for her to wake up in all hours of the night and beg her husband for stuff like plum juice and oysters, strawberry cake and beef meat, he would sometimes think her cravings were the reason of her sickness, although he was smarter than uttering his concern, he would simply nod and go searching for whatever she had asked for.

“I have gotten fat”

“You are with child”

“I am fat with child”

Daemon took in the scene of his wife standing as she watched herself in the mirror, she had gotten bigger as time went on but that was normal for her journey in motherhood. He had been reading a book in his bed when he puffed out a breath and stood up to approach her, (y/n) quickly went to wrap herself with her silk rob yet Daemon stopped her, on her vanity she had an open jar of cream that she would often run her belly with, it soothed her from the itching. Daemon took a small amount and gently went over the stretched skin with care.

“You are a mother, a beautiful woman that is strong enough to carry a child in her with such grace that you make it seem easy, I look at you and I see the world in those dark hues of yours”

“You are going to make me cry”

“I am going to make you happy and when the time comes and our baby is born I will be sure to let them know how infuriatingly gorgeous their mother was when you were carrying them”

“I hope it is a girl”

“I pray that it is healthy, now it is time you rest and no more talking down on your figure, the mother of my child will never be disrespected like that”

Daemon had been (y/n)s shadow, making sure she had everything her heart desires and was happy until she laid next to him with a grin, it was the only way Daemon could drift off, he wouldn’t be able to even sleep for an hour if he wasn’t certain his wife was unwell, especially now that she was risking her life for the birth of their child.

“Daemon, Daemon wake up”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It is time”

“Oh seven hells, I’ll summon the maester”

“No, no, take me to the ocean”

“(Y/n) it is not the time to swim”

“Daemon for the love of everything that is holy, take me to the fucking ocean”

Daemon was smart enough to understand there was no room for him to protest and not to even negotiate about it, he simply took his dear wife gently in his arms as she grunted and moaned and safely let her feel the coldness of the ocean waves. (Y/n) was overcome by a sense of relief from her muscles as the water soothed the ache, washing it away with each wave, her back resting against a rock with her legs spread wide open to give the babe access.

“Now may I call the maester?”

“No, I don’t want them here”

“Why?”

“I want you to be the first one to hold it, not a bunch of people who will let me know the gender before the status of the babes health”

Daemon empathised with his love, wet nurses and maesters were known for not quite caring of anyone’s health, only to deliver the next heir of the Targaryen bloodline.

Daemon nodded mostly to himself before he kneeled so he can take a proper look and guide his wife as much as he could.

“Now I am not trained for this but I’ll do my best”

“It’s alright my sweet, I just need you to hold it when it gets here”

(Y/n) was doing a wonderful job during the entire labour, if Daemon did not know any better he would say (y/n) had gotten through labour a thousand of times, the sound of the ocean calmed her nerves and the cold water seemed to come in to use as beats of sweat appeared on her forehead, she would often ask Daemon to splash her in the face or her chest.

“Here we go my diamond, just a little more”

It had been the wee hours of the morning until the babe was released from her, relief washed over her as her legs could finally spread flat and rest. Daemon caught the babe that was greeted by the ocean first before it was finally secure in their fathers arms, the beautiful little star cried while Daemon cut the cord with his dagger.

“Is the babe alright?”

“The dragon is as strong as her mother”

“Her? A girl?”

“Indeed”

“Give her to me”

Daemon silently complied, passing the fragile little girl in her mothers arms. (Y/n) had never felt more accomplished before, she delivered her daughter right as she wished, with her husband and with the strength of the ocean.

In her land the sea goddess was also the goddess of fertility, frequently plenty of couples would bring their babes to the shore and let the water caress the babes skin as a thank you to the goddess for allowing them to expand their families, to be able to give birth right in the goddesses home was a dream for a plethora of women.

“How about Ariel?”

“An unusual name for a Targaryen, what will your dear family say?”

“I couldn’t give two shits about them, you and our precious Ariel are the beginning and the end for me”

“you have become such a poet my prince”

“How could I not? dear (y/n) you have turned my life to a living fairytale”

“Help me up please”

Daemon allowed his wife to carry the small child while he carried her, the maester along with the servants were waiting for the couples arrival back to the castle, they were aware of how sacred this moment had been for them and watched from the sidelines, praying that everything would go smoothly.

“Behold (y/n) of House Truefyre and our first born, Ariel Targaryen”

(Y/n) only giggled as Daemon puffed out his chest with pride and carried her to their chamber while all the servants beamed with joy.

“I believe we should take the babe for a bath”

“No maester Gerald I will do it”

“As you wish princess”

“My love, you should rest”

“I would rather be Caraxes next meal than allow someone else experience her first milestones instead of us”

Daemon only leaned to peck his wives lips with the utmost adoration, his diamond was meant to become a mother and he felt a certain sense of honour that she chose him to share her future with.

The servants prepared the bath for little Ariel while (y/n) and Daemon kneeled, the babes first sensation was the ocean so Ariel was peaceful as the warm water was gently washing away the salt of the waves.

“She will be a strong dragon rider, like you”

“Or a graceful princess of the summer islands, like you”

(Y/n) leaned closer to her husband as a way to express her emotions to him. It was Daemons turn to smile at her, (y/n) was everything Daemon never thought he deserved in life, sometimes he would think what would his life be if he had not married her, and the result was just grim and cold.

“We should call the wet nurses my sweet, Ariel will need to feed in a while”

“Wet nurses? Daemon this is not kings landing, we feed our babes here”

He would never imagine he could love his wife more, that is until he was part of the moment (y/n) fed Ariel, such a sacred ritual and bond with mother and daughter. (Y/n) laid comfortably in their bed after she had a scorching hot bath with her favourite scented soap which was lily flowers, Daemon had even braided her wet hair so it will be out of her face and make her feel pretty.

(Y/n) hummed a tune to their little princess, light beaming through the windows on this glorious day and their babe healthy and already loved tremendously suckling on its mothers breast, (y/n) could almost feel the women of her bloodline gather around them and bless the babe with their hands on her shoulders, resilient women who suffered through months of pain, swelling, restless nights, broke their hips for the birth, even produced milk for their children to feed, Daemon had been a warrior who had taken plenty of life’s, his wife was a warrior who created a life.

“It is time for you to rest”

“No, I don’t want to take my eyes off of her, I want to watch her breathe”

“Alright, I’ll sit right by you with Ariel as you sleep, I will watch her for you. Do you trust me with that?”

“I suppose”

Daemon did as such, sitting up in their bed holding the princess while (y/n) got comfortable with her pillow, her eyelids were already heavy but she still fought, Daemon rocking the babe without even realising how bright he was smiling at his daughter was such a gorgeous sight to miss, they were not just husband and wife now, nor prince and princess of anything, they were mother and father, parents that would offer their life for their daughter, a bond made by passion and kept by devotion and love.

She drifted off to sleep with the sound of her daughter cooing at her father, praying that her body won’t be in need of countless hours of sleep, since she looked forward to waking up and be fully capable of holding her daughter again.

Requests are open

[hauntedwitch04]

My Goddess

Rhysand x reader

Words: about 3.5k words

Warnings: smut, smut, I forgot to say smut, a little bit sad at the beginnig, my deepest insecurities, shower sex, rude male

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

p.s some parts are very personal (hair loss part and insecurities), and I'm kinda sorry, but I wrote this by heart and because of this it came out like this, hope you like it anyway.

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 5: Body worship

I have never had a good relationship with my body.

It sounds silly to say, but all my life I've never had a good relationship with me in general, and this is something that I and my brother Azriel have in common.

He since childhood has had to endure the sight of his hands being ruined by fire because of those idiotic half-brothers of ours.

I, on the other hand, have had to endure the sight of my legs, my belly, my face that I do not consider beautiful enough to please anyone, and all of this feeling would end up manifesting itself in extreme anxiety attacks that my physique demonstrates by losing all my hair. I have always been unable to look at myself in the mirror because I cannot stand to see my forehead devoid of hair, along with most of my skull, solely because I cannot fight what I have inside. I think in part I can't look at myself because I feel guilty about betraying the little me, whom I see again every time I look in the mirror, who imagined a beautiful and perfect life, which I am increasingly convinced I will never have. As a child I dreamed of meeting my partner, who would love me with all his life and we would have a family together, always with my brother close by.

My brother, on the contrary, as much as he too believed that he did not deserve a mate, never found any problems in finding a woman to spend a night with, being one of the most handsome men Mother has ever conceived. I, on the other hand, have never had too much luck in love, since every time I saw a man approaching me, my first reaction is to turn away being that I don't want to be disappointed and hurt. And partly because I am deeply in love with my brother's best friend, or rather one of them: the not very famous and not at all attractive Rhysand.

