#I do have at least one of his books (ironically?) and who can’t get down on some of his music? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachdues · 5 months

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BIRTHDAY SURPRISES — NSFW

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

A/N: there is nothing redeemable about this. It’s just 7.9k words of pure filth in honor of my man’s birthday.

My husband got a boner reading this, so enjoy you whores.

CW: MDNI • Explicit sexual content • daddy!kink • elevator blowjobs • creampies • rough sex • kinky sex • brat-taming/mild dumbification • overstimulation • fluff at the end followed by more smut • not proof read lmao

Sanemi Shinazugawa has never liked the month of November.

For starters, the stupid month can’t decide what damn season it wants to be. It’s somehow too cold to really qualify as autumn and the leaves have usually fallen to the ground, brown and dead and useless, but it’s also still too warm to snow.

And November is such a tease — smack dab between two great holidays yet offering nothing but a restlessness that persists until the end of the year.

So no, Sanemi Shinazugawa isn’t fond of this time of year. But the universe has never shied away from giving him the middle finger, so Sanemi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised his birthday falls during such a bullshit month like November.

He’d been content to spend the day of his birth like he did every other year — hunkered down in his apartment with some cheap takeout, alone, without anyone to make a big fuss about it. That was the plan — his goddamn plan.

So how the fuck did he end up here?

The “here” in question is a suite at one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. The room is stuffed full of faces, some familiar but most not, packed together like sardines. The music is loud and pulsing and it threatens to give him a nasty headache.

It was Tengen who convinced him to allow this — though, Sanemi doesn’t suppose he was given much of a choice in the matter. But his friend group learned of his impending birthday a few weeks earlier, and before Sanemi could level a few, well-backed threats against any party planning, Tengen had booked the massive suite in which he now found himself, and promised Sanemi that he wouldn’t have to buy a single drink.

Sanemi agreed only on the condition that he be allowed to book a separate hotel room — several floors below where this godforsaken party now raged.

At least Tengen had meant it when he promised Sanemi wouldn’t have to spend a dime on alcohol. He took care to run up his friend’s tab by ordering several shots of Grey Goose, throwing them back as easily as water.

Hey, it was his birthday, after all.

The hotel suite is a blur of lights and colors and bodies pressed together in dark corners. Truthfully, Sanemi really can’t find any one thing to pay attention to; it’s ironic that this party is supposedly for him, and yet he feels like the most invisible person in the room.

But then he spots you — beautiful, witty, and charming you — seated in the lounge area, surrounded by both shared friends and strangers, and it’s like a spotlight has been pointed directly at you. All else seems to fall away, recessing into the shadows of the room, and his attention is locked solely on you; the star of the show that is his birthday party.

The feelings swirling in Sanemi’s chest are dangerous; lethal. He knows he should look away and accept the fact that you, with your endless pick of eligible women and men, would never deign to chase after someone like him, someone with as many scars on his heart as are seared into his skin. He knows that. He knows he’s only setting himself up to get more pissed off — to hate his birthday more than he already does.

But he can’t stop watching you.

And even if he could, he doesn’t want to. He’s only been in love with you since the moment Shinobu tugged you into a booth at a bar they all frequented. There hadnt really been any room for you to sit — not with seven of them already packed tightly onto the bench — but you’d taken one look at him and grinned, something that could only be described as mischief lighting your eyes.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” You’d asked him sweetly as you plopped your ass right down on his lap. “You look like you’re the comfiest one here.”

Sanemi, who was known for having a quick temper and an even quicker mouth, had been stunned into silence by the presence of a beautiful woman, perched on his knee like it was the most natural thing to sit on a stranger’s lap. His friends had been hard-pressed to suppress their smirks at the way Sanemi gaped at the back of your head, and he was fairly certain it was because you’d been so ballsy that you’d secured a permanent spot in their weekly bar rotation.

That had been over a year ago, and Sanemi’s infatuation with you grew deeper by the day.

Not that he’d ever done anything about it — even though, at times, it felt like you were all but baiting him into acting on his feelings. He wanted to believe the way your eyes followed him wherever he went in a room meant something, that your lingering touches were an invitation for more, but he could never bring himself to find out.

That cowardice, he supposed bitterly, was exactly what led him here, sitting alone at the suite room bar, watching as countless others flirted with you and you, right back.

A few times your eyes had tracked him across the room; one time, you looked as though you were about to push through the throng of people shoved into Tengen’s suite to come talk to him, but a hand on your bicep caught you and diverted your attention.

It’s then that Sanemi snaps. The moment he watches as the asshole in question pulls you against him for a slow grind, that jealous, monstrous thing in his chest rears its ugly head, growling and gnawing to be let free.

He’d hoped, for one pathetic moment, that you would push the man away, shake your head, do something that indicated you weren’t the least bit interested in him, no matter how fascinating his multi-colored eyes were, or how charming his feral grin was, but you didn’t. And the moment he sees the douchebag pull your hips flush against his, Sanemi knows he needs to get some air.

So with less grace than he knows he probably should show, Sanemi shoves his way towards the door leading out the suite and into the hallway.

Fuck it, he decides. He would go back to his room, several floors below, take a shower and hit the fucking hay. His birthday was bullshit, anyways.

He storms towards the elevators, slightly tipsy and certainly angry. He stabs a finger against the down button, his leg bouncing as he waits for the elevator to come and save him from his own party.

“What’re you doing out here, birthday boy?”

His stomach sinks to his ass at the familiar cadence of the voice behind him. Reluctantly, he turns and sees you making your way down the hallway wall, a smirk on your pretty lips and looking downright sinful in that flimsy, silvery dress that barely reaches the middle of your thighs.

That damn elevator can’t come fast enough.

“Go back to the party,” he says tightly, though he still won’t look you directly in the eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt your good time.”

You draw up short. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanemi only scoffs and jabs frustratingly at the elevator button, willing for the telltale ding that will allow him to step into the lift and get far the fuck away from this rager he didn’t want.

From you.

“What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” You push, resuming your advance on him and shortening the space between your bodies. “Sanemi —“

“Save it,” Sanemi bites, and because he cannot help himself, he adds, “I just don’t particularly feel like watching you spread your legs for some lowlife asshole who can’t be bothered to remember your name.”

You blink, comprehension dawning on your face before melting to anger. “That’s what you’re so pissy about?”

Sanemi silently begs the elevator to hurry the fuck up, because now you’re only a few feet away from him and he doesn’t want you to see his fraying restraint.

You fold your arms across your chest, hip jutting out to the side. “You’re acting like a bitch because some jackass tried to grind on me? Why do you even care?”

Sanemi dodges your question with ease.

“You’re the one who fuckin’ followed me out here.”

The elevator dings and Sanemi is damn near falling to his knees in gratitude at its timing. The double sliding doors have barely finished opening before he’s already inside, jamming his finger into the button marked 26, praying it’ll move faster than it arrived.

The doors start to close but a pair of hands slam against both sides of the doorway, preventing them from joining in the middle.

You stand in the center of the threshold, eyes bright and nostrils flaring, the elevator doors half-closed around you.

“It wasn’t easy to throw this party together y’know,” you snap at him, and dully, Sanemi thinks the glare you give him is strong enough to wither plants. “Everyone went out of their way to try and make you feel special, but you’ve been nothing but an asshole about it.”

“I didn’t ask you all to do this — I begged you not to,” Sanemi retorts just as hotly, his arms folding across his chest. “I didn’t want a fuckin’ party.”

“Well, what do you want?”

the silence that stretches between you is more telling than any answer he could have given. By the way your lips part, you seem to realize it at the same moment he does, and that’s when Sanemi knows he’s fucked.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, the weight of Sanemi’s unspoken admission hanging above your heads like the sword of Damocles.

But then, the blade drops, and it must impale you both, because suddenly your hands fall from the elevator doors and are tangling in his hair at the same moment Sanemi’s fingers latch onto your waist, and your mouths slam together in a fiery clash of lips and teeth.

The elevator doors slide shut behind you right as Sanemi presses you up against the paneled wall and slides his tongue into your mouth.

At the first stroke of his tongue against yours, you tense, and for one panicked moment, he fears he’s gone too far. But then you’re melting against him, and the way you tug on his hair and whimper his name against his lips makes Sanemi loses his goddamn mind.

Time stands still and there are no thoughts in Sanemi’s brain but the feel of your hands running down his arms, his chest, pushing under the open collar of his shirt to dance along his burning skin.

They can’t get to the 26th floor fast enough, no matter how fast the numbers tick past, bringing them closer and closer to privacy —

The elevator jolts to a stop, somewhere between the 29th and 28th floors, and does not move.

It’s just his fucking luck; the girl of his dreams is pressed flush against him, her lips at his ear as she begs for him, and the goddamn elevator has forgotten how to work. If his hands weren’t so busy pushing under the hem of that slip you call a dress to fondle the curve of your ass, he might’ve put a hole through the one of the doors.

He punches the button for the 26th floor again and again, his sanity fraying with each urgent jab of his fingers, yet the elevator still does not move.

If the idea that the pair of you are stranded in a metal box of death suspended over twenty stories high bothers you, Sanemi wouldn’t be able to tell — not when you’ve decided to turn your attention someplace else.

“What’re you —“ Sanemi’s voice is hardly more than a croak as your hands busy themselves with the buckle on his belt, fumbling and tugging until the leather fastened around his hips gives way.

“Shhh!” A press of your index finger to his lips silences him. “Birthday boys shouldn’t worry!”

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and suddenly they’re following you down as you slide to your knees before him.

Sanemi’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the way your half-lidded gaze drifts from his face down his body, coming to rest on the tent of his briefs, jutting out from between his thighs.

Your voice is syrupy and warm as you whisper, “I guess I should let you have your first gift,”

Sanemi forgets how to breathe when you peer back up at him, your eyes suddenly round and wide; he nearly forgets how to stand when you lean forward and press your cheek against the side of his cock where it strains against his underwear.

Sanemi sucks in sharply through clenched teeth at the sudden rush of cold elevator air against the heated, sensitive skin of his bare cock, your fingers having tugged him free from the confines of his briefs.

“F-first?” He can’t stop the way the question stutters out, not when your lips, just barely gazing against him, drag from his base to his tip. The soft exhale of your warm breath up his length has his hands shooting behind him for something — anything — to grip.

You hum in confirmation, and Sanemi’s vision almost blacks out when your tongue peeks past your glossy, red-stained lips to trail over his leaking head.

“But you’ll have to wait ‘til we get to your room before you can unwrap the next one.”

Sanemi swears he’ll set the entire hotel building on fire if the elevator doesn’t start working in the next fucking minute. His vicious promise, however, fades to the back of his mind, along with every other coherent thought he’s ever had as your lips part around his head and you take him into your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Sanemi hisses and his head falls back against the elevator wall with a dull thump.

You him pleasantly around his cock and Sanemi nearly cums right there, the vibrations from your mouth too sweet, adding gasoline to the already raging inferno of his desire.

At first, you keep your hands primly folded behind you, only allowing your mouth to work his shaft. Every time you slide up off him, you curl your tongue against the underside of his cock and every time, Sanemi has to draw upon every morsel of self-restraint he possesses to not buck further down your throat.

But soon, your hands pat their way to his, and you bring his hands against either side of your head. You hold them there for only a moment, just long enough for Sanemi’s stomach to flip as he realizes what you’re giving him permission to do.

You peer up at him with those big eyes, so wide and deceptively innocent, and he knows you’re trying to kill him.“Motherfucking — Y/N,” he moans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck.”

With his grip in your hair secure, Sanemi begins to fuck your mouth. His cock slides in and out of your heat, every push shoving a little more of himself further into your mouth. You only relax your throat, your tongue still curling against the underside of his shaft in a way that makes Sanemi see white.

Sanemi’s hold on your hair tightens. “Fucking take it,” he pants, hips bucking against your face. “My little cock whore.” From his position over you, Sanemi can see the way his words make you squirm with need, your answering moan long, and deep.

Your hands flutter to the side of his thighs, and Sanemi almost winces at the prick of your nails against his skin. But despite the saliva steadily trailing down your chin and the guttural sounds choking in the back of your throat, you’re tugging him closer, your fingers inching around to grip his backside, pressing him closer and closer to you until your nose brushes his groin.

The elevator jolts with movement and resumes its descent, but neither of you notice. All Sanemi can focus on his the way his tip bumps against the back of your throat, and how your cheeks hollow against him as he ruts into your mouth.

Sanemi makes a strangled noise in the vague shape of your name. “I-I’m gonna —“

You only need to swallow around him once before Sanemi is filling your throat with his cum. With a deep groan, his head drops back, his hand splayed across the back of your skull, keeping your nose pressed against his base as he rocks his hips, his cock twitching violently in your mouth.

His eyes fly open when he feels the wetness from your tears against the sensitive skin of his groin, and he’s quick to pull out of your mouth. Your hands bracing against his thighs as you gulp down air in heavy, shuddering gasps.

“Fuck — I’m sorry,” his hands smooth worryingly over your hair. “That was too rough, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-“

Your head snaps up, and Sanemi feels a brief moment of panic at the sight of your mascara, streaked down your cheeks from an onslaught of tears. Bht then you’re smiling at him, a big, triumphant, radiant smile, and Sanemi feels almost as dumb in the head as he had when your mouth was around his cock.

The elevator slows and Sanemi hastily tucks himself back into his pants. The moment his belt is refastened, his hand is on your arm, gently guiding you up to stand right as a ding! sounds, and the doors slide open to reveal the 26th floor.

You step out first, turning back to him expectantly. “Well? What room?”

Sanemi’s heart falls to his ass as he beholds the assured confidence blazing in your eyes. “2602,” he manages to croak.

You tug him out of the elevator and for a few moments, he’s dumbstruck by his good fortune. It almost feels like a dream, that your here, leading him down the winding hallway of this oversized and overpriced hotel, eager to get back to his room and do whatever the hell it is that’s lit that fire in your eyes.

Sanemi’s awe is short-lived, replaced by a crashing wave of need and boiling desire, hot and furiously bubbling under his skin. His hand tightens around yours and he jerks you around, spinning you until you’re caged tightly between the hallway wall and his chest.

His mouth attacks your neck, biting and sucking his claim into your skin, no matter how temporary. Your leg hikes up to hook around his hips, your foot pressed against his calf, and it seems neither of you care that you’re very much still on an open hallway as opposed to the privacy of his hotel room.

“I’m not holding back with you,” he whispers against the hollow of your throat. His hands slide hotly down your sides, fingers toying under the absurdly short hem of your dress, kneading just beneath the curve of your ass. “You asked me what I wanted — I want this. You.”

Your sultry giggle in his ear chokes off as Sanemi’s finger dips under your ass from behind to run firmly over your clothed slit. A breathy fuck falls from his lips as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

“That’s your main gift,” you’re tugging on his hair again until you’ve pulled him away from your throat so that you can slant your mouth over his. “Me. However you want me.”

You take his bottom lip between your teeth and suck, and Sanemi swears he’s died and gone to heaven. “As many times as you want.”

“And in whatever positions you want.”

Sanemi has never been a particularly religious man, but he thinks he’s about one nanosecond from dropping to his knees in worship of you.

Sanemi wastes no time in hauling you over his shoulder, throwing any and all cares to the wind of being seen as he slaps your ass and books the remaining trek back to his hotel room. Youre lucky his room is only around the corner, given that you won’t stop groping his ass.

Somehow, Sanemi manages to fumble for his keycard and swipes it, and he has you inside his room and pushed up against the door before it even fully latches shut.

You’re moaning and panting just from his hands, and Sanemi can feel himself already growing hard once more. His lips are feverish as they roam from your lips, to your neck, and down to the hem of your dress concealing your soft breasts from sight. His hands are even greedier, bunching the tissue-paper-like fabric of you dress between his fingers as he explores the curves and dips of your body.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

From the way your hands drag down his chest, fingers sliding between the undone buttons of his shirt to explore his chest, he knows you’re just as starved as he is.

With a slight whine, you push him back, breaking your kiss. Sanemi looks at you, but the question building on his tongue does as you kick your heels off, your fingers flying to the straps of your dress.

Sanemi feels locked in place by the heat of your gaze, and he swears he can feel his pulse tick in his neck. One by one, you push the straps of your dress from your shoulders, letting the satiny material fall down your waist and puddle around your feet.

If Sanemi thought he was losing his mind before, he knows for certain that he likely needs to be committed now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sanemi’s stare is unabashed and gaping. For beneath that flimsy scrap of shiny fabric pretending to be a dress was not your bare skin, but dark green lace and mesh and corset paneling.

A teddy.

You twist slightly so you’re looking over your shoulder, fully exposing your ass and the thong-like back of your one-piece to the slack-jawed birthday boy.

“I figured you would like this one.”

Your words knock Sanemi right off his axis, his head spinning so fast, it’s a miracle it’s still attached to his shoulders.

You’d worn fucking lingerie for his party.

For him.

You’d gone out of your way to wear something you thought he would like on the mere chance you’d end up as you were now, here in his room. You’d planned for it.

You didn’t leave him any other choice; he was going to fucking ruin you.

His hand flies behind his neck to grip his shirt, ripping it over his head and throwing it unceremoniously to the side.

Sanemi doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your pupils blowing wide at the sight of the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.

He kicks off his shoes and his hands shove his pants quickly down his legs, grateful that he hadn’t bothered to refasten his belt or button after the stunt you pulled in the elevator.

“C’mere,” he orders, roughly. Left in just his black briefs, he lunges forward to take you into his arms once more.

Your peal of laughter as Sanemi throws you onto his king-sized hotel bed is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. He wastes no time pouncing on you, eager to reconnect your lips, to kiss you until you’re left as breathless and wanting as he is.

Between messy kisses, Sanemi’s hands make their way down your body, squeezing and marveling at the way your body seems made for his touch. And as if the feeling of your skin beneath his palms isn’t enough to drive him wild, you’re so responsive to his touch. Every stroke of his hands seems to bring you alive until you’re practically thrumming with want and begging him for more.

His fingers slide over your lace-covered cunt and he swears at the dampness he feels clean through the fabric of your teddy.

“Eager, are we?” He hums, his lips following down the path he traced with his hands. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips buck impatiently against him as his face settles between your thighs. He grins at your desperation, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your inner thigh until he reaches your covered slit.

He lets his tongue peek out between his lips and drags it over until he reaches your other thigh, groaning at the faint taste of you dampening the lace.

Sanemi’s fingers push under the edge of the teddy, a breath blowing past his lips when he connects with your dripping cunt.

“Look how fucking soaked you are,” he says in awe, marveling the way your slick coats his fingers. “Is this all for me?”

You groan, pushing your hips down to grind harder against his hand.

“Just fuck me already,” you huff. “I’m ready now.”

Sanemi tsks softly at you. “You need to ask a lot nicer than that, sweet girl.”

Your impatient demands taper off into soft moans as Sanemi sinks a single finger into your entrance, his cock growing impossibly hard at the feeling of you clenching easily around him.

Sanemi practically trembles at the thought of sinking into your heat, of how you might feel clenching and pulsing around his length while he fucks you the way he’s been dreaming since he met you.

But while he might be pent up, Sanemi isn’t so much of an asshole that he wouldn’t make sure you were good and ready to take him.

So he simply tugs the crotch of your teddy aside and without any further teasing or torture, he latches his mouth to your cunt with a deep moan.

As his tongue darts between your folds, Sanemi realizes that all the cake in the world couldn’t compare to how fucking sweet your pussy tastes.

You cry out, his name stuttering out between a staccato of moans and cooes for more. Your hands twist in his hair, alternating between pulling his face closer to your core and pushing him away, the pleasure almost too much for you to bear.

Sanemi thinks he could get drunk on your taste. His eyes open to watch the way your face pinches, how your jaw goes slack to let his name drip from your tongue.

Your hands unwind from his hair to tug at the sinful draping of lace fitted against your body like a glove. “Off,” you whimper. “Off.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you want. But after another plea of “off,” Sanemi’s hands are already working to push the teddy down your lithe form.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes, dragging the lingerie off your legs. Sanemi swears softly at the sight of you, bare and spread out on his mattress, your body pliant and ready for him to use however he chooses.

“S-Sanemi,” he can’t suppress his grin at the apparent whine in your tone. “I feel so — so empty —“

He doesn’t try to hold in the groan resounding deep from his chest. Youre asking — practically begging — for his cock, and Sanemi doesn’t have the willpower to deny you.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, and suddenly your body is caged under his, his hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of your thighs. “I need to be in you.”

His lips dance feverishly up the side of your neck until they reconnect with yours.

For a moment, your kiss slows to something more sensual and passionate, as opposed to the heated and frantic kisses you’d exchanged earlier. The sigh you exhale against his mouth is the sexiest thing Sanemi has ever heard, and the feeling of your fingers latching in his hair is a sensation he never wants to forget.

Your tongue swipes along his lower lip in a silent request for entry that he’s only too happy to grant. You moan against the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Sanemi knows he’s been head over heels for you for a long time, but the way your tongue dances languidly with his has him utterly undone.

If you wanted to, he’d let you swallow him whole.

Your kiss melts into something more needy and frantic, and Sanemi feels your wetness grind down against his thigh, a pleading whimper building on your lips. With an eagerness that makes his head spin, your legs shift to lock around his waist, and one of the hands you’d had latched in his hair drifts down his abdomen until it finds his cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

“I’ve got a condom —“ Sanemi manages between desperate kisses. “In my wallet —“

But your legs tighten around his hips and your hand pumps harder at his stiffened length. “Don’t need it,” you murmur against his lips. “On the pill.”

Sanemi thinks he might pass out. “Fuck — are you sure?”

You nod, eyes bright and alert even in spite of your sleepy, fucked-out smile. “Wanna feel you, baby.”

Don’t have to fucking tell him twice. Especially not when you’re calling him baby, even if it’s a pet name you’ll only use on him for the night.

With deft hands, Sanemi flips you so that your front is pressed against the mattress. You scramble beneath him to plant your knees, raising your ass high in the air, your cunt held out in an offering he could never refuse.

He gives one of your pert ass cheeks an appreciative smack before he shuffles forward on his knees. He rests one foot on the outside of your leg, parallel with your hip, and slots his other knee between your parted thighs. One hand grips the base of his cock while the other kneads at your hip, holding you steady while also keeping your limbs relaxed as he lines his tip up with your dripping entrance.

“Unless you say otherwise, ‘M goin’ hard,” he warns, his voice rougher than gravel. “Been waiting too long to do this.”

Ever the devilish little minx, you wiggle your hips back against him, and his breath chokes in his throat when your wet heat catches him at his tip.

You look back over your shoulder and Sanemi’s gaze darkens at the challenge in your eyes. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

Sanemi decides to respond to your taunt not with his words, but with his body. In a single, fluid movement, he plunges his cock deep into your heated core, his fingers tightening around your hips with bruising force.

“Jesus fuck,” he pants once he’s fully embedded to the hilt inside your warmth.

It’s unreal; the feeling of your silken, pleasure-soaked walls moulding around his cock like you were made to take him sends a bolt lightning surging down his spine, making him shudder.

A cross between a cry and a scream tears from your throat, muffled only by the press of your mouth against the starchy blankets of his hotel bed. He’s about to ask if you’re okay, if you want him to go slow for a bit since he knows he’s a larger than average. but then you’re throwing your hips back against him, circling and grinding and mewling for more.

“Fuck me,” you moan. “Fuck me, Sanemi — please.”

“God fucking damn,” Sanemi hisses through clenched teeth. And he knows he can’t deny you, not when your whining so prettily for him; nor when your pussy feels this fucking good.

He draws back, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remains. He lingers there, for just a hair’s breadth of a moment, teasing.

Your impatient whine doesn’t last long as Sanemi slams you back onto him, the sound choking off in your throat. He doesn’t give you time to recover; he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips and drives his cock into you again and again, pounding a relentless rhythm into you that has you sobbing into the mattress.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You blubber, your fingers fisted into the blankets below for purchase as you push yourself back to meet his frenzied thrusts.

Sanemi can’t tear his eyes away from where his cock, shiny with your wetness, disappears in and out of you. “You’re taking me so fuckin’ well,” he says in awe. Your pussy is gripping him like a vice, practically sucking him back into your heat. “You like letting me use you, huh?”

Sanemi shifts so that his weight is on the knee resting beside your leg, allowing him to push harder and deeper into your cunt. You try to lift your head, but Sanemi’s hand leaves its place on your hip to press down on the back of your neck, squeezing lightly.

“Oh f-fuck,” you groaned, voice slightly muffled from where your face was half-pressed into the mattress. “Oh god — just like that — D-daddy, yes —“

Sanemi’s hips stutter. Daddy. No one has ever called him that in the bedroom before, but fuck if it doesn’t somehow make him harder than a fucking diamond.

Especially because it seems like it slipped out of you without much thought, your eyes too busy staring at the back of your skull as every punishing thrust of Sanemi’s cock into your pliant cunt makes your body bounce against the mattress.

He likes it. A lot.

“Should’ve known you’d have a daddy kink, filthy little thing,” he groans, his hand reaching under you to toy with your swollen clit.

You only moan in response, and Sanemi can’t help but to swirl his fingers around that nub, savoring the way it makes your thighs quiver beneath you.

The hand still pressing against the back of your neck slides up to grip your hair, and Sanemi pulls your head up from the bed. “Do you call everyone ‘daddy,’ sweetness, or just those who fuck you the way you like it?”

“Not everyone” you gasp, voice strained against the tight arch of your neck. “Just you — ah! Only you.”

With a growl, Sanemi’s arm locks around your middle and hauls you up until your back is flush against his chest. One hand wraps around your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks to keep your head back as he continues pounding into you.

“Look at you,” his exhales hotly against your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. “Daddy’s pretty little toy.”

Your thighs quake in their effort to keep you up. Your moans raise an octave, warbling out of your throat as you settle heavily against him, utterly helpless against the pleasure rolling through your body.

Sanemi’s hand drops from your jaw to drag teasingly down your torso. When he reaches your lower belly, he presses his palm flat, the pressure allowing the blunt head of his cock to rub against that sensitive spot that makes you sing his name.

“You feel that, baby?” And the whine that slips out of you is one he wishes he could bottle up. “That’s all me — that’s how deeply I’m fucking you.”

He’s practically holding you up, your limbs little more than jelly, but he doesn’t mind. He only increases the pressure of his hand, rubbing slightly over the softness of your stomach.

“And that’s where I’m gonna fill you up, ‘til you’re nice and full, hm?”

A stilted cry of his name is dragged from your lips, and Sanemi swears he’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d let him.

It’s not lost on him that this is likely a one-time thing; that you’ll likely leave his hotel room and the two of you won’t speak of it again, but he can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

It doesn’t matter if this is just a slightly drunken hook up — it doesn’t matter to him if it’s just sex. You’re letting him use your body for his pleasure, and that thought is enough to make his brain turn to liquid between his ears.

Sanemi falls back against the bed, bringing you with him, your back still pressed against his chest. He winds an arm around one of your thighs, holding it open to allow himself to continue fucking up into you with the speed of a racehorse.

“God you’re so fuckin’ tight — don’t want me to leave, do you, precious?”

He chuckles in your ear, catching your lobe between his teeth. His hand wedges between your thighs to play with your clit again, and the way your pussy flutters around him signals that you’re right on the precipice of your orgasm.

The first of the night, if he had anything to say about it.

“Maybe I should make you my own personal cocksleeve — would you like that, sweetheart?” You’re mewling, nodding frantically as you squirm and thrash atop him.

“Would you like to sit on Daddy’s cock all day, keep him nice and warm?”

“Yes!” You sob, and Sanemi’s fingers circle your clit even harder, determined to to make you cum. “Yes, ‘Nemi, please! I’ll be your good girl — I’ll be so good —“

Sanemi’s pace falters slightly at your words, a new idea — a wicked idea, forming fast in his mind. “You will, huh?”

He abruptly pulls out of you, though the anguished cry that rattles out of you at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heartstrings. After all, you’d been so close.

Sanemi wastes no time flipping you under him, hooking both your legs over his muscled shoulders until the underside of your thighs press flat against his chest.

“You’ll cum when I say so,” he shoves his painfully hard cock back into your pulsing warmth, his knuckles turning white under his grip against the rumpled blankets as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back at the feeling of being sheathed back inside you once more.

“And you’re gonna fuckin’ look at me when i fill you up,” Sanemi snarls between ferocious snaps of his hips. “I wanna see that gorgeous face when I cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“Yes! Yes s-sir.”

“Yeah? And who’s fucking you this good?”

“Y-you,”

He ducks his head down to nip sharply at your breast. “Try again.”

“You are — D-daddy,”

Sanemi’s pace only increases. “Still not what I’m looking for, princess,” he’s borderline cruel and he knows it, but he also knows what he wants. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

You don’t answer; you can’t, given how slack your jaw has gone, your mouth frozen in a perfect “o” as Sanemi pushes the head of his cock right at that spot deep within you that makes you seize down on him hard enough that he sees stars.

He growls your name and when you still don’t respond, he snaps his hips particularly hard against yours.

“Say it.”

His hand shoves between your bodies, and Sanemi pinches your clit harshly between this thumb and index finger.

“Sanemi!” You wail, writhing under him. His fingers rub soothing circles against your clit, though the relentless thrust of his cock does not ease.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, and the pressure of his fingers against your throbbing nub increases. “Now cum on this fucking cock.”

That does it.

Your back arcs sharply up off the mattress, thighs tightening around his hips as your cunt clenching around him with earth-shattering force. Sanemi feels a smug wave of pride as a surge of fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin.

You fall back against the bed, limp and spent, but Sanemi isn’t done with you yet; you won’t be, not until Sanemi has left his mark.

He shifts over you, his full weight pressing you down into the mattress; his hands pushing your knees up until they’re level with your chest. You sigh and hum, still wading through the haze of your orgasm, but given the way you let your thighs spread a little wider, you’re aware enough to know that Sanemi is readying you to take his release.

It’s not enough; Sanemi doesn’t want you lost in the aftermath of your euphoria — he wants you crying out for his.

His hand grips your face, your cheeks squishing together beneath his fingers as he forces your head to tilt toward him. Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused before the clouds part and your attention is locked wholly on him.

“Beg for it,” he grits out, his hand smacking against your clit until you howled. “Beg for my cum.”

“Please!” Your cry is shrill and desperate, your hands tightening weakly around his shoulders. “Please f-fill me up — oh, Sanemi —“

He nearly loses it at the way you say his name, like it’s some damn prayer and he, your salvation, but he holds back. It’s not enough — he wants you as filthy and wanton as him.

“Use your words,” his words leave him in a single, inexorable command.

Your lower lip wobbles. “Your cum — please, please fill this pussy up. Fill me up, fuck it into me —“

Sanemi cuts off your babbling with a single, bruising kiss. He feels his balls tighten, and the prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, signaling just how close he is to nirvana.

His hand finds one of yours where it clings to his shoulder, a fruitful attempt to anchor yourself, and he pulls it away. Sanemi presses your hand back against the mattress, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Your pussy flutters around him in time with your thumb stroking over his knuckle, and that’s all it takes.

“Oh fuck —“ Sanemi grunts before he feels himself explode. With a strangled yell, Sanemi’s hips slam into yours, pushing his cock as deep as it can possibly go, and his release crashes into him with mind-blowing force.

it’s the hardest and the most he’s ever come in his entire life. Nothing else has ever or will ever compare to this.

But even as his release spurts heavily inside your honeyed core, Sanemi doesn’t relent in his pace. His hips keep rolling steadily into you, prolonging his release to the point his toes curl, and he wonders whether his nose might start bleeding.

The corners of your mouth tilt up, a pleased groan vibrating loud and wanton in your throat as you feel him fuck his hot seed right into the Eden of your body.

Despite the mind-numbing pleasure of his orgasm, Sanemi won’t let himself look away. The face you make as he fills you up is the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Sanemi stays buried in your heat for several more moments as he comes down from his high, his head dropping into the crook of your shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls out, dropping down next to you in a flurry of messy blankets and pillows.

You push yourself to your side, a hand coming to push the sweat-dampened ends of his bangs from his eyes. “Good birthday?” You tease, your cheeks flushed bright red, your eyes bright.

“The best,” Sanemi agrees, his eyes scanning your face, committing every detail of you and your post-sex glow to memory.

The two of you lay next to one another for a little while, talking and quietly laughing. Neither one of you seems eager to leave the bed, and Sanemi in particular finds himself hoping today never ends.

Eventually, nature calls and he excuses himself — reluctantly — to the bathroom. When he emerges, he’s greeted with the sight of your ass, bare and exposed as you nestle into the bed, one leg kicking lazily up into the air behind you.

Fuck, you’re too beautiful, and he is far too weak.

He approaches the side of the bed, stretching out one hand to drag teasingly down your spine, until he reaches your ass, knuckles kneading the soft flesh.

His eyes flit to the small clock perched on the hotel nightstand. Sanemi’s grin turns lupine as he reads time reflected by the green-tinted digits.

Sanemi’s fingers skirt down to your ankle, gripping it firmly in his hand. He tugs you over the side of the bed until your head dangles off the edge, your hair stretching towards the ground. “Looks like it’s still my birthday, darling. I ain’t finished enjoying my present yet,” he grips the base of his half-hard cock and taps it against your lips. “And I’ve been dying to cum all over this pretty face of yours.”

—-

True to his word, Sanemi takes him time ravishing his birthday gift. When the clock on the nightstand finally reads 12:01 AM, he flops down next to you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath.

You lay beside him, panting in tandem with him from the exertion of the night’s activities. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t sticky as a result of the heady mixture of your sweat and Sanemi’s cum.

You feel his eyes searing into you as you trail a finger through the milky white splattered across your chest — a favorite place of his to cum, as you’d learned, second only to spilling inside of you.

Sanemi hardly holds back a whimper at the way you bring it to your lips, letting your tongue lick your finger clean of his pleasure.

“You’re trying to drive me wild, woman,” he throws a tired arm over his face, shrouding his eyes. “You torture all your hookups like this?”

He’s surprised at how quickly you sit up in bed, your eyes flashing.

“Hookup?”

Sanemi props a fist under his cheek. “Well, yeah,” he winces slightly, searching for more careful words. “I don’t expect anything from you. I appreciate the birthday surprise, though.”

Your gaze is leveled, and your voice even. “I don’t buy lingerie for one-night stands, Sanemi. That shit is an investment.”

His eyes blow wide, and he feels the erratic thrum of his heart stuttering in his throat.

“I want you,” you say firmly. “And I had every intention when I followed you in here tonight for this —“ your hand waves back and forth between your chests. “— to continue.”

It’s a miracle Sanemi is able to speak at all. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grin. “Well, now that you’ve fucked me, I guess you should take me on a date.” You pause, trailing one delicate finger down his chest. “But I won’t make you wait until we’ve been on three before I let you fuck me again.”

Your hand dips below the edge of the blanket and glides teasingly over his cock, already beginning to stir once more. “You’re far too delicious.”

Sanemi snatches your hand and rolls you under him before you can blink, your answering giggle the sweetest music ever to grace his ears.

“Y’know, in other parts of the world, it’s still the 29th,” he murmurs huskily, grazing his lips against yours. “So by that logic…”

You nod, eyebrows drawn together in seriousness. “We’re obligated to keep celebrating.”

Sanemi’s lips are already trailing down your body, savoring the taste of himself on your skin. He settles back between your legs, marveling at the way your thighs fall to the side so easily to accommodate his mass.

He presses a sweet kiss against your clit. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you, darlin’?”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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ellecdc · 2 months

Text

A Man With a Plan.5

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, James losing his ever-loving mind.

“Okay. Start again, from the beginning.” Remus heard James say as he made his way back down to the common room with the Marauder’s Map held fast in his iron grip.

Regulus sighed something that sounded a lot like for Salazar’s sake, Potter as he looked at the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room for patience; jury’s still out on whether he found any or not.

“She was supposed to meet me in the library after the game to study.” He muttered plainly.

“Right.” James said as he paced near the fire, arms crossed and one hand up near his mouth as he chewed on his cuticles.

“She never showed at the library, but I didn’t think anything of it as she often gets-”

“Distracted, right.” James agreed readily.

Regulus had lowered his head and was now looking at the floor. “I still had her books though, so I went to bring them to her dorm, or at least drop them off for her. Her roommate-”

“Which one?” James interrupted.

“What?”

“Which roommate?”

Regulus scoffed and levelled James with an incredulous glare. “I don’t know, Potter. Why would I know her roommates? The lot of them are tosser’s anyway.”

“Did Reggie just refer to someone as a tosser?” Sirius stage whispered to Remus.

“Was it Mary-Ella?”

“I don’t know who that is, Potter.”

“Did she have glasses?” James tried again.

“No.”

“The red head?”

“No.”

“Okay so it was Jill, then; the blonde.”

“Fine. Yes, Jill,” Regulus started, obviously antsy to get this conversation over with. “Said she had packed a small bag and said, and I quote,” he emphasized, obviously already having gone over this with James, “it’s better that she stays away from the castle for the weekend.”

James had since stopped his pacing and stood in front of the fire as he pieced the facts together.

“Okay...” he started as he looked to Regulus again. “One more time.”

“Potter!” Regulus shouted at the same time Sirius whined “Prongs!”

“This is awful. This is just awful.” James said as he resumed his pacing.

“Okay, well, relax Potter. She’s more clever than people give her credit for – I’m sure she’s fine.” Regulus said as he rubbed his temples.

“I know she’s more clever than people give her credit for.”

“Then why are you so wound up?” Sirius asked. Big mistake.

“Because, if she’s not here, who will stop the nargles, Sirius!?” James shrilled.

“What the fuck is a nargle!?” Sirius shouted back.

“I don’t know! All I know is that Y/N’s not here, and now the nargles are going to steal my stuff!”

Remus was fully convinced that dogs two counties over could hear James at this point.

“Guys? Has anyone seen my shoes?” Peter interjected as he stood from his spot on the carpet where Sirius had abandoned their card game. “I swear they were just here.”

“Oh gods, it’s starting.” James cried miserably.

“Oh relax, Potter. The nargles aren’t interested in smelly running shoes.” Regulus added with derision. “They’d much prefer a nice wizarding pair of dragonhide boots.”

Suddenly, realization seemed to dawn on Regulus’ face as he turned quickly and exited the Gryffindor common room.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.” James muttered as he resumed his pacing.

“Alright, are you going to tell him? Or should I?” Sirius said as he turned his sights to Remus.

“Tell me what?” James said immediately, looking between his two friends.

Remus’ face was pale and clammy while Moony was screaming in his mind at the thought of you being gone, not being safe, being hurt, hiding.

“Tell me what?!” James asked again.

Remus just shook his head.

“Remus.” Sirius warned.

“What did you do? What did you say to her?” James accused, immediately on the offensive as he stalked towards him. Lily stood swiftly to block James’ path.

“I...I can’t...I-she’s,” Remus stuttered miserably.

“Oh, for Godric’s sake.” Sirius muttered as he stalked up to his dorm room. He returned swiftly with the book Hairy Snout, Human Heart and tossed it to James who caught it easily.

“She is his soulmate.” He said simply.

“SOULMATE!?” Lily, Peter, and James all guffawed in unison.

“I thought that was just a myth.” Peter muttered as he took the book from James’ hand and began flipping through it.

“Apparently not.” Sirius muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s had this guy wound up for weeks.”

“Holy shit.” Peter muttered as he held the book out for James and Lily to see as well. “It’s true. It’s here.”

“How do you know it’s her?” Lily asked Remus.

He snorted and shook his head as Moony shouted MINE.

“Just a hunch.” He muttered miserably.

“Is this why you’ve been so upset, recently?” Peter asked quietly. James scoffed and shook his head angrily.

“So upset... to have such an odd girl as your soulmate, Moony?” James spat furiously.

Remus felt the colour drain from his face as Moony started arguing angrily in his head. IS MINE. IS MINE. MINE, GOOD. MINE, GOOD.

James scoffed and threw the book onto the table. “You know, out of everyone, Remus, I thought at least you’d be more understanding. That perhaps maybe you would know what it’s like to be different from everyone else – treated differently than your peers.”

James looked down his nose at his friend as he began to stalk out of the room. “Turns out you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

Remus felt a tear fall as he turned back to regard his friends.

“Sirius.” He whispered miserably.

“I know, Moons. I know that’s not why; I’ll talk to him - but I don’t blame him for being angry.” Sirius offered solemnly before he followed James up the stairs.

“You know...it makes a lot of sense.” Peter mused aloud.

Lily and Remus turned to face him with matching expressions of bemusement.

“A witch who believes in nargles ought to believe in soulmates. She’s probably the perfect person for you.” He said simply with a shrug.

Mine. Miss. Missing. Where? Mine. Moony whimpered.

James was officially missing one half of two pairs of socks, his watch, his school tie, and his new quill set that his mom had sent him.

Oh, and also his sanity if you asked Sirius.

Sirius was starting to feel like he was losing his sanity too, between Remus’ brooding over your ‘disappearance’ (which sounded so dramatic considering you told people you were leaving and that you’d be back after the weekend), James’ (and admittedly, Regulus’) fussing over nargles, auras, and something other entity Sirius has never heard of, and Peter’s complete lack of help with any of the above.

“All this over a bird.” He muttered to himself as he handed James one of his extra ties.

“Moony, up. We’re going to breakfast.” He barked over his shoulder. Remus just shook his head.

“Get up.” He demanded.

“M’not hungry.” Remus muttered petulantly.

“Don’t care, Moons – we’re going to breakfast.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Oh, for fucking fuck!” Sirius said as he stomped his feet. “Lupin, I swear to fuck if you do not get your arse down to the Great Hall right now and eat - because I know you won’t eat later and then you’ll have the moon tonight and then you won’t eat tomorrow morning which will have meant you haven’t eaten in over 24-hours – I will find your bird and bed her myself.”

Sirius felt ridiculous for a) his temper tantrum and b) threatening to steal his best mate’s girl – but it appeared to have its desired effect when Remus stood abruptly from what Sirius had officially dubbed the brooding chair with a growl and stalked out the dormitory door, shouldering Sirius as he went.

It was going to be a long day.

Unfortunately for Sirius, it was an even longer night.

James and Remus still weren’t speaking as the four of them made their way to the Shrieking Shack for Moony’s transformation. Peter, the poor sod, kept trying to make conversation, though it was all in vain as Remus was still too broody to engage and James just offered the occasional grunt of acknowledgement.

And unfortunately, Moony wasn’t in better spirits.

After Remus’ transformation, Sirius – now Padfoot – had the unenviable task of watching a Werewolf in mourning.

The Wolf spent most of the night making pathetically sorrowful howls at the moon, and when he wasn’t crying, he was trying to gnaw angrily on his ankles. When Padfoot tried to get him to stop, or encourage a playful romp, Moony snapped at him.

Padfoot huffed to say “fine, you sod”, but his whimper as he laid on the opposite end of the room betrayed his haughtiness – Padfoot’s heart was breaking.

It was breaking for his Moony – his pack – and it also broke for Remus. Remus, who finally had a shot at something wonderful but let it slip through his fingers because he was too full of self-loathing to accept an opportunity. Remus, who deserves love and compassion, because lord knows he doesn’t give enough of it to himself. Remus, who found probably the most openminded and understanding person in the world. Remus...who found his soulmate.

His soulmate.

Moony found his happy ending.

And Padfoot was not going to let him lose it.

Remus blinked against the harsh brightness of the infirmary the following morning – his body aching in ways it hadn’t since before the boys started joining him for the full moons. As he stretched, the bandages that pulled at his wrists and ankles explained why.

Moony had been angry. And he’d taken it out on Remus.

Remus couldn’t blame him. All of the floundering, grasping at ridiculous straws, the planning he’d been doing all week. For what?

To use a poor girl for sex and distractions? To cheat Moony, and himself, from what he really wanted? To fight and argue with his friends, his pack? To have you take off for two nights?

He hated himself.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

And Moony hated him too.

Remus groaned as he pushed himself up in a sitting position.

“Feeling better?” James muttered as he fluffed Remus’ pillow for him. His face and tone remained angry despite his kind gesture.

“No, not really...” Remus admitted.

“Me neither.”

“James, I’m sorry.” Remus sighed as he settled back into his pillow. “I swear I...it’s not her, I-”

“It’s not you, it’s me. Really, Moony?” James sneered.

“Yes, Prongs. You know this.” Remus stressed.

“Uhm, no. What I know, Moony, is that you are a wonderful, caring friend who loves his people so strongly, and has more love to give, and certainly deserves more love than he allows himself. That’s what I know.

“I also know that I have a very wonderful, lovely, caring friend who deserves the same amount of love she gives to everyone else, and you wouldn’t even give her a chance!”

“James. I know.”

“And anoth- what?” James stopped in his tirade.

“I know.” Remus repeated as his eyes welled with tears. “I tried to fight it because I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my mess; I didn’t want anyone else to feel responsible for me. I’ve already damned my mum and dad, I’ve already dragged you three into this – I couldn’t do it again. I thought I was strong enough to ignore it, but I can’t.”

“Rem, you didn’t damn your parents. That’s what happens when you have a kid; the kids’ job is to be who they are, and the parent’s job is to love them regardless. And we chose to help you through this Rem – and it was the right thing to do!” James cried as he lifted his hands in the air.

“I just don’t want you guys to regret it one day or decide I’m too much. Then what would I do?” Remus admitted quietly.

“Oh, for- You know what, Lupin? Only way you’re getting rid of me is through death. Got it?” James said with all the sternness he could muster.

Remus huffed a laugh and nodded. “Okay Prongs.”

James deflated and offered a curt nod. “Good. ‘Cause I need your help finding Y/N. I cannot risk losing another one of my quills – my mom is going to kill me.”

Padfoot felt like he may have scrapes on his nose from how long he’s been out here following your scent. But he knew it would be worth it when he found you and got you back to Moony.

His ears perked up when he heard movement, but he swiftly hid behind a large oak tree when some Centaurs stepped onto the path.

“Now, if you continue West from here, you should find the rest of your path to Hogwarts unhindered. Stepping off the path brings the chance of new adventures and grave danger.” A centaur proclaimed.

“Thank you very much, Firenze. Best of luck on your search for the Snidgets.” An airy voice called back.

Padfoot knew that voice! That was Moony’s soulmate! Padfoot tried to hide his excitement (i.e., he tried to stop his tail from wagging) until the centaurs all left.

Suddenly, Padfoot shifted and bolted out from behind the tree to stand in front of you.

“Y/N!” He shouted as he grabbed your upper arms in his hands, scanning you from head-to-toe for any signs of injury.

You seemed surprised by his appearance, but not startled. Sirius figured you probably should have been startled – it was a pretty startling thing for him to do.

You had no injuries, but a few branches and leaves were caught in your hair and on various parts of your body. You were also not wearing shoes.

“Well, hello Sirius. It’s very nice to see you.” You said plainly.

“Nice to see me? Are you- where are your shoes?” He decided to settle on first. Not the most important question – but it took priority in Sirius’ mind.

You looked down at your feet like you weren’t fully aware they were bare. “You know, I’m not quite sure. Not to worry, though; I’m sure they’ll turn up. Lost things often have ways of finding their way back to us, if not always in the way we expect.”

Sirius had no idea how to respond to that – so he didn’t. “Do you have any idea how worried everyone has been?” He sputtered at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and you almost seemed upset as you responded, “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to concern anyone.”

Sirius immediately regretted saying anything; now he could see why James was so sweet on you.

“Well, let’s go to the castle and tell them all that, then.” He acquiesced as he hooked your arm in his and began the path back to Hogwarts. You did not seem concerned nor feel the need to object to his manhandling you. But Sirius knew he would not be letting go of you until you were back in the castle – maybe not even then. He was not going to deal with Remus, James, and Regulus like this again.

“Regulus was perhaps most concerned.” He lied, knowing very well he was far from the most dramatic through all of this. “Very worried about the nargles in your absence.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “As he should; they’d be quite interested in his dragonhide boots.”

“You don’t say.” Sirius murmured, unadmittedly becoming increasingly concerned with the state of his beloved Doc Marten’s stowed in his school trunk.

“Better hurry then.” He said as he all but dragged you up towards the castle.

Remus tried not to get too caught up on the fact that he was sitting in the infirmary with James and Regulus Black of all people as they scanned the Marauder’s map for any sign of you. He also pretended he didn’t notice the fact that Regulus was holding a duffle bag that appeared to have everything he owned jammed inside it.

“She said she’d only need to stay away from the castle for the weekend, right?” James asked as he continued to scan the parchment.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter. Like I said.”

“Okay, I can’t look at this anymore – I’m going cross-eyed.” James moaned as he leaned away from the map and rubbed his eyes from behind his glasses.

Remus felt awfully guilty. He didn’t know how you would know - though he wouldn’t put it past you at this point - but he didn’t think it was a coincidence that you left for the full moon. He doesn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if something happened to you because of it.

“Oh, thank Godric.” James finally breathed as he stood from his chair.

“Godric had nothing to do with it, Prongsie.” Sirius called out as he waltzed into the infirmary – your arm in his.

James all but shoved Sirius aside as he enveloped you in his arms. “Where have you been!?”

You smiled sweetly – that damned dimple making an appearance to taunt Remus – and patted your friends back.

“Oh, I wasn’t far Jamie.”

Sirius let out a pfft from where he was now leaning against the wall at the end of Remus’ bed. “Not far she says. I found her with a herd of centaurs.”

“CENTAURS.” The three other boys shouted, earning them a dramatic shushing from the matron.

“Y/N, centaurs are very hostile towards wizard-kind.” Regulus spoke severely, albeit more quietly for Madame Pomfrey's benefit.

“I don’t agree.” You said simply as you turned to look at Remus. “Are you feeling much better?” You asked him.

Your voice was so tranquil compared to the conversation with the boys, and even with Madame Pomfrey – Remus was sure if he was hooked up to a muggle heart monitor, his blood pressure would be dropping just from listening to you speak.

Keep smiling at him like that, though, and it might pick right back up.

“I am, Y/N. Thank you.”

You sighed in relief as you sat on the edge of the foot of Remus’ bed. “Oh good. I figured it’d be easier if I was gone.”

Sirius and James’ necks looked like they might have snapped as they turned to look at you. The room fell painfully quiet as Sirius, James, and Remus all looked at each other and then to Regulus.

Regulus seemed to understand his intrusion. “Uhm, right. Well, Y/N L/N, you are to never take off like that again without informing me. Got it?” He said severely. Remus is sure most people would have cowered, but you smiled sweetly and brushed his cheek.

"Okay, Reg."

Regulus offered you a curt nod and left the infirmary. Remus supposed that was likely as loving as Regulus Black could ever get.

“What would have been easier if you were gone, Y/N?” James asked quietly.

“Well, the moon, of course.” You responded.

That muggle heart rate monitor? It’d be showing no signal at this point.

“I’m terribly sorry if your bond to me is causing you problems, Remus.” You offered solemnly. Remus thought this might be the most emotion he’d ever seen from you.

“It’s...it’s not your fault.” Remus croaked.

“Y/N, how much do you know?” Sirius asked.

You considered Sirius for a moment before responding. “About what?”

Sirius looked between the you and Remus before arching his brow at the latter. Remus grimaced and leaned forward to tap his finger against your hand that was closest to him to bring your attention to him.

“How much do you know about me?”

“Well, I know your name is Remus Lupin. You’re from a town outside of Cardiff. You’re a Pisces, a Gryffindor, a werewolf, and a prefect. And you have a magical connection to me, it seems.” You said all too simply, head tilted as you searched his face for something.

Remus’ mind was reeling; it was reeling that you apparently knew he was a werewolf, and it was reeling at the fact that in a list of things you knew about him, that fact fell between him being a Gryffindor and a prefect and was not as important to you as his birth sign.

“What’s his name?” You asked suddenly.

Remus shook his head as if to wake himself up. “I’m sorry?”

“The Wolf; what’s his name?”

Remus looked to Sirius who was staring at you with a terrified sort of awe, and then to James who looked both proud and smug that you’d figured it out.

“It’s Moony.” Remus whispered.

You smiled greatly at that. “A wonderful name.”

Sirius smirked at that – clearly chuffed his hard work was appreciated.

“It’s fitting too – should have seen him mooning over you this weekend – this month even!” James said.

Remus threw a chocolate wrapper at him from his bedside table.

“I’m sure it’s difficult, feeling tied to someone so odd.” You offered quietly, and any friendly banter drained from the boys immediately.

“Y/N, that’s-” James started, but Remus interrupted.

“I’m so sorry to have made you believe that Y/N, but it’s just not true.” He said emphatically.

You tilted your head at him in intrigue. “No?”

He shook his head. “No. I was trying to keep you away from...Moony, from my infliction.” He admitted shamefully.

“Hm. Well, that didn’t work very well.” You said plainly, causing Sirius to bark a laugh.

“Most of his plans don’t, dollface.” He said through a chuckle.

“Oh, plans aren’t always a bad thing: it’s good to be prepared. But it’s important to plan to be spontaneous as well.”

“Plan to be spontaneous?” James asked incredulously.

“Oh yes,” you said severely. “I get my best work done that way.”

James seemed to consider this as Sirius sighed. “Yes, and, if you plan too much, auror’s throw around words like premeditated.”

You nodded in comradery. “Very true, Sirius.”

Continue to chapter six here.

Taglist: @hanniejji, @y0urm0m12, @c0nsc10usworld, @aphrcdites, @starsval, @thepunisherfrankcastle, @anuncalledbridge, @unstablereader, @rai-strangebr, @klazina-couch-potato, @cancelledkaley, @fandom-crashlanding, @ttulipwritezz, @boo8008, @daisiesformylove, @frostooo, @myriadmoons, @aremuslupinsimp, @simars3, @stargurl99, @dreamingofts18, @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface, @agent-tempest, @xxrougefangxx, @serenadingtigers, @adhxmoony, @spokenfolk, @hufflepufffangirlqueen, @thebiggestnaturaldisaster, @urmomw4ntsme, @b4tm4nn, @jamieolivia27, @stqrgirlies-blog, @loving-and-dreaming

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ninzied · 3 months

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and patience, and pining

in which alex is determined to flirt so hard that henry can no longer resist him. a modern au. based on the prompt: surprise kiss/impulsive kiss. ~1.8k.

Between the two of them, Alex has always thought he’d be the one to cave first.

They’ve both arrived at the same time. Henry looks stupid-good in his well-fitted tuxedo. His hair is just over-styled enough that Alex wants to mess it up, and badly.

How one man can be so like this is frankly upsetting. No, scratch that; it’s illegal, is what it is. Criminal law is not Alex’s domain, but he’s pretty sure being this tempting in public is a certifiable offense.

“Alex,” says Henry, and he blinks, at least some sense returning to him.

“Right,” he says. “Shall we?”

Henry gives him a look like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, which, the reception is not even open bar, so Alex can’t say he disagrees.

“After you, Your Majesty,” he says, stepping from the door with a flourish, then, “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” asks Henry, already shouldering past him with his chin turned up.

“If I had a dollar for every time you rolled your eyes at me—”

“Good taste still can’t be bought, Alex.”

“That’s ironic,” Alex shoots back, smiling and nodding at one of the guests as they enter. “Considering my tie is way better than yours.”

Henry lifts his hand at another in greeting, and even his wave looks fucking majestic, the asshole. “I trust you’ll be at least somewhat behaved this evening?”

“You sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?”

Henry’s expression turns very dour, and Alex wonders, not for the first time, why that particular look on him makes Alex so crazy. The more severe Henry gets, the wilder Alex’s impulse to kiss him, and the urge to just give in.

Alex licks his lips.

Henry takes a cautionary step back. “Let’s do try to make it through the rest of the night without much carnage, yes?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muses. “When you threaten me with a good time like that…”

Henry mutters something under his breath and Alex can’t help but grin. Maybe the night holds some promise after all.

He decides he’s going to have to walk that back after a while.

The music is decent, and he was wrong about the open bar, thank God, but he’s barely seen Henry since some crusty-looking Wall Street types whisked him and Pez away to talk business, and Alex is bored.

He wants to dance. He wants to dance—with Henry. And because that’s not going to happen, Alex wants to do the next best thing, which is to dance while Henry pretends not to watch, but he’s not even facing the dance floor right now so there would be no fucking point. He’ll have to think of something else. Hmmm.

Nora shimmies up to him then with two new flutes of champagne. Bless. “Still pining?” she asks.

Alex whips around to glare at her, wounded. “What? Nora, no,” he says. Is it that obvious? Fuck.

Nora shrugs. “You do the thing where you look him when you think he won’t notice. Both of you. You guys kind of have it down to a science.”

Alex brightens immediately. “You’ve seen him looking at me?”

Nora sips her champagne. “Right now, for example.”

Henry looks quickly away when Alex glances over, which is as good an invitation as any in his book. One of the suits is talking at Henry, who seems about as engaged as a teapot right now. Pez has dialed up the charisma, distracting them easily from Henry’s silence. But to Alex, Henry looks downright miserable in comparison.

Well, Alex is here to do something about that.

He plucks the second flute from Nora’s hand. “You’re the best. Gotta go.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t pining?”

“For that guy?” Alex gazes at Henry again, then says, quite honestly, “Always.”

It takes exactly two minutes for the Wall Street guys to politely excuse themselves. Alex watches them practically dissolve their way into the crowd, like a creepy bunch of Mr. Smiths from The Matrix, and he suppresses a shudder.

The look on Henry’s face is an appealing combination of annoyed and relieved. “Let me guess,” Alex deadpans, “you’re so grateful you could just kiss me right now.”

Henry’s expression turns distinctly disapproving as Pez chimes in, “Be patient and Hazza might even learn to admit it someday.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Alex grins sideways at Henry, who’s flushing the loveliest pink despite also frowning. “You’re welcome for rescuing you from the most tedious conversation known to man, by the way.”

“Actually, darling dearest,” Pez says lightly, “we were speaking with potential investors in the foundation.”

Oh. Shit. “Do you want me to charm them back over?” Alex wants to know, jerking a thumb in the direction they’d gone. “It is well within my power.”

“Not necessary.” Henry pulls a face. “I would’ve felt dirty about taking their money.”

“I would’ve felt wonderfully about it,” says Pez. “But now that you’ve freed up my dance card…” He cranes his neck around.

“Nora’s over there,” Alex says helpfully.

“Brilliant.” Pez’s eyes are the definition of sparkling. “Ah, and I see your sister’s about to join her. If you boys will excuse me—”

He helps himself to the rest of Alex’s champagne before sashaying off.

The two of them remain standing there a careful few feet apart, not looking at each other. Not that it matters; Alex is so hyperaware of him that he could reach over without even looking and take Henry’s hand if he wanted to. He won’t, but he wants to.

Knowing that he can is enough for now.

Henry looks askance at him after a moment. “You’re making this very hard, you know.”

Alex somehow manages not to smile at that. “Am I?”

Henry’s face screws up in faux concentration. “Let’s see. You’ve been a merciless flirt, even more so than usual. You wore the tie I bought you, which means you don’t hate it—”

“What? I love it,” interrupts Alex, just to be clear.

“—and you just drove off a very lucrative, albeit morally questionable, investment opportunity.” Henry’s also holding back a smile. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to not kiss you for that alone.”

“You still could,” Alex points out.

“And lose your silly bet?” Henry straightens, adjusting his cufflinks, and that might be the single hottest thing Alex has ever seen. “I think not. We both know you’ll be the first to give in.”

It’s true, Alex thinks; he’s pretty irresistible, but Henry is also far more controlled. Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that Alex gets to be the one who stretches him to his very limit. The level of restraint it takes Henry to resist him is a pretty big turn-on, if he’s being honest. Even when Henry wins, it will be no great loss on Alex’s part.

“Considering what’s at stake here,” Alex says lowly, leaning in just enough to catch the way Henry’s eyes darken, “I think I win either way.”

Henry does smile then, soft and warm and way too tempting not to kiss, though Alex perseveres. “I think we both do, darling.”

“That we can agree on,” says Alex. “So, do you want to…not…dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He slips up, once.

It’s in a goddamn photo booth of all things, and Alex would feel like such a cliché if he weren’t so busy feeling annoyed at the fact that he can’t hold Henry’s hand or kiss him in front of the camera. Instead, he lets Nora and June wedge in between them, grinning gamely when they take turns kissing Henry on the cheek.

At the literal last second before the flash is going off, Alex feels Henry take his hand from behind, lace their fingers ever so gently together, and squeeze.

In the photo that prints out, June and Nora are doubled over in laughter, eyes closed, unaware. Henry has his chin tipped up, his face doing some smoldery thing at the camera, and Alex is turned, simply gazing at him.

He takes it before anyone sees, tucking it safely into his wallet because bet or no bet, some things really are too sacred to share.

When he shows it to Henry later, Henry gets the same lovestruck look on his face as Alex does in the photo, and that’s all he needs.

It’s the cake that finally does it.

Pez, Nora and June are all crowded around the same piece, and it makes Alex sigh a little wistfully to think about how much better it would taste if he were sharing his with Henry.

He can’t help it. He peers at Henry’s own slice, squinting. “What flavor is that one?”

“Strawberry,” says Henry. There’s a crumb on his lip, and Alex doesn’t mean to fixate on it, but he’s now gone hours without kissing his boyfriend and he’s kind of mad about it even though it’s also kind of his fault. “Do you want a bite?”

Oh. Yeah, that’ll work. Alex can feel the others’ eyes on them as he leans closer, fully expecting that Henry will yield to his instincts and feed him a piece off his fork. It’s not a kiss, but it could definitely qualify as losing the bet. And then once Alex has won, he can not only kiss Henry as much as he likes, he gets to take Henry home with him and—well.

He frowns when Henry only holds the plate out. “Here, have some,” says Henry, gaze lifting to his, then just a bit lower. “Oh. Hang on, you’ve got a—”

In a move that’s beyond Alex’s wildest dreams, Henry cups his jaw and kisses the side of his mouth, with just the slightest bit of tongue.

Alex grins as Henry freezes against him, realizing his mistake too late. “Thanks, baby.”

“Bollocks,” says Henry. He pulls back and sighs, licking the rest of the buttercream from his lips. “I’ve lost, haven’t I.” Then, accusingly, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”

“I’d say I don’t kiss and tell, but.” Alex puts his hands on Henry’s thighs, using that grip to scoot their chairs closer together. “I am gonna kiss you now, so.”

“You’ll be getting to do a lot more than that,” Henry points out.

“Ew, did not need to hear that part,” June groans at the same time that Pez puts down their cake and says, “Please, I need to hear more.”

“There’s a legally binding document and everything,” says Alex, to Henry’s chagrin and Pez’s delight. “Drafted it up myself.”

“You two were pining that hard and you were already together?” Nora wants to know. “Actually, that tracks. Carry on.”

Henry has gone as pink as the cake now, but he’s smiling when Alex swipes up some more buttercream, touching it to Henry’s mouth before leaning the rest of the way in.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #usernuria #iuserzoe #userveronika #chrissiewatts #usersteen #(also if anyone does or does not want to be tagged pls lmk!)

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phoenixinthefiles · 2 months

Text

Wear My Love

Miles 42 x reader 💜...🖤🔗 (my first Miles 42! fic be gentle) @dolligent

There’s a Laffy Taffy wrapper about two feet ahead of you on the library floor, with sticky bits of the candy still in it. You can’t see the riddle but you can see the hearts scattered on the wrapper and the to-and-from tag on the front.

So many teachers handed out Valentine’s candy bags today, it was really sweet. DIdn’t help out the littering problem that so many students seemed to have.

A sneaker came down on the discarded wrapper, a purple and black sneaker.

Miles stood in front of you with a confused look on his face.

“What are you doin?”

Zoning out so I don’t have to confront the reality of you hating my gift.

Obviously you don’t say that.

“What are you doing standing on a candy wrapper instead of picking it up? That's not very eco-conscious.”

He gives you a flat look and you give him one right back until he smacks his lips and bends down to pick the trash up. He flips the wrapper around and smirks before looking back up at you.

“What kind of tea is hard to swallow?”

“I don’t know, what kind?” You ask with an eye roll.

“Reality.” He huffs a small laugh, because of course he doesn’t know how ironic that joke really is.

“That’s funnier than half the jokes you tell me, maybe you should start eating more Laffy Taffys.”

Like the mature 16-year-old he is, he throws the wrapper at you before sitting down.

You roll your eyes and crumble the paper up and stick it in your pocket. Presumably to throw away later but you would most likely forget.

He keeps shifting in his seat and tapping his fingers on the table as you try to continue reading. You already can barely focus on your book not knowing if he’s seen your gift or not, now he’s decided to become a drummer.

“Miles please.”

“Yeah? Oh I’m distracting you, my bad.”

“It’s fine I couldn’t focus anyway.” You said as you turned slightly to slip your book back into your backpack.

“Y’know somebody dropped something into my locker?”

Your hand froze on your zipper, when you twisted to face him again Miles was watching you with his eyebrows raised.

“Really, what was it?”

He gave you a deadpan look and you sighed.

Your eyes widened when He started fiddling with the collar of his shirt before pulling out a silver chain.

You immediately started trying to get a read on him; eyes darting from the necklace to his eyes and back. Surely he likes it if he’s wearing it?

Right?

He doesn’t say anything though and you clear your throat.

“Do you like it? You can be honest, it won't hurt feelings, I just want to know.”

It absolutely would hurt your feelings. More so from the thought that you had overstepped not that he didn’t like it.

Miles reached back and unclasped the dog tags from around his neck. He didn’t look upset, more like he was trying to figure out how to look.

“I like it, I swear.”

Your breath doesn’t come rushing out of you, but the tightening in your chest loosens and you do take a deep breath.

“I like it a lot. How’d you get all the information?’

“I asked your mom.”

It was surprisingly easy to find someone who makes custom dog tags. The hard part was psyching yourself up to ask Ms. Río about her husband’s birthday. It took you 15 tries in front of your mirror to come up with the least insensitive way to phrase your question.

It paid off though. Miles likes it.

10 months ago you would’ve thought he was completely unemotional about it.But over time you learned to read him a little better.

Right now he was fiddling with the dog tags and twisting his lips around.

He was fighting a smile.

He lost the battle against his facial expression and a smile broke out on his face.

You matched it and let out a nervous laugh when he looked at you again.

He huffed a small laugh and you tried to tame the grin that felt like it would split your face.

“Thank you.”

You nodded a bit too quickly and you ignored the ache in your cheeks from smiling so hard and the warmth you started to feel in your face.

“You’re welcome, I'm just glad you liked it.”

He nodded and a little smirk took shape on his lips.

“Yeah I like it a lot. Just don’t know why somebody I’ve been dating for 10 months would slip a gift in my locker instead of just giving it to me.”

Your eyes widened for a split second before you rolled them in an attempt to brush off your embarrassment.

“I was just adding a layer of mystique.”

“Uh huh, or you was just scared.” He said with a shrug.

You scoffed but he was dead on.

“Me? Scared? You must have me confused with somebody else?”

He rolled his eyes and slipped his hand into his jacket pocket.

You watched him pull out a small box and reach it across the table to you.

He rolled his shoulders back and forth as he watched you pick it up.

Seems like you weren’t the only one scared.

“What is it?”

He deadpanned again, “What’s the point of telling you instead of you just opening it?”

You rolled your eyes and refocused on the gift.

Gasping as you opened the lid, you pulled out the locket necklace sitting inside.

You looked up at Miles and smiled.

“It’s so pretty.”

He smiled hesitantly and cleared his throat.

“Open it,” he rasped.

You did and your smile grew wider. Inside the locket was a sketch of you from the day you and Miles went to the arcade. It was the only one in the city with a full set of games that still worked.

“I haven’t drawn in a while y’know so…” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck.

You can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve seen or heard him talk about drawing something. You can also name everything he drew. Being able to add yourself to that list feels…amazing.

Trying to calm yourself down and not embarrass yourself by doing something like leaping across the table to hug Miles, you run your hand along the chain of the necklace.

“I don’t know if I look as good as you drew me.”

When you look back up at him he’s staring at you with an expression that’s much too adoring for you to focus on.

“Nah you look better.”

You immediately looked back down at the necklace in your hands and ignored Miles’ snickering.

As you continued to run your fingers along the chain you noticed something and your lips quirk up.

“Did you make the chain yourself?”

He rolled his shoulders again, “It’s that janky?”

You shook your head and tried to match the way his signature smirk.

“Nah, it’s that good.”

He immediately caught on and let out a small laugh.

“I see what you tryna do, but you just not as smooth as me.”

Your eyes roll again but you laugh a little too, “Whatever Miles.”

You stood up and took the few steps to his side of the table and turned your back towards him. He took the que and stood behind you, taking the clasp and leftover chain and securing it.

When he finished, you turned to him smiling.

He smiled back at you and straightened his necklace around his own neck.

Before you could second guess yourself you took a step closer and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Happy Valentine's Day Miles.”

His arms came up around you and you could feel his chest heave.

“Happy Valentine's Day, mami.”

#miles 42 x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles 42 #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv #fromphoetou

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year

Text

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 1

Title: Assembly’s and Introductions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Mild Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: There’s a new kid at your prestigious university, he’s tall, tattooed and muscular, and oh yeah, he’s the Prince.

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, a general ‘lets get the ball rolling’ first chapter

Word Count: 5410

Release Date: January 26, 2023, 12:40PM

A/N 1: I’ve been working on this since September 2022, got 80K in, and have accidentally taken an extended break from Dec 1st until now. I need a kick in the pants to continue writing it so here’s the first chapter. I hope you enjoy as I have read this about 400 times and I’m sick of editing it.

A/N 1.5: it’s pronounced ‘Nehl” not “Neal”

“Come on, come ooooon!!” Yuri says as she drags you by one arm down the corridor, the other filled with books and study notes. You’re being dragged from your mid morning study session and she's starting to stretch your favourite sweater from how hard she’s pulling.

Slipping from her grasp to save it from any permanent damage, Yuri uses her new freedom to take the lead.

“Not everyone cares as much about this as you do,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I get you’re here because your parents put you here but I worked for it. I can’t just abandon my study plans for some guy,” voice echoing in the corridor as you succeed in keeping up with her quick pace.

Yuri mocks your words in gibberish, matching your tone, just more nasally.

She’s heard this hundreds of times since becoming your best friend in first year after being assigned your roommate. She may force you to go to places and parties you don’t find nearly as important as she does, but you also know she’s the only reason you’ve had any fun since starting university.

That doesn’t deter you though.

“I’m serious,” you insist, refusing to back down.

A look you know well flashes over her face. One that’s a mixture of absurdity and exhaustion— specifically at you.

“You know, sometimes I can’t even believe we’re friends. He’s not just some guy YN,” she looks over her shoulder to make eye contact. “He's the prince.”

Ah yes, the prince.

How could you be so foolish?

The fancy name given to the poor bastard who doesn’t get to decide his future—or work for it for that matter. Just has it handed to him because he was born at the right place, right time.

The prince who’ll be king to the biggest nation in the west one day.

The prince everyone freaks out over.

Sure, he’s cute enough, and will eventually have lots of money and power, because those are so important for someone like him.

But what’s money and power if you’re miserable or an asshole or you don’t know what to do with it? What’s money and power for someone who’s never known poverty and helplessness?

The title of Prince means nothing if you don’t earn it. Means nothing if you don’t know how to use it properly.

Who knows if this one does? So why should you particularly care?

Unfortunately, most people can’t get past the ‘young, handsome, future king of the Western Shores, hunk-a-hunk of dreamy’—blah, blah, blah, the media splatters over every magazine cover they possibly can, earning the prince a hefty social following of adoring, screaming—slightly brain dead if you had any say about it— ‘followers’ aka fans.

And Yuri, like every other girl on campus, is one of them. Minus the brain dead and screaming.

Well…Sort of minus the screaming.

She has screamed, in the past at least. So maybe just minus the brain dead part…

Anyways, she’s grabbing your wrist and you sigh, wringing yourself free of her near iron grip, again. But you can’t blame her.

Yuri’s focused on one thing, and one thing only.

And it’s beginning in 15 minutes.

“Plus I want good seats!”

You scoff.

“He’s just a person, Yuri. I get he’s got an important title and fancy job, but that’s all that separates him from us.”

She glares at you as you reach the courtyard of your school.

Trees surround the perimeter in evenly placed lines, a large running fountain at its center. There’s plenty of open grass space the students use to study, picnic or throw a ball around on. And its cobblestone walkways are currently covered in rows upon rows of filled up seats.

Most of those filled seats are in the middle though, which surprises you. You would’ve thought girls would be lining up at the front row to see their prince.

“Yeah, just the title and fancy job,” Yuri says, taking her turn to scoff and opens her hand to count on her fingers. “Let's not count the fact that he’s insanely hot—have you seen his body? His face? Or what of the land he’ll inherit on top of the land he already owns? And money! Can’t forget that. Or clothes. Not enough? I can keep going,” she switches to her other hand. “How about control over the largest kingdom in The West? They don't call him ‘Prince of the Western Shores’ for nothing, Sweets. Also the mass of adoring fans, security and advisors following his every move, nice cars, fancy vacation houses…should I keep going?”

You’re pretty sure she only stopped because she ran out of fingers and you don’t deign her with a reply. Yuri seems content to have made her point and she did.

But you’d never admit that to her. Instead you keep walking, taking in the sights around you.

Your school is The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts. Anyone can study here if they have the cash, or the brains, though one method is much more abused than the other.

It’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world because it’s where nearly every royal on this half of the continent goes to university. Hence the “Royal'' in the title.

Ladys, lords, dukes, duchesses, princesses and yes, princes all go here—are most of your classmates, actually. But there is only one prince everyone cares about. The one who, in the next few short years, will not only be at your school for whatever it is his father deems appropriate for him to study in his post secondary education, but the one who is also first in line and heir to the biggest kingdom in The West—if it hadn’t been mentioned before.

His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

Okay… look.

It’s not that you don’t like him, he hasn’t done anything to make you hate him, and you’re sure he’s a decent guy once you get to know him.

It’s just that you don’t really feel any type of way about him, positive or negative. And that confuses so many people around you.

Which in turn, confuses you.

Most people seem to think he’s some sort of god sent angel carved by the hands of whoever created the universe. Fawning over him and thinking he can do no wrong. But what they all fail to see is that he’s just like them.

Got a bit more of a leg up on life than most, sure, but still human. Like you, or Yuri.

He eats and showers and uses the bathroom. He gets a runny nose and puffy eyes when he’s sick. He has bad hair days and ties his own shoes… you think.

He’s just a regular guy with an irregular job. So no, you had no opinion on him other than disinterested neutrality.

But if you had to feel something? You guess you probably felt pity.

You worked your ass off in highschool to get where you are. You and your mom screamed until your voices were hoarse when you got your acceptance letter two and a half years ago. One of 25 scholarship students accepted on a full ride every year.

You were doing a major in fine arts and a minor business, wanting to milk your education for all it’s worth on their dime. Lucking out that your two areas of interest were not only at one school, but at one of the best schools in the world for both subjects.

You chose what you wanted for your life and you worked for it for years. And now you sit comfortably at the top of your class in both fine arts and business, not taking your opportunity for granted for a second.

Jungkook though? He’s expected to go here. Doesn’t have much of a choice about it, and he doesn’t have to work for it either.

A small part of you that has yet to mature envies him for how easy he has it, for the privileges he is given simply because of one six letter word in front of his name. That he didn’t have to put in 60 hour weeks and give up his teenage years just to prove he was good enough to be here.

He was born good enough.

But that’s a small part of you, and you can ignore it if you try hard enough.

The point is you felt pity because he’s probably never had to work for something a day in his life. He doesn’t know the satisfaction of working towards something, to not only succeed, but to be the best.

To earn what he has.

He won’t know what to do when real life hits him.

Yuri lets a baby scream loose as she spots her desired seats and yanks you out of your thought spiral.

The front of the courtyard is still relatively empty, middle still filling up faster than anything else.

“Yes! Score! First row, left side, that’s perfect! He'll definitely see us.”

She grabs your arm a third time and it’s an effort not to drop your books and groan at her.

Yuri’s like you in the sense where she is not royalty, but unlike you she—or should you say, her parents—are loaded.

Family business perks.

She’s here because she can be, because her family can afford to send her and make donations, not because she wants to be or because she worked for it.

But don’t misunderstand that, Yuri works hard. She just happens to party more than she studies most days. That and plan her future with a very rich and handsome guy who has yet to be determined.

You’d jokingly deemed her a royalty hunter after about an hour of meeting her for how badly she wanted to ‘marry up.’

“See you,” you correct, or has she forgotten about Nel, your boyfriend of 5 years? Your high school sweetheart and who is currently, much to your dismay, at school about 5000 miles away.

“I’m sure Cornelius wouldn’t be mad if the prince charms his girl just once, seeing as his royal highness can do that to most people just by breathing near them,” she quips. ”And even if he would get mad, Jungkook can just have him thrown in a dungeon for being overprotective and jealous.”

“The royal palace doesn’t have dungeons, but they do have a series of interrogation rooms on the third lower level,” you inform her. You did a project on the history and architecture of the royal palace in tenth grade—and Nel really wouldn’t care, he knows where he stands, just like you do.

“How do you just know that!”

Yuri didn’t know you in highschool and you used that to your advantage every single time you could, laughing bright and loud.

She starts dragging you down the walkway again, a habit of hers. Like she’s worried you’ll try to slip away if she isn’t forcing you where she wants you to be.

It’s a good instinct on her part.

You're nearly there, so you focus more on the trees just starting to turn colours overhead, casting slightly pigmented shadows on the ground. Fall is just starting to creep up on the heels of summer, the days of sunscreen and chlorine slowly being replaced by pumpkin spice and crisp apples.

She sits exactly where she wanted too, and you plop beside her, glad you’re wearing a light sweater and tights. They are just warm enough to keep the slight breeze from giving you chills, but also keep your legs from sticking to the plastic seats.

For such an expensive school to go to you’d think they’d have better assembly furniture.

You notice a news camera off in the distance and suddenly understand the empty front seats. No one wants to publicly embarrass themselves on national television from seeing the prince, rewindable and replayable, forever seared into the internet.

It’s times like these you’re happy you’ve never been one to get starstruck. They’re all just people, why be shocked or surprised when they exist near you?

Opening up your books on your lap, you figure you can kill the next ten minutes in a productive way, considering what happened to your original plans for the mid morning.

And as you do, you feel the seats around you begin to fill, not a single one empty by the time the event starts. Not even the ones up front.

A jerked movement catches your eyes and you see that two seats closer to the pedestal from Yuri is Adaline.

Great.

Adaline Dupree is basically a princess from the Eastern Shores. ‘Basically’ because she’s not, but she certainly acts like she is. A fake princess, an even bigger royalty hunter than your best friend and your not so secret arch nemesis.

She’s in your fine arts classes—all of them, unfortunately—her proper title being ‘Duchess of…’ some province you never bothered to learn the name of, and she’s one of the most well known people on campus.

Tall, with beautiful blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles, a slim figure and quite the socialite. You’re surprised she went into fine arts and not modeling. She’s got the ego part of the job down pat.

Good for her for being pretty. But anyone could be beautiful on the outside with enough money and a surgeon. That’s not why you considered her your nemesis, you don’t give a shit about any of that.

She was your nemesis in the academic world. Because not only was she beautiful, she was also brilliant at her craft.

Which happened to also be your craft, and it pissed you off to no end.

Where you were first, she was second and where she was first, you were second. Always neck in neck with one another, always trying to one up each other.

You only considered yourself better than her because unlike her, you hoped at least, Adaline was a complete and total bitch. She took what she wanted without remorse and she wasn’t above sabotage to get it.

You learned that the hard way in your first year. And you’ve always wondered if that was her privileged upbringing speaking or if she’s just like that naturally, so unused to not getting what she wanted that she’d take it.

Therefore, it is of absolutely no shock to you that she’s sitting as close as she possibly can to where the prince will be standing. Directly in front of the pedestal at the base of the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

A door opens to your right followed by a couple screams, and you can only assume the man of the hour has arrived. A red camera light flicks on in your peripheral vision and you take that as your confirmation and cue to close your books.

The Dean of Schools, a few advisor looking people, a good handful of terrifyingly large security guards, and a head of black hair you conclude to be the prince all make their way towards their destination.

A smirk graces your face at all the girls batting eyelashes or screaming his name, as if that would get his attention. You’re about to mention that exact thought to Yuri, but you notice her eyelashes looking awfully similar to those around you and can’t help failing to stifle a laugh.

She catches it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “You might just want to pick your jaw up off the ground.”

Her response gets cut off when a voice comes over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for such a warm welcome,” says the Dean, calm and assured. She knew exactly the welcome they'd receive. “I’ll keep my introduction short. Today, I present to you not only the newest addition to The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts, but the future King of our great nation. He has requested to formally address the student body before he starts classes this fall semester, so without further adieu: His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.”

Riigghht. Did you mention he was the prince of the country you’re living in?

Well…he is.

The crowd soars in volume once more, a couple “I love you’s” thrown in for good measure as the prince steps up and you zone out.

From your angle, you can see his whole body from the side, and that even though he’s holding cue cards, he doesn’t use them, placing them face down on the pedestal.

His dark hair is swept back in a suave styling and he’s wearing a simple navy long sleeve button up, black dress pants and matching leather shoes.

The outfit makes him look ever so princely and very much not like a student. More like one of the faculty.

However, what you don’t expect are the small patches of ink on his arm peeking out of his right sleeve. Or just how tight the clothes he wears are on his apparently very muscular form.

You remember Yuri’s words from earlier, only now registering. You knew he had muscles, no one ever shut up about them. But seeing them in person… wow.

You kind of want to sketch him—for anatomy practice, of course.

The prince begins his address to the crowd and an eerie silence replaces the roars from earlier. You take a quick look around and notice that not one person isn’t completely transfixed on him. Even the dean can’t keep her eyes off him.

You give him credit for not balking under the intense gazes of literally everyone. You know you sure as hell would have, never being one to like being the center of attention. At least, not like this.

You clue into his speech as you look back at him. He’s talking about how he found himself as a teenager thinking of what he wanted his future to look like and what he wanted to do with his schooling, which is not only why he took a couple years to explore the continent before enrolling, but why he will be doing a major and a minor at the school.

One for his career, and one for his heart.

You won’t admit to yourself that the sentiment very closely resonates with you.

He continues.

“All that said, I asked to address you all today for one very simple reason, being that, for my time here at the academy, I wish to be treated like any other student. I am not unaware of my celebrity and how I am seen to the outside world. It is not lost on me my place in the world and who I am to become. I know for some that it may be… difficult to see me for anything other than who I am, and this is why I ask you humbly, just for the short while that I’m here, you all treat me no differently than you already do one another,” he pauses for a moment. “I extend my request most deeply to those who will be studying alongside me in my business administration major and photography minor, as I don’t want it to affect my studies.”

Yuri slaps her hand down onto your leg causing you to jerk forward and you clamor to not drop any of your books. Business administration is her major. Her parents want her to take over the family biz after school.

That was probably why she partied so much. Living as much as she can before being thrust into a job she doesn’t want for the rest of her life.

Pity creeps back up your throat at the thought.

Jungkook notices your jerking movement, but only for a second. His eyes meet yours and you hope yours convey ‘sorry for interrupting’.

You may not care about him, but just like him you are not unaware of his status in the world outside the walls of your school.

Yuri, of course, thinks he’s looking at her and not only does her grip on your leg tighten to the point of circulation cut off, she returns to her earlier routine of batting her eyelashes.

You roll your eyes away from her sight, but unbeknownst to you, well within the gaze of Jungkook.

He suppresses a smile at your response to your friend's clear attempts to gain his attention.

You, on the other hand, seem indifferent to him. He has the entire student body watching his every move with hawk-like precision, enraptured. Normal, for him.

But you?

You just seem to… not care. Like he wasn’t anyone special. Like the word in front of his name meant nothing.

And if it wasn't the most freeing feeling he’s felt in a long time.

“Thank you so much for your time, and I’ll see you all around campus,” he finishes before stepping down, security wrapping around him again until he’s barely visible. The dean pops up to conclude the gathering but you aren’t paying attention anymore, too busy trying to peel Yuri’s hand off your thigh.

“Yuri, retract the claws please!” you whisper-yell to your friend. And she does in fact, retract instantly.

“Shit, sorry. My brain is running a million miles a minute,” she says as she pinches herself, shaking her head and smiling. “I’m three years ahead of him in his major. His major YN! But he’s still older than us, which is so hot. I'm so glad he did that tour in the east and whatever else that kept him back for a couple years, it makes this whole situation even better,” you start to worry at the look in her eye as she continues.

“What if he needs a tutor? What if I become his tutor, and we fall in love like a cliche romance movie. I could be the future queen. YN, this could actually happen for me. I could actually get the prince, it’s not some wild dream anymore. I could talk to him and he would talk back and this could happen.”

You can feel that she’ll just keep spiraling, nothing being able to stop her train of thought at this point, so you try your best to at least have her do her thinking in her head.

“Maybe! I wish you nothing but luck!” And you mean it. You don’t think it will happen the way she does, but you never know. And you don’t want to give her false hope.

You’ve always been the realist to Yuri’s optimist.

With the assembly over, most of the crowd files out of the courtyard quickly, prior plans calling to them or classes starting soon.

Only a few stragglers are left behind. You and Yuri are two of them, as well as Adaline, and a couple more you don’t know.

Security starts to spread out and you watch as Jungkook makes his way to the people farthest from you, much to their delight.

It’s a group of guys, all of whom look muscular enough to be varsity athletes. Maybe Jungkook will want to do sports while he’s here. You know that he’s an accomplished rugby player, greatly to his fathers dismay, but to the pleasure of anyone who has about $10 and has access to magazines or wifi.

“Oh my god he’s making his way over. Do. Not. Move. I want him to come to us,” Yuri says, forcing you to stay in your spot. It would be fruitless to try anything anyway. Another lesson you learned the hard way in first year.

She starts fluffing her hair and asking you to check her teeth. You do. She’s in the clear.

Unfortunately, you two would most likely be the last people he greeted, so you had to watch as he made his way down the line of people.

He greets the guys with a handshake and a clap to the back, and the girls with a kiss to the top of the hand.

One thing you notice as he meets more and more people is that everyone still calls him ‘prince’ or ‘your highness.’

It’s automatic for them, they’re not even thinking twice about it, but it’s also completely besides the point of half of his whole speech. He wanted to be treated like everybody else.

It especially irked you when it was Adaline’s turn and she put on her most feminine, formal, and ridiculously overly flirty, “Hello, Prince Jungkook,” before curtseying, blasting her full facade of charm and courteousness.

Ever the dainty, prim and proper duchess, she’s all small laughs and less than subtle flirting, never impolite, and never speaking out of turn.

You wanted to gag, and you’re quite sure that’s exactly what your face conveyed. But Jungkook smiles wide for her, and is as kind to her as he was to everyone else prior. He even flirts back a little bit.

Yeah, you definitely want to gag. What a match those two would make.

But just as soon as he greets Adaline and her friend, he politely steps away and moves on to you and Yuri.

“Hello ladies, what might your names be?” he asks ever so formally.

You gently laugh at being called a lady and Yuri shoots you a look. Jungkook doesn’t appear to take offense though.

“Hello, your highness!” Yuri chirps in the most ‘I'm trying to flirt but trying to not sound like I’m flirting’ voice you’ve ever heard her use. “My name is Yuri Yeun, and I’m actually a business admin major too, just a few years ahead.”

Jungkook lifts her hand to his mouth, giving it a light kiss and she looks like she’s about to explode.

“It’s lovely to meet you Yuri, I’ll look forward to seeing you around the halls,” he says in the same tone he’s used for everyone else. He’s about to face you, but Yuri cuts in quickly.

“If you ever need any help with your studies, just let me know. I’d be happy to help you with anything you might need help with. Having already been through it, I may be able to give a students insight versus a professors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Thank you for your generosity.” Again that same tone, you mentally dub it his ‘greeting the public like the ever so good royal I am’ voice.

He turns to you and extends his hand for yours.

You reach for it, twisting it so that instead of a hand turned upright to be kissed, it’s a regular handshake. If he wanted to be treated like anyone else here, you sure as hell were going to.

“I’m YN, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.” At the mention of his name untitled, he pauses, eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not a bad pause, just a surprised one. And by the looks of the small smile on his face, a good one.

Yuri's eyes, on the other hand, almost bug out of her skull at your informal greeting.

“Likewise,” he manages to get out, completely unlike his usually composed self.

You're the only one who hasn’t addressed him with his title, and it’s the most like him he’s ever felt.

Twice in one day—in one hour—you’ve managed to make him feel more human and more like himself than he ever has. With your distinct indifference to him of all things.

Jungkook decides then and there he’s very sure he wants more of it in his life.

He still hasn’t stopped shaking your hand, and you don’t know why that’s the only thing you can focus on. His hand is firm and calloused, the kind that can only be built over years of hard work.

Releasing you the second you think it, he looks as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding on too.

Quick to step back into his princely role, Jungkook says, “Pardon my forwardness, but I just have to say that the two of you are beautiful, and that it’s been lovely to meet you both.”

You swear you see Yuri’s soul ascend from her body at his words. “Thank you, Your Highness! That means so much coming from someone as well met as yourself,” she nearly fawns, and you roll your eyes out of her sight for the second time today.

And for the second time today, Jungkook does not let the gesture go unnoticed. How you hold no fear in showing how you feel in front of others, even those you’ve just met. As if it holds no consequence.

It doesn’t for you, he realizes.

You can freely show how you feel without worry of anyone over-analyzing your every facial tic. No fear that a slight misuse of a lip quirk or eyebrow raise could give away national secrets or offend a visiting diplomat.

He envies you for it. For having that freedom he so rarely does.

“You’re most welcome, Yuri. I’m glad you hold my opinion in such high regard.” He flashes her that well practiced bright smile and you already know what she won’t be shutting up about it anytime soon.

“I’ve always been told I have my fathers bone structure but my mothers beauty. I’ll be sure to let them know their Prince thinks the combination is worth complimenting,” you respond, not braggadocious or sarcastic in the slightest.

You know it would make your mom so proud to hear the future king found you pretty, even if you knew the compliment was given to every girl here.

Your father wasn’t in the picture, but that didn’t matter and the prince didn’t need to know.

“I hope they won’t mind a stranger's compliment on their daughter then,” Jungkook says, ducking his head slightly and giving you a smaller smile.

This one felt genuine, like he wanted to hold it back but couldn’t. So you return a small one of your own, to let him know this was an even exchange. You may not feel any type of way about the prince, but you were raised to be kind.

“Any praise for their daughter from the future King would be welcomed any day, I’m sure,” Yuri cuts back in, killing his smile along with it.

You’re sad to see it go.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he responds, princely public persona back on. Stupid flashy smile back on. “What will you two be heading off to do now?”

“What I wanted to be doing for the last half hour in the first place before being hauled down here by this one,” you point a thumb at Yuri. “Finishing my study hour at the library,” you add quickly, before Yuri can get out her answer. You almost wish you hadn't because the hand that had your thigh in a death grip earlier now only somewhat playfully swats your shoulder.

“YN!”

“What!? I’m just being honest. He wants to be treated like anyone else right? That comes with people being honest to you instead of glazing over their answers with pretty little white lies to appease you.”

Yuri looks ready to rip you a new one, but she’s cut off again before she can open her mouth. This time by the prince.

“No, no it’s okay,” Jungkook says before she can swat you again. She stops mid swing at his words, eyes as wide as saucers at being stopped. “YN’s right, I appreciate the honesty, and I apologize for the interruption. I hope your studies will not be too greatly affected because of it.”

“Guess we’ll find out during midterm season,” you say with a smirk that turns into a genuine smile as you see Jungkook look panicked, like he actually thinks he messed up your education by disturbing your study session.

Relief quickly replaces the panic when he sees your smile and realises it was a joke.

Being treated like a regular person also meant being joked with at their expense, and he takes it in stride as his small smile from earlier makes a comeback.

“Well I have class in half an hour,” Yuri says, finally answering his question, “So probably grabbing a coffee from the cafe near the biz-admin building… I could show you if you want?”

“That sounds great actually, I’m still trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Great! Let’s go.”

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, lifts an arm for her to take and you watch them walk off, Yuri absolutely beaming as she glances back at you. You give her a thumbs up before collecting your books and heading back in the direction of the library.

Chapter Two: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

A/N 2: and so it begins.

1K notes · View notes

beskarandblasters · 2 months

Text

Was it all a dream?

Chapter Five: You and me, we got our own sense of time

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut, line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: Din realizes his true feelings for you and you both notice the strange passing of time in this particular dream. In the real world, you start to form an exit plan.

Word count: 3.2k

Chapter warnings: fluff, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling (Din’s), Din working through his feelings, very needy and passionate sex

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Din

Beige walls. Beige floors. Beige furniture. It’s all the same. Din’s never been to a place like this before. It’s too… domestic. He never finds himself in places like this – in a house. This has to be a dream. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

In his dreams, he never starts inside. Every place he’s found you has been outside. Except for that cantina on Coruscant. Even then, his dream started on the street and he just wandered inside.

But here? He meanders up and down the never-ending hallways, searching for you like before.

This is a dream, right?

He looks down at his clothes– all black attire, no armor. Yep, this is a dream.

Of all the places he’s dreamed of lately, this is his least favorite. It’s dull. It’s lifeless. It’s never ending.

He turns a corner and finally finds you. And suddenly, all the beige, all the monotonous surroundings make sense. Because there’s you in screaming color.

He immediately glues himself to you, arms embracing you as if he didn’t just see you the night before.

“I’m sick of this,” he says, clutching you once again as if you’re going to slip out of his reach.

“Sick of what?”

“Starting without you. I just have this fear I’ll wake up before I can find you,” he says, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“It hasn’t happened yet, Din. Try not to worry about it now,” you say, bringing a hand to his face and stroking his cheek. He closes his eyes at your touch and realizes that he was wrong before.

It’s not enough to only have you in his dreams. The dream realm is uncertain. Reality always cuts in at the wrong time, waking him up before he’s ready to let go. At least if he had you in real life, nothing would be left uncertain. He could always be there to protect you, to make sure nothing happens to you. It’s ironic how he went from someone who wanted no emotional or physical attachments to someone who longs for you in his day-to-day life. He supposes Grogu helped him open up more than he realized.

“You’re right, ner vercopa,” he says, opening his eyes and meeting yours once again.

“How have you been since the last time we saw each other?”

“Same as it always is. Lonely.”

“I get it. All I do is work and go home.”

“You don’t have friends where you are?”

“Not really. There’s not many humans and I just feel like an outcast.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“…No, I am. Seriously there are like less than a hundred humans or so where I am.”

“Oh.”

“And most of them are rude. Probably because we live in such a terrible place.”

“But why is it so terrible? If you can remember,” he asks, trying to get more details about where you live so he can make his search for you easier.

“…I can’t,” you admit, feeling defeated.

“Hey, it’s okay. Forget about the real world. We’re here together and that’s all that matters.

You close the gap between you two again, holding each other silently while he rubs your back. All he wants to do is get you out of wherever you are. You don’t deserve to live in a place so terrible. You don’t deserve to feel like an outcast. If you were by side he’d do all he could to make you feel special, like you matter to him and that your presence makes a difference in his life.

“I don’t know if I like the location this time,” he says absentmindedly.

“Why not?” you ask, pulling back and tilting your head to the side and smirking like you know something he doesn’t.

“It’s… ominous… Do you like it?”

“Look behind you.”

He turns to look at what’s behind him and finds a bed.

He faces you again, matching the same smirk you’re wearing, picking up on what you’re suggesting.

“Dirty girl you are, vercopa,” he teases.

“What?” you say, putting on a faux defense. “It sure beats a wet field.”

“You’re right about that,” he says, his hand cupping the outline of your breast.

“Not so fast. Sit on the bed,” you say, pushing him back slightly.

“You’re gonna make me wait?” he says, sighing semi-dramatically.

“Who knows when we’ll have a bed again? I’m taking my time.”

He complies with your request, sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you with hooded eyes. You slowly remove each layer of clothing you’re wearing, making sure to tease him and build the suspense. He’s slack-jawed once you’re completely naked, his hand grazing his facial hair.

“Maker, you’re…”

“What?” you laugh.

“You’re perfect, ner vercopa,” he says, his bulge straining hard against the material of his pants.

You walk over to him, his arms finding their home around your waist as he looks up at you with adoring eyes. As he admires you, a feeling swells up in his chest that he’s never felt before. It’s overwhelming, almost too much because it’s uncharted territory. But at the same time, it means that this strange connection you share makes sense. He understands it for once. He loves you, even just the idea of you, regardless of whether you’re real. He can’t admit it to you yet – this is still so new, so tender. But he can’t deny how he feels, even if he has to keep it to himself for now.

You sink to the floor, kneeling before him and palming the bulge in his pants. His hands rest at his sides, gripping the sheets underneath him as you move your hand painstakingly slowly.

“Let’s get these off,” you say, running a finger along his belt.

He stands, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants before sitting on the bed, cock standing in front of your face. Your mouth falls open as you stare at it with wide eyes. He feels self-conscious for a moment before he remembers that you didn’t get a good look at it in the field. Regardless, he hopes your silent reaction is one of admiration.

You start by running your hand down his inner thigh, inching closer to his groin. The movement of your touch sets his skin aflame, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You’re so meticulous, so slow in the way you touch him, touching him like you want to do this. Like you want to show him how much you care about him through pleasuring him.

You press a kiss to his groin, soft lips against a patch of his hair, slowly moving to the base of his shaft. The hand on his thigh moves to his balls, cupping them as you finally take him into your mouth. It’s soft. It’s tender. It’s caring. He’s gotten head before, but never like this; never by someone who looks at him the way you do.

Your tongue slips in between the head of his cock and his foreskin, teasing him ever so slowly as your other hand wraps around his base. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, beading up before running down his shaft in a mixture with your saliva. You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while your hand moves up and down, following the movement of your mouth. You’re so focused on the task at hand that you haven’t even looked up to see his reaction yet. When you finally do, he feels like he could bust right there and then. He tries to maintain his composure, not wanting this moment to end, but it’s hard when you’re doing such a good job, looking at him with wide eyes as you take his cock further in your mouth.

He just can’t hold on anymore. He cums down your throat, orgasm intensified by the feeling of you swallowing his release. He has to fight the urge to close his eyes, to throw his head back in pleasure, not wanting to miss the beautiful sight before him.

Once he goes soft, you take him out of your mouth, resting on your heels and looking up at his post-orgasm glow. He leans forward, cupping your face in his hands, and kisses you, a needy, passionate kiss that tells you he wants you now.

You stand to give him space to shed the remaining clothes he has on, kicking off his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. This is the first time he’s been completely naked in front of anyone but himself. The idea should make him nervous given his creed, but if he’s going to do this with anyone, of course it has to be with you.

Your hands are glued to his body instantly, hands running along every scar, every freckle, every stretch mark, every tattoo— all things he’s never shown anyone before. It makes him feel vulnerable but in a good way, letting him know that he’s comfortable being his raw self around you.

“You’re beautiful, Din,” you say, caressing his cheeks.

That’s the first time someone’s told him that, and he doesn’t want to believe you. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him, but he just can’t picture someone actually feeling that way about him when they gaze upon his face.

“I mean it,” you add, as if you could read his mind.

He wraps his hands around your wrists, gently squeezing them and closing his eyes.

“Sit on the bed for me,” you softly command, wanting to show him how much you desire him. He opens his eyes and removes his hands from yours, sitting back down on the bed and watching as you move to straddle him. You rest your hands on his shoulders, your cunt hovering over the tip of his cock. He reaches in between your legs, rubbing his cock along your folds, teasing you until you finally sink onto him, taking his length inside you.

His hands slide up your thighs and rest on your waist, eyes looking deeply into yours. You’re as close as two people could be, your hips rocking against him, slowly burying his cock deeper inside you.

“I like this,” he says, grunting as you move your hips again.

“Me too,” you say, one hand trailing up to his hair, wanting to make him melt like he did in the field. He moans, biting his lip and cursing under his breath. You just know all the ways to melt him down into nothing but a puddle on the floor, under the mercy of your touch. He leans forward and sinks his teeth into your collarbone, pulling a sharp gasp from you as you grip his hair tighter. He moans into your neck, a moan that says ‘do that again, show me I’m yours’.

He nips at your neck, dragging his tongue along the sensitive spots he’d just discovered. You grind your hips into him, fingers tangled in his hair as your bodies fall slack against each other. Your eyes flutter closed and it’s hard to tell where you each begin and end, limbs intertwined with one another, mouths glued to skin. Your mouth happens to fall by his ear, a perfect speaker for him to hear the way you come undone, crying against the shell of his ear. He feels like he could bust right there and then, your warm cunt enveloping his cock, hands in his hair, and melodic sounds that are like a song sung just for him.

You come undone, walls clenching and releasing his cock. You continue to grind your hips through your release and it causes him to follow suit. He bites down on your neck hard, humming into your skin as he paints your walls with his cum. The movement of your hips eventually slows and you finally come to a rest against him, staying still and enjoying each other's presence.

“You’re everything to me, ner vercopa,” he says softly, rubbing your back.

You exhale as if you don’t believe him and his arms tighten around you.

“I mean it,” he says, kissing the side of your face.

The urge to tell you he loves you consumes him once again. The words are on the tip of his tongue, threatening to break loose but he refrains, keeping his secret to himself.

Instead he asks, “Do you think there’s a reason we started appearing in each other’s dreams?”

“Do you need a reason?”

He wants to know why the galaxy bestowed you upon him but he gets the sense that you don’t, that you’re content with not knowing the truth.

“I guess not… Do you?”

“No,” you say simply, “Being here with you is enough. There’s no need to question a good thing… But if you need a reason, maybe the galaxy knew we were both lonely. Maybe there’s something we can learn from each other.”

He thinks about the last dream in the field and how you made him slow down and enjoy the rain. He thinks about your life compared to his, how you’re stuck in one place and how he has the freedom to roam the whole galaxy if he so pleases. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you can learn something from each other.

Eventually, he goes soft and starts to slip out of you. The two of you don’t really know what to do next. Usually, the dream would end by now. As he holds you and absentmindedly stares off, he notices something he didn’t before – a window.

It’s nighttime. Was there light outside when he found you? He can’t remember. He wasn’t focused on the time of day. He was focused on finding you. But something about the ominous dark window is unsettling to him. He just can’t figure out why.

As if you feel him go stiff, you ask, “Is everything alright?”

“I didn’t notice the window before,” he says, staring straight at it.

You pull yourself off of him, much to his dismay, and sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder and staring at the window.

“You were here before me,” he says, “Was it always dark out?”

“No,” you say, a wave of realization hitting you. “It wasn’t.”

“Weird,” he says.

You get up from the bed and walk towards the window. Din follows, slipping his arm around your waist. Just as you’re both finally comfortable with the night sky, it starts to change. Within seconds, the sun rises, casting the rolling field in a bath of warm light. You look at each other, noticing how his brown eyes are lit up by the sun.

“That’s strange… Right?”

“Right,” he affirms.

“We haven’t been asleep that long, have we?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm,” you respond, turning and facing the window again.

The sun slowly inches up from the horizon line, hanging high up in the sky. The blades of grass are swaying in the wind, thriving under the sun. Everything is golden, bright, full of life.

He turns to look at you, the sun lighting up your face from the side. Everything about you is a first for him. He’s had sex before but never as loving and tender as it is with you. In fact, it was never loving or tender at all. It was always hard and fast, typically at a brothel in a town he was passing through for a bounty. It was just fucking, never sex with actual feelings attached.

And yet, deep in the back of his mind, part of him wonders if you’re real. Or if aspects of you are just figments of his imagination, the desires of his subconscious running wild. But another part of him knows that isn’t true. Part of him knows you’re real, somewhere in the galaxy yearning for his touch like he is with yours. That part of him is louder than the other.

It’s another moment like before where he wants to tell you he loves you. He wants to say it out loud because he’s proud; proud to have you as the person he loves. But he can’t. At least not yet.

Once again, just as you’re getting used to the brilliant daylight, the sun changes positions in the sky, sinking lower and starting to set.

“How strange,” you say, glancing out the window, “Time must work differently here.”

Just as you say that, a radio sitting on the bedside table starts playing music. It’s a song you don’t recognize but it makes you feel comforted; a song slow enough to sway to.

And that’s exactly what you do. He grabs your waist and pulls you in closer to him. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, softly moving back and forth, watching the sunset. It’s silent between you two but you don’t need to talk. He just wants to enjoy your company.

So the two of you stay there, slow dancing and watching the days fly by, from night to sunrise, to sunset, and back to night again. Time feels so slow but so fast at the same time. For once, your dream doesn’t end right after you have sex. You can finally enjoy each other’s company for once. But even then, when the dream finally ends, it’ll still feel too short, like you were robbed of time you could’ve spent together.

As the sunset begins to shift back into a dark night, the world starts to fade around you.

Din starts to shout, “Ni kar’tayl-” but he stops when you disappear from his view. It’s unclear if you heard him or not. And once again, he’s met with the same cold, uninviting bunk in the Razor Crest, wishing he was still holding you by the window.

You

Waking up from that one probably hurt the most. You roll over in bed and glance at your clock. Your shift started fifteen minutes ago. Great.

You’ve developed an unfortunate habit of being late to work. Whether it's because you’re at the library, reading about all the places you see in your dreams, or just sleeping, your dreams are causing you to be late.

You hastily scribble the details of your dream in your journal before begrudgingly getting ready for work. You’re anxious about what your supervisor will say to you. This is the third day in a row you’ve been late and the last shuttle for the day shift is leaving soon, so you need to haul your ass there.

Dashing to the shuttle, you just barely make it there in time for the last one, feeling like it’s moving slower than normal. Once it finally arrives at the factory, you’re sprinting to scan in and get to your post already. The elevator stops at your floor and once the doors open, you’re greeted by one of the SoroSuub droids.

“Employee 5526, you’re tardy again for the third shift in a row,” the droid says in its terrible robotic voice.

“Yes, I know. It won’t happen again, I swear-”

“If you reach five tardies, your employment will be terminated. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“To your post,” the droid says, stepping out of the way.

Your coworkers stare at you as you walk to your station. Whether it’s the embarrassment or the soul-sucking job you have, you decide that you’re getting out of here.

And so your plan begins. One way or another, you’re getting off this planet and searching for the man who lives in your dreams.

Gifs of Din from this chapter

Banners + dividers by @saradika-graphics

Art by Roger Mattos

WIAD Tag list: @wannab-urs @hyzer34 @milly-louise @hellfire-state-of-mind @dugiioh @handspunyarns @fckyeapedrothots99 @leithatnight @corazondebeskar @burntheedges @imherefordeanandbones @pamasaur @dameron-grant-spector @competitivedust @survivingandenduring @the-color-is-black @perennialdoll247 @littlegrungegirlaf @lupietra @bluebeary-jay @angstyvirgin001 @missladym1981 @alltheotps @lahooozaherr @that1nerd-20 @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @djarins-cyare @kirsteng42 @dins-riduur-anthe @pigeonmama

#wiad #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin series

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

Eddie, diary, detention ^^

Oh, y'all are getting sick of Eddie fluff fics? Too bad, sorry xoxoxo 💚

Warnings: none, all fluff!

WC: 1.2k

“Goddamn Carver,” Eddie mutters to himself, slinging his backpack onto the desk and plopping into the attached chair. “Always running his goddamn mouth and then pulling the ‘But I have basketball practice’ excuse to get outta trouble.” He brings his voice up to a grating falsetto, mocking the jock’s whiny tone. “But does Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson get the same courtesy for his Hellfire campaigns? No, sir, he does not.”

“Wonderful monologue, Mr. Munson,” Mrs. O’Donnell says dryly, heels clacking as she walks through the open doorway. “Perhaps you’ll be a playwright in your next life.”

“Like one lifetime isn’t enough,” Eddie grumbles, low enough so his least favorite teacher can’t hear him.

O’Donnell peers at him over her horn-rimmed glasses. “You know the drill better than I do, Mr. Munson,” she scoffs with a wry smile. “One hour. No talking, no music, no funny business. You may do homework if you’d like, though I don’t anticipate you choosing now to act like a star student.”

Eddie slumps down into his seat. He’d already counted all the ceiling tiles last week when he ended up here after shoving Patrick for picking on Dustin Henderson. Guess I’ll start on the floor tiles now, he thinks grimly.

He makes it to 28 before something catches his eye. In one of the baskets underneath a desk is a purple leather-bound notebook. The way it’s resting halfway out of the basket looks like it had fallen out of a backpack or accidentally left behind. It’s too fancy to only be used for school, and it piques his curiosity.

“Uh, Mrs. Oh-Dee?” Eddie blurts out, shooting his hand up in the air. “Can I grab a textbook? I think I’m gonna take you up on that homework offer.”

The teacher rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she quips. “And for the last time, stop calling me that.”

But Eddie’s already scrambling to the seat, plucking the journal from its spot and shielding it with a history book. As soon as he opens the cover, his eyes widen.

This diary belongs to is printed on the first page, with a name handwritten in neat cursive underneath.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes, earning a scowl from O’Donnell. This is your diary.

Eddie doesn’t have too many classes with you; you’re in mostly honors courses, while he’s in his third senior year. But you do take health together, and he constantly finds himself stealing glances at you whenever he can.

He knows he shouldn’t read any further; he can close the diary and turn it into the Lost and Found box. But Eddie Munson’s never been known for his impulse control, and before he knows it, he’s skimming the pages.

Most of the entries don’t draw too much of his attention. There’s one from a few weeks ago about an argument you had with your best friend, but Eddie’s seen you two laughing together since then, so he assumes all’s well. A few days ago, you’d just written, “that history test was a bitch” accompanied by a frowning face. Eddie laughs quietly, knowing you’d probably aced it.

It’s the entry after that where he finds what he’s looking for.

Mr. Ellison paired me up with Eddie today! We had to work on an anti-smoking poster together, which was ironic, because he reeked of cigarettes. He asked me what I was doing this weekend, and I thought he was going to ask me out, but he didn’t. Guess he’s not into shy nerdy girls. Then again, who would be?

Eddie’s heart sinks into his stomach. If you only knew how much he wants to take you to dinner, hold hands across the table, maybe kiss you after splitting an ice cream sundae. He had planned on asking you out that day, only to wimp out at the last second.

He hastily tears out the page and pulls out a number two pencil that’s sharpened down to a nub. In the margins next to your entry, he draws and arrow and writes:

He’s definitely into shy nerdy girls, but he didn’t think you’d be into loud metalheads. Meet me at my locker tomorrow before health?

He slips the diary into his bag, vowing to put the note in your locker after his prison sentence—erm, detention, is over.

The next day, Eddie waits by his locker in between second and third periods. His heart pounds in his chest, and his stomach is doing that flip-flop thing it does before a gig. He relaxes a bit when he sees you walking towards him, note in hand.

“Hey,” you say softly, holding up the sheet of paper. “Did you…”

Eddie laughs nervously. “Y-Yeah, that was me,” he admits.

Your ears heat up, suddenly bashful. When you found the note, you’d assumed it was some prank by one of the jocks. The fact that it actually was Eddie gives you heart palpitations. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” you manage.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me till, y’know, I read it,” Eddie mumbles, hoping you’re not too angry about that.

You cross your arms over your chest. “So, we’re just snooping through diaries now? A bit juvenile, dontcha think?” But your tone is light, despite the truthfulness of your statement.

“It, um, wasn’t my finest moment,” Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he reaches into his bag, “which is why I wanted to show you this.” He pulls out a tattered composition book and hands it to you. “It’s not as cute as yours—oh, which I also have, heh.” He offers you your beloved purple journal.

“Thanks,” you mutter, ensuring that it’s now safely stored in your own backpack before bringing your attention back to his notebook. “What’s this?”

Eddie bites his lower lip anxiously. “It’s my lyric book,” he explains sheepishly. “But not the one I show the guys. This has all my lovey-dovey songs in it. Y’know, shit they’d kick my ass for.” Another nervous chuckle. “They’re, um, they’re about you.”

“Me?!” you ask incredulously.

“Yeah,” he smiles, letting his fingertips graze your hand. “Figured it was only fair, since I totally read your stuff.”

You flip through the pages, heart warming at the words etched on them. Lyrics like, her smile melts me like snow on my tongue/grow old together but we’ll always feel young make you giggle. “These are really good,” you muse.

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Not too corny?”

“Oh, no,” you tease him, “they are extremely corny. But I’m a sucker for a good rhyme scheme, so…” You trail off as Eddie grins.

“Maybe I could play them for you sometime? Like after school today?” He winces, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he thinks he does.

You nod. “I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Eddie closes his locker and turns to you slowly, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate brown eyes. “Actually, what do you say we ditch health and hang out at mine? I promise I’m a lot more interesting than whatever Ellison is going to lecture us about today.”

You peer around the hallway, making sure it’s clear of teachers before slipping your hand into Eddie’s larger, calloused one. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“That’s my girl.”

#bug's 2k celebration #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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rendy-a · 1 month

Note

amh if possible could hoy make hdcns for the dorm leaders ( separately ) reacting to their mc fem explaining the marvel universe and then puts them to watch the movies hehe ( ..also mc's fav hero is dead-pool ;) bc it gives me laugh imagine their reactions about this xd) , thanks in advance and take care<33

This certainly ended up being a little bit of a crack fic but it ended up amusing. Hope you enjoy it.

At first, he scoffs as such a time-wasting thing as wanting to watch dozens of movies. Where is the educational value in this?

He is just too polite to refuse to listen, so he’ll end up letting you describe all your favorite scenes to him.

You are better off if he doesn’t take an interest because, if he does, he is going to turn into the worst sort of comic book geek. Be ready to have him quote lore from issues of source material at you during any discussion on this from now on.

What do you mean who would win? In Volume 3 #3, Thor clearly defeated Iron Man. Don’t get upset Prefect, I don’t write the lore, I just recite it.

Doesn’t appear to be interested but, if you pause long enough, he’ll prompt you to go on. It’s important to you, so he’ll try to care at least a little.

You’d never tell him this, but you love to banter with him because it reminds you of your favorite character. Sometimes you wonder if he’d be pleased or offended to know who you remind him of.

Movie marathons? Not only is he willing to do them with you, but he is also often the one who suggests them. Don’t be deceived though, it’s not for the movie but for the quality nap time on the couch with you.

Don’t turn that off, Herbivore, I’m watching it. What do you mean I don’t know what’s going on? This is the part where we learn her mom isn’t dead after all. So quiet down and keep the lights off.

Please, he is in Board Game Club with Idia. You think this is the first time he has hmmm’d himself through a conversation about fictional characters?

Wait, you say that this makes a ton of money? Tell him more about this merchandising and licensing. Especially that, what do you call it…ah, Happy Meal.

You can eventually talk him into watching the movies with you for ‘research purposes.’ When you do, you can’t help but notice how teary-eyed he gets at the sad scenes. He’s just so sensitive!

Deadpool is also his favorite character. He feels a sort of connection to certain parts of his story.

So, she chooses to stay with him even though he looks like that? No, I’m not blubbering. No, I don’t need you to cuddle with me. Ok, fine. Just for a little while.

He doesn’t get it, but he still loves it. Sure, you have to explain everything to him three times, but he gets excited over your excitement. Call him any time to talk about your theories on how things would have gone if Thanos had made a different wish on the infinity gauntlet. He doesn’t mind if it’s 3 AM (just don’t let Jamil find out).

Movie marathons turn into parties. Why just watch the movies when you can have themed snacks and dress up too? Hulk smash cakes and Black Widow berry cobbler? Yes, please.

His favorite part of any film is the soundtrack. If he hears a song he likes, he gets up to dance along. It’s pretty disruptive when you are watching the movie but when you see how much fun he is having, you find you don’t really mind after all.

Sorry Prefect, Jamil says we can’t have dance battles in Scarabia anymore. Ooh! But come by the Pop Music Club later. I’m going to play all my favorite songs for Cater and Lilia. Ahaha!

You were worried Vil would dismiss your favorite Marvel films as inferior art, but he is actually rather generous about it. He believes the film should suit the audience and, as so, there is nothing wrong with films like this that serve to entertain the masses.

Still, he can’t help but be critical of everything while you watch. He doesn’t criticize the things you’d talk about with your friends but topics you’d hardly even notice while you watched like the set design and lighting.

You notice Vil seems secretly fond of Loki. You think the idea of the Villain that survives the main movies to get his own spotlight series appeals to him.

No, Potato, I’m just saying the angle isn’t right for this sort of tone. A shot from below would be more effective. Plus…wait, are you having more popcorn? I don’t think so, it’s past the time you can snack before bed.

You had expected Idia to be all in on the Marvel Universe but, at first, he is oddly resistant to it. He’d rather recommend you one of his own favorite hero movies. If you disagree on which is better, he is more than willing to fight with you over why his is best!

After a heated argument, he puts on some of the movies to watch so he can come up with targeted points about why his own shows are better. This does not work out for him as he gets sucked in himself. Next time you meet up, he wants to go over tiny bits of lore and speculate on future plot lines from hints in the past movies.

You might think his favorite would be Iron Man because they both are innovative engineers, but he is a fan of Ant Man. Shrinking down to a size where you can hide from everyone; it’s an introvert’s dream!

Prefect, this is serious business! I’ve drawn up plans. So long as we sleep only 2 hours a day and avoid taking any breaks for food, studying, and showers, we can finish at least three seasons this weekend. True fans like us need to be ready to sacrifice for the shows we love!

There are many things Tusnotarou doesn’t understand, and this is one of them. For starters, he barely knows how to use his smartphone, let alone how to stream movies and shows. So, before you can even start explaining the plot, you must explain the whole concept of series and interconnecting shows to him.

He doesn’t get it, but he is happy to watch with you. Your reactions to the show are far more amusing to him than the actual show. Plus, he feels like he learns so much about the human world from your conversations. A subway, how intriguing an idea. Humans are so fascinating.

Even though he watches politely, he isn’t very impressed. They can fly? Well so can he. Magic, lightning, superstrength? All just part of being a dragon. Perhaps instead of being interested in these superheroes, you’d rather learn more about him?

Lilia, do you think I am a superhero? The Prefect has been explaining this concept to me in great detail lately. I can’t help but notice the many things I have in common with these so-called heroes. Why yes, Lilia, now that you mention it, I am wearing a cape. Another point in my favor. Fu fu fu.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #idia shroud #kalim al asim #azul ashengrotto #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit

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twisted-lover-boys · 9 months

Note

Hello! Can I request how Leona, Trey, and Cater would react to a male reader congratulating/thanking them for something with a kiss on the cheek? (Pre-relationship as well, please)

Crush who kisses them as thanks

[not proof-read]

Ahh, a classic troupe. I gotchu

Also, side note, you guys have no idea how many requests I get/have that are about Leona or involve Leona. Like, I know that y’all simp for him but I’m about to put a pause on certain characters because of that /jk

……..

/hj

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🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️

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Leona didn’t know when it stated, but he knew he liked you. There was something about you that really fascinated him. Maybe it was your forward personality? Or your boundless ambition? It doesn’t matter to him

What’s caused him so much grief is that, no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to tune your gaze towards him. It has gotten him pretty stressed and angry on several occasions…

Anyways! Moving on! He was skipping class walking the hallways when he saw you sitting against the window still with a troubled look on your face

Leona decided to move closer to you and ask what had caused you to furrow your brows. When he did, he didn’t expect to see you struggling with alchemy work. It looked like child’s play to him

So he sat down with you and guided you through the whole thing. You got it down in less than an hour and you were confident enough to turn it in on time

You thanking Leona was just the icing on the cake. He felt his pride swell when he saw your face light up in joy. The beastman guessed he was so caught up in his pride that he almost missed the gentle kiss you placed in his cheek

You hid him farewell as you left him by the window still. Oh, if only you ended up staying just a little longer. Maybe then you’d see just how flustered he could get

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Trey was never one for crushes…at least that’s what he initially thought. Then you showed up in his life and caused his heart to skip a beat. Maybe it was your kindness? Your never ending energy? The thought made him smile

Maybe he would smile more if he wasn’t constantly stressed out about how oblivious you seemed to his feelings. Maybe he wasn’t being direct enough? But what if you didn’t even get that?? Mans was stressed

Anyways, Trey walked into the kitchen only to see you mulling over a cooking book he had stored in said kitchen

He asked what you were trying to do and saw you were trying to make a small, sweet snack. Specifically candied violets which were his favorite. Ironic, huh…

Of course, he wasn’t going to leave you out to dry and decided to lend you a hand. He had done this so many times that it was practically engraved into his mind so it was extremely easy

When they were finally done and you both actually tried them, they turned out better than you ever could’ve imagined! Trey was so caught up in your excitement that he almost missed when you leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek

You took a handful of candied violets and left, saying that you once again. Trey doesn’t know how long he sat there, face beet red and hands covering his face, but he was thankful you didn’t see him like that

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Cater is very experienced in crushes. Since he’s had more than a few ventures, he’s decided that if a crush lasts longer than it should, then it’s an actual crush…then you popped up and you had no plans of leaving. Your determination and energy had him hooked

Even through all his best attempts, he couldn’t really get your eyes to look at his direction. He didn’t think you were oblivious but with how you were acting towards his advancements, maybe you were…

Anyways! He was walking back to his dorm after a long day of classes when he saw you fumbling on top of a skateboard before falling flat on your butt

Cater rushed up to you as you fell and helped you up. He asked what you were thinking but when you said you wanted to learn how to skateboard, he immediately said that he could teach you

You both spent hours together so that you could properly ride a skateboard. When you were finally able to stay on and ride it without tripping or falling, that’s when he knew you had the basics

He laughed to himself as he heard you laugh and scream in joy as you rode up and down main street. Seeing you this happy brought unimaginable joy to him

What Cater wouldn’t expect next was to see you come up to him, skateboard in hand, and place a gentle kiss on his cheek before waving goodbye and heading back to your dorm

Cater doesn’t know how long he stood there but it was long enough for Riddle to text him. He was glad that you left, otherwise you’d see how his face matched the diamond mark on his face

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🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️🦁♣️♦️

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#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x male reader #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #leona kingscholar #trey clover #cater diamond #leona kingscholar x male reader #trey clover x male reader #cater diamond x male reader

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matchabears · 1 year

Text

notes on falling in love

pairing. alhaitham x reader (feat. kaveh) synopsis. it’s in the little things, really. wc. 1k themes. angst, unrequited pining, modern au(ish) because i barely give any description lmao, this is mostly about feelings, feelings tw, alhaitham is a robot science man allergic to the human spectrum of emotion now playing. hoax by taylor swift note. the way i’m shit at writing angst but am incapable of writing anything else

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

alhaitham pauses, in the middle of shelving the stack of books in his arms. he doesn’t look down, but he can see you blinking curiously up at him in his peripheral.

he’s relieved that he’s at the very top of the ladder, so you don’t notice the way his fingers tighten around the spine of the book and how he has to shift his weight so he doesn’t lose his balance. when he opens his mouth to respond, he draws in a shaky breath.

“i have no reason to like or dislike you,” he responds curtly. “so long as you do your job properly.”

that’s right, he has no need for such useless sentiments; he’s a man of science after all. flowery language and cursory emotions are a waste of energy and all detract from his ultimate goal of pursuing concrete, infallible knowledge.

so he steadies himself and climbs down the ladder, ignoring how tightly his heart constricts when he sees you smile.

it’s just an organ.

“i guess i walked right into that one,” you grin before nodding towards the stack of books in his arms. “need help with those?”

“no,” he simply says, pulling the ladder to the other side of the shelf. with his back turned to you, he’s much more at ease. if he can’t see you, then he can’t find another attribute of yours to commit to memory.

you don’t listen, though, because you never do. instead, you snatch the books from him and climb the ladder yourself before he can react.

“what are you doing?” he furrows his brows.

“trying to get on your good side,” you hum.

“is this why you’ve been following me around all day?” he sighs.

you wince sheepishly. “was it that obvious? i thought i was being pretty subtle.”

alhaitham, with traitorous eyes trained to notice and analyze every little detail, follows the movement as if it had a magnetic pull, dragging his gaze across your features. he drinks in the color of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the flutter of your eyelashes, the glow of your skin, and the tinted sheen on your lips like he were studying a textbook on astrophysics.

but it would be amiss to compare you to any branch of science, he supposes. sciences produces results, logic, and answers.

you are loud and obnoxious, ironic for someone who works in a library. you are a hindrance more than help to most of the daily tasks, cutting down productivity by at least fifty percent with your chattering and penchant for distraction. you are person with a naturally alluring disposition that draws people in. you are able to speak to patrons of the library with a charm that seems mystical to him. you are a warmth that only exists in the confines of fantasy. you are everything he finds to be a waste of time in a person, and you are everything that he is not.

you are the only anomaly he can’t solve.

“you are many things, but subtle is not one of them.”

that makes you laugh, and the ladder, as old and rickety as it is, trembles just like the stupid organ that is his heart. as if it were a reflex, alhaitham reaches out his hand and steadies the ladder.

it’s a pointless gesture, really. him holding the ladder still doesn’t eliminate the risk of you falling. yet, he grips the wooden material so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“is it so wrong of me to want to be friends with my new boyfriend’s roommate and also my co-worker for way longer than that?” you whine.

what ridiculous titles, he thinks to himself. he and you can barely even be regarded as acquaintances, but you’ve somehow found a way to establish a connection. alhaitham doesn’t even want to be acquaintances with you, most certainly not friends.

he despises that you are almost nothing to him. why couldn’t you be something or just nothing? you’re almost. almost something and almost nothing all at the same time. that gray area makes him feel, feel, feel—that damn word—like he isn’t in control; it’s an ugly, dark sensation that coils in the pit of his stomach like a venomous snake.

“i don’t want to be friends with you,” he chokes out, a desperate tinge to his voice that he hopes you don’t notice.

“well, i’m a lot more stubborn than you think, so just you wait,” you reply in a teasing manner.

a muscle in his jaw spasms just as someone calls out your name, sparing him from having to respond.

alhaitham watches as your face, the one he’s been enraptured with since the moment he’s laid eyes on you, lights up with an expression that he will never be able to bring out of you.

you hurriedly climb down the ladder, your conversation with him long forgotten, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“kaveh!”

logically, it makes sense that you ended up with kaveh. he leads with his heart instead of his head, he lets his personal attachments get in the way of rationality, and he’s a person that will consider your feelings first and foremost. and above all, he has the capacity to love you.

love, a mere chemical defect of the brain. love, needless self-sacrifice for a temporary high. love, a concept that alhaitham will never understand.

the way you smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in your shirt,

the way you aimlessly fidget with your fingers and bounce on the balls of your feet,

the way you drink the can of black coffee he hands you even though you dump at least five spoonfuls of sugar in your normal cup,

the way you suck on your bottom lip to hide the bitterness and smear away the lip gloss you put on especially for him,

the way your breath hitches when he laces your fingers through his and brings your knuckles to his lips,

the way you look at kaveh just like how alhaitham looks at you.

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

no, he doesn’t.

#genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham drabble #genshin angst #genshin alhaitham #genshin fanfic #alhaitham #drabble #genshin impact #matchabears

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ramspatula · 6 months

Text

IRON SPIDER| Tony Stark Daughter! Reader

This is the first chapter of my Tony Stark daughter| reader book. If you can’t tell. Reader is going to get bit by a radioactive spider at some point.

You are now part of the MCU! Congrats!

Next part

2001, 3 days after (Y/b/d)

"JARVIS, these lights are practically blinding me."

"Turning down the exposure, sir."

"I don't know why we have these lights on so bright!"

"I believe your condition may influence you to believe the lights are brighter than they are."

"Just say I'm hungover, I won't disable you over it."

"I wish I could say the same for the lights."

"Well I didn't want such bright lights." Tony groaned, keeping his eyes shut and resting an arm them.

"Mr Stark, your lawyer is here to see you." Pepper announced from the doorway. Tony's face scrunched in confusion, he didn't have a meeting with his lawyer or any of his attorneys for at least a week.

"Am I in trouble?" He asked.

"You should go find out." Pepper said, sternly.

"Are you going to spank me if I am?" Tony smirked and Pepper's face didn't change.

"Your lawyer is waiting on the couch and Obadiah wants to have dinner next week when he gets back, is that all Mr Stark?"

"Yeah, I'll go see what he wants." Tony nodded and swiftly moved out the room.

★・・・・・・★

"James! What brings you to my home? I break something? Someone? Vandalism? I sell something to the wrong people? Get someone pregnant? Noise complaint-"

"Mr Stark, please sit down. This needs to be dealt with in a timely manner." James told him before placing down in front of him an open folder. The folder contained an empty birth certificate and a picture of a newborn baby girl in a hospital crib.

"What is this?" Tony questioned.

"2 days ago, a woman was rushed the hospital as she was in labour and delivered this baby. She gave the hospital no name and no medical information except a contact number and told them to ask for the father of this baby, Anthony Stark." James started and placed before Tony a warn business card that said:

'Call me, Tony ~

P.s the room is payed for and there's a car waiting to take you wherever you want to go outside.'

There was a number at the bottom of the card which was for Happy's work cell. It was no doubt Tony's handwriting but Tony had slept with lots of people and none of them had a kid yet. This wasn't his kid.

"So what does she want? We're speaking if the kid is mine, 50/50 custody? Millions in child support? You know your silence is really nerving me." Tony asked.

"Im sorry, Mr Stark but you haven't heard all the context just yet." James clarified before continuing, "Last night, this woman left the hospital without this baby and no intentions of taking her along. That leaves two options, you claim that this isn't your child and she gets put into the system or your can get a paternity test and decide from there." Tony stared blankly for a couple minutes at the images in front of him.

"Mr Stark, I understand this a difficult situation-"

"She looks like my dad. Right before he died when he became an actual old man only he didn't look as peaceful as she does." Tony found himself smiling, babies has a tendency to make anyone smile.

"Have you thought over your options?" James asked and Tony shook his head.

"If this kid comes with me then there's a high chance she'll become fucked up but the system only produces messed up kids anyway. I think it's better if I'm the one who fucks her up, at least she'll know a sense of stability." Tony closed the folder. "Bring her here, I'll do the paternity test and you guys can be here to see the results. I'm assuming the mother gave up all her rights?" Tony questioned and James nodded, perplexed.

"If you are the father then all the rights for the child will be granted to you but if you aren't she will be put into the system." James told him and he nodded.

"Are we finished?"

"I just need to call the hospital to let them know." James said before standing up and when he was far enough away. Tony threw himself back into the couch and sighed, his hangover felt worse then before.

"JARVIS, what does a baby need and how does a single father give a baby what it needs?" Tony called out.

"Placing an order for baby formula, diapers, clothes and books involving caring for a newborn."

"You're the best."

★・・・・・・★

A newborn mainly only slept, cried, ate, peed, shit and slept again but they're so small. Holding one in your arms made you more aware of your surroundings, more afraid to move even slightly, your thoughts will become so filled with anxiety of things that could happen to them that you feel yourself begin to work up. At least, that's what Tony found out. There were at least 10 people in the room with him, including the baby. Everyone's attention was focused on the two very similar DNA strands shown on the holo-screen.

"Congratulations, Mr Stark. You are a father." Jarvis' voice rung out through the lab and Tony felt a small, overwhelmed, smile rise to his face.

"Well, that settles it. Where's the birth certificate?" Tony asked and Pepper's face dropped in shock.

"You're keeping her, Mr Stark?" She asked and Tony only smiled harder.

"She's my daughter, I'm not abandoning her." He announced picking the newborn up out the temporary crib and nestling her in one arm and turning her around to face the DNA strands. Her eyes weren't open but it didn't deter him.

"You see that? You're my daughter, those are half my genetics. If you're anything like me, you'll understand what that means by the time you're 4." He smiled as Pepper held the birth certificate towards him and a pen. He signed his name and then paused looking at the section where the baby's name would go.

"Leave the room for a bit. I want some time with my baby."

"Mr Stark-"

"Go!" The room soon dispersed and Tony sighed looking down at the little girl.

"What should I name you?" Tony asked but the baby only moved a little hand towards him before silently opening her eyes slightly to look up at him. Her vision wasn't great and wouldn't be for awhile but it still felt as if she was looking directly at him.

"My mother's name was Maria. Maria Stark? Name you after her? She'd like that. No she wouldn't. She’d want you to have your own name okay. Angel? You look like one. Angel Stark? I can't do that to my kid. Uhm... Lets see... (Y/n)? That's cute. I like that. (Y/n) Stark? That's good, nice... (Y/n) Maria Stark? Mom would've liked that. She would've liked you. You might've been able to make your grandad smile. Granted that's if he knew how to do that. My Dad wasn't that loving. He wasn't very nice to be honest but I won't be like that. Although, I do like to drink too so I hope you don't mind. I won't do it often or in front of you! I think I can make this work, being a Dad and a CEO and a inventor. I think my playboy career might take some damage though but that is a sacrifice I'm willing to make as I've seen what it has given me. No offence. (Y/n) Maria Stark." Tony said as he wrote her name on the certificate and smiled.

"You really are about to change my life, you know that?" He whispered and in response all he could hear was the almost silent breaths of a newborn baby.

★・・・・・・★

"Tony! What's this business I hear about you having a baby? You want maternity leave? What are you a woman? Get a nanny and let's get to work!" The voice of Obadiah Stane rang through the living room of the Miami mansion and said man was greeted with shushing.

"I have been awake every 3 hours last night! To feed, rock and cuddle that baby! You will not wake her during my hours of peace, it takes me longer to get her back down than it does to reassemble an engine." Tony's hair was everywhere, his t-shirt has a spot of baby sick on and there was a distressed looking baby cloth thrown over his shoulder.

"You look like shit."

"You don't look much better. How was New York?"

"You've got a baby in the next room and you're asking me about New York?"

"Okay let's settle this. Yes I have a baby. Her name is (Y/n) Maria Stark and she was born on (Y/b/d) at 7lbs. Now tell me why you're here because I could be taking a nap right now- you know I'm supposed to sleep when she does?" Tony told him making his way over the kitchen where his new sterilising invention had sterilised 6 of his new baby bottles and 2 pacifiers.

"No I don't -going into the baby business now?" Obadiah asked, staring at all the new baby inventions.

"I think we should because being a parent is hard."

"You've been a parent for like 3 days Tony."

"A week and half."

"What?"

"She was born 2 weeks ago and I got her 3 days after she was born." Tony told him, grabbing the coffee that Obadiah had brought him and taking a sip.

"You're really keeping her?" Obadiah questioned and Tony scrunched his face.

"Yeah, she's my kid." Tony answered.

"You do realise what a big responsibility this is? No more playboy parties. You can't bring her gambling and partying! Unless you're getting a nanny which I think you should. No one can raise a kid like a woman." Obadiah told him and Tony stared at him with a blank face.

"Just for that, I'm going to prove you wrong." Tony jabbed him in the chest. Before Obadiah could respond Jarvis' voice sounded through the room.

"Miss Stark is awake and hungry."

"You want to meet her?" Tony asked as he prepped a bottle, a little cry could be heard and Obadiah frowned.

"She doesn't sound happy I'm here." He commented and Tony shrugged.

"Be back in a sec." With that Tony left the room and came back with a small figure resting against his chest in a pink sleep suit.

"This is her?" Obadiah asked in shock. He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't to see Tony so comfortable with such responsibility in his arms.

"You think I've got some random baby laying around? Yes it's her, she's hungry. Can't you tell?" Tony asked, gesturing to the way the baby was mouthing. "Want to hold her whilst I sort this bottle out?" He asked and Obadiah looked wary.

"Tony I-"

"Good. Support her head- don't look so awkward. There you go! Now don't move." Obadiah had never looked so stiff. He stood, unmoving, as Tony made his way to the still cooling bottle.

"You know, there's a reason I never had kids." Obadiah commented to which Tony ignored and tested the temperature of the bottle on his wrist.

"Sorry honey, still too hot." He said and Obadiah began to absentmindedly rock a little, the baby was looking up at him with big, judging, eyes.

"She looks like you."

"I thought she looked like Dad."

"Yeah well, I still find it hard to separate you and Howard. Look- she's even got that look you give me!" Obadiah commented and Tony chuckled.

"What look?" He asked.

"Like I don't mean shit." Obadiah told him and he genuinely laughed.

★・・・・・・★

The door to the lab opened quietly. A lone rocking chair could be seen by a desk, a holo-screen was placed in front of the rocking chair where two figures were seated. Colonel James Rhodes made his way towards the chair and paused a few feet away.

"So the rumours are true? Tony Stark settled down." Rhodey said and a quiet chuckle could be heard.

"I didn't settle down, I just had a baby." Tony told him with a smile and from the new position Rhodey could see the little girl.

"God she looks like you. Where's the mother?" Rhodey questioned and Tony shook his head.

"Gone. I have no clue where. I haven't had the time to look into it." Tony told him and looked down at his kid.

"How old is she?"

"1 month. Didn't expect you to be away for so long. What they have you do? Flood out some terrorists?" Tony asked and Rhodey chuckled.

"Nothing as interesting as that or this. She's so small?" Rhodey leaned more towards the baby.

"Do you want to hold her?" Tony asked and Rhodey smiled.

"Really?" He asked, giddy.

"Yeah, come on. Be careful she's asleep. She likes to be against your chest." Tony told him as he helped Rhodey adjust the baby onto his chest.

"I got it- oh she's so small. What's her name?" Rhodey asked and Tony sat back down on the rocking chair.

"(Y/n) Maria Stark." He announced and Rhodey smiled.

"Like your Mom?" He asked and Tony nodded. "That's nice. I didn't think you'd be the sentimental type, Tony." Rhodey commented and Tony smiled.

"Well my Mom meant the world to me and now so does she so it's only fitting." Tony shrugged and Rhodey nodded in approval.

"I can't believe you had a kid." Rhodey shook his head in disbelief and Tony rolled his eyes.

"You do know you're an Uncle now." Tony told him and Rhodey's face dropped, Tony just laughed.

★・・・・・・★

"Todays top story: Tony Stark, Inventor, Millionaire, CEO OF STARK INDUSTRIES and infamous playboy has announced that he has had a child"

"New Stark heir announced: (Y/n) Maria Stark."

"Tony Stark has welcomed a daughter into the world, (Y/n) Maria Stark. The 6 month old..."

"Infamous Playboy is now a single father? Tony Stark has been revealed to have a baby daughter."

"Are we about to see a new Stark generation? More about the announcement of Tony Stark's new parenthood."

"Tony Stark has had a daughter, (Y/n) Maria Stark was born on..."

"No, I didn't know you were going to announce the existence of my infant daughter to the whole world!... No that is not your decision-....I don't care! You had no right to announce my daughter's birth without my approval! At the very least you could've told me you were going to announce her!... I know you announced it. The company doesn't make public announcements like that on its own... I am not going to let my daughter be free publicity for the company!... Obadiah, I don't care what benefit it has for investors to see me as more. What? Domestic. I don't care.... I'm done talking to you. Bye." Just as Tony hung up a cry was sounded through his bedroom.

"Yes honey, I know, I'm upset too." The little 6 month old stared up at him with big watery eyes from where she was sat on the bed next to him.

★・・・・・・★

"JARVIS? Are you recording?"

"Of course sir."

"Come to Daddy. Come on, you can do it!" The 8 month old stared at him for a moment. She was in the position to crawl and had tried numerous times before. "Come on, (Y/n). You've got this, sweetheart- Yeah! That's it!" Tony clapped as the baby crawled slightly towards a toy in front of her and laughed when she saw her father be so ecstatic. She moved to sitting down and clapping with him.

"Da!" She had been saying for the past 2 months. She didn't associate the word with Tony yet but he reacted all the same. Overjoyed and happy. From that moment she crawled she never stopped until she found her father's toolbox. (Y/n) didn't have a clue what any of the tools did but it was a sign to Tony that she was going to have the same brilliant mind that he did. She was a Stark, through and through.

★・・・・・・★

Tony still had to go into work sometimes. No matter how much he hated going to his office nowadays it was still obligation and there's only so much of Pepper's nagging he can take. However, that being said he was still Tony Stark so he was going to bend the rules. That's how he ended up walking into multiple important meetings with a baby on his hip. Sometimes it was meetings with government officials or international ambassadors for militaries that were interested in his technology. It was safe to say they were surprised at the appearance of the baby or at least weren't expecting her.

"Tony, you know you can't bring her here."

"Who says? It's my company, she doesn't effect my work. In fact she helps, she knows what a screwdriver is-"

"Screwdriver"

"-See? My little helper. She's talking a lot now. You should come by more often, you're missing out." Tony pointed at Obadiah as (Y/n) made work of trying to climb over his shoulder to see above the chair they were sitting on. She likes the big glass window behind them.

"Jesus Tony, you sound like a woman." Obadiah chided and Tony chuckled pulling his daughter down and sitting her on the desk where she immediately took offence to some decoration Pepper had put on the desk and kicked it off with a groan.

"I never liked that one either. Thanks, honey. And to answer you, I don't give two shits."

"Shit." (Y/n) repeated with a cross face and both men chuckled.

"You're not telling her off for that?" Obadiah asked.

"No she doesn't know what it means plus I say it too much to kick out my vocab so I'm letting it stay in hers too."

"People are going to criticise you for this."

"The world is cruel to a single father, Obadiah. At least I'm rich." Tony said

"Rich." (Y/n) repeated.

"She already knows she's worth more than me." Obadiah commented and Tony chuckled.

"I've been trying to get her to say millionaire but it's not quite there yet sounds like 'milloner'." Tony told Obadiah who smirked.

"You're close to being a billionaire, Tony. I think this next deal may make that happen." Obadiah told him, placing a folder down in front of him.

"Maybe." Tony agreed and Obadiah picked up at toy on the floor and handed it towards (Y/n).

"I believe this is yours, little missy." He told her and she only frowned and looked upset and he only got an answer when Tony looked up from the file.

"She doesn't like to be handed stuff- just leave it there, if she wants it she'll take it." Tony told him before going back to reading the file.

"The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?" Obadiah murmured.

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year

Note

I loved your Loki headcanons! They were really cute! If you're still doing requests, what about some more fluff! Maybe some drunk!husband x reader? Just have affectionate do they get when they had just a bit too much and then see their wife?

-Loki- Is a total puppy love type of drunk, as soon as he sees you when he walks in, totally sloshed, he is immediately in your arms, his head in your lap as he was laid out on the couch you had been sitting on, “Y/N~ I missed you so~ much~!!” you can’t help but giggle down at him, seeing how adorable he was acting. He rolled over so he was looking up at you and you smiled down at him. Tears immediately welled in his eyes, a hand coming to cup one of your cheeks, “You’re so happy- why are you happy?” you giggle, holding his hand to your cheek while your other hand fluffed his bangs away from his slightly sweaty forehead, “I’m happy that you’re home.” A few moments later you were dealing with a sobbing Loki burrito who was crying in your lap, overwhelmed with pure happiness that you were just happy that he was home.

-Tesla- On rare occasion, his brother will drag him away from his work to relax and spend time with him, when you don’t have ahold of him. When he arrived home, having a mid-week, mid-day bender with his older brother, he was barely walking, stumbling everywhere before he caught himself on the doorway to the kitchen of your home, seeing you there, making some stew. His eyes widened as a smile spread across his lips, “Y/N~”�� you turn, a bit surprised to hear him home before a grin rises to your lips, giggling as he stumbled over to you, reeking of alcohol, but wraps his arms around you, “I love you so much~ I want to marry you Y/N!” your giggles increase as you squeeze him back, “Nikola, we’ve been married for three years now.” You felt him flinch in your arms before he pulls back, looking at you like you were lying before tears welled in his eyes, hugging you again, “We’re married~~” you laugh, patting his back gently before telling him to go and take a bath and you would have dinner ready shortly.

-Hermes- Drinking with Zeus was always a wild ride, but Hermes felt like death, he was nauseous, dizzy, and just wanted to go to bed. He remembered faintly entering the home he shared with you, but then everything was dark for a bit. When his eyes opened again, he found himself in his bed, his head in your lap and he felt a wet washcloth on the back of his neck. You were reading a book and stroking his hair, soothing his headache and you smiled down at him, “Hello handsome, how are you feeling?” he rolled only slightly, so he could look up at you, his hands coming to cup your cheeks and you did the same for him, your thumbs stroking his cheeks gently, “Y/N…you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” your cheeks redden only slightly but you smile, “You tell me all the time, but it always make me smile when you tell me.” he smiled up at you, adoration in his eyes before you pat his cheek gently, “I’ll go make you some tea.” He grinned warmly, flopping over onto his belly, “What did I do to deserve you?” you giggle but you didn’t answer, leaving him to wonder what he truly did to get you.

-Lu Bu- His liver of iron makes it hard for him to get drunk, as in really drunk, but on the very rare occasion he is totally smashed, he is like a giant, murderous, cat. If he’s around strangers, he’s going to be throwing hands with whoever is around. However, if he’s with you, he will have his head in your lap, his arms around your waist, while you brush your fingers through his hair, basking in your attention. He usually doesn’t speak much when he’s like this, he will occasionally squeeze your waist when your hands stop, which you think is rather cute. When Lu Bu gets drunk like this, you better be on your bed or at least somewhere comfortable, because he’s going to lay there for at least two hours, or if you managed to lull him to sleep, then you might have a slim chance of slipping out of his grip. It’s better to just get comfortable and cuddle with him or nap with him until he sobers up.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki #ror tesla #ror hermes #ror lu bu

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foolnamedjoey · 6 months

Text

CRINGE FANFIC ROOMMATES AU BULLSHIT I MADE UNDER CUT THIS MAKES ME VERY EMBARRASSED WEHEHEH

IM VERYY NEW TO WRITING PLEASE BE NICE UGHRUSGFJKN

Amy walks out of her bedroom and stops in the kitchen where Sonic and Silver are sitting at the table with papers, history books, and Sonic’s pile of chip bags and soda cans.

“Sonic, Silver! Just so you know me and Shade are going downtown. A new shopping center opened up!” Amy declares, smiling.

“Huh? Is that why Shadow woke up at 5 in the morning?” Silver asks.

“Don’t remind me. Also, you guys didn’t invite me?” Sonic says, leaning his head forward, clearly joking.

“Oh please. You hate shopping.” Amy laughs.

“Aaah, you caught me.” Sonic dramatically sighs and leans back in his chair.

Silver snickers and Amy rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Anyway– where’s Shadow? We’re leaving in a few.” Amy asks.

“Eh, bathroom.” Sonic shrugs and leans back forward to snag a soda.

Amy walks past Sonic and Silver to the hallway.

“Shadow?” Amy calls out.

Shadow responds, “What.”

Amy walks down the hallway and stops at the bathroom entrance.

“What are you doing?” Amy asks, leaning on the door frame and smiling.

Shadow stays silent and stares at Amy as a curling iron starts burning his quills.

Amy looks confused for a moment “Shadow! The iron!” Shadow fumbles with the curling iron and drops it in the sink.

“Damn it.” Shadow curses. Amy laughs and walks over next to Shadow.

“C’mon, we’re leaving soon. Let me help.” “You really don’t have to, Rose.” “I insist.”

Shadow rolls his eyes as Amy grabs a brush to brush Shadow’s fur out.

“Soo- why’d you wake up at 5am?” Amy asks as she brushes Shadow’s head.

“To get ready.” Shadow says bluntly, and Amy lets out a soft laugh.

“Sure, but you can’t possibly be spending hours getting ready! Not even Silver takes that long!”

Shadow chuckles, and Amy puts the brush down and hands Shadow his jacket.

“I just care more about what I look like more than Silver.” Shadow says, taking his jacket back and putting it on.

“But he has white fur! It’s so much easier cleaning your black fur compared to his white.”

“Well.. I also have skin care and dye to do.” Shadow mumbles.

As the conversation continues, Shadow and Amy start walking back to the kitchen.

“That stuff’s your’s?! No-way, I thought that was someone else’s!” Amy laughs and pokes Shadow’s side.

Shadow waves Amy’s hand away and grabs one of Sonic’s chip bags. “Like who? Sonic with his unkempt quills? I think not!”

Sonic tries to grab the bag before Shadow, but fails and scowls. “Hey!” Sonic yells.

Shadow chuckles, “Calm down, you know it’s true.”

Silver looks up from his paper to Shadow. “I think Sonic’s quills are pretty well-kempt.”

Shadow sighs and walks to the living room. “Not a word, Silver.”

Amy grabs a soda and sits down on the couch in the living room.

“I mean- well-kept.” Silver corrects.

“Pft. Thank you, Silver. At least someone respects me…” Sonic says in a dramatic teasing way.

“Who said I respect you?” Silver asks.

Amy chokes on her soda and laughs. “Alright- okay- see you later guys. Shadow, c’mon.”

Shadow and Amy wave goodbye to Sonic and Silver. They wave back and as soon as the door shuts Sonic looks over at Silver. “C’mon man, you did me that dirty?” Sonic raises his hands in question. “Well I don’t respect you!” Silver says, smiling. “Shut-up!” Sonic laughs and shoves Silver’s shoulder.

#Edit: i'm too embarrassed to respond to comments sorry #GOD IM CRINGE #I CANT WAIT FOR AO3 #I WANNA BE SILLY *NOW*#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic au #silver #silver the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic fanfiction

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driflew · 10 months

Text

hello hello i have another au cherri and i came up with! this one’s called blindsided and this is the backstory that sets up the rest of the storyline. ive posted two bits about it for six sentence sunday, but that’s basically all. so uh. woe no context one shot be upon ye

Martyn’s out late.

That’s not necessarily unusual—Most nights, Ren wouldn’t even care. Martyn has a tendency to lose track of time, and he loves to wander almost as much as he loves Ren. It’s not uncommon for him to take an extra hour or so to get home after going out on this or that errand, usually with an interesting story or something extra tucked under his arm. Really, Ren hadn’t been worried at all… at least, not for the first hour.

It’s gotten dark now. Martyn was supposed to be home a few hours ago, and Ren is really starting to worry. He’s being unreasonable, he’s sure, but he flags down a member of his staff all the same.

“Could you run into town and find Martyn? He must’ve lost track of the time. Tell him he doesn’t have to come home, but I’d at least like to know what’s keeping him.” Ren bites his lip, wringing his hands. “I’d prefer it if he came home, though.”

The man nods. He turns and heads out the door without another word, leaving Ren to sit by himself. Town isn’t far, but Martyn likes to roam…

Ren picks up a book off the table and sits down. He’ll be here a while.

—

“My lord?” Ren starts awake at the sound of his title, book falling out of his lap. He doesn’t remember dozing off, but he scoops the book off the ground anyway.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the man says, but Ren smiles, waving him off.

“It’s fine,” Ren says, then looks past him. The hall is empty. “Martyn was busy, then?”

The man looks away.

“Your grace, uh,” the man stumbles. He glances over Ren, still seated at the fire, and then says, “He’s dead, sire.”

“…What?”

“He— there was a fight. I asked around for— for a while. A pirate engaged Martyn in the street and stabbed him in the back. The fight moved to an alley and, while I couldn’t find anyone who saw it, uh, he was heard, uh… people heard the scuffle. From the main street and from the buildings around it. When it stopped, he was carried away, and he was… they said he, um, didn’t look to be breathing, and there was a lot of, um— To confirm it, I visited the alley, still bearing proof of the fight, and it was. Bad. Even if he survived the fight, by now, with the pirates that took him, he’s certainly bled too much. I-I’m sorry.”

Ren says nothing, not for a long while. His mouth hangs open, his body still a mockery of the relaxed way he’d been leaning back in his chair.

That… can’t be true, can it? Martyn is strong. Surely he wouldn’t…

“Gather— gather as much of the staff as you can. We’re going to— we have to look for—” Ren stammers, climbing out of the chair. “The pirates, the ones who— what did they look like? If they have Martyn, I want him back.”

The man looks at him sadly, but nods. “I’ll gather the staff and meet you by the gate, and I’ll tell everyone what I heard.”

—

The search turns up nothing, but not for lack of trying. Martyn had been popular among the staff, and many of the men and women on the streets would call themselves his friends.

It is for precisely this reason no one will let Ren see the alleyway. He knows even without asking that he’s found the right one—all he has to do is follow the overpowering smell of copper and iron.

“It might have clues as to who did this!” Ren insists.

“We can review the clues,” says one of the posted guards.

“I would like to help,” Ren insists, “We don’t have time to be arguing about this. Martyn could still be alive.”

The two guards at the mouth of the alley share a glance, all pity. Ren bites his tongue to keep from snapping.

“Your grace, if I may,” the second guard says, “We’re trying to look out for you. It will only upset you to see the site of the crime.“

Ren considers saying that he’s already quite upset, thank you, but he doesn’t want to antagonize them into keeping him entirely out.

“I can handle myself,” Ren says, entirely without basis. “Let me through.”

They do, though not without another long, pitying glance.

Ren steps past.

For a moment, Ren thinks the alley may be paved with brick. The realization that it’s simply blood, splattered across half the alley, nearly knocks him over, but shock keeps him upright.

Well, that and the smell. Ren doesn’t think he could handle getting any closer to it by falling to his knees.

There’s plenty of proof here that the victim was… wasn’t mistaken. Martyn’s sword lies forgotten on the tiles, leather hilt stained a deeper brown.

There’s something lying in the thickest part of the puddle. Ren steps closer without a word, lifting his sleeve to his nose.

Martyn’s braid lies in the middle of the alley. He knows it intimately—he’d been the one to tie it just this morning, had placed the ribbon at the end himself. The cut is jagged and uneven, and it’s come loose on the end that would have… would have been attached to Martyn’s head. This, too, is covered in blood, just like everything else, and flakes off into Ren’s hand as he picks it up.

Ren holds it close to his chest, turning and leaving the alleyway without another word.

—

They don’t find him. Ren looks the entire night, braid clutched in one white-knuckle grip. He’s careful not to let it go, fearing that it may unravel if he isn’t. This is, he tells himself, a quality unique to the braid, and mirrors nothing and no one.

—

Ren is still holding it when he goes to sleep that night. It doesn’t smell like Martyn— at least, not exclusively. Hints of him are left when Ren pushes his nose into it, but they’re lost quickly to the smell of blood.

This smells like Martyn, too, of course, but is not a scent Ren ever thought he’d become familiar with.

He doesn’t change. Martyn is often the one who helps him, and he doesn’t think to ask anyone else. Not that it matters what he wears to bed tonight. Ren thinks sleep will be impossible, all alone in that bed for two.

The truth is, Ren is so exhausted after searching for Martyn, he sleeps like the dead. As far as Ren knows, it’s the last moment of connection he and Martyn will ever have.

—

The braid’s come untangled when he wakes up, loose hair lying beside his pillow, held together only by a red bow.

Ren has no bow to hold him together, and for the first and last time after losing Martyn, he shoves his face into the fistful of hair and sobs.

—

It seems, for a while, like a random act of bad luck. Martyn was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s heartbreaking, and Ren doesn’t understand it, but at least it’s over.

He finds the box on his bed. It’s labeled with Ren’s name, signed by Martyn’s, but the handwriting isn’t his. It’s too nice, too neat.

One of his staff must have put it here, but why? They might be trying to cheer him up, but… Why does Ren feel so uneasy?

There’s something about the box that makes Ren want to turn and run. He no longer has anyone to hide behind, though, so he lifts the box.

It’s light. When he shakes it, he hears glass. When he opens it, he—

When he opens it—

When he—

Ren… doesn’t remember much about opening the box. He hears about it second hand, only when his staff thinks he’s out of earshot.

He was screaming for hours afterward, says one, and though Ren doesn’t remember, his throat is still sore.

He wouldn’t let go. It had to be pried out of his hands, says another. Ren looks down. There are bruises on his wrist he doesn’t remember getting.

I heard his grace passed out after. Is that true? Ren’s head is still sore where the back of his head allegedly collided with the bed frame.

I haven’t seen him since. He hasn’t let anyone into his chambers and he doesn’t come out anymore. How is he supposed to let anyone in? Someone in this house left this on his bed. His bed, where he and Martyn used to sleep, and he has no idea who. It could be any of them. It could be all of them.

That’s so scary. Is it safe to stay? I’m thinking about leaving… Leave, then. Ren doesn’t want or need a single one of them.

Did you see what it looked like? Ren doesn’t need to eavesdrop for that. Martyn’s eye is something he’d known intimately before, had been able to speak to and understand without even a word. He’d recognize it immediately, even severed, even blank.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget opening it. The box had been a flimsy cardboard, and had opened easily. There had been writing on the inside flap, more elegant than the text outside.

BACK DOWN, it had read, OR SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN.

And then he’d looked down.

When he thinks of Martyn now, it’s hard to remember anything except the glazed blue eye that had stared back.

If there’s a god out there, Ren hopes He’ll tell Martyn how sorry he is.

—

The thing is, it almost works. Ren hardly leaves his room, and when he does, he stays within the manor. Much of his staff leaves in that time, and of those left, he fires almost all.

The criteria is simple. Anyone whose whereabouts the night the box appeared he can’t ascertain beyond reasonable doubt, he sends away.

The staff consists of a few cooks, a few gardeners, a few maids, a few aides. Most of his attendants leave on their own—no one wants to be seen near Ren.

Despite the small staff, the manor workload gets lighter. Ren’s life ends the same day Martyn’s does.

It’s fear that drives him. They took his body, after all—there is nothing Ren fears more than receiving another piece.

It keeps him in bed. It keeps him awake. He won’t risk anything, not a toe out of line. He cows entirely, and it doesn’t save him. Every night, he sees it—a box on his bed, his hands reaching without his input, something staring back.

—

It takes a few months for sympathy to dry up. Ren’s back to doing only the bare minimum, running his estate and only his estate—staying exactly in his own lane. He hears his little staff whispering about it, though. About how it was bad, sure, but really, he’s supposed to be a duke. He can’t lie in bed moping forever. At this rate, they may as well give the title to someone else, someone less… fragile.

That would mean losing the manor, though. Losing their home, losing the place Martyn spent all his life. Losing the dream he and Martyn made together.

So Ren climbs out of bed. He gets dressed all on his own, dries his face, and vows not to let Martyn’s life have been wasted on him.

He has no choice.

—

It’s fear that drives him. Ren is afraid all the time. Afraid he’ll lose his home. Afraid he’ll waste Martyn’s life by not doing enough. Afraid he’ll receive another box by doing too much.

But Ren can’t be afraid. Not where anyone can see him.

So Ren is angry all the time.

They call him ruthless, volatile, cold as ice. He doesn’t think that’s fair—he’s never sent anyone a severed limb. But if they think he’s ruthless, maybe they’ll think twice before crossing him. Maybe if he’d been cold then…

He burns, constantly, fire seering at his heels to keep him running ever forward. There’s no safe place to rest, and so he won’t.

His dreams make sure of that.

Ren wakes up gasping, hands curled tight around something that isn’t real. Sometimes it’s an eye, sometimes it’s not. A finger, a hand, a tongue. A head, one socket empty, the other bright and intelligent and looking right at him—

He doesn’t think he’s dreamed of anything but that box for a year after he opens it. They die down a bit, but return every time Ren is stressed.

Ren is stressed all the time.

Tired, too, absolutely exhausted, not that it helps him get any sleep. He works in his office to avoid it, staying up late into the night managing this or that until he sees deeds and bills behind his eyelids instead.

—

He wants to move beds, but how could he? This was Martyn’s, too, was once the place he felt safest. He can’t leave it, even if it features so prominently in the worst moment of his life.

Hiding under their blankets like it’ll protect him, Ren has to wonder. What would Martyn think of him now?

He’ll never know, but the eye changes. He dreams of pity, an eye floating in a bottle of sympathetic tