#well I guess if you do nasty things to me I must me

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

It is easy to get midnight munchies if you have a cool car. Or a bunch of eager young drivers.

[iceunhie]

art of the fan!

premise: wherein jiaoqiu’s fan does half the work and reaps twice the effect.

warnings: gn!reader, 1.4k words, potential jiaoqiu ooc, written before his release. use of petnames and suffixes. please read the terminology guide below to understand their use in the plot, very ‘walk him like a dog’ core, though in this case fox would be more appropriate, haha.

a/n: guess who’s back with a oneshot (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) here is my humble offering to the jiaoqiu nation, i did my best

jiaoqiu—for some reason—has made it his life’s mission to perpetually get under your skin.

recently, he has employed shady methods, most particularly instilling almost unfair use of his fan in order to get away with things he normally can't, poking at the strings in your heart like how a stick hits a hornet’s nest.

“yi sheng, is there a purpose for this?” you exclaim, with the foxian man sighing in faux disappointment. the sarcastic way of addressing his title does make his face spasm—but unfortunately for you, today, it seems it does little to dampen his mischief.

you are in the humiliating position of being in the sly man’s lap; aggrieved that your current predicament warrants unfair treatment that borders on harassment (an exaggeration, jiaoqiu has never been improper to that extent).

not to mention, his fan is aimed at your chin, making you look up at him while he applies ointment to a rather nasty bruise around your lip, with the gall to hum as he does so.

“ah, ah. don't move.” he holds the feathered fan under your chin, eyes ever closed while a placid smile graces his face, retaining his signature cunning. jiaoqiu has lost his mind. you keep to yourself, ignoring the heat in your cheeks that had made an appearance since earlier—because why else would he do this? (and why in the name of aeons would you let him? something must be wrong with your brain today.) “if you do not let me do this, that unsightly bruise might fester, you know.”

“you’re too close.”

“well, you were too far.”

“i am sitting on your lap, yi sheng. how close do you want us to be?” you roll your eyes, earning jiaoqiu a poke at your face, followed by his hand squishing at the fat on your cheeks. “hey, lwet goh of me…”

“still with the formalities... surely now you can address me by my name, can you?” jiaoqiu coaxes, like saying it might wash away all the fatigue in the world, because every inch of his being, from the tips of his ears to the veins in his heart and the wisps of his soul, his yearning and pining echoes and resounds in the cavity of his chest that holds only you, you, you.

what, jiaoqiu wonders, would it take for him to be the sole beholder of your brilliance? his hands holding yours, gripping faithfully and unfalteringly, your fates bound by knots; crimson in nature, entwined forevermore? his eyes soften because of course they do—for you mold him into a being devoted to commemorating your existence into his flesh, your voice settling in the marrow of his bones.

you falter, your heartbeat loud. jiaoqiu notices. of course he does. “yi sheng—”

“jiaoqiu.”

“yi—”

“qiu-er.”

“....” he can hear your heart thundering in your chest—thump, thump—and it has never occurred to him to praise his foxian senses until now. his smile widens, a fang poking out with the white of his teeth. “i'm waiting, baobei.” your face glows with warmth, and jiaoqiu fights the urge to swallow you up whole right then and there.

(he resists it often when it comes to you.)

“you’re so stubborn!” you say after much deliberation, rejection flat and heavy. jiaoqiu deflates, just a bit, and petulantly rubs ointment on the other bruises littering your face. (his ears show his displeasure, drooping down, comically flat against his head.)

“hmph. and you’re too stingy.”

“all the more reason not to, then!”

still not enough, huh? jiaoqiu wonders if he'll ever get you to crack; if you'll ever mirror the expression of his adoration—swishing tail and perked up ears aside. still, his touch is gentle, like the embers of a fire hugging you for warmth, a blazing sensation in which all the greed in the world falls short compared to his need to touch you, to perceive you. “will i ever hear my name on your lips? you seem to have no issue addressing others so casually.”

“and who exactly are these others?” you raise a brow at him. jiaoqiu shrugs, nonchalant. as though it didn't bother him (he's seething).

you note that he speaks with contempt, bitterness filtering his soft-spoken words. his tail wags rapidly. pfft, so… so childish! (and a little cute, but you don't say it for obvious reasons.)

“well, for starters, the madam general, the dozing general, yunli, the herbalists near the red fox theater, the stair sweepers....”

“wait, wait, that's too many! and the stair sweepers, really?!”

“i’ll avoid answering further questions.”

“you look like you've swallowed vinegar, laoshi.” you croon, biting where you can at the weakened fox you've made, defiantly lowering your chin still held captive by jiaoqiu’s fan. “besides, i merely do it to cut all at one stroke. after all, it is you, yi sheng—” you relish in jiaoqiu’s expression when you get eerily close, noses almost touching, “that insisted i ought to call you by that title, did you not? who knew you were so easy to displease.”

his face constricts, and his hands lower, one hand gripping firm at your waist, and jiaoqiu reels away from you, hiding his face behind his fan as his cheeks tint themselves scarlet. his pride would not allow him to refute, and you knew that very well. “that...”

because you know him. know his ticks, his tells—jiaoqiu does not know if that is love. but his willingness to drop his guard, to let you slip by his foxy exterior—to allow you to burrow and fuse yourself into the tapestry of his being, that of which the fibers of his soul accept and wholeheartedly make room for you; constricting his breath, perceiving you. (he doesn't know if you're in love with him yet, but he is. maybe he always will be.)

your lips quirk up instead, the apples of your cheeks forming while smile lines grace your features, that of which he cannot look away from, cannot close his eyes from; for what use is closing one’s eyes when his sight was granted to him to behold you?

jiaoqiu’s saving grace is that you were kinder for your own good. if he could keep that kindness to himself, then….

“as expected, it's so weird when you're silent,” you laugh, and jiaoqiu’s stare rushes to behold you, the echo of your joy forming his heart anew. “jiaoqiu. there, you petulant fox. happy now?”

and the way he looks at you—his pupils expanding, eyes wide, jiaoqiu loves. the entire universe could crumble and turn to ashes this instant, and he would not look away.

“...i’m not.” you look at him with playful scorn. really, after all this trouble, your eyes seem to say. he chuckles dryly, forcing himself to laugh, because jiaoqiu wants to keep this euphoria and let it sink into his ears, his lungs and his brain. he wants to bottle the sound of your voice forming his name and setting his body ablaze like golden starlight in a place no one can hear but him.

“not what?” facing you, holding you, he can't even begin to breathe. jiaoqiu thinks this might be love, sprouting from his eyes and filling the corners of his veins, circulating fully, wholly, and utterly.

“i’m not happy at all.” he speaks your name like the growing embers of a wildfire, burning his throat and letting jiaoqiu dare to perceive you. “it’s lacking. it will always be lacking.”

and because you were you, you know exactly where to fan the flames. “ever the cunning one, aren't you, qiu-er?”

jiaoqiu thinks it's time you had enough of your fun. again, he's never had reason to praise his senses—but when he hears the deafening beats that increase as he looks at you even more—he thinks that maybe being a foxian is a decision fate was wise in undertaking.

he dips his head low, and before you can question why his fan covered your faces, a soft sensation floods your senses, warming you to the core when you feel the plush of his lips on yours. you feel his smile against your mouth, and the teasing bite down your lower lip makes your eyes turn to saucers.

this sly fox…!

pulling away, jiaoqiu hides his face behind his fan again, almost gloating when he takes in your aghast expression. “well, it's not so lacking anymore, i suppose.”

you glare. “that ointment of yours is useless now that you've kissed it away, you know.”

jiaoqiu brings the hand by your side to his lips, kissing your knuckles, devoting himself to every atom that comprises you, every cell that unravels and ties itself to create you; and he’ll adore you, chasing and basking in the warm daylight you bestow him.

“i can always kiss it better, anyway.” he ruffles your hair, the smile in his eyes mischievous and utterly unfair, because it's sincere, and blinding ....and jiaoqiu is already uncaring of the rapid wag of his tail. “didn’t you say it yourself? i am cunning, after all.”

BONUS: how to tame a foxian in one go!

“baobei, you certainly know how to leave someone breathless.”

“don’t follow me.”

“you’re not denying it though.”

“qiu’er, you’ll be demoted back to yi sheng.”

“huh?! thats cruel! wait, i said i’m sorry—!”

— terminology guide.

· [ 事半功倍 / half the work, twice the effect ] — (an idiom) the right approach leads to the desired/better results; jiaoqiu wanted reader to call him by his name affectionately, and the right ‘approach’ refers to making use of both the fan and the opportunity to kiss reader (which he got and more with minimal effort)

· [ 一刀切 / to cut all at one stroke ] — (idiom) one solution or ‘one size fits all’, reference to how reader doesn't want to refer to jiaoqiu as his name nor do they want to be mistaken to be in a relationship with him (playfully), so they refer to him as yi sheng ( 医生 ) so people don't get confused and see how jiaoqiu absolutely hates it (menace)

other: bao bei ‹ 宝贝 | baby/babe › , -er ‹ friendly and affectionate suffix often used in a teasing way › , yi sheng ‹ 医生 | doctor › laoshi ‹ 老师/老師 | teacher, used often in a certain part of china. used formally for instructors and teachers* ›

*as for why reader refers to jiaoqiu as laoshi aka teacher, jiaoqiu is a counselor (based on given canon information) and they use it to rile him up (since they use it sarcastically—because jiaoqiu was basically ordering them/instructing them to stay still while treating them ^^; hope this makes sense !

tidbit note: when reader says ‘consumed vinegar’ it is a funny way to show that he's jealous, because vinegar is sour (just like jiaoqiu's mood!)

note: hello! i apologize for being so late and so inconsistent with my posts, life has been busy lately with my job. as recompense, have a oneshot… lol. also, this fic wouldn't have happened without the lovely consultation of my friend and mootie @lowkeyren who helped me with making sure i was using the appropriate terms of affectionate address for reader and jiaoqiu, haha. can you tell i loved playing around with his character? even though he isn't out yet TT personally, i think i quite like the dynamic between reader and jiaoqiu; although this may be ooc in some point in time. he just gives off the vibe of a teasing smug bastard… who is a pathetic mess for his lover. or is it just me?? well, who knows…

@ ICEUNHIE: do not plagiarize, repost or steal my work.

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof yall.

No content warnings

You’re out in the woods one day, taking photos and going for a little hike. Stupid mental health walk or something; whatever, it’s a nice day and you’ve gotten some good shots. You’re just about to turn back when a huge brown and black wolf lopes out from a nearby thicket.

There aren’t any wolves in England though! Hunted to extinction - it’s why you feel safe bebopping around the forest alone in the daylight. So you see this big fuck-off sized “dog” and coo at the pretty puppy.

“Hello handsome boy, aren’t you just gorgeous! Will you come say hi?”

You do all the right things that you’re supposed to do with an unfamiliar dog but he just barges right through. Trots up to you, nose shoved into your crotch. You startle, bark a laugh, shove at his big stupid head.

“A little forward,” you tease, scratching under his chin, “but it’s better than biting.”

You feel all around his neck for a collar, but no luck. He must be someone’s though, huge blue eyes too intelligent and focused on your words. And his coat is so well maintained, glossy and shedded.

“Do you know how to… sit?”

An adorable head tilt, and the big dog settles onto his hind quarters.

“What a good boy!” you croon. “So smart!”

He licks at your palm and wrist as you scratch at him, huge tail thumping. A canine grin, tongue lolling out as he waits for your next command.

You hum.

“Well, guess we can check if you’re microchipped, huh? Or at least I can get you some water. See if someone recognizes you…”

You make a kissy noise at him. “Let’s go, big boy. Come.”

And to your delight, he falls into step with you. He weaves along the path ahead and behind, but always loops back to you, brushing against your thigh as if to reassure you he’s still there.

You hum as you walk, giggling when you see his ears twitch and swivel towards you. Tease that he should do better if he doesn’t like your version of Jolene.

You only cross paths with two other people on the walk, a pair of guys clearly out for a more serious hike. The dog plants himself between you and them, ears pinning back and a low growl erupting from his chest. You startle a bit, carefully burying your fingers around his scruff in case you need to grab him quickly.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t belong to either of you, then?” you ask.

One of the guys shakes his head. The other gives you an odd look. “He’s not yours?”

The dog barks, loud and rough. You shush him, explain the situation to the hikers. But the dog never stops rumbling and they quickly go on their way, keeping a wide berth.

You huff. “Don’t like men, huh?”

Poor thing. Maybe he was abandoned by a mean owner?

“S’alright, bud, I’ll be good to you.”

He follows you all the way back to your home. And when you open the door, shoulders right past you.

“Ah, shit,” you groan. “You weren’t supposed to come in!”

He gives you an almost betrayed look. You try not to huff in amusement.

“So help me, if you bring nasty things in this house I will shave you. Shave you. You’ll look so silly. Like an overgrown raw turkey.”

The dog turns, trots back to you. You didn’t realize just how big he is until he’s got his big paws on your shoulders. You blink, have to take a step back to brace against the weight of him. In his hind legs he’s taller than you. Really could pass for a pure bred wolf.

A big, rough tongue licks from your jaw to your forehead. You scrunch up your face but end up laying a kiss on his muzzle in return.

“Alright, you big nasty. Down you get.”

You shut and lock the door behind you, brushing leaves and dirt off.

“Okay, shower first,” you say aloud, already tugging off your clothes. “Then we’ll run into town, see if we can track down your family.”

You don’t mind the dog staring, unblinking, as you strip down right there, balling things up to avoid tracking a mess through the house. Nor do you mind him following you to the bathroom, though you do push at his snout when he licks the back of your knee. Just normal dog things, really. They don’t get people stuff like clothes or boundaries.

“Stay out of trouble, bud. I’ll be right out.”

As you wash up, you consider the merits of adopting. Only if you can’t find the dog’s actual family, that is. It’s lonely in your little house sometimes - and a bit spooky at night. A big, protective dog might be just the thing.

Next

Masterlist

[fayes-fics]

(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!” 

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears. 

“Are you alright?” 

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable. 

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.” 

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty. 

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage. 

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder. 

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him. 

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake. 

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought. 

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach. 

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw. 

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him. 

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted. 

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?” 

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers. 

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian. 

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV:  Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear. 

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly. 

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one. 

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action. 

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster. 

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along. 

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall. 

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection. 

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.” 

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest. 

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face. 

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges. 

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.”  You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[oatmealthighs]

bigbro!choso x blackfem!babysitter!reader

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 contents: nsfw 18+, MDNI. overstimulation, rough sex, mutual pining, breeding kink, masturbation. i guess a lil stalking? choso's last name is itadori, yuji is a lil one, reader is black-coded and depicted to be a bit thick. but yea gets pretty nasty. minors gtf back

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 author's note: yea this is a bit more self-indulgent than i'd like to admit.... but nonetheless! i still hope yall like it! inspired by this work of art

“so you're the new babysitter, huh?”

his voice was so deep. it rumbled through your every limb, made every hair prick up against your melanated skin. your throat went dry as you looked up at the man so casually leaning against the doorframe to his quaint, humble home, towering over you as he observed you almost menacingly.

as choso itadori looked down at you with indifferent eyes, you couldn't stop your own from scouring, observing the way the black tee he had on was tight in all the right places, hugging and squeezing at his muscular biceps and clinging to his formed chest. his brown hair was tied up, spiky locks in two ponytails. black jewelry adorned his ears all the way up to the helix.

you felt small, under investigation as his dark orbs intensely pierced through your own. but you didn't waver, it was never in your nature to showcase your uncertainty. instead you smiled, glossed lips parting to show your pretty teeth. “yep, that's me! my name is [name].” of course choso already knew that, and maybe a bit more that he didn't plan on sharing with you. he had no shame when it came to investigating who he was entrusting the care of his baby brother to, yuji being his heart and rib, the only family he had left on this entire planet. he'd die for him, kill for him, do worse if it came down to it. but with you, all that extra shit didn't seem necessary to make clear.

choso knew you looked good from your instagram he managed to find after some digging, but your posts didn't capture the true, full essence of your beauty. the camera didn't necessarily capture the way your brown skin glowed and shimmered in light, or accentuate your curves like how they looked now. you smelled sweet, like yams and vanilla. the magenta yoga set you wore clung to your skin tantalizingly, outlining your curvy silhouette and the top zipped down just a little low to show a little cleavage. your hair was styled* into a neat bob, bluntly cut just above your shoulders, not a single hair out of place. your lips were lined a dark coffee brown and ombré’d into the pink natural color of your skin, coated with sparkly gloss. your large glasses sat on the bridge of your wide nose, a french-tipped nail pushing them higher up. choso continued to feign disinterest, but he knew the darkening scarlet brushing over the tips of his ears might be what would give him away if you took any notice.

luckily enough, your attention was drawn elsewhere, the sound of toddler yuji cooing as he waddled through the living room towards the front door making your eyes widen with adoration. you kneeled down to his height, yuji’s big brown eyes finding yours and him sending you a gummy smile. “and this must be yuji! ohh, you’re the cutest thing! making my heart swell.”

choso needed you for a short while, just until he could find a new daycare for his little brother. between him working over forty hours a week and using the weekends to focus on bonding with yuji and resting up, he never really had the time. or more-so, seeing how well yuji gravitated to you, how he began asking about you by just saying your name during bath time, how he always cried when you left, was what made it drop lower and lower on his priority list.

you were much more help than he expected you to be, and did far more than what he was paying you to do, which resulted in the extra hundred dollar bills he would sneak into your cherry coach bag every evening. it was the least he could do: you made meals, helped clean, always put yuji down to bed before you left. even did the laundry as needed. you insisted it was okay when choso told you you didn't have to bother yourself with tasks that weren't in the job description, and that you didn't want or expect anything extra out of it. but you stopped fighting against his generosity… not that there was ever a struggle.

some nights required choso to stay later, long past his typical return time of six o’clock, and some nights he wouldn’t return until 2am. he would come in from a particularly tiresome day at the hospital in his his grey scrubs and his hair pulled into a low ponytail. he would never be surprised to find you laying on the large sectional sofa, glasses still on but your bonnet tied tight around your head, under one of the extra blankets with your phone replaying a tiktok. choso always had the guest bedroom prepared for you but it was always all for naught, as the couch seemed to be your preferred place of choice. it was so soft, it had to be well over a thousand bucks. he never disturbed you, you deserved your sleep. at most, he’d shut your phone off and turn down the tv, and head upstairs to shower and prep for bed himself. he’d often hear you leave the house later that night or early in the morning.

choso was the strong, silent type most of the time. he was an action-driven man– if he didn’t say it he would show you. you knew he liked you for his baby brother when he asked how did you feel about hanging around yuji for a bit longer than anticipated one evening while you were just about to leave out for the day. or when he would sneak those crisply folded blue bills into your bag. you wondered what he did for work one day, and you asked him. he was an anesthesiologist, he said. and you knew he was rolling in the money then.

there were no signs of a woman in his life from what you’ve seen. no feminine hygiene products in the bathroom, no pictures, no particular scent aside from your own aroma of sweetness. no mentions of a “she”... not that you’ve ever talked about it. you wanted to pop the question, but you didn’t want to weird him out- you opted to just “keep things professional.” but shit, it was hard sometimes. choso was a nice-looking man, with a height of 6’3”, a hard, muscular build, and dark eyes that made you shudder when he looked down upon you with them. sometimes he would come home after a vigorous work-out at the gym if he had the pleasure of getting off on time, wearing a black underarmour compression shirt that would be so damn tight you’d see every sculpt and cut of his meticulously defined upper body. his hair would be down, brown tresses clinging to his strong neck, thick eyebrows knitted together at the feeling of sweat and perspiration sticking to his skin and his growing need to shower. you would be in the kitchen, just cleaning up since you wrapped dinner up not too long ago, and the smell would make his stomach borderline roar at him. he’d shower, then come back in a tee and grey sweatpants, damp hair hanging as he sat at the table and basically ripped apart whatever you had prepared for him.

sometimes, you’d be in a rush to go home. not because choso would make you uncomfortable or anything. never that… but you knew your body. you knew that warm pool of heat in between your legs meant nothing but trouble, and was something that needed to be handled, preferably asap. you’d rush into your little apartment, make a beeline to your bedroom and strip down to your bare skin before jumping into your silk pink sheets. you’d grab your vibrator and press it to your clit desperately, pussy squeezing around nothing as you threw your head back against the soft pillows. you’d pinch your brown nipple, bottom lip trapped in between your teeth as you moved your vibrator in small little circles. more and more, you’ve began imagining choso in between your legs, his large hands parting your thick thighs like the red sea as he ate you out, his tongue lashing at your clit and slurping up your honey like a man parched. you imagined him pinning you against a wall with those brawny arms of his, knees pressed to your chest as he pounded you, burying himself to the hilt as your pussy squeezed his thick, long dick like a vice. it would be so nasty… you could only imagine the way you’d be cumming around him, how he’d make you cream and release until you’re ran dry.

sometimes when you finish, you’ll feel ashamed, throwing your vibrator to the end of the bed as you squeezed your legs together and hid under the comforter with embarrassment. other times… not so much. the fire would still be stirring and burning within you, begging for something more, for you to truly be filled. there were times you were a smidgen too close to calling up one of your old flings, just to fulfill your desire of being stretched out once again and to just imagine the man over you was your employer instead.

your feelings didn’t go completely unrequited.

choso held his tongue for the greater good of professionalism and your comfortability, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t contemplate asking you to dinner a few times. from what he’s seen and observed on your insta, you didn’t have a special somebody. and he figured it would never hurt to ask. but choso was careful. he often opted to just not say anything.

he felt his gazes getting longer, his eyes moving more risky every time he’d see you moving about in his home working. he picked up that you really liked two piece sets, especially the ones made of sculpting spandex that always clung to your body almost provocatively. the way your ass sat in them, he was almost embarrased to say he dreamed about grabbing a handful of it, palming one of your cheeks with his entire hand. your glossed lips always caught his attention. he often thought about how it would look smudged on his skin, smeared across his own lips after tonguing you down.

your smell lingered. on the furniture, in the blankets, hung in the air. it was embarrassing how the scent of shea butter and vanilla was enough alone to make his dick stiff. it’s been so long since he’s rubbed one out. and he was doing a good job until you came along. he wasn’t proud to admit the amount of times he’s touched himself to you, his hips rolling his dick up into the clenched palm of his hand, soft squelching sounds filling his master bedroom. he’d imagine how you’d ride him, slamming your hips down against his own, your ass flush against his skin as you moan sweet nothings into his ear while he tried his damnedest to not nut in you.

the tension was growing thick. it could be sliced with a chainsaw at this point. but the both of you both opted to play it safe. until it spilled over… and it was bound to happen.

and it did.

"ouuuu, shit, choso!" the way that man was absolutely drilling you from behind was almost criminal, the deafening sound of his hips cracking against your fat ass echoing throughout the sound of the living room as he was trying his best to fuck you through the couch he had you drooling on.

you really don't know how you got here. well... you do. after all, this was the day you've been plotting and hoping on the moment you first seen choso's fine ass leaning against his doorway. it was like a dream come true, watching the way he deliciously hovered over you like predator over prey, his silky brown tresses draping around his sharp facial structure and his silver chain dangling, swinging in cadence with his hard, deep thrusts.

the two of you were just watching a movie, mr. & mrs. smith to be exact, courtesy of the invitation he extended earlier that night when you put yuji down for bed. an opportunity to "get better acquainted" over wine, gourmet chips, chocolates and a good action-romance.

"i see the way you look at me," you had stated boldly as you sipped your third glass of wine, the pillar to your sudden courage. "i know you notice how i look at you, too."

choso was sprawled out on the couch, legs spread and his arms thrown over the top. his head rested in one of his big hands, gazing at you through heavy-lidded eyes. he's silent for a moment as he looks at you so intently, his orbs filled with need, before he finally diverts his gaze to the tv. "yeah."

you look at the tv for a bit, not interested at all actually, but feigning it as you finished your glass. it was silent for a bit, albeit the sound of gunfire and car collisions booming through the in-home sound system, before choso speaks, "you can sit closer."

your scooting closer somehow led to you sitting in his lap, which led to a passionate, sloppy makeout session involving you straddling his firm thighs and his big hands gripping your entire ass in his palms as your tongue dived into his mouth. and all that led to him softly laying you on to the couch cushions, your lips never leaving each other's.

his lips are as soft as they look, yet leave scorching flames of desire in their wake as he litters passionate kisses all over your jugular and chest. he buries his nose into your skin, almost moaning at how sweet you smell and taste. as he continues to trace his name on your skin with his tongue, his fingers find the zipper to your purple yoga jacket, his eyes peering at up at yours through his thick lashes to ensure he has your approval.

you nodded your head gently.

choso made it his mission to show you he had much more to offer than some blue bills to you. you never depicted or predicted the guy to be an eater. but oh, were you pleasantly surprised.

that man can eat some pussy... and he does it like he gets paid to do it. he had you spread out like you were his dinner, and you were, your legs wide apart, knees bent. he sat on his haunches on the carpeted floor before you, spreading your lips apart and sloppily sucking at your clit that throbbed eagerly against his lips. he'd dip his head down, lapping up any of your leaking wetness before making out with your pussy yet again, his eyes trained on you and watching intently as your pretty face contorted into expressions of pleasure.

he'd make you cum all in his mouth, encouraging you to do so, never letting up as your thighs shook and vibrated, your eyebrows pushing together and your eyes fluttering shut as the bright hot warmth of your well-awaited orgasm overtook you, leaving you gasping for air. his compliments, "good girl," and "you taste so fucking good" would just get you all riled up again. choso came in his pants too, his ear tips bright red as he made it his duty to lick up all of your sweet nectar, but he kept that to himself.

that's not the only way he wants you though. he'll sit on his bottom on the floor next, his head resting against the couch, requesting for you to sit on his face. "what? choso, no, i'd crush you."

he'll take that as an insult of course. he benches twice your weight, easily. a little extra plush on the thighs wouldn't kill him, in fact, he'd love it ten times more. you'd saddle up, hesitantly brushing your pussy against his lips, and he'd look up at you, unimpressed.

"whaat?" you feign confusion, in reality, a bit shy and nervous at the thought of putting your weight on him.

"sit."

his words made every hair stand at attention against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. you bite your lip, your gloss long smeared off and all over his pale skin. you bring your weight down on him a bit more.

"all the way." fuck.

you do as you're told, and a deep moan of satisfaction rolls through him, his tongue already dipping into your dripping folds. and before you could even think about letting up, his strong arms are locked around your thick thighs.

he'd have you writhing in his grip, going insane at the way his tongue wrote love letters in cursive against your clit. he'd be damn near drowning in your release, your cum slicking and dribbling against his chin as you rolled your hips back and forth against his soft lips. you were chanting his name like a mantra, and it was a beautiful melody to his ears.

and lo and behold, that's how you ended up on a first class flight to poundtown, your eyes stuck in the back of your head and your manicured nails digging into the arm of the couch for personal brace as his huge dick kept brushing up against that soft spot of yours and his girth stretched you so damn good. you knew you were making a mess- you done squirted twice already, your juices rivering down the insides of your thighs and seeping into the soaked couch cushion below you. "fuck, please don't stop!"

"yeah?" choso breathes over you, his cheeks flushed pink from his endurance. you knew he wasn't slowing down no time soon... he told you about his daily four mile runs. his pupils were blown wide as he watched the way you managed to still throw it back at him, stilling his hips as he watched your hungry pussy swallow his length every time your ass sat plush on his lower stomach. "you like that shit?" his calloused palm smacked against your ass unforgivingly, the fiery sting setting you ablaze. he did it again, one more time for good measure.

you were losing it, moaning exasperatedly into the couch fabric as you gave him everything you got, tossing your ass back against him, trying to match the impact he was winding you with just a second ago. "yess, fuck yess," you whine. you reach your hand back, your nails clawing at his shirt and yanking it in a ball. "please, choso, keep fucking me like that."

"what, like this?" his large hands were at your lovehandles, squeezing the flesh there as his resumed his relentless rythym, his eyebrows pinching at the way you squeezed around him like a vice. you let out a wail, your cream decorating his veiny shaft, and he relished in the feeling, a deep groan of satisfaction bubbling from his throat. "shit, you just keep cumming.... what is this, your fourth time?"

actually your sixth, but you weren't gonna correct him. if there was anything you knew, you wanted more. the way the veins of his dick dragged against your walls was a wonderful, irreplicable feeling, his balls slapping your clit with each profound stroke. his thick fingers found your hair, tangling his hand in your locks and giving them a courteous yank, making your back cave and arch deeper as you let out a yelp of pleasure. any other time, you'd for sure cuss him out... but his dick touching your soul was plenty good of a distraction. besides, you knew your hair was long sweated out anyway.

he was gonna give you some money for a new hairstyle anyway. he was good for making up for it.

choso feels himself teetering against the edge, between the sounds of your disgusting squelching and the mess you left on him and his couch, your pussy still begging for more as it and all its sloppiness still squeezed him whole, and your pretty keens and gasps bouncing around the room, it was almost too much. he felt like he was losing it, the hearts in his eyes palpitating as both of his hands held your jaw from behind. "the fuck are you doing to me..." he mutters aloud, his eyebrows furrowed as you eagerly sucked on his thumbs with a slutty moan.

"you know, yuji gets lonely sometimes," he whispers, slowing his thrusts and leaning forward to crush you with his weight, his dick bottoming out and making you let out a cry as your eyes snapped wide open. he rolls his hips more sensually as he licks at the back of your nape, the cool metal of his chain brushing the skin of your back and making you shiver. his lips trail to your ear, tongue lolling out at the shell as he continues, "i'm sure he wouldn't mind a friend. you'd like that wouldn't you? for me to fuck you full until i got nothing left, huh? you gonna drain me of all i got?"

you nodded your head desperately as you hummed a whiny "mmhm", turning your head to the side as you watched in awe as the man over you was spilling over the edge. "yes, i'd love it, cho, give it to me... please?"

choso hums in satisfaction, his heart thrumming against his ribcage as your words made butterfly cocoons hatch in his stomach and his dick stiffer than ever before. "yeah..." he slams into you, winding you with power and force that insinuated that he hated you, but he'd only make such a dangerous, promising offer to someone he truly liked. let alone anyone at all. "i know you would. you're nasty as fuck."

you didn't know if you were to be terrified or turned on, but the way your core pulsated around him let you know you were the latter. he let out a breathy moan at your physical response, but it didn't stop him. not even for a second.

he wasn't letting up. you weren't getting any breaks. the way you would be teasing him wearing those tight ass clothes and smelling like you wanted him to eat you alive. nah. he was giving you everything you ever dreamed about, everything you imagined when you'd resort to using your little vibrator between your legs.

and you loved every fucking second of it.

[17020]

TU CORAZÓN ES MÍO — ORQUÍDEAS X WINBRE.

There is absolutely no one like him. All you hear is that young love is nothing more than miserable. With him, though, it's the complete opposite. He is your present and future, going through thick and thin together. Your heart is his, and his heart is yours.

STARRING . . . Ren Kaji, Jo Togame, Toma Hiragi. fem! reader

DICEN QUE EL AMOR EN SU JUVENTUD

SOLO TERMINA EN DOLOR... featuring REN KAJI

Ren Kaji was tired of hearing the same bullshit that came from every old fart's mouth. That young love isn't meant to last, not one bit. Every second spent together will eventually crumble, and it's best to go your separate ways before life itself sets you apart. Right?

Hell fucking no. Ren Kaji was sure that they must have had shitty, unhappy lives, because there was no way he could imagine life without you.

Sure, things were not always a bed of roses. Kaji knew that he wasn't exactly the best type of person to deal with, so he knew that it could take a bit for him to get used to things. And truth be told, he was glad you were patient.

Relationships weren't his strong suit—hell, you were his first one. His inexperience and his temper made it a wild ride, but you were willing to welcome him with open, loving arms. Your embrace made him forget about everything else: no person, comment, or action could come between the two of you. You were inseparable.

His first date, first kiss, first time, you were present in all. The more Kaji spent his days with you, the more he realized how many idiots he had heard say that this wouldn't last. He was determined to prove them wrong.

And he knew that he was being hasty, the way the velvety box slipped from his fingers many times was enough for the world to know that for the first time, Ren Kaji was anxious.

Fresh out of high school, he bolted through the busy streets. His destination? Your home.

Because after a nasty fight, he knew he had to make things right. He couldn't afford to lose you—not now, not ever.

When you heard a knock on your door, what you saw left you speechless. Your boyfriend was absolutely disheveled, with his hair all over his face, his eyes brimming with tears, and an open velvety box in his hand, revealing a thin band with your birthstone.

"I don't give one shit that we're young, but I want you to know that my heart is yours. This ring's all I have for now. Yn, marry me."

WHAT DO THEY KNOW?

THEY'RE MISERABLE, BROKEN, AND ALONE... featuring JO TOGAME

It had to be kept a secret. For both your sakes.

Because if the townspeople were to know that Bofurin's most beloved princess was involved with Shishitoren's second in command, frankly, a war was to take place.

It wasn't as if Togame was a complete asshole, but first impressions were always of upmost importance. And Jo Togame had screwed up by being a douche to Bofurin and falling for someone in enemy territory.

He was running out of excuses.

From having to run errands, being too tired and having to head home early, or even having to go to the bathroom and mysteriously spend hours looking for one, Togame always had a little lie up his sleeve in order to sneak out. It got difficult with time as Choji offered to accompany him in his errands, and Sako questioned him on why his lips were swollen, a red tint smeared across them.

"So, who's the lucky gal?"

"Dunno what you're talking about, I drank beet juice, that's all."

"Does beet juice leave your hair messy and give you hives on your neck?"

Togame chuckled as he raised his hands to his head, patting down his hair in an attempt to fix it. "Don't push it. I'll bring her over when I'm ready."

Sako stared at Togame with wide eyes, seemingly unable to process that he had indeed accurately guessed Togame's secret activities. "It's that serious?" he asked, with his raven haired friend humming in return.

"Best thing to ever happen to me. Keep it on the low, will ya? Don't want this spilling out."

Togame’s secret was well kept until a few weeks later, when he found himself inside a popular restaurant which was the borderline between Bofurin and Shishitoren territory.

And technically, he tried his best to be discreet. The restaurant’s popularity had skyrocketed overnight, which essentially meant he was to be more wary. A cap was on his head, with some dark aviator shades covering his eyes. All that hard work for nothing, as his infamous jacket was still draped over his shoulders.

The ‘disguise’ was worth it, though, as a smile grew on your face from how ridiculous he looked. It was a sign that Jo Togame was willing to go above and beyond in order to make you happy, and you were sure to keep that in mind.

“Jo, aren’t those your friends?”

The look on his face was indescribable. He whooshed his hand in the air in an attempt to call a waiter and ask for a check, and ended up drawing more attention to him.

And there they were, Choji Tomiyama and Kota Sako, making a beeline towards his table, wide eyes and shit eating grins plastered on their faces. Choji was the first to speak up, his hand patting the cap on his friend’s head. “What’s with the look, Kame-chan?”

"Is this the girl you told us about? Wait—isn't she—"

"She is" he sighed, "which is why I wanted things to be lowkey."

Sako looked distressed, his hands stuffed inside his pockets. "Do you know what'll be of us if Bofurin was to find out about this?"

Togame simply smiled in return, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"If Bofurin finds out and has a problem, it means they're miserable, broken, and alone. I love Yn, and I'd to through hell and five steps beyond for her."

A ESTAS CALLES NO VOY A REGRESAR PA NADA

TENGO ALGUIEN QUE ME AMA... featuring TOMA HIRAGI

No matter how many men you met and dated, you never seemed to find yourself comfortable with them. From them being too little or too much, you thought you'd never find the perfect match.

And your best friend Toma Hiragi had the pleasure to hear all about it.

"I mean, the date was horrible!" you exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair. "He spent the whole date on his phone talking to his friends, and when it was time to pay, he expected me to do so! I got so angry I stood up and left him on the spot. Even the waitress supported me!"

Toma sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "And ya went on this blind date because...?"

"Because I want someone who can treat me right, Toma, and so far I've found nothing but assholes."

He loved the way his name rolled so smoothly off your tongue. You were his closest friend, the one he went to for everything. Hearing about your love life mishaps was enough for him to stuff his whole stomach with pills.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

"What?"

"Ya know what? Friday. 7pm. Dress nice."

"Why—what for?" you asked, to which Hiragi just facepalmed. "You complain so damn much about assholes, figured I'll just take ya to dinner instead. So, dress nice, and don't make me wait."

As soon as you heard those words, you knew your life was about to change. Because Hiragi doesn't do things for anybody, so for him to ask you to dinner was huge.

It wasn't a one time thing. Each week, you found yourself in various food places and arcades with Hiragi, with his excuse being that 'this was a way for you to shut your trap.' And it worked?

There were no more blind dates, or random hookups. Just Hiragi taking up more and more of your time every day. You couldn't lie to yourself, it felt like heaven.

"Toma, why do you keep taking me places? I don't want you to do it if it's out of pity, y'know. Save your cash."

He shook his head in response, "Save it? I've been waitin' for this since forever ago, ya think I'm gonna waste my chance?"

"What do you mean?"

"My heart's always belonged to ya, stupid. It's about damn time ya know."

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @littleplantfreak @maruflix @heartkaji

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 7) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake take some time for yourselves before you tell Bradley the news.

Series Master List

Master List

About Fourteen Months Ago

Jake glanced around the reception hall. It was Rooster and Emma’s rehearsal dinner and he was more than a little bored. Everyone else had paired off with their plus ones or were trying to get one and Jake just decided to wander around the building to the outdoor bar for a change in scenery.

Walking over, Jake was about to order a drink when he spotted you sitting at the end of the bar, dressed in a dress that hugged your body well and a pair of heels. He had seen your picture before any of the wedding preparations started, and knew that he’d shoot his shot with you if given the chance. He saw that you had a boyfriend, but yet he hadn’t seen the guy around anywhere today.

So, he was going to take a chance.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing out here all by yourself?” Jake drawled, letting his Texas accent shine through.

“Trying to get away from my family, actually,” you mused, taking a sip of your drink. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but Bradley’s a bit of a groomzilla.”

“He’s been a diva ever since I met him.”

“You’re Hangman, right?” you asked, turning in your seat towards Jake. 

“The one and only,” Jake returned with a nod. “And you must be Rooster’s one and only sister. The maid of honor.”

“That’s me.” 

“Well, that makes me even more curious about why you’re out here alone,” Jake remarked, taking his seat. “You didn’t even get to bring a guest to pull you out of the bullshit?”

“Well, I did have a guest. And then I sort of broke up with him a few weeks ago,” you replied, causing Jake to nod slowly.

“That’ll do it.”

“Oh, it did,” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. Turning back to Jake, you offered him a playful smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why is it that my brother didn’t warn me to stay away from anyone else except for you?” you mused, leaning on the bar top. “What makes you so special?”

“I have a few guesses,” Jake responded, motioning to the bartender to grab a drink for himself. “Your brother and I have a history of not seeing eye to eye on a lot of things. And I have a nasty habit of flirting with beautiful women.”

“He was probably worried that you’d take advantage of me, since he thinks that I’m vulnerable and pathetic right now.”

“You’re not upset about your breakup?” Jake asked, turning to you. 

“It was one of those relationships that you look back on and wonder why you stayed for as long as you did,” you explained before taking a long sip of your drink. “And I think my family was more upset about it than I was.”

“Who cares what they think? It’s your life, your relationship, your decision.”

“I'll drink to that,” you returned with a smile. 

Jake got his beer and the two of you chatted as the dinner dragged on. Laughing at one of Jake’s jokes, you turned around when you heard your name. Penny was standing at the entrance to the hall and motioning for you to come inside. She glanced between the two of you with a look that you would call knowing motherly intuition before heading inside. 

“I should probably go,” you stated, standing up from the bar. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Anytime,” Jake replied, eyes still trained on you. 

“Do you have any plans for after the wedding tomorrow?” you asked, sliding your clutch under your arm. 

“Are you offering?” Jake asked, a smirk overcoming his features. 

“Only if you’re agreeing,” you returned, taking slow steps from him. 

“And if I am?”

“Then if you give me a ride home tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do to repay you for it.”

“I’ll be there,” he stated, nodding in return.

“I’ll be the one standing at the altar in the blue dress next to the bride. Just in case,” you joked, heading inside. Sending him one last smile, you added, “Bye, Jake.”

~~~~~

Present Day

Jake took the initiative and suggested that the two of you take a day trip together away from San Diego where the two of you could talk in peace. And the beach town where you may or may not have accidentally conceived your child together was his first suggestion. 

The two of you walked down to the beach, which was relatively quiet as it was still early in the day. You picked a spot a short walk from the waves where the breeze was present but not too strong and set down your bag. 

“You need help?” Jake asked as you unrolled your beach blanket. 

“I think that I can manage,” you assured him, using the breeze to fluff out the blanket. 

You set it down on the sand carefully before straightening up. Shimmying out of your beach cover, happy to sit in the warm California air in just your bathing suit, you caught Jake’s gaze on you. Tossing your dress onto your bag and slowly lowering yourself to sit on the blanket, you looked up at Jake.

“You know, you staring at me got us into this situation in the first place,” you commented, adjusting your top. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining before,” Jake quipped, sitting down beside you. “And I was staring at your bump, not . . .” You glanced down at your small bump before turning back to Jake. “You hide it everywhere else.”

“Not everyone knows about it everywhere else,” you pointed out softly. You glanced down at your bump again, tilting your head to the side. “Though I guess it is starting to grow, isn’t it?” 

“Has Mav said anything to you since the dinner?” Jake asked, turning to stare out at the waves.

“Not much besides checking in on me. I think that he’s just waiting for us to tell Bradley.” 

“And where are you with that?” Jake inquired, glancing over at you. 

“I know that I have to do it. Mav already invited us over for dinner next weekend, so I have a feeling that he’s getting antsy about it,” you replied softly. “But it’s terrifying to think about Bradley’s reaction.”

“Why? He’s just your brother.” 

You turned back to Jake with a mildly annoyed expression, but he didn’t seem to back down on his opinion. Resting your hands on the towel behind you, you stared out and away from Jake, settling your emotions before you responded. 

“I know that not everyone is close with their siblings. But Bradley and I are close. Because we had to be,” you explained, watching the waves crash rhymically in front of you, helping settle you more. “Look, maybe if my dad lived or my mom lived, we wouldn’t have been as close. But we had to rely on each other a lot growing up.”

“Like with what?” 

“It was usually just us. My grandparents helped out, but they got sick. My mom was there and she took on everything that she could, but she had to work full time. Mav was gone for a lot of the time. Bradley would start dinner for my mom and then help me with my homework pretty much every night.”

You paused, glancing down at your toes and curling them in the sand as a nervous habit.

“Hell, Brad even took me to the father-daughter dance one year. My friend’s dad drove us, but Brad was my guest. There were a lot of times where he was just forced to stand in for someone else for me. And I always feel guilty about it.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t have a choice. He was the oldest and Mom couldn’t physically be there for everything. And Mav was busy with his career.”

“Mav wasn’t around that often for you guys?” Jake asked after a moment, a little confused. “How are you guys so close then?”

“He wasn’t around a lot when we were little,” you explained, turning back to Jake. “I think that he didn’t want to spend too much time around us because he felt guilty about it. Like he was taking my dad’s place. But then my mom started to get sick and he took a lot of time off to help with us.” 

“How old were you when your mom . . .?” 

“I was ten, I think, when she got diagnosed. And then I was two months away from turning thirteen when she passed. Brad was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It happened a long time ago,” you replied softly, staring out at the waves. 

“If the baby’s a girl,” Jake ventured after a moment, causing you to turn back to him, “did you want to name her after your mom?” 

“I was thinking of her middle name actually. And it doesn’t have to be ‘Carole’ exactly, but something like it. I don’t want any kid to feel like they have to live up to someone else’s name,” you stated, and Jake could sense from your tone that you weren’t really talking about your baby. “I would want our daughter to have her own name. Or our son too, of course, if the baby’s a boy.” 

“If we had a boy, you’d want his middle name to be Nick then?” 

“No,” you stated, shaking your head slowly. “I, uh, we never talked about it, but I always just knew that Bradley would want to name his son after our dad. And hey, I can’t even remember the man, so I’ll just leave the name for Brad.” Adjusting your sunglasses, you turned to Jake again. “And I kind of assumed that if we had a boy, you would want his middle name to be ‘Jacob.’” 

“Why would you think that?” Jake asked, confused. 

“Most boys have their dad’s name as their middle name,” you pointed out calmly. “Is your middle name your dad’s name?”

“The kid doesn’t need my name,” Jake stated, dodging your second question.

"What about your surname?"

"I just assumed you wanted to name them 'Bradshaw'."

"I wanted to hyphen it actually,” you replied, brushing your hands on your thighs to rub the sand off. “I mean, we’re going to co-parent. So, they can have both of our names.”

Jake nodded slowly, murmuring that he heard you. Staring at the waves again, you knew that it was probably best to not push Jake on the subject of his family. But you literally knew nothing about his childhood except for the fact that he wouldn’t talk about it. And that he was from Texas. That was it.

And if Jake’s family was going to become your family through your baby, you felt like you needed to know more than that. Or at least an explanation for why you didn’t.

“Jake?”

“What?”

“Why do you avoid every question that I ask about your past?” you asked softly, turning back to Jake. “Or your family?”

“Because they’re irrelevant. They’re not going to be involved, I'll tell you that right now. I haven't spoken to them since I was . . . twenty-five," Jake replied, doing the math in his head. "And I'm not going to start again anytime soon."

"Who is 'them'? Your parents?" you asked quietly.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I'm currently pregnant with your baby and I don't even know if you have a sibling. I mean, that's the most basic information that you share with anyone." Turning to face Jake more, you folded your legs under you. "And I'm not trying to overstep but if we're going to be a team and co-parent, can I at least know something about your past before the Navy? Anything?"

"I'm an only child," Jake replied after a moment.

"Thank you," you returned softly.

"Don't mention it."

Turning back to the waves, you moved to give Jake some space. You clearly struck a nerve with him, though you felt like it was a topic that you had to discuss with him at some point. But it was going to be an incredibly tense drive home if you kept pushing him, so you decided to give him a moment.

"I'm going to go down to the waves for a bit," you stated, slowly getting to your feet.

Jake stopped his staring contest with the horizon and looked up as you walked away and headed down to the wet sand and waves. He watched you as you slowly walked into the water, getting your toes and ankles wet. You set your hands on your hips, which naturally seemed to curve your posture and stick your bump out even further so that when you turned to look down the beach, Jake could see the gentle curve.

Sighing, he held his head in his hand for a moment. He ran his hand through his hair and angrily tugged at the strands.

"Way to fucking go, Jake," he cursed himself, glancing up at the sky.

He always got defensive whenever anyone asked about his past. Coyote was on the receiving end of a lot of it until he finally wore him down. There was a lot of tequila involved, though. And he knew that reacting defensively to you, when you were clearly trying to help in your own way, was not going to be a winning strategy. Not if he wanted to maintain a good relationship with you.

Letting out a groan, Jake got up from the ground. Dusting off his shorts, he pulled his tank top off since he was starting to sweat and made his way down to where you were standing.

You leaned down, picking up a smooth rock from the ground and running your thumb along it. The sound of footsteps made you turn around. You couldn't help the surprised look on your face when you saw Jake approach, though you offered him a small smile as he moved to stop beside you. A wave rolled up and you glanced down at your toes.

"Did you think about what living situation you wanted?" Jake asked, turning towards you. "I'm open to moving into your apartment or you could move into mine. Or we could get a place together."

"We'll definitely need more than a one bedroom apartment at some point," you stated, picking your head up. "When is your lease up?"

"Seven months. I signed it after we got back from our last deployment," Jake replied, staring out at the water. "You?"

"Two months," you stated, causing Jake to turn to you urgently. "I know, it's pretty soon. My landlord is already sending me almost daily texts about renewing my lease."

"And . . . do you want to?"

"I don't think that I want to raise our baby there," you responded after a moment of thought. "So, no I don't think I will."

“Did you want to move in with me?” Jake offered, causing you to turn back to him.

"Do you want me to move in with you?" you asked him, turning the question around on him.

"I don't want to miss anything," Jake stated, causing you to nod. "I know that it's a one bedroom, so that might be a little awkward, but if sleeping on the couch or buying a bigger bed means that I don't miss anything, then I'll do it in a heartbeat."

"Okay," you agreed, trying to keep the emotion stable in your voice. "Then I'll move in with you when my lease is up."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," you assured him. "Moving in together isn't as big of a commitment as having a baby together."

"I suppose not," Jake agreed, smiling softly. He looked down the beach before turning back to you. "Do you think our baby was conceived on this beach?"

"Jake," you gasped, smacking his chest.

You looked around with pink cheeks, hoping that no one overheard him, which only made Jake crack up more. He had suggested that the two of you go for a walk down on the beach late that night, but you had been the one to suggest skinny dipping, which, of course, led to the two of you getting sand in some awkward places.

"No one's going to hear me," Jake replied confidently.

"I still can't believe that we did that," you sighed, holding a hand to your head. "What were we thinking?"

"We could have a repeat, if you wanted to jog your memory."

Scoffing indignantly, you leaned down and splashed Jake with some of the ocean water that was washing in towards shore. As he turned away from you, you straightened up and shook your head at him.

"Get your head out of the sand, Lieutenant."

The two of you eventually made your way back to your bags. Drying off with your towel, you sat down and laid back on your hands, soaking in the sun. Jake offered you a water, which you took with a quick 'thanks.’ Jake took his seat beside you again and the two of you chatted about the upcoming week.

But you couldn't help but notice how his eyes kept dropping down to your bump.

“Did you want to touch it?” you asked softly, causing Jake to whip his chin up to face you. “My bump, I mean.” 

“You don’t mind?” 

Sitting up a bit more, you reached over and grabbed his wrist. Dragging his hand over, you placed his hand on your small bump before leaning back again. You stared at the waves, letting Jake have the moment to himself. As much as you could anyways. It took a few moments but Jake spread his fingers out and gently cupped your bump with his hand. 

“Did your doctor say how long it would take until we can feel them move around?” Jake questioned, causing you to turn back to him. 

“She said that it’ll be a few more weeks. Maybe months. Depends on the baby, I guess.” 

Jake nodded slowly, staring down at your bump for a moment as he smiled softly.

"Well, here's where you were conceived, little one. I think, anyways."

Jake smirked to himself as you pinched his side in retaliation. Shaking your head at him, you looked down at your bump, which still had Jake’s hand draped over it.

"Just ignore him,” you told your bump.

~~~~~

You and Jake decided to take separate cars to Maverick’s house for dinner. You arrived early to try and scope it out and then Jake would come a few minutes after you. It was an attempt to try and reduce the initial shock of it all, though that wasn’t going to be very easy. Or maybe even possible. Walking into Maverick’s house with a batch of fresh cookies, you smiled when you spotted Emma. 

“Hey,” she greeted you, walking over to give you a tight hug. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” you replied nervously, returning her hug a bit tighter than normal. 

“Where’s . . .?”

“He’ll be here,” you assured her as you released her.

Emma nodded slowly before Maverick walked over to you. She took the plate of cookies from your hand and slipped away, leaving you and Maverick to talk. Maverick pulled you in for a hug, giving you some silent support. 

“It’ll be alright. He’s been in a good mood today,” Maverick whispered to you, causing you to nod slowly. “We’ll be here.”

You nodded again as Maverick pressed a supportive kiss to your head before releasing you. Taking a second, you composed yourself before walking into the dining area to finally see your brother. He was in the middle of setting something on the table when you approached and turned to you with a smile. 

“Hey, why the long face?” he joked, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Just worried that Emma let you cook again,” you lied, accepting his hug. “I thought I smelled smoke on my way in.”

“You’re the one that actually set the oven on fire last time,” Bradley scoffed, releasing you from the hug. 

“How was work last week?” you asked, helping your brother set the table. 

“Fine. Just some guys breathing down my neck about bullshit.” He glanced over at you from the corner of his eye. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’ve been much better,” you agreed, setting down some utensils. “Went to see my doctor.”

“And?”

“Everything’s fine,” you replied quietly. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Bradley stated, looking at you oddly. “So, what’s wrong then?”

“Nothing. I just have some news,” you spoke softly, looking away from your brother. 

“What kind of news?” Bradley asked, confused. 

“The kind that you should sit down for,” you responded, straightening up as Bradley frowned. After a moment, you added, “I’m going to grab something from my car and then I’ll come and explain it all to you guys.”

Without too much fuss, you turned and walked out the door. Jake was walking down the street, having chosen to park down the street, out of view of the dining room windows, when you stepped out of the house. You walked down a few steps to greet him.

“You ready?” Jake asked you. 

You nodded, smoothing down the front of your dress, before holding out your hand. Jake stared at it for a moment before taking it. Turning to the door, you opened it again and stepped inside, gently pulling Jake with you. 

At the sound of the door opening, Bradley turned away from his urgent conversation with Maverick. He quickly registered the fact that you weren’t alone, the fact that the person you were with was Hangman, and the fact that the two of you were holding hands. 

And Bradley did not look happy about it. 

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[cowpokeomens]

Blood Born

Hi hello! Sorry I disappeared, life has just been happening lately no matter how much I tell it not to. Anyways, below the cut you'll find Noah Sebastian with a mysterious secret doin the nasty bc I'm nothing if not a monster fucker.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of weapons, dirty nasty p-in-v smut, Noah's monster cock (canon), praise kink, there's some biting too. I think that's everything but I'm really tired so if I missed something, let me know! Enjoy!

________________________________________________________

New Orleans had always been one of Noah’s favorite cities.

He’d been partial to the French, anyway. Liked the way they baked absurd little confections, the way they fucked without remorse- the way they’d put each other’s head on a pike just to get a leg up in court. He’d been fortunate enough to be endowed with a pretty face, and there were few things the French liked more than that. 

Which is where he found himself now, walking through the French Quarter, looking for dinner. There were approximately a million restaurants with old signs beckoning him inside, but Noah had lost a taste for that kind of food long before he stepped foot in this city. 

He smelled you before he saw you. 

It was the off season, if such a thing existed for a city like this. You were bundled up in a jacket, hurrying through the streets. It was chilly, even for this time of year, the wind making its way through your hair to whip in every direction. That must have been what blew your scent his way, the intoxicating scent of jasmine and an uninterrupted heart beat almost making him stiffen up where he stood, across the street from you. He mourned your scent as you ducked into a building, trying to escape the chill. You didn’t reek of alcohol the way most people in this area did- if he had to guess, he’d say you probably hadn’t had anything stronger than a glass of wine tonight. The thought of how that would taste had him darting across the nearly empty street to follow you into the building quickly.

He didn’t get a good meal often. The drunken strangers he usually managed to entice sated him in the way a pint of blueberries would satisfy a black bear. It was hard to find a sober person who would let you bite them, and the ones who did come along were, well, strange to say the least. As if he had any moral high ground. 

The inside of the building was warm, dimly lit. He spotted you immediately, in a far corner by the bar, alone. 

Blessed be to the old gods and the new. He thought to himself. He wouldn’t even have to lure you away from a group. He could easily seduce an individual, but multiples were hard when he was hungry. 

He made his way over to where you sat, sitting around the corner so he could face you, but not be in your personal space. “Whiskey neat, please.” The bartender nodded once, pouring something foul and cheap-smelling into a glass with an ice cube. Noah fought back a grimace at the stench. 

“Oh, come on, Remy, don’t give him the fucking Jack Daniel’s.” A voice called next to him. “If you want to cheap out, do Crown. Who the hell voluntarily drinks Jack?”

Noah slowly turned his head to where you sat, frowning at the bartender, who was rolling his eyes in return. He did remake Noah’s drink though, with something decidedly more palatable. 

As he sat the drink down and walked to another patron, Noah turned to you. “Thank you. I was having a difficult time coping with the thought of that on my palate.”

You flashed him a grin. Briefly, he wondered what it would feel like to breathe again. 

“No worries. Remy likes to give the tourists the bottom shelf shit, but you seem like the sort of guy who knows his whiskey.” You took a small sip of your wine, something deeply red that made Noah shift in his seat ever so slightly. 

He inhaled once. “Grenache?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know your wines, too. How could you tell?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Lucky guess.”

You cocked your head to the side curiously. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve never been here before.” Noah responded, emotionless.

“January is an odd time to visit for someone who’s never been here before.” You prodded further.

Noah couldn’t fight the smirk on his face. “Must you always play with your food?” Jolly had sighed once. “Maybe if I had a better tour guide, I would know that.”

He turns to look at you know, registers every emotion that crosses your face. Your pupils widen noticeably, your back going a little straighter. You were making this too easy for him. 

“You’re in luck, I happen to know a gal.” You’re beaming at him- a sweet, lopsided grin as you take a gulp of your wine and introduce yourself. Noah watches the movement of your throat as you do so, responding with his own name. He takes a moment to drink you in. 

Your jacket is gone now, but you’re still wearing a sweatshirt for a school he’s never heard of (Which, to be fair, is most of them.) Dark jeans cling to your legs where they sway idly from the barstool, your feet not touching the ground. Your hair has been pulled away from your face, but a few wisps escape and kiss the sides of your cheeks. He realizes, almost startled, that you’re beautiful. 

A dignified kind of beautiful, not the otherworldliness that his kind manages. He knows he’s attractive, but it’s the same kind of beauty that humans see in tigers, snakes-  A warning sign, a mark of predation. The kind of beauty you admire from the other side of bullet proof glass. 

You, though- you’re so warm. He can feel your warmth, even from over here. It transcends physicality; Warmth that is visceral, in your eyes and your lips and the scrunch of your nose reacting to the cold. 

“Hey, you okay?” Your soft voice shakes him out of his thoughts. “You looked sad.”

His eyes lock with yours, finding such human concern that if he could have wept, he would. You looked like you cared for people. He had not been cared for in a very long time. 

“Yes, sorry. Zoned out for a second there.” He quickly finished off his drink. “I would love to take you up on that offer, though. It would be nice to see the city from a local’s perspective.”

He was a dirty liar. He knew the earth of this place before the French could even see it from their ships. It was wild then, and wild now- though in different ways. He could see the old wild in the eyes of workers practicing their vaudou and the shadows that lingered at the edge of the swamps surrounding the city. It beckoned, a siren’s call out to the murky depths of the region. Colonizers said they “settled” the territory, but everyone old enough to remember knows that lands like that don’t settle. 

He supposed he was, in some ways, a marriage of those wilds. He remembered the things that lurked in the shadows… and now he was the thing lurking in that same darkness, however many lifetimes later.

“You know,” You interrupted his thoughts again, grabbing your coat in the process, “You get this really old-and-wise look on your face when you zone out. Are you thinking about war crimes, or mac ‘n cheese?”

He smiled despite himself. “Mac ‘n cheese.” 

You blinded him briefly with a smile in return. He knew instantly that he would regret this, but followed you out the bar nonetheless, throwing a bill onto the counter without looking back. 

You walked alongside each other in companionable silence until you spoke up. 

“So, what brings you to the city alone?”

Noah smirked at the ground. You didn’t even try to disguise your inquiries. It was refreshing.

“I was supposed to be visiting friends, but they’re not here anymore.” It wasn’t a lie- not the truth, but certainly not a lie. 

You frowned. “You didn’t think to check that your friends lived here still before you came?” 

Noah shook his head. “I was actually just passing through- decided to stay a few days.”

You nodded, as if his non-answers made any sense. It reminded him of how he would nod at the eloquent words of his elders when he was a child, like pretending he was wiser than he was would somehow allow the wisdom to materialize out of sheer will. A thought occurred to him. “How old are you?”

“Oh, I’m 25.” You responded, turning to cast a glance up at him. “You?”

He found he didn’t want to lie to you. “Older than you.” Was the answer he settled on. 

You snorted, surprising him. He raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Come on man, that’s like, the most ‘Guy Older Than 27’ thing to say.” You rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone rolled their eyes at him. 

He grinned anyway, not looking at you. “Fair enough. I am older than 27.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “Why so cryptic? Scared I’ll send you back to the nursing home you escaped from-”

You were cut off as he crowded you up against a wall, staring down his nose at you, arms on either side of your head. “You’re kind of mouthy, you know that?”

“Then shut me up.” Your words were rushed, like they escaped before you could think them over properly. He hesitated for only a second, then leaned in to kiss you. 

You bloomed like a flower in spring for him, lips parting in a gasp, chest heaving as color rushed to your cheeks. He felt drunk as his tongue traced your lip, hands coming down to grasp your hips. You parted after only a few moments, breath ragged. 

“I live about a block from here.” Your intentions were not lost on him. 

He took a step back, gesturing for you to lead the way. You finished your nighttime stroll soon after, quickly pulling out your keys to unlock your front door.

Noah pauses at the door. Some of the superstitions were all too true. You turn around to face him, framed by the light of your entryway. 

“Well, come in then. It’s cold.” You urge him, holding the door open. He lets out a breath he didn’t need.

He follows you inside to the warm interior. He’s taking in your interior decoration choices when you pounce, pulling him to your mouth. He happily obliges, deepening the kiss and wrapping an arm around your back. He felt your hands come up to his chest, pushing him away. 

“Did you want to stop-” He began, until you interrupted him. 

“No, but thanks. I’m just trying to get us to a flat surface that isn’t my hardwood floors.” You gave him a sly smile, taking him by the hand and tugging him through the house. 

His eyes could see in pitch black, but he was still thoroughly impressed by how you could navigate in the dim light. You must have lived here for a while.

You flung open a door with ease, still pulling him behind you. He could see the bed as you shoved him onto it, crawling on top of him. He was grinning as you leaned in to kiss him again-

Then you stopped. 

He suddenly realized, not reacting quickly enough as you scrambled off him and flipped on the lights.

“Your teeth-” You began, then froze as you took in the sight of him. He already knew what you were seeing. Blood vessels protruding around his eyes. His irises, sclera- blown pitch black. Cold skin even paler than usual. He could feel them now, behind his lips-

Fangs. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You were too calm, given the circumstances, given your words. 

Noah could only imagine the look on his face; Shame, embarrassment, regret. “I’ll go-”

“No no no, nuh-uh. You’re going to stay right there and explain what’s going on or I’ll scream bloody murder and Mr. Joe will come over with his 42 and we’ll have real problems.”

Noah stilled, though probably not for the reason you were wanting. “I’m sorry, did you just threaten to shoot me? I grew teeth, I’m a big scary monster, you can’t just shoot-”

“Yes I can! And I will! I’m crazy! I’m not scared of sexy scary monsters, I’m from backwoods Louisiana, pal! I’ve been hunting! I-”

“You think I’m sexy?” Noah could feel his eyes returning to normal as he grinned at you.

“Shut up.” Your voice cracked, betraying you.

Noah stood up, cocking his head to the side. His fangs were retracting now, disappearing from view. He gave you a long look. 

You looked pissed, which was new. He was more accustomed to fear, knew how to respond to it, soothe it. You had a glint in your eye that looked different from just anger, almost like-

Betrayal. The earth whispered to him. 

He took a deep breath. He could still smell arousal on you. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t… how I wanted this to go.”

“Then how did you want it to go?” You threw back at him. 

“I- I don’t know! I thought we could hook up and then I’d leave when you fell asleep and I’d find some rando on the way home and-” He stopped short, unsure of how to continue.

“And what?” You prodded, sounding fearful for the first time that evening. Good. You should be scared. He was a monster- an old one. For all you knew he ate virgins and burned down villages. 

He looked down, unable to meet your eyes. “And… drink their blood.”

You exhaled, long. “You kill people to eat?”

His neck snapped up at you. “No, no! Oh my god, no. Just a nibble and I’m on my way-” He stopped at the giggle you let out. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just,” You straightened your face. “You eat people and refer to it as a ‘nibble?’”

“I don’t eat people.” He deadpanned, giving you a look. 

“You just drink their blood.”

“Right.”

You both stared at each other for a long moment. 

“So why-” You began.

Noah motioned for you to continue. 

You blinked. “Why the fangs, then? If you weren’t going to… y’know.” You averted your gaze.

A movement Noah quickly mirrored. “Oh, um. It’s like- an arousal thing. Pretty girl kisses me, fangs pop out.”

You were looking at him again. “You think I’m pretty?”

He met your eyes. “Yeah. Prettiest thing I’ve seen so far, and I’ve been around for a while.”

You took a slow step towards him. “How often do you eat?”

“Um, once a week, if it’s good. Maybe twice if it’s not.” He responded automatically, trying not to think about how bizarre this conversation was.

Your head tilted slightly. Another step. “How long has it been? Since you’ve… fed?”

He was watching you carefully now. Then, very quietly, he said “Two weeks.”

Something like concern flooded your eyes, and you almost winced at him. “That’s a long time to be hungry.”

He could see your jugular on your neck, pulsating with life. He said nothing in response. 

You took another step. “Would it help if you… fed on me?”

He looked at you sharply, processing your words in seconds. “No.”

“Why not?” You countered, cocking a brow.

Why not? The earth whispered at him again, voice a caress in his ear. He could smell you- Alive, fresh and-

Fertile. The familiar voice supplied. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. I’m not going to tell her she smells fertile, he retorted. 

“You can’t think of a good reason.” You assumed, staring almost directly into his silence. 

“I could hurt you.” He supplied helplessly.

“And that’s worse than hurting someone else?” 

He tried again. “No- it’s not, but-” A deep breath, “I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

You placed a hand on his arm, too warm and too close. “Then I’ll just hurt you back.” You were so close to him, when did you get this close- “You look awfully hungry, Noah.” You murmured, looking up at him through your lashes.

It was impossible for him to misread your body language as his hands came up to grip your hips, tugging you closer to him. He could feel your nipples hardening where your bodies met. 

“You can tell me to stop, okay? Whenever you want, just say the word and we’ll stop.” He was panting now, salivating in anticipation as his canines slid back out. 

You nodded. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Then you kissed him again, sliding your tongue over his fangs in a move that made him outright moan into your mouth. He scooped you up in what was obviously a feat of superhuman strength, chucking you onto the bed. 

He made quick work of your clothes, pulling your shirt over your head in a swift movement that had him pausing to stare. “Blessed be to the old gods and the new.” He breathed, taking in your pert nipples, breasts swaying at his hasty movements. He leaned in, running his tongue from your sternum, up through your breasts, stopping only at your neck. “Do you taste as good as you look, love?”

Your cheeks reddened. “Let’s hope so.” 

He grinned, a wicked, awful thing, tugging on your pants until they slid off, leaving you in just your underwear. “Wanna see a trick?” 

You did not want to see a trick, you decided as your body betrayed you and nodded anyway. 

He came down to eye-level with your mound, slowly and carefully hooking a single fang on the fabric, sliding it directly through your panties until they were completely torn open. 

You gaped, unable to form words. 

“Sorry, those were cute. I’ll make it up to you.” Noah promised as he spread your legs open for him. 

You felt exposed, vulnerable. Your entire body went red as he watched you. He ran a finger up your slit, making your entire body shudder. “Oh? Baby likes that?”

You nodded, blinking rapidly. Noah swatted your inner thigh, not enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention. “Use your words.”

Your cheeks grew even pinker. “Y-yes, I liked it.”

He leaned down, caging you in. “Want me to fuck you?” 

“Please.” You whispered. His eyes went pitch black again. 

“Good girl, already knows to beg.” He backed off of you, tugging off his turtleneck sweater, revealing a fully tattooed torso. Your mouth went dry at the sight. “Again.” He demanded.

“Please.” You obeyed, still barely above a whisper. 

“Prettier.” He demanded again, unbuckling his pants.

“P-please, Noah, please-”

“Almost there.” His pants hit the floor, revealing a pair of equally as inked legs.

“Please, I’ll be so good, Noah, please, let me be good-”

“That’s a good girl, good job. C’mere.” He sat back down on the bed, the outline of his cock clearly visible in his briefs. You wanted to feel, to taste.

You obliged his command, crawling over to straddle his lap. 

“Here’s how this is gonna go, pretty thing.” He began, sliding a finger inside of you as he did so. You gasped, latching onto his shoulder for support. “I’m going to get you nice and loose, then you’re going to ride me, like this. Understand?”

“Yes sir.” You stammered as he added another finger. 

“Ooh, nice manners.” He praised, dropped a kiss to your jaw. You shivered at his touch. “When you feel like you’re close, you’re going to tell me, and then I’m going to bite right-” he rubbed a small line on the side of your neck- “Here. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded, then remembered to say “Yes, yes, sounds wonderful, sounds amazing, Noah fuck me please-”

He chuckled quietly, lifting you up ever so slightly to align himself where he had pulled down is briefs. “You ready?”

“Noah I swear to whatever gods, old and new- fuck.” Your rampage broke off into a moan as he slid himself into you. His thrusts were short at first, letting you adjust, until you finally sank all the way down. 

You were panting when you finally bottomed out. “Big- ‘S so big.” You whined, clenching and unclenching on him involuntarily.

Noah’s breaths were equally as ragged. His hands had come to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on them. “Whenever you’re ready.” He placed another kiss on your forehead. 

You waited another few seconds, then pulled up experimentally. The drag of him inside you had a long moan escaping your throat. You dropped down, gasping, rising up again. You repeated this until you were riding him in earnest, moans and gasps escaping you both. 

You didn’t know how Noah was managing to hit that bundle of nerves inside of you every time you sank down, but he was. You draped your arms on his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him deeply, fangs tugging on your lip ever so slightly. “You look so good riding my cock baby, look so good with a big cock in you, like you were made for this-” Noah’s profane train of thought continued on until it was white noise in your ears. You registered that your thighs were shaking from the effort, but you couldn’t stop, not when you were so close-

“Close.” You panted. “Fuck, Noah, I’m so close, so close-”

He pulled your hair to the side quickly, teeth lining up with your throat.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-” 

The world went white as Noah sank his fangs into your throat and you came, release squirting all over the both of you as your body shook. 

You panted as he sucked at your throat, eyes fluttering shut. One of his hands was rubbing at your back, the other snaked around your waist. You stayed like that for a few minutes more, until you almost felt light-headed and he released you with a soft “pop.” 

You blinked at him sleepily as he laid you down against your pillow. He stood up, tugging up his boxers and turning to walk away. “Are you leaving?” You slurred, sounding sad even to yourself.

You could hear his little laugh. “No, I’m getting you a snack and some water. I know I’m dreamy, but I can’t have the ladies passing out on me.”

You rolled your eyes as he disappeared, faint clattering alerting you of when he found the kitchen. 

When he returned, you were more alert, taking the water and gulping it down. You took a second to look at him. 

He was beautiful before, but now- wow.

His hair was silky, skin still pale but not so lifeless. His eyes were richly dark, amusement seeming to dance in them. “Y’know,” You began, “You’re really pretty when you’re not starving to death.”

If he could have blushed, he might have. “Back at you.” Was his response, handing you crackers.

You nibbled on them while he went about dressing himself. “You’re not staying?” You did your best to not sound disappointed. 

Noah shot you a smile. “Sadly, no. I have to get back to my hiding hole before the sun comes up.”

You nodded, looking down. “Will I get to see you again?”

“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing entirely too much of me.” Noah responded, sounding amused. 

“What makes you say that?” You questioned, confusion written on your face. 

“Because you broke the cardinal sin of running around with a vampire.” Noah grinned, looking devious. “You invited me in.”

[moonsbypadfoot]

can you make another theo nott headcanons?? <3

I do not have anything specific in mind but make it angsty?? I guess

also I made the text small so it'll fit your blog's aesthetic <3 ❤️‍🩹

obviously I can make another theo headcanon 🪼

Theodore headcanons | pt. 2 🩶

(I think I'm dyslexic, so please excuse any typos)

+ kind of an x y/n?? , second pov, longer than the last one

for the little woman fans!

🩶

theo draws like a pro but then complain of how 'cattivo' (which you haven't figured out what it meant yet) his drawing is, even though it is beautiful?? Like what??

theo tries to speak as if he's in an Shakespeare book and his friends (Draco, and mattheo) would laugh at him at how ridiculous it sounds because they don't understand him plus, his accent makes it more confusing

after his friends laughed at him, he would get all grumpy and sad. that's where you hopped in.

"theo, what's wrong? " You scrunched your face. "Theo? " you said, once more, but the boy didn't even move a muscle.

I forgot to tell you, when he's grumpy, he gives everyone the silent treatment.

but, you're an exception.

"theodore, what happened? " You sighed, looking down at Theo, who's head was on the table.

"nothing is wrong" Theo scoffed.

also, he doesn't want to bother you, that's why he tends to lie sometimes.

"something is wrong, look at you! " You said, softly touching his hair, trying to make him look at you.

"fine" he pauses "something is bothering me" he rolls his eyes.

"well what is it? " you gave a small smile, after finally convincing him to tell you.

"can you teach me english? "

at that second you swear that you could laugh "Theo? What? You're speaking English right now! " You chuckled

bad mistake ; he got more grumppier.

he gave you a nasty 'mhm' and lays his head back on the table.

"hey I was just joking, but, nonetheless, you're already good at English"

"see? you know when to put 'nonrtheless', I don't even know what that means! "

The next day, you took him book shopping (for everyone's sake, everyone knows a grumpy Theo isn't a good Theo), and you paid for him

Instantly his mood was better, and he took you to drink at the three broomsticks.

theo keeps smiling and looking at the totebag you crocheted for his 14th birthday. inside was the books you got him.

(he was most excited for little women)

theo paid for the butterbeers you both drank.

after that, it became your weekly thing to go to the three broomsticks every Sunday.

theo also starts to call you 'amore mio', but whenever another boy calls you 'love' he immediately assumes things.

at valentines day, he was weirdly quiet, until he suddenly came to you

"y/n" Theo said, not looking directly at your eyes. "yes, Theo? "

"that's for you" theo sighs.

you gave him a big smile, and hugged him, though, he didn't look very happy.

It wasn't a secret that Theo has a big crush for you, well, lorenzo kinda spoiled that for you,

(talking with enzo, 4 months before valentines)

"I may know a guy who likes you" Lorenzo said, all giggly. You gasped. "Tell me who it is! "

"No I can't! " Lorenzo laughs.

"I swear I'll kill-" He cuts you off, "okay, okay fine! But you cannot tell him nor anyone that I've told you this"

he paused for a second. "it's Theo!! "

It also wasn't a secret that you like him, Lorenzo also spoiled that for him

(2 days before valentines)

"Theo, I need you to do a favor for me"

"What? " Theo groans, dog-earring his little women book.

"You need to make a move on your girl" Lorenzo said, making Theo scoff the second he hears that. "hey, she likes you! "

"Ridiculous" Theo said, opening his book again.

"I will, and you must hear me. It's no use, Jo, we've got to have it out, and the sooner the better for both of us," he answered, getting flushed and excited all at once. "Say what you like then. I'll listen," said Jo, with a desperate sort of patience. theodore was a young lover, but he was in earnest, and meant to 'have it out', if he died in the attempt, so he plunged into the subject with characteristic impetuousity, saying in a voice that would get choky now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady... "I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, couldn't help it, you've been so good to me. I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me. Now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer."

After he read that, he realized that if he waits anymore longer you and him wouldn't work out just like theodore Laurence and josephine march.

"Maybe you're right, Enzo, maybe I need to make a move" He said, which made enzo confused but, he was happy either way.

well long story short, that was the start of your lovely relationship.

the whole reason you two got together was because of a book and you think it's absolutely beautiful and poetic 🩷🪼

[candyredmusings]

Harvester (1996) Sentence Starts

A whole mix bag, but mostly NSFT and/or crack Change pronouns/gendered terms as needed!

"You killed your family?"

"You always were a kidder, [NAME]!"

"You can't live without a spinal cord, son. Nothing unnatural about that."

" You'll rot your mind playing games like that..."

"Is God a jar of strawberry preserves, a size 12 sneaker, a footlong Hogie, an all-expense paid trip to Brazil, or a NEWWW CARRRRR?"

"Pot roast isn't for backstabbers. For persecutors! I won't share my meat with him!"

"Hello, [NAME]. Care to stay for some pot roast?"

"My meat! MY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!"

"Ah, shit! Ah, shit on a stickaroo!"

"What are you talking about, this TV is brand new! There are no TVs with color on them."

"When a bee stings, it rips itself apart and dies for its audacity. This appeals to those worshipping a God that demands sacrifice and atonement. But the wasp is promiscuous. They are not as sympathetic to the masses because they don't die when they sting. They live to sting another day... and they take pleasure from that."

"Cut the crap. We both know you set that fire."

" I'm not threatening you...I just want to help."

"You can't shoot me... I'm an American! I have rights!"

"Ahhh... art's for Commies, anyway."

" You're a little vain, huh?"

"Uh, you're not that hot... get over it, toots."

"Yeah, I offed him all right."

"Nah, a nice fairy left it under my pillow."

"You're welcome to have this evidence, with my compliments."

"But what about civic responsibility?"

"You're a little brat."

"But you're a woman."

"Sure, I'd love to get it on with the ladies!"

"What's communism got to do with anything?"

"How can you SAY something so horrible?"

"[NAME]'s a swell name! My dog's name is [NAME]!"

"Nothing like an exploding head to get the blood pumping. . . . Literally, that is."

"The hell it is! You always were a kidder, [NAME]. Any real news to tell me?"

"I mean I don't know anyone! I don't remember anything! How many times do I have to say it?!"

"I need to feel something again."

"Yeah, I know what that crazy little bitch said, but it's not true!

"What makes you so sure she needs a penis?"

"I'd rather die than become as twisted as you."

"Would I kid about something like that? Why won't you believe me?"

"Screwing in the school broom closet. What will people think?"

"I did not speak, but my mind touched yours."

"I expect nothing. What must unfold will."

"Sure would be nice to have one'a them girly pi'cher books..."

"I don't know what it is about marriage that turns even the bravest man into a coward!"

"[NAME] has a... a liking for me. I'd call it a crush, but that's too innocent a word."

"That child needs a father. . . and [NAME], well she needs a good, hard penis."

"Money isn't everything for a woman. Can money keep you warm at night? Can you wrap your thighs around it, or rake bloody gashes in its back with your painted, harlot fingernails?

"There's things you don't know about the family business... but you'll learn."

"I am glad to see you taking an interest in the business in your dad's absence."

"Safeguards? There ARE NO SAFEGUARDS ... This is the fifties."

"Sometimes I hide in there beforehand, and daddy-o, I seen some stuff that's real nasty!"

"You were always a smiley bear."

"I know it's a mystery to you... The sacred things husbands and wives do behind closed doors."

"I could use a little relaxation ... But since [NAME] isn't here, I guess I'll talk to you."

"I'd rather die than become as twisted as you."

"You insult my beauty?"

"Well that didn't work."

"Shocked? This is the mystery of motherly love."

"Everyone says motherhood is fulfilling, when in reality it's draining."

"Violence is as American as apple pie and low SAT scores!"

"From the start, children are parasites. That's what you've got to understand."

"How about some cookies? There's some rejects in the trash!"

"I'm not a person, [NAME], I'm an object."

"Young man/woman/one, we really have nothing to say to each other."

"Say, can you spare a dime for a buckaroo who's down on his luck?"

"Things'll never be the same now. Guess I'll be watching TV tonight..."

"Well, I hope you're proud of yourself ... Killing my clientele."

"Excuse me, you can't come in right now, I just mopped the floor."

"I don't remember you."

"Land's sakes! Stop your joshing, wont you?"

"You look just like my mom ... Except for the hair."

"There's nothing bizarre about baking cookies."

"Only those who seek enlighten warrant my attention."

"I've never believed in the old adage, 'spare the rod and spoil the child' ... A rod is too thin. But baseball bat, that works quite nicely."

"My stars that was exciting!"

"Good women can be awfully hard on a man's needs, don't'cha know."

"That man gives me the willies ... Speaking of willies, how's your father?"

"That's right, I am the law ... And I'm on my lunch hour."

"Sometimes, I hide in there beforehand and daddy-o! I've seen some stuff that's really nasty!"

"Are you blackmailing us, you little shit?"

"Why are you covering up for him [NAME?]"

"Obviously, [NAME] is a lesbian."

"Lack of respect for authority ... A fine trait!"

[luvyeni]

CONSEQUENCES OF A ONE NIGHT STAND. ( chapter. 11 )

— CHAPTER ELEVEN : doctors appointment

— 𖦹 warnings?

previous - next - masterlist

( writen part below ) ...

"jungwon is blowing up my phone right now." you laughed , reading all his messages as you waited for the doctor to show up, before replying to him that you're perfectly fine and that you can handle yourself around jake.

"does he ever let you be?" jake asked , he didn't mean for it to come out laced with so much jealousy , but too be fair his friend has been on his ass since he started coming around you.

"that's just jungwon , he's been like that since we were younger." you explained , you and jungwon had been neighbors since you were kids , you were older than him by two years , but his family would always invite you to things , and that's how you and jungwon became so close.

"well tell him that you're safe with me , and i won't let anything bad happen to you , so he can step off my neck." you rolled your eyes , your heart beating at the statement.

"ah , is your face red? are you blushing?" he smirked. "shut up." he laughed. "you are blushing , are my word flustering you?" he sat in the seat next to you. "fuck you." you laid back , turning your face to the side.

"didn't you already?" his eyebrows quirked up. "of course you would say that." you scoffed , as the door opened the doctor walking in. "( name )" you nodded , she read through the chart.

"we did a few labs , and they seem good , everything is okay with the baby , i just want to do a quick ultrasound and you should be good to go." you lifted your shirt , she picked up the liquid squirting some on your stomach , you flinched at the coldness.

"you okay?" jake asked , concerned. "it's just a little cold , calm down." you laughed at his reaction. "you dad?" the doctor turned to jake , his eyes widened , he actually hadn't heard anyone say that before. "me? yeah , i guess i am." he said.

"well here's your baby." she turned the screen to him. "that's the baby?" he was speechless , it finally felt real , he was actually having a baby. "jake , you alright?" you tapped him. "oh , yeah im fine , just shocked , this is really happening."

the doctor chuckled. "your parents must be so excited , are you guys planning on marrying before the baby is born?" the doctors words shocking both of you. "oh we aren't together." you said. "you aren't?" she said. "nope."

"your parents must be disappointed , you're both so young , and you aren't even together." jake noticed the doctor's sudden voice change. "well they don't know yet." he said , watching her face turn again. the hell was this ladies problem , you both decided you'd wait to tell you parents.

"tsk , you kids today , so irresponsible." she took the thing off your stomach , giving you a tissue. "i just need you to sign some forms and then you can go." she left out of the room , leaving you and jake to sit in the awkward silence she created.

he noticed the change in your attitude , you were quiet , staring at the ground. "don't listen to her , what does she know , it was our decision to do it this way." you shrugged , wiping the liquid off your stomach , pulling your shirt down. "whatever."

the doctor returned , handing you the papers which you quickly signed , just wanted to get out of there. "well you free to leave now." you grabbed your things , walking out of the room , jake following behind.

you could feel the stares of the receptionists and other nurses, knowing the nurse probably spilled the beans , jake grabbed your shoulders , shielding you from het nasty glare.

"you hungry , let's get something to eat , okay , i'll pay." he said. "im not - don't , we're going." he grabbed your hand. "don't pay attention to them , let's just go." he said , dragging you out the doctors office.

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @j-wyoung @whoslai @cha0thicpisces @sunsunl0ver @wonyoungsvirus @omgtintarr @en-dazed @kwiwin @httpsrinrin @igotkpoops @enhaz1 @ahnneyong @electrobutterfly @nes-caf @beomgyusonlywife @jup1t3r-y30n @gyulune @mixtape-racha @ddazed-lhs @shuichi-sama @chaelinhhwang @stariszn @rikisly @ilikekpop-c @jenjnk @ilovehimyourhonour @peachyun02 @primroselover @sxurgrapes

©️LUVYENI

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 3/7

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7)

Wool's Orphanage

This is actually one of my favorite theories I ever made. The full psychoanalysis of Voldemort's character took some time to figure out, but I think I cracked it. I know why Tom did everything he did.

As it's a little long, I've broken it down into multiple posts. And I think there are gonna be 4 more besides this one. So, let's go make sense of Voldemort and prove he is reasonable, he just has some unexpected goals.

I want to preface all of this (and future posts) that the point isn't to excuse Voldemort and his various atrocities. But it bothers me when I don't understand why characters do the things they do. This is about understanding Tom Riddle and Voldemort.

Without farther adu:

So, we'll start our analysis from the beginning. Voldemort, or, more correctly — Tom Marvolo Riddle was born on December 31st, 1926, in a rundown orphanage in London:

“And Merope? She . . . she died, didn’t she? Wasn’t Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?” “Yes, indeed,” said Dumbledore. “We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around the neighborhood that he was talking of being ‘hoodwinked’ and ‘taken in.’ What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason.” “But she did have his baby.” “But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page, 214)

So, one important little disclaimer:

A lot of the information we have about Tom comes from Dumbledore's guesswork. As Dumbledore has an agenda in all his "lessons" with Harry and that I have a whole series of posts dedicated to my strong feelings regarding Dumbledore's machinations, we need to approach everything he says with a grain of salt.

This part is pretty true though. Merope does enchant or dose Tom Riddle Sr with a love potion or some other spell and gets pregnant. We also know that for some reason, she stopped with the enchantments/potions at some point and wound up alone in London, with no family, no money, and on death's door.

“I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle’s history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?” “That’s right,” said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. “I remember it clear as anything, because I’d just started here myself. New Year’s Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn’t the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 266)

This is from Dumbledore's memory, but it seems factual enough. Dumbledore also has no reason to lie about this.

So, Tom was raised all his childhood in a London orphanage in the late 1920s and 1930s. These orphanages were dreary, lonely places:

The children are fed and clothed but there is a dreary uniformity to the picture, emphasised by the black and white image. Boys eat in regimental lines, seated on hard benches, and those waiting to sit down are also assembled in a strict line. The attendants you can glimpse are dressed in black and white uniforms, a stark echo of the grey and black of the boys’ clothes. A few pictures adorn the walls – one looks as though it’s about to fall to the ground – but there are no curtains, no floor covering, no comfort.

(Source)

This was not a pleasant place to be raised in. And considering Mrs. Cole's words: "Well, she wasn’t the first", the orphanage was probably crowded. This was after World War One, and Britain and Europe as a whole were still licking their wounds. Poverty is high, food is low, and the inflation rate is insane.

And this is the world Tom grows up in. A dreary, lonely existence, where if he didn't fight for his food, he probably didn't get left any.

And when the Second World War started in 1939 (his second year at Hogwarts), things just got worse, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Then she said, “He’s a funny boy.” “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “I thought he might be.” “He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was . . . odd.”

...

because she said in a sudden rush, “He scares the other children.” “You mean he is a bully?” asked Dumbledore. “I think he must be,” said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, “but it’s very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents. . . . Nasty things . . .” Dumbledore did not press her, though Harry could tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still. “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit . . . well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?” “I shouldn’t think so, no,” said Dumbledore quietly. “But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then” — Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time — “on the summer outing — we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside — well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they’d gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they’d just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I’m sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things. . . .”

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 267-268)

We learn some interesting things here, quite a few of them actually. That Tom doesn't have any friends. That the other orphans and the caretakers in the orphanage all think he's weird. They thought he was odd since he was a baby... and this is starting to get familiar. there's a reason Tom mentioned he and Hary are similar:

Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike. . . .

(Chamber of Secrets, page 292)

Because they are.

From Mrs. Cole's words, it seems Tom wasn't liked by the kids and staff and he fought back in the only way he could. His magic. It isn't that much different than Harry's apparating away from Dudley's gang or setting the boa constrictor on his cousin. The situations are awfully similar.

“How do you do, Tom?” said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand. The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor. “I am Professor Dumbledore.” “ ‘Professor’?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like ‘doctor’? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school — your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!” “I am not from the asylum,” said Dumbledore patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —” “I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle.

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 269-270)

Now, I marked a few sections in this scene because there are some interesting things to talk about when it comes to Tom's psychology.

First, I'd like to talk about Tom's assumptions here. The first thing Tom assumes the moment Dumbledore introduces himself as a "professor" is that he is here to take a look at Tom — to take him away to the Asylum. Considering how quickly Tom came to that conclusion one has to assume it's something he heard before.

It means the people around him, probably both the caretakers at the orphanage and the other children repeatedly told him he was insane and would be better off at the Asylum. He spent his childhood being told he belonged in a madhouse.

I don't think I need to explain what kind of damage that does to a child. Tom grows up completely isolated from his peers and caretakers, everyone hates him because he is different. So Tom latched on to the idea that he was better. Because if he was different, and he was, and he wasn't better, it meant he was worse than them — it meant they were right about him. Tom thinking overly highly of himself is a coping mechanism and a lie (to himself most of all).

The thing is, while he is aware he is smart and capable, we'll see later in his life how he continuously seeks out validation and connection since he didn't get either until he was eleven. And like any child, he wants these things, he wants praise, attention, and connection. Telling himself he is better, and therefore above such needs, is a way to try and convince himself everything is fine.

The second thing from the above quote is his trust issues. Dumbledore tries to tell him he isn't taking him to the Asylum and Tom doesn't believe him. He immediately goes on the defensive.

As of Mrs. Cole's previous words, it's clear she blames Tom for things she has no evidence he did. And if we look at Harry's cases of accidental magic that harmed Dudley, a lot of them were out of his control. It's possible Tom wasn't completely intentional in everything he did, but took credit anyway if it meant the other kids left him alone and didn't bother him.

"|'d like to see them try," Tom said, he is already using fear. That is just as much a coping mechanism as his trust issues and air of superiority. When kids fear you, they don't bother you. If Amy and Dannis feared him they'd stop calling him a nut-case — If they feared him, they wouldn't bother him.

And Tom is used to his magic allowing him to get his way, forcing people to tell him the truth in an accidental version of the Imperious. It's important to remember he is a young child on the defensive. He has been on the defensive probably since he could comprehend language. As such, I'm not surprised to see him use his magic to make people treat him better — or at the bare minimum, not lie to him.

All I see from the above interaction is a scared, lonely child who never had anyone so he's on the defensive. He guards his heart and interests with all the weapons he has at his disposal because he has no one else who will. This is a child that needs help.

“Magic?” he repeated in a whisper. “That’s right,” said Dumbledore. “It’s . . . it’s magic, what I can do?” “What is it that you can do?” “All sorts,” breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. “I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.” His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer. “I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 271)

What we see here is actually really cute. Okay.

So, Tom Riddle, lonely and mistreated finally gets the confirmation that yes, he is special, not insane, he is better like he always tried to convince himself he was. So he immediately gets excited and starts gushing — boasting — about all the magic he can do. He's flushed and fevered and happy.

He is so excited to share this with someone else, to have someone like him, who understands him. He was elated at Dumbledore's existence at that moment.

This is a lonely 11-year-old child who never had a friend or kind caregiver in his life, trying to connect to the first adult to not call him insane. The first adult to tell him he was special, that he wasn't wrong.

And then Dumbledore speaks down to him and pretends to set all his (very few) belongings on fire.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts —” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant — please, Professor, could you show me — ?”

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 271-272)

This is the moment Dumbledore made his greatest mistake when it came to Tom Riddle. Instead of trying to direct him and help him like an educator, he showed his dislike for Tom. He thought Tom to close up his heart, that even among wizards he would not find this connection he seeks.

So Tom hardens his expression and goes to the cold, polite, distant mask we'll see him wear for the rest of his Hogwarts years.

[konohokelly]

LEECH - Sejanus Plinth (2/2)

Leeches are segmented parasitic or predatory worms that comprise the subclass Hirudinea.

Summary: Hirudinea Snow is going to baby-trap Sejanus Plinth to get her hands on the Plinth fortune. Warnings: Sex, manipulation, sexual assault (baby-trapping), toxicity, OC is a bitch, Sejanus is too good for her, OC is a bad person through and through, OC is a Capitol supremacist, Coriolanus is a weirdo Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Minors DNI Slight Hilarius Heavensbee x MC MC is fem and named but her appearance is never explicitly described.

Borders by @saradika on tumblr

"Don't worry about what I'm doing. Snow lands on top."

Coriolanus wondered what his cousin meant by that. He guessed at what petty schemes she could have been up to, but he didn’t expect it to lead him here:

Standing against the living room wall, fuming as Hirudinea presented the family with the gifts showered upon her by her official boyfriend of a month now, Sejanus Plinth.

"And this is for you, Grandma'am, isn't it stunning?" Hirudinea said as she wrapped the mink scarf around her grandmother's neck.

"Oh, my sweet girl, it's beautiful," Grandma'am beamed in front of the tall mirror. The air of pride she had been without for so long felt like it had returned.

"I just knew you would love it."

Grandma'am turned to Hirudinea, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"So thoughtful of you, my darling. You must thank the Heavensbees. Their son is such a good, generous boy."

Hirudinea hadn't told Grandma'am about the breakup or Sejanus yet. She knew the woman would be upset that her granddaughter wasn't with her own kind and she would force Hirudinea to cut off the Plinth heir before her goal was reached.

"I'll pass the message along..." she lied.

Tigris smiled at her grandmother's merriment.

She was glad Hirudinea had found a boy who was so taken with her, even though her sister couldn't tell Grandma'am who the boy really was.

Sejanus treated her sister well and made sure to be just as giving to the rest of the Snow family.

Tigris herself held a length of luxurious fabric on her lap, a gift from Sejanus.

Hirudinea was over the moon; she couldn't have picked a better mark.

Even without a baby, dating Sejanus came with perks. He was nothing if not giving, and my, how Hirudinea would take.

All she had to do was mention something she wanted in passing, and it didn't take long before it showed up to her apartment with love notes attached, singing her highest praise.

Of course, she hardly ever read them.

"You know you don't have to get me all this stuff; I'm not with you for your money," she would say to him, lying to his face.

"I know, but I want to do this for you. You're my girl, and I want to make sure you know how special you are to me. Besides, it's not like I use my allowance to do much anyways."

It sickened her that his allowance could afford such luxury while she had to scrounge together pennies for her life's savings.

Most of the gifts she received from him ended up pawned off to pay for upkeep and taxes.

Hirudinea had Sejanus completely whipped, and it was obvious. The curly-haired boy was never a big spender but would buy her the world if he could.

'Sejanus can't afford the world on his allowance yet, but maybe Strabo Plinth can; that's where my baby will come in handy.'

"Corio," Hirudinea called across the room from where she and Grandma'am inspected their new clothes, "A basket came with the rest of my things. Be a dear and check what's inside?"

He huffed but checked the basket anyways. It was full to the brim with homemade cookies.

"Baked goods from Mrs. Plinth," he informed gloomily.

Hirudinea turned from the mirror with a large fur coat adorning her shoulders and walked over.

The girl picked up one cookie, biting into it without a second thought.

"Blagh," she grimaced, spitting out the treat, "Raisins! Disgusting. Leave it to the Plinths to ruin a perfectly good cookie with nasty, cheap raisins."

She spoke as if her family could even afford that.

"It was a kind gesture, Dinea. I'm sure Mrs. Plinth meant no harm by it," Tigris reasoned.

"Whatever," Hirudinea scoffed, moving on to try on more clothes.

This was the Hirudinea that Coriolanus knew; condescending and cruel.

If Sejanus didn't see it, then he was either more stupid than Coriolanus thought or Hirudinea was more cunning than she had let on all these years.

Or maybe it was a mixture of both.

Hilarius Heavensbee was understandably upset by the news of the latest relationship in the Academy. He had tried in vain to win Hirudinea back, but nothing worked.

Her friends had been in shock at the news too. After all, Hirudinea had always been just as unsettled by Sejanus' presence among them as Arachne and Livia had been.

The two, along with Hilarius, assumed the couple wouldn't last long, and eventually, Hirudinea would remember where she belongs.

But by the third month of their apparent relationship, Hirudinea and Sejanus were still a constant fixture at each other's sides.

He followed her around like a lost puppy, and she happily fell into his open arms.

School was usually Coriolanus's safe haven from his cousin, but being Sejanus's only friend, he was forced to be around her much more than he liked. He had to watch them kiss and hold hands throughout the day.

Watching Hirudinea act like a changed woman in front of Sejanus made Coriolanus's head hurt.

He even began to fondly recall the days she had been with Hilarius, when the pair would argue incessantly about anything and everything.

At least then, she allowed her venom to flow freely.

Hirudinea pushed Sejanus against the wall of the janitors closet. They were in his father's office building and things were heating up.

It was the weekend, and he was supposed to be observing how his father runs the business, but when his beautiful girlfriend had showed up and whispered dirty things in his ear, he couldn't help but wander away after her.

He ended up moving from the wall to a nearby chair, trousers and boxers around his ankles as she knelt before him.

"Fuck" he cursed under his breath when she wrapped her fingers around his base of his veiny cock.

Hirudinea flattened her tongue against his tip, massaging his slit as he let out a soft grunt.

She raised her head, gathering saliva in her mouth, before leaning over him and letting it all fall onto his member.

With the hand on his base, she stroked his slowly but firmly, coating his entire cock with the liquid. Eventually adding another hand.

She twisted her wrists, wringing his cock hard.

Occasionally, she would wrap her lips around the tip and suck.

He bit into his hand in an attempt to muffle his sounds, but it didn't do much to conceal the throaty groans escaping him.

"Please, baby" he whimpered pathetically.

She chuckled darkly.

With her lips around him, she sank down, opening her throat to take him as deep as possible, making sure he hit the back of her throat.

Sejanus moaned deeply. His hips thrusting up against his will due to the sensations of her fingers and mouth.

He clenched his fists to prevent them from coming to the back of her head and keeping her there.

He was losing it, and it was making her wetness grow.

"So good, baby" he moaned with half lidded eyes.

He was close and she could tell.

But she didn't want his spend in her mouth. She needed it inside her.

Hirudinea let him go, making him whine at the loss of stimulation.

She sat on his lap, grinding her cunt against his manhood.

"I wish I could feel you without anything between us" she whispered.

It would be good for her pregnancy timeline to fuck him raw a few times, but she would be okay with it if he still wanted to use a condom.

She'd prepared so many and still had three left.

Glancing at the front pocket of her bag, she could see one, two, thre-

Wait, there were only two, that couldn't be right.

"I want to feel you too, baby. Can I? I'll pull out, I swear. I just need you so bad" he promised, holding her face in his hands.

She could work with this.

"Do you care about me?" She asked with intensity behind her voice

"Of course, Dinea. I lo-I care about you so much"

"Then don't pull out"

His eyes glistened. It felt like he was dreaming.

All he'd wanted to do since she gave him permission to touch her was cum deep inside her.

Arms wrapped around his neck, she raised her hips and to circle her entrance with his tip before slipping onto his cock.

She struggled a little, but her spit and wetness provided extra lubrication. Although they had slept together many times, she still wasn't fully used to taking his large cock.

She sank all the way down, pressing her ass against his heavy balls.

The groan that erupted from Sejanus's throat was so deep it became a growl.

Finally losing all semblance of control, he gripped her hips and began bouncing her on his cock, thrusting his hips upwards to meet hers.

The friction from his hair and happy trail against her clit was incredible. She threw her head back and moaned.

Sejanus drew her head forward and kissed her deeply. Grunting and groaning against her mouth and swallowing her moans.

He reached a hand down, swiping at her clit and forcing her towards an orgasm.

He was already close before, so when she felt his cock twitch, she knew to push him over the edge.

"You wanna cum in me, baby -oh!" she jumped when he gave her a particularly harsh thrust.

"Ugh, fuck yes, sweetheart. I want to fill your pussy up with my cum" his voice slurred, he was drunk on the feeling of her pussy squeezing him hard.

"Gonna put my fucking load in this tight, wet pussy"

His fingers moved faster against her pleasure button.

"I need your cum, Sej" There was an ominous reality to her words he didn't realize, "Are you going to give it to me?"

"I'm going to give it to you, baby. You take my cock so well, makes me want to fill you up so bad - oh shit-"

Fuck, he was coming.

His pace became erratic, and he chanted her name over and over.

His fingers swiped at her clit one last time, and she clenched hard as she came, head thrown back in ecstasy.

He held her tight as he pumped his cum into her for the first time. Cock pulsing as he released everything he had into her womb.

They sat there for a few minutes, breathing heavily as they regained their bearings.

Once they caught their breaths, he gently raised her off his softening cock, holding her firmly as he stood and giving her a passionate kiss.

They quietly got dressed.

A calm had settled in the air, and he enjoyed the time they had until they had to leave the sanctuary of the closet.

Unfortunately, it didn't last as long as he wanted.

An Avox walked into the janitors closet, clearly searching for something.

The mute man stared with wide eyes at the scene before him.

Sejanus felt like he had been caught doing something wrong.

Hirudinea scoffed at the intruder,

"And what are you looking at? Huh? It's not like you're going to tell someone. Leave! Before I decide to have you punished."

The Avox rushed out, bowing in apology.

Sejanus held her elbow gently, guiding her to look at him. "Sweetheart, there was no need for that."

'Shit.'

After playing the repentant bully for so long, her mask had slipped.

"I'm sorry. You know how I get sometimes," she looked down in mock shame.

"I'm trying to be better, but it's hard to unlearn the things that have been drilled into me for so long. This isn't who I am. Please don't be upset, Sej," Hirudinea began to cry.

It was her usual "get out of revealing your true self" card with him.

Sejanus' eyes softened; he couldn't stand to see his girlfriend cry, and he hated the fact that she thought he was angry with her.

"It's okay; you're trying to be better, that's more than most people ever do. I know that's not you anymore, Dinea."

She quickly kissed him, feeling any leftover worry melt away from him.

In reality, Hirudinea didn't care about some tongueless traitor to Panem, and it disgusted her that he did. Even now, with a purebred Capitol girlfriend, he still found camaraderie with rebels.

'You can take the boy out of the Districts, but you really can't take the Districts out of the boy.'

'It's not a big deal,' she told herself later that day after failing to find the missing condom anywhere.

But it was a big deal; it could mean a huge wrench had been thrown in her plans.

Hirudinea had allowed herself to be weak a few months ago,

The day after sleeping with Sejanus for the first time, the heaviness of what she had just initiated fully hit her.

In need of familiarity, she had found herself bent over a desk in an empty classroom while Hilarius thrust into her from behind.

But had he used one of her sabotaged condoms? He knew the front pocket of her bag was where she kept the contraceptives; she had done it when they were dating, and they would have been easy for him to reach.

How did she get herself into this mess?

The sun rose over the Plinth house as Sejanus was awoken from his slumber by his alarm clock.

He stretched an arm over Hirudinea's sleeping form to turn off the device.

She hadn’t heard it.

She was a deep sleeper and with the combination of Sejanus's plush mattress with 1000 thread count sheets and the rigorous 'physical activity' they were up to the night before, she was absolutely knocked out.

Sejanus leaned over Hirudinea, pressing a kiss to her forehead before gently shaking her awake.

"Time to get up, sweetheart" he whispered.

He was reluctant to leave the little domestic sphere they had created in his bedroom, but he knew they needed to prepare for school.

She sluggishly rose, standing and stretching her arms over her head.

"I'll start the shower" she told him "Before you join me, darling, could you please make sure the servants prepare my breakfast exactly the way I like it? Yesterday's service was absolutely sub-par"

"I-" Sejanus didn’t even finish his sentence before Hirudinea shut the bathroom door behind her.

Her morning showers at the Plinth house were usually her was bliss.

Hirudinea had made a habit of staying the night with Sejanus. She adored getting to wake up on a luxurious bed, bathe with high-end products and sit down to an elegant breakfast.

It as a preview of what was to come, the life she would soon be living.

But this morning, she found herself under the steam of hot water, pre-occupied by thoughts of impending doom.

Her doctor’s appointment was scheduled for the evening.

Today was the day she would find out if she was pregnant and if she was, she had no idea who the father could be.

Mrs Plinth smiled lightly as she watched her son walk hand-in-hand with his girlfriend to the car.

The two weren’t aware she knew the girl had been spending the night, but it brought the woman much delight to stand by her window, overlooking the front yard, and know in her heart she raised a good and sweet boy as she saw Sejanus open the door for Hirudinea and guide her inside.

Sejanus had never been so happy for so long since they came to the Capitol, and it was all due to the Snow girl that stole his heart.

When Hirudinea was at their house, she didn’t do much (or any) kitchen work with her boyfriends mother, like a district girl would.

She would stand uncomfortably in a corner of the kitchen, occasionally commenting on the progress being made with the baking until Sejanus would come in and drag Hirudinea away, informing his mother that Hirudinea isn’t used to doing housework.

Mrs Plinth liked the girl regardless, after all, she filled Sejanus with such joy that the boy would constantly gush to his mother about love and soul mates and weddings.

Hirudinea was good for her son.

"What is it?" Strabo asked behind her, getting ready to leave for the office.

"Nothing" Mrs Plinth said softly, closing the curtain as the car pulled away.

It was official.

Hirudinea Snow was pregnant at eighteen.

She paid for the test with one of the watches Sejanus bought her.

When she thought of this moment months ago, she imagined there would be a feeling of fear at the knowledge that she was with child.

But no, all her dread came from the fact that she couldn't be sure who the father of her baby was.

She was supposed to have Sejanus Plinth's baby— the child that would be her family's ticket to a better life.

But if it was Hilarius's baby, then had she ruined her reputation for nothing? Had she just created another mouth for the Snows to feed?

No.

She decided it didn't matter.

Regardless of who the father of this child was, she would claim it was Sejanus.

Sejanus Plinth would be saddled with the responsibility, and his family would be her cash cows.

His name would be on the birth certificate.

Sejanus had been confused when his girlfriend cancelled their date only to tell him to meet her at a park near the Corso.

He knew enough that when a girl says she needs to talk, it's not a good sign.

"Hi," he said softly as he approached, a nervous smile on his face.

He took a seat right next to her on the bench, handing her the flowers he had gotten—red roses, her favorites.

"Hi," she replied, barely looking at him.

"What's wrong, Dinea?" He was too anxious to beat around the bush.

"Nothing, it's just..." she paused, letting a single tear fall. She had practiced that trick all night. "...It's just that if I tell you this...you may not want to be with me anymore."

This filled him with sadness. How could she think there was anything that would make him leave her?

Was she sick? Was she in trouble? Had she taken a liking to someone else? He would work through anything to be with her.

"Whatever it is, we can get through it."

"Do you promise, Sej?"

"I promise," he took her hands in his own, a comforting gesture.

She took a deep breath for believability, giving it a beat of silence before spilling,

"I'm pregnant."

Sejanus blanched.

He didn't say anything; he didn't know what to say.

He was going to be a dad. HE WAS GOING TO BE A DAD.

He didn't feel ready; he hadn't done anything to make his kid proud yet. He hadn't helped to make the world a better place.

But then he thought of the fact that she was going to make him a dad, and suddenly everything was alright.

Hirudinea was the light of his life, the reason he felt anything was possible.

He had every intention to marry and have children with her one day. So what if the order of things got mixed up?

"I-I'm going to be a dad," he thought out loud, a smile cracking onto his face. "We're having a kid."

"You're happy?"

She expected him to take responsibility and be naively glad, but she didn't expect him to be over the moon about it.

"Of course I am," he holds her face in both hands. "There's nobody I would rather be doing this with than you."

He looked to her for permission before pressing his hand to her stomach.

"I love you, Dinea," he admitted.

She definitely wasn't expecting that.

Hirudinea kissed him hard, hoping it would suffice as a reply.

When Hirudinea told her family they were invited to dinner at the Plinth residence, none of them knew what to think.

Coriolanus and Tigris weren't anticipating 'dinner at the in-laws house' so soon, and Grandma'am couldn't imagine for the life of her what business Hirudinea had with the Plinths.

As far as Grandma'am knew, the girl had always been smart enough to keep her distance from them and their unruly son.

The meal went smoothly, and the conversation was agreeable.

It was obvious to everyone that Hirudinea and Sejanus were excited about something. The pair giggled like children every time one looked at the other.

The whole table was curious.

It wasn't until the end of the meal, when the dishes had been cleared, that, holding hands, the couple stood to make an announcement.

Grandma'am gasped at the display.

Hirudinea began, "I'm sure you're all wondering the reason we called you here tonight, and it's because we have some very important news."

Sejanus gave her hand a gentle squeeze and continued, "We wanted our families to be the first to know that... we're having a baby."

Sejanus and Hirudinea waited eagerly for a reaction, but the silence at the table was palpable.

Scandalized, Grandma'am's hand rested on her chest.

It was Strabo who broke the silence first when he pushed his chair back loudly and walked out of the room.

Sejanus sent his girlfriend a look of apology, guiding her to sit down before following his father out.

Mrs. Plinth stood next, apologizing profusely before leaving.

"Of all the irresponsible things you have done!" Strabo shouted at a rattling volume.

He was standing behind the desk in his study, glaring daggers at his son on the other side of the room.

"What's irresponsible about having a baby with the girl I love?! But you, how could you just leave like that when she's so vulnerable. Go out there and apologize now!" Sejanus wasn't having any of it.

He wouldn’t allow his father make Hirudinea feel small.

"Apologize? You just barely turned 18, Sejanus. You haven't even graduated yet. What do you two know about anything? About raising a child? About being a father?"

Sejanus took a step towards his father. "Don't talk to me about raising a child! You know, there's more to being a father than throwing money around."

Mrs. Plinth gasped. "Sejanus!"

"No, Ma. Dinea and I are going to raise our baby a different way. If he doesn't want to be involved in the baby's life, he doesn't have to be. We'll go somewhere else."

Strabo scoffed. "And where is that?"

"Back to 2. I'll work as a medic in the quarries. We'll have each other, and that's the only thing that matters. We'll go somewhere we can be together like a family." Sejanus said naively but with the best of intentions.

If Hirudinea was in the room, she would have wrung Sejanus's neck out by now.

Mrs. Plinth grabbed onto her son's shoulders. "Sejanus please, don't say that. You have school and-"

"None of it matters if we're not in a home where Dinea and the baby are loved."

"But you’re loved here"

"Not by him!"

Sejanus smiled softly. "It's okay, Ma, I love her and she loves me. It's all we need. We'll be fine."

Mrs. Plinth turned to her husband. "Strabo, I'm begging you. It doesn't have to be like this."

Though he tried to look tough, Strabo didn't want his son to leave. He loved Sejanus, even if he didn't always show it the right way.

He realized reluctantly that he would have to find a way to deal with this.

It wasn't so bad after all; his grandchild was to be mothered by a Snow, one of the oldest, most respectable families in Panem.

It wasn't like Hirudinea was some random girl.

He thought long and hard and decided this wasn't bad at all.

It was amazing!

It was the start of a new era for the Plinth family, where they would receive more respect from the people of the Capitol.

This could work.

Back in the dining room, the extremely muffled voices of father and son could be heard engaged in an intense argument. The only other sound in the room was Grandma'am's wails of despair. Tigris held the old woman, who dramatically sought to sink to the floor.

Hirudinea rolled her eyes at the display.

"How long have you known?!" Coriolanus asked; the anger was evident in his voice.

"A few days," Hirudinea shrugged.

She knew her family would make a big deal out of it.

"You've known for days, and you didn't tell anyone? You didn't tell me?" Tigris gasped sadly.

Tigris had been there for Hirudinea since she was a baby; she held her sister's hand when the younger girl took her first steps, taught her sister how to read, ushered her through the scare of her first period.

Hirudinea shrugged, swirling the drink in her glass with a bored expression, "We're telling you now."

Coriolanus rose and slammed his hands down on the table. He had been annoyed with Hirudinea before, and he had disliked her actions before, but he never thought he'd come to be disgusted by her.

"How dare you, Dinea! How could you do this with him?" Coriolanus whispered the last part through gritted teeth. Hirudinea Snow, the most arrogant and stuck-up bitch he knew, knocked up by a boy from District 2 and proud?

"Do you even know how this reflects on all of us, you stupid fucking slut?!" Coriolanus yelled.

Tigris, on the other hand, wasn't angry, just disappointed. Raising kids wasn't easy; she would know, she raised two. The disappointment only grew when she remembered—

"We're finished!" Grandma'am cried. "Oh, you've ruined us, Hirudinea."

"Grandma'am, please," Tigris tried to console her grandmother to no avail.

"We'll never be able to show our faces again. The whole Capitol will know that my Hirudinea spread her legs for some filthy District boy!"

Tigris tried to shush the old woman, not wanting to offend their hosts.

"How could you do this to poor Hilarius? After all he's done for us," Grandma'am wept.

Hirudinea laughed. "Hilarius? I might as well tell you now, Hilarius and I haven't been together for ages. I've been lying for months."

Grandma'am nearly keeled over at the news.

Hirudinea continued, "All those pretty gifts were courtesy of Sejanus Plinth and how much he loves fucking me—"

Grandma'am rose and pointed a harsh finger. "Bite your tongue, you dirty little whore."

Hirudinea shook her head in exasperation, "Oh, please," she brushed off the insult.

Coriolanus wished he had the presence of mind to be happy his cousin was finally being reprimanded by the matriarch, but he was just sooo mad.

What was Dinea thinking?

As much as he tried not to, he could imagine it, Hirudinea under Sejanus, begging for his cum.

He wanted to throw up.

"This is too far, even for you," he seethed "I always knew you were a cheap skank but if-"

The door opened, and the dining room fell back to silence as the Plinths returned.

The Snows composed themselves as to not show weakness in front of their lessers.

As everyone took their seats, Sejanus brought Hirudinea's hand to his lips and placed a reassuring kiss there.

"My apologies for the way I left the room," Strabo said. "My shock outweighed my judgment. I should have been more thoughtful at this trying time."

"It's quite alright, sir." Hirudinea said.

The rest of her family maintained tight faces, adding to the tense environment in the room.

It was obvious they were displeased with the situation they had found themselves.

"Have you two discussed things yet?" Mrs. Plinth asked trying to lighten the mood. "What doctor you'll be seeing? Your prenatal vitamins?"

Hirudinea gave an innocent smile. "Oh, I already take vitamins. Vitamin C in the morning and vitamin D at night."

All the adults and Coriolanus stared in disbelief.

This was not someone ready to have a baby.

Tigris buried her head in her hands and let out a quiet sob.

Hirudinea knew how stupid she sounded but needed to look incompetent for her plan to work.

Mrs. Plinth and Strabo shared a look.

He nodded to his wife before speaking, "We understand that pregnancy isn't easy and things don't get easier when the baby comes, so to alleviate the burden on your family, why don't you come live here with us, Hirudinea?" Strabo offered.

Sejanus smiled hopefully, "We'll take care of you, sweetheart. I'll be here the whole time, and we'll go to doctor's visits together and make the nursery." He was already dreaming of what came next.

Hirudinea knew she wouldn't be caught dead covered in paint, building a nursery. That's what Avoxes are for. But she kissed him softly, playing up the love-dumb-girl act for his family.

Mrs. Plinth clasped her hands at the loving display.

Hirudinea wouldn’t mind living with the Plinths, although they irritated her with their strange mannerisms, their home had become a welcome getaway from her problems.

And by now, the servants along with Mrs Plinth and Sejanus were used to serving her hand and foot.

It would also help with keeping her hidden away before she announced the pregnancy to her classmates. She didn’t doubt that when she stopped showing up to school, her next floor neighbour, Arachne, would be at the penthouse door searching for answers.

Hirudinea looked at her lap like she was thinking before releasing a sigh and responding, "Thank you for your offer, Mr. Plinth. I would love to stay with your family and be close to Sejanus, but there's so much I'm needed for at home. Business has been going well, but there are still so many expenses and taxes. We're keeping up, but we all need to pull our weight."

The other Snows exchanged looks. Business wasn't going well, in fact, there was no business at all, and they definitely weren't keeping up with expenses.

"We would be happy to provide a stipend to make this period easier on you," Strabo said. "And also to sincerely apologize to the Snow family for this entire situation"

He was ecstatic to get his moment to show the Snows that his family would be more than adequate in caring for Hirudinea's needs. And since she was a girl of such good breeding, he would go all out.

He pulled out a small notepad and began jotting down some numbers. When he finished, he slid the page across to the pregnant girl.

"Will this amount suffice for each month?" He asked.

She took it and positioned the paper between herself and Coriolanus. 

The blonde boy had to stop himself from choking when he saw the number of zeros on the page. Hirudinea was taken aback too; this was way more than she was expecting. Not only would they be able to pay off the penthouse in a couple of months, but they could also afford new furniture and still have enough to send Coriolanus to university.

Grandma'am spoke first, "No amount-"

Tigris reacted quickly, taking the old woman's hands and gently but forcefully leading her out of the room.

"Yes" Coriolanus spoke up, "It will be sufficient"

Hirudinea almost laughed. It was funny how quick Coriolanus was to sell her body out for the right price.

"You're really willing to do this for Sej and I, Mr. and Mrs. Plinth?" The girl asked, excited.

"We're all going to be family soon, Dinea. It's what we do," Mrs. Plinth gave a warm smile.

"Thank you so much! Sej and I will be eternally grateful for this." She hugged Sejanus, who gladly received her.

Mrs. Plinth continued, "And call me Ma; your little one will be calling you that soon, too."

Hirudinea's smile falters for a millisecond, and only Coriolanus seems to take notice of it.

It was then that the reality of what had just happened hit him.

He would go to university, Grandma'am would be taken care of, the apartment and taxes wouldn't be a drain, and Tigris would get to focus on herself for once.

By becoming pregnant with Sejanus's child, Hirudinea had saved her family from further ruin.

Coriolanus's anger faded and was replaced by something else,

Respect, maybe?

"Everything will be okay, baby. We're going to be a family," Sejanus whispered to Hirudinea, placing a hand on her stomach.

Strabo lifts his glass,

"A toast, to the expecting parents and to future collaborations between the Snow and Plinth families,…and maybe even to a wedding someday soon?"

Coriolanus hadn't said much before leaving.

He congratulated Hirudinea and Sejanus and gave his cousin one last knowing nod, which she returned.

He stalked off to the car that was called for them; escorting Grandma'am away before she could disown her youngest granddaughter, who, unknown to her, was the family's saving grace.

Tigris lingered, conflicted with her emotions.

"Dinea," she called to her little sister who stood at her side near the car, "You know... I saw you a few months ago with the needle and the you-know-whats"

'Shit, how didn't I notice her? That fucking door!"

Hirudinea looked around, making sure the Plinths were far away.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sis," Hirudinea denied.

"I just don't understand why you did this."

The mother-to-be didn't like that one bit; how could her sister be confused about her motives?

"Isn't it obvious, Tigris? I wanted to do what you and Corio do. I wanted to help the family for once instead of always just taking."

"By attaching yourself to these nice people and using them? This isn't the way to do it—"

"So it's okay when you open your legs for a loaf of bread, but it's wrong when I do it to ensure our future?"

Hirudinea never liked hurting Tigris, but she was cornered.

She was always a bad sport.

"That's not— I just—Is it at least his baby?"

Tigris felt the need to ask. If her little sister could force a baby onto Sejanus, then what else could she do?

"Whatever baby I have will be Sejanus's child," Hirudinea stated.

That told Tigris everything she needed to know.

Her sister was fully content to use the poor boy to any end.

"Dinea," Sejanus said, walking up to them.

Hirudinea gave Tigris a look that said 'keep what you know to yourself,' before turning to smile at her boyfriend lovingly.

"It's been a long night; you should get some rest," Sejanus said with a big smile.

He'd been overjoyed since his father brought up marriage and she had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes.

She had no intention of tying herself to the Plinth's any further than with the baby.

"Yes, you're right, darling. I do feel a bit worn out. It must be the baby."

Sejanus placed a kiss on her lips. It was gentle and reminded Hirudinea of the one they shared when he'd walked her home that night, not so long ago.

Tigris sadly said her goodbyes and rushed to the vehicle.

As the car drove away, Tigris looked back one more time as Sejanus and Hirudinea walked past the doorway of the house.

The scene before her was of a boy head-over-heels in love with his pregnant girlfriend and the leech that would drain him without a second thought.

"I love you" Sejanus told his girlfriend tenderly as they headed for his bedroom, she was familiar with the route at this point.

A room had been prepared for her, but it was just out of courtesy, as Mr and Mrs Plinth knew the couple would be sleeping in the same bed. It didn’t matter anyhow, their son had already gotten her pregnant.

Hirudinea looked around at the gaudy splendour of the Plinth home and all the things she would enjoy from now on; all the things her child may one day inherit if she plays her cards right.

She would have to redecorate eventually, but for now she was content.

Feeling euphoric, as she had accomplished her goals, for the first time Hirudinea said words she never in her life thought she would:

"I love you too, Sejanus"

Please send asks about your thoughts on this relationship. I would love to know what you guys think about this whole dynamic, including their families.

Please like and reblog, if you feel like. Your feedback and interactions keeps me motivated XO

Taglist: @snowsgames @euphemiaamillais @darktrashsoulbear @buckleyverse

[pbforeva]

my nails are so damaged rn, I need them back to being healthy and long by september 🙏🙏

but enjoy

part 7!

—

Evelyn pov:

We just arrived at the party, and I've gotten comfortable around Aubrey, Azzi, and KK, so i think i'm going to let loose tonight. I just can't take thinking about anything that has happened, mostly from the past few days.

We walk into the party together, many people already drunk because the party started a few hours ago. I head straight to kitchen with Paige, and we both grab drinks. Not wanting to dance, Paige and I just talk while sitting on a couch.

"So, I really only know your name, and not even your last name," I giggle out. Clearly, I'm a lightweight because I'm only halfway through my second drink, and I'm already being this outgoing.

"Well, if you must know," she says dramatically, before taking a breath and continuing with, "The name's Bueckers, Paige Bueckers." I burst out laughing at her corny joke, her stupid smile making me laugh even harder. She speaks up again, this time saying, "Now that you know that top secret information, you have to tell me a few things about you."

"Hmm, well I'm 21, uhh, oh I was born in Alaska, and I guess I have a boyfriend, well kinda, it's complicated right now." I say, and then I down the rest of my drink, needing a reason to get out of the now awkward situation.

Paige's pov:

I notice the uncomfortable glint in Evelyn's eyes after she finishes rambling about her maybe boyfriend. I watch her, in silence, as she finishes her drink, and then she gets up saying she needs a new one.

I watch as she walks away and disappears into the kitchen. All I can think about is this supposed boyfriend of hers, it seems they're never together, so how close are they really?

I look around the room until my eyes land on Aurora, wait I bet she would know Evelyn's situation. I get up from my position on the couch and head over to where Aurora is dancing.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask as soon as I get up to her.

"Yeah, what's up?" She says while looking up at me.

"Is there something going on with Evelyn's boyfriend? Cause she gets uncomfortable every time he gets brought up." I say with a hint of concern in my voice.

I watch her face drops and she begins to say, "Well, I'm not sure of their current status, and it's not my place to tell you any details, but I don't like him. He's not good to her, and ever since she got with him, she's become a lot more skittish." She finishes with a low tone.

"Oh, I mean I've never met him, is there anything particularly off about him?" I question her further.

"Umm, I don't know I haven't really spoken to him much either, but whenever I do, he is always controlling of Evelyn, and not in a loving way. But she just brushes me off and distances herself whenever I say something about it, so I kind of stopped mentioning it." She says while letting out a breath it seems like she was holding in.

"Oh, that's not good," I say before I start thinking about the reasons he could be controlling. Is he just insecure? Does he not trust her? Maybe he's just toxic? I don't even know, when I look up from my thoughts, Aurora is dancing again, so I head back to my previous seat.

I try to find anyone I came with in the crowd from my place on the couch, and the only one I spot is Evelyn. She's dancing next to Aubrey, who towers over her. I analyze her face, her features are carefree and blithe.

I watch as she raises her hands in the air, along with Aubrey, for a particular dance move. My eyes move down to her now exposed stomach. Her stomach looks flawless, her skin is tan, even in the dim lighting, and her body is toned. As I look further, I see a few purple and blueish marks across her stomach. I search further across her body, and I notice most of the skin covering her ribs are the same purple-blue color. Her whole stomach looks like a nasty bruise. It looks painful, and fresh?

What could that possibly be from, I worriedly ponder. Wait, is that why she grimaces everyone someone hugs her? What is happening to her?

What if- No, it couldn't be. I try to shake the unfinished thought from my head, but it keeps coming back bearing new evidence. Her boyfriend, how controlling he is, and the distance. Maybe he isn't just toxic.

I feel sick to my stomach, there's no way this could be going on. But what if it is? I can't shake the feeling, so I try to find Aurora again. It takes a few minutes, but eventually find her, I walk up to her and begin to speak.

"Aurora, I need to talk to you," I say with a gaunt tone.

"Yeah, what's up?" She asks, her smile slowly fading as she notices the doleful look on my face.

I don't say anything, instead, I motion for her to follow me outside, so we can have a bit of privacy.

I don't know how to start, so I ask an open ended question, "Do you think there could be a more dire situation with Evelyn's boyfriend?" I express cautiously.

"Umm, I don't know, I haven't really thought too much about it because I assumed if something was wrong Evelyn would tell me. Why?" She asks while looking at me suspiciously.

"I was watching her and Aubrey dance and her shirt was lifted, and I noticed quite a few bruises on her stomach." I say, while letting out a breath.

Aurora looks at me heartbroken and she brokenly mumbles "What?" while her voice cracks.

"Yeah, I don't know, but I thought it would be best to come to you, since you know her the best." I try to reason.

"No, no, you're wrong, I would've noticed," she says in accusing tone, "Oh gosh, I should've noticed," she finishes before she breaks down and falls into my arms crying.

I help her i got her car we brought, while consoling her, before going inside to grab the others. We all drive home in silence, except for Auroras sniffling. Everyone is confused, especially Evelyn, because her best friend won't tell her what's wrong.

But all I can think about is how long of a day tomorrow is going to be for Evelyn.

—

You really thought we were getting a happy chapter? you should lowkey know me better than that by now.

[snakegorl212006]

The “little things” they do  (Pomefiore)

--------------Epel--------------------------------------------- “Uug i can’t stand him” epel groans as he aggressively carves another apple “always nagging like he’s my mom or something.” he huffs as he finishes the final details “why do you stay with a man like that” epel mumbles. He and vil got into a heated argument again. Only god knows what they’re on about this time but it was way too early for any of that. “Well..maybe he’s just looking after us” i stated “sure sure, ‘taking care of us’. Do you truly believe that” he asked “well he has made sure i’ve eaten and have a healthy-ish sleep schedule” i replied “i wouldn't blame you for you thinking such things though” i mumbled as i leaned back on the apple tree. “Why do you always defend him… have you forgotten what has happened here” epel asked. His expression saddened “I’m not defending him entirely-. How about this? How about i ask him to lay off” i suggested “by yourself” epel asked “no it’s fine. You shouldn't” epel said as he picks up another apple “why. Don’t you want him to get off your back” I asked “yes but i don’t want you to go by yourself with him” epel replied “why not. Vil hasen’t-” “i don’t want you to die again ok gosh” he huffs angrily “epel.. Did you have a nightmare or something” i asked with a slight sigh “you don’t….I guess you can say it’s a nightmare” epel mumbled “do you want to tell me about it” i asked “.....you were hurt really bad.blood was everywhere and-” epel paused “I don’t want to talk about it anymore” he said. “Just don’t trust vil with anything. Don’t even dare.not even rook alright. Trust me. It’s for the best” epel said as he looked at me dead in my eyes “ok.. I won’t…. How about we made some dessert over with trey. I think he can make some apple pie.” i offered, which made him smile “gosh you’r the best. Always know how to make lil ole me happy” epel said as he grabs my hand “lets go then” epel adds as he drags me up and away to heartslabyul. Must be one nasty nightmare for him to act like that.

----------Rook--------------------------------------------------- “Bonsoir, mon cher” a voice spoke behind me, shocking me out of my skin “oop. Sorry i never meant to scare you” rook said “it’s fine just don’t do that again. Anyways what brings you here” i asked “I enjoy visiting the gardens in,the now, Savanaclaw wing. It brings me much nostalgic memories” he smiles “say may I be of aid. I also do enjoy a little garden work” Rook asked “well leona isn't going to do it so might as well. “Parfait! Je vous remercie, mon cher” he replied, kissing my hand before warding off somewhere else. I can never get used to his eccentricness. While planting some new plants that came in i came across something hard.I digged deeper to see something white…my stomach turns praying to anyone that this isen’t what i think it is “i suppose i made that one too shallow” Rook spoke which made me jump, tripping on the water hose making me fall. Rook grabbed that white thing and to my horror. It was a human femur “you know this place was the original garden Vil and i use to bury our victims to sustain the plants. We kinda stolen this from Roi de Fort and his crime schemes” rook said as he examines the bone “Don’t worry. You weren’t buried here. But if you desire it mon cher-” Rook stated as he look down at me “nonononononono. I'm fine. Just put that back i i need to go-” i replied then he laughs “you have that same reaction too~ ma parole, is this what you call daja vu. Not to worry. I’ll finish this from here” Rook reasured as he picks up the shovel and buries back the bone. I left for him to continue hiding that….”how many bodies are even on this property”

------------Vil------------------------------------------ “Vil, are you here” I asked as I entered the wing. Apparently he hasn't been himself lately even got epel concerned. Rook asked me to go have a chat with him. Make him feel better I suppose. “vil.Are you alright” I asked, waiting for some signs. When there was no answer I pulled out the necklace from my shirt and followed the vibrations. This leads me to his room. I knocked “vil. Is something wrong” i asked. The door opened to see vil looking less than himself. His hair all shriveled, eyeliner running down from his eyes overall he looks pitiful. “Is there anything i could do” i asked and he sighed “just….sit down” he said sounding more irritated. Did epel and him get into another argument? I entered his room to see a mess. But I ignored it and sat on the bed. Vil walks to the vanity and starts his nightly routine in silence. “You know. You look like someone i knew” Vil said as he brushed out his hair “you know i feel like this’ll be a common occurrence” i replied which made him smile a little “what were they like” i asked “Schön…” he smiled as he finished up. “What happened to them” I asked “oh, it was an accident…” he replied rather quickly “that’s all you need to know.” he said as he turns off the lights “if you wouldn't mind. Can you stay here tonight? I’ve been having trouble sleeping as of late. Perhaps you can keep me company.afterall you did come here to make me feel better” he asked. I thought about it and nod “nothing funny ok” I replied. He grabs my hand and lays down next to me. I took off my shoes and slept next to him.  I was awakened by a shift on the bed. I couldn't open my eyes or even move but all i heard was soft sobs as tears on my chest “i'm sorry... I’m so sorry…” I heard vil say “this won’t happen. Not again” he adds as he holds me tight “I promise.I will obtain that happily ever after you so desire. Things will return to normal….I promise” Vil mumbles more as I feel his grip tighten “I’m not letting you relive that nightmare...Not again…”

[queen-dahlia]

𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥

~𝗗𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘁! 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀' 𝘅𝘅𝘅~

Nothing "sexy" here, I just wasted all those tickets yesterday, and it's not worth 480 hearts tbh, not only that, the story was very short unlike in the previous CE 눈_눈

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation

As I spent time at Obsidian, my concerns only continued to grow,

And one of them is now particularly on my mind.

Emma: "Gilbert, I just overheard something."

Gilbert: "What is it, Little Bunny?"

Gilbert looked up from the book he was reading in bed and tilted his head slightly.

Emma: "Is it true that Gilbert will kill any man who makes eye contact with me?"

(When I first heard that rumor, I thought it was impossible...)

(Looking back over the past few days, I certainly haven't seen the men again who have made eye contact or exchanged words with me.)

(Since it's not just one or two people, it's hard to think it's just a coincidence, and there must be some reason.)

My words brought a refreshing smile to Gilbert's face, whose true meaning I could not read.

Gilbert: "Who told you that rumor?"

Gilbert: "You mean you talked to another man?"

Emma: "No, I really just overheard it, I didn't hear it from anyone."

Gilbert: "Really?"

Emma: "Gilbert, you hate lies, so I won't deceive you."

Gilbert: "I guess so, but I won't tell you."

(… There's something about him.)

(It doesn't sound like he's going to tell me honestly…)

I am well aware that Gilbert is not a simple person to deal with, but I can't back down.

(Gilbert would not have killed a competent person unnecessarily either.)

(If so, I want to know the truth about why the people who were involved with me are disappearing.)

(... Okay.)

Determined, I cupped Gilbert's cheeks in my hands, and I kissed him.

Gilbert: "… What is it?"

The lips that touched mine arched slowly, staring back at me as if enjoying my next reaction.

Emma: "Please tell me the truth."

Emma: "Gilbert, you don't like lies that have been disguised as "rumors" either, do you?"

Gilbert: "You say it, too. But was I so naive to expect me to tell you just now?"

(I know... I knew that.)

(I'm so embarrassed, but...)

Pretending to be oblivious to my nervousness and shame, I slip my negligee off my shoulders.

But Gilbert just stared at me, clad in nothing.

(You mean it's not enough? Then this time...)

I wrap my arms around his neck, and after a nibbling kiss, I seal our lips deeply, and our tongues entwine.

Gilbert: "You're getting more and more nasty."   //   "You're getting more and more lascivious."

Emma: "If Gilbert is willing to teach me, I will be embarrassed and nasty."

Gilbert: "You become without purpose."

Emma: "Aah..."

A cold hand around my back holds me close, depriving me of escape.

Emma: "No... Nnn..."

Gilbert: "You're going to make me talk, aren't you? I'm not even going to try."

I enjoy my voice desperately holding back as I play with the tip of my finger.

I could barely stand and put all my strength into his arms as if I were clinging to him.

Emma: "I can't do it… If you do that..."

Gilbert: "It's taking too long."

Emma: "Whoa…!"

The next thing I know, I'm pushed down on the bed, and Gilbert is looking down at me.

Gilbert: "I'm going to keep you company."

Gilbert: "You better satisfy me or I'm not going to teach you anything, okay?"

(I may not be able to sleep tonight...)

As if lured by the eyes staring back at me, I entwine my arms around his neck and press my lips to his.

When my tongue was inserted, it was easily sucked in and gradually and intensely intertwined with it.

══════════════════

The next morning—

Gilbert, who was in a good mood, led me to a military training area, which I rarely set foot in.

Gilbert: "Just peek behind the pillars, okay?"

I was given fresh pressure, and I sneaked a peek around to avoid being noticed by the soldiers present…

(! That's the guy I greeted a few days ago and never saw again.)

I looked around and saw that the people working were all people I remembered exchanging greetings with once.

Gilbert: "I'm having them work here so they don't have to deal with you again."

(They were just reassigned to a more secluded location. So rumor has it they were killed...)

I didn't believe the rumors, but when I found out the truth, I felt a weight fall from my shoulders.

Suddenly, Gilbert came into my view.

Gilbert: "You just made eye contact with them, and you exchanged a few words of greeting, so I'm willing to put up with it."

Gilbert: "If anything more than this happens… I will turn "rumors" into "truth," okay?"

I am horrified to hear horrible things said to me as if they were sung to me.

Gilbert: "I understand. I'll keep that in mind."

(Redeployment is such a hassle... and yet he's still as jealous as ever.)

Gilbert's way of loving is unusual, but I can't say I dislike it…

(I'm also influenced a lot by Gilbert.)

(Even so, it is quite difficult to live without talking to or making eye contact with men other than Gilbert.)

(If our eyes meet, another redeployment will occur, and the court will be very busy in a different way.)

Emma: "… I wonder if it would be better if I wore a blindfold when I go out."

Gilbert's eyes light up when I casually mutter these words.

Gilbert: "Do you want to try it right away?"

Emma: "I'm joking! I really don't want to do that."

(This face looks like he's really going to do it someday…)

Emma: "I don't have to wear blindfolds."

Emma: "I don't have to do that. All I see is you, Gilbert."

Gilbert: "Hehe, I'll let you off the hook for that."

Gilbert: "For now, okay?"

(… He’s a really troublesome person.)

My cheeks relaxed as I thought of this, and I realized that somewhere in my heart I was enjoying this situation.

—Thanks to the rumors, I felt like I was able to learn more about Gilbert's and my thoughts again.