For as long as I can remember, I couldn't help but fall in love with his violet eyes and sly smile, but of course it never crossed my mind to confess how I feel, knowing that I would ruin a friendship I cherish as well as ridicule myself.

Like every Saturday night Mor has forced me to go out with my brother and his two other friends, Rhys and Cass, knowing that I never have too much desire to go out and show off my body. Yet here I am sitting back on a miserable chair in the corner of yet another bar, watching my friends having fun.

Immediately, however, I feel something in the air change, and I notice that a man is sitting next to me. Too close to me. As soon as I notice that closeness I immediately feel uncomfortable, so I try to move away, but immediately I feel his hand resting on top of my wrist, squeezing it tightly.

"Hey baby, where are you running off to?" He says in a faux-sweet voice as a stench of cheap alcohol escapes from his mouth, and immediately I find myself holding back a gag as well as trying not to show my fear.

"My brother and his friends are looking for me, I should go." You lie, trying to push me away but he squeezes tighter and makes you let out a half moan of pain, too.

"I'm sure they won't notice your absence. How about coming with me? We could have fun." He continues by giving me a wink, which sends a shiver all down my spine. I try to pull away again, no longer trying to be nice to him, but this time in addition to holding me close to him, he pulls me closer to him by the hand with which he holds my wrist. I in response to that gesture slap him on the cheek, so hard that the sound seems to resonate throughout the whole place, but I don't care exactly at this moment because I am more focused on his look of pure hatred that he is giving me.

"How dare you little bitch slap me! You should be grateful that someone has the courage to hit on you, you must not have many people trying to bed you at least show gratitude in those who have the mercy to do so." He says in a harsh, rough tone a few inches from my face, even spitting a little.

I have never felt so naked in my life.

I can already feel tears welling up when I hear a voice behind me, noisily interrupting my thoughts.

"I would advise you to let the girl go right away, and maybe our Azzy will only allow you to die after a week of torture." Says a voice hoarse and deep, warm and enveloping as a summer night. Immediately I feel a sense of relief, and I move back to meet Rhys's muscular chest, who immediately wraps an arm around my waist, to make me feel his presence and quietly tell me I was safe.

"You don't need to make all this fuss over a sleazy bitch, if you want her so bad you can have her, even though I had seen her first. Who do you think you are anyway, you little bitch?" Asks the man trying to approach Rhys, pointing a finger at him. Seeing his gestures my friend moves me behind his back, still holding my hand, while with a look capable of killing he looks at the man who is tormenting me.

I feel it emanating pure power, so strong, it sends shivers down my spine. I feel it pass between our intertwined fingers like a night breeze mixed with stardust.

I see his shoulders stretch out so that he stands in all his height, and shows himself in all his grandeur before his enemy.

"Your worst nightmare." He replies with a growl.

Fuck, I need a cold shower when I get home. This is my first thought, then I force myself to stay alert, remembering the situation we are in.

"Rhys it's not worth it to fight with this asshole, please take me-" I implore my friend, before being interrupted.

"What did you call me bitch?" Asks the asshole in front of us rhetorically, only to be slammed against the wall by an unseen hand, clutching at his throat.

"The young lady was just finishing saying something, now you're going to be a good boy, and I'm going to spare you the pain of cutting off your fingers piece by piece, and I'm going to do it with one blow." Young High Lord responds with feigned gentleness as I see him tighten his other hand to make his grip on the man's neck slammed to the wall tighter.

"Please Rhys, take me home, I just want to take a shower and go to bed." I pick up my speech where I left off.

"As you wish. Az, will you Cass take care of this pig?" Rhys asks, turning his face slightly to look at his friends who have since materialized beside us. I see my brother looking at me with eyes full of sadness and anger; he walks over and kisses my forehead softly, before answering Rhys.

"Sure. Can I do whatever I want with him?" Az asks as he shifts his gaze to the man who tried to touch me, his little sister.

"Give vent to your kinkiest perversions and all the imagination you have Azzy. I'll stay with her in case she needs anything, in case I'll let you know right away." Rhys says at first with his usual smirk, looking in turn at the man he was choking on the wall, who now seems to have gone pale with fear, and then turns his face into something serious.

My brother nods and I do not have time to see his next action that deep night-colored fog, quilted with a few stars, envelops me and I find myself in my room.

Next to me stands Rhys, watching me intently. All the power he exuded a few seconds ago has vanished, to make way for the gentle, kind look I'm used to.

"Are you okay?" She asks me in a whisper, as if afraid that if she spoke too loudly I would destroy myself. I look up and stare into his purple eyes, shining like two precious gems, staring at me so intently that I blush.

"Yes, thank you for intervening, I'm afraid to think what would have happened if I hadn't." I say, trying to make him believe that this is why I am upset, and not because of the words he threw at me. I know perfectly well how to defend myself against a man like him, I've been training my whole life to fight against far greater opponents, but it was his words that struck me deeply in the soul.

I try to hint at a half smile, then head for the bathroom and close the door behind me. From the last look I give him, he doesn't seem very convinced by my theatrics, but he doesn't say anything to me and lets me seek solace in some alone time.

Barely alone in the privacy of my bathroom, I open the tub water to cover the sound of my sobs and let myself go into an overwhelming sob. I spend a few minutes huddled on the floor in the corner of my bathroom brooding over the man's words.

You should be grateful that someone has the courage to hit on you, you don't have to have a lot of people trying to get you into bed at least show gratitude in those who have the mercy to do so.

I feel my heart bleeding, as if it had been pierced by a dagger. I don't even notice that the door has opened, too engrossed in remembering how to breathe. Immediately I see Rhys sitting across from me, his eyes detecting how worried he is Without asking he takes me in his arms and sits me on his lap, stroking my back with one hand, trying to calm my sobs, while with the other he pulls up my face, which I am trying to hide in his neck.

"Don't give me any more bullshit. Talk to me, please, that's all I ask. Take all you want, but talk to me, I can't see you like this." He says as he wipes away my tears.

I spend a few minutes in silence, thinking about what to do or what to say, when I decide to stop listening to the little voice in my ear and finally be honest with the man I love and esteem so much.

"He's right Rhys." I say in a sob.

"Point one, I don't think an asshole of that magnitude could be right, and point two, what would love be right about?" Asks the man holding me close to him.

I take a deep breath and totally open my heart to him.

"Rhys, no one will ever want me for who I am. If someone hits on me they either want to get to you or my brother, or they see in me an easy prey to have a one-night stand, believing I would accept their pity gesture. No one wants me for who I am, but that doesn't shock me either because who would ever want a person with a physique like mine. Besides, I look like a hairless cat, but you know the worst thing about losing my hair due to stress? It's that I can't hide how incapable I am of controlling my emotions beyond the fact that I'm obviously emotionally unstable. And then let's not start with my temper-" I begin to mumble, then increase the volume of my voice more and more, until I feel a pair of warm lips settle on mine. It takes me a few seconds to reciprocate the gesture and I bite down on his plump lips with my teeth. He in response, when I release his lip, takes advantage of my distraction to explore my mouth with his tongue. We stay like this for a few minutes, making out like two eager kids in the back of a disco.

Eventually we break away, both of us needing oxygen. I look at him, and for a moment I cannot conceive that the same boy who is standing here in front of me with his hair tousled from my hands being passed through it and his lips swollen and reddened, could at the same time be the most powerful High Lord all Prythian has ever seen, and yet this is the truth.

"I thought the best way to let you know that what you were saying was a load of crap was to let you know with actions, and not just words." He says with his usual smirk, as I fist him on the shoulder, and then continues. "Now I'm going to try to be serious. Believe me, love, when I tell you that I don't understand how every man on this island, indeed in this world, can't help but be in love with you. You are the kindest, funniest, smartest, most beautiful woman, oh for Mother if you are beautiful, you don't know how many times I had to restrain myself from commenting on what I would do to you because I knew Az would kill me, but believe me it was a real pain to admire you without being able to do anything I wanted to do or taste." He says with a wink, then turns serious again. "You are perfect, in every aspect of you, and don't let just a few more curves discourage you, because they are nothing but an advantage to me, because that way there is more to love, kiss and worship than you. And your hair, it's nothing but a testament to your willpower, your strength and what a badass you are. There is not a single facet of you, because each one is a fundamental part of the woman I love." I feel my breath come short, and he seems to understand because he continues. "Yes I love you, more than my own life, I love you as insistently as we need oxygen to breathe, and I wish I could see you with my own eyes and admire who you really are."

I can't help but kiss him again and then say four simple words that somehow seem to take a huge weight off my heart.

"I love you too." I whisper on his lips, before kissing him again. As before we get carried away with the kiss, but this time it seems to get even more passionate and deep, so much so that slowly Rhys gets up, making me get up as well.

He slowly pulls away from the kiss and to move on to kiss the neck area near my ear, then to whisper something to me.

"Would you like to take a shower with me?" He asks sensuously, as I feel his hands touch every single cell of my body, or so it seems to me. I nod, unable to speak, and so slowly we begin to undress each other, as the shower water magically turns on, and quickly becomes warm.

Once naked, facing each other, we look into each other's eyes and I see him smile, before taking my hand and kissing it, and then kissing my wrist, and so on until we reach his shoulder and this time the other ear where he whispers again.

"You are beautiful, and I can't wait to worship you as the goddess you are once we get into that shower." He says, as I feel a chill run down my spine.

We get into the shower and at first the only things we do is leave hot kisses on each other's skin until Rhys picks up the body soap and begins to gently scrub my back. Suddenly then I feel his hands move from the back to the front, where they begin to massage my breasts. I immediately feel my nipples harden under his touch, and the first moans begin to fall from my lips like an old prayer that he does not remember ever learning, but of which at the most opportune moment he remembers every word. He continues to tease my breasts with one hand, while with the other he begins to play with the center of my pleasure. I totally melt under her touch, as if a witch had cast a spell on me. I feel my knees beginning to give way, while he meanwhile continues his attack on my neck as well, leaving bites and marks of his passage. Just as I was about to reach the apex of pleasure, however, he stops, making me moan this time from the pain of not having reached my orgasm. Rhys turns me around with a simple gesture and matches my back to the shower wall as he presses himself on me, kissing every inch of skin available to him.

"I want to taste you on my lips, I can't afford to make you come solely with my fingers love." She says in a whisper, as she kisses my breasts, and takes one of the nipples in her teeth, while teasing the other with her hand. "I want to make you feel the queen you are." He continues, as he slowly goes to his knees and stands at the same height as my pussy. He thus begins to lick and suck my clit, while he teases my entrance with his fingers. Immediately I bring a hand into his hair, pushing him harder against my center, trying to achieve the pleasure I had missed before. Then his lips move lower until they take the place of his fingers, this time I feel his tongue enter me.

For a second I feel as if I can touch the sky with my finger, as I feel the orgasm coming more and more overwhelmingly. What makes me go further and cum, making me convulse loudly and name my beloved so loudly that even on the Continent they know who gave me such pleasure, is the moan he makes against my center's lips in approval.

"By Mother, you are the best thing I have ever felt in my whole life. I could spend hours devouring you, my whole existence, and I would eat nothing but you, but I can't wait to make you come with my cock." Says Rhys unceremoniously. My brain still foggy with pleasure does not immediately process what he is saying, the only thing I understand is that before long I will feel pleasure like what I just felt if not more.

I see him get up, and I do not have time to realize what is going on that I feel his member enter me, and at this moment I discover that there is actually another level of pleasure of which I was unaware. His thrusts are fast and deep, which combined with his sizable cock, cause him to graze my cervix each time, making me scream so loudly with pleasure that I doubt I will have a voice tomorrow.

We stay so wrapped around each other under the pouring water of the shower making love, sharing such an intimate and personal moment with the person we love most in the world. I feel him kissing every inch of skin he meets, when he is not too busy remembering how to breathe, or he is not whispering in my ear how beautiful I am or how perfect he thinks I am.

I can't quite tell how much time elapsed before I felt the sensation of impending orgasm coming again like a galloping horse, but one shared glance between the two of us and we immediately knew that the other was feeling the same thing, so he quickened his thrusts and I began kissing the sensitive spots on his neck, so that only after a few minutes did we reach pleasure by howling the other person's name.

We stand still for a moment, letting the wave of pleasure no longer cloud our senses, confusing us as we enjoy the sensation of the hot water in the shower. Then, I interrupt the silence to note something.

"Well at least we are already in the shower." I say in a joking tone. Rhys immediately begins to giggle as he hides his head in my neck, then continues to be silent before confessing something of his own.

"It seems like a good time to tell you that you are my mate anyway." He says with obviousness as he picks up the shampoo to wash my hair. I look at him shocked at how calmly he dropped such a bombshell.

"And you tell me like this? Like it's nothing!?" I say shocked, and I see him smiling at my reaction, because he knows that after all, there is no happier person in the universe than me, and you can tell by my smile and the twinkle in my eyes.

"And the worst part is yet to come my goddess, we still have to tell to Azriel." Rhysand confesses, with obvious fear in his face, and I can't help but laugh.

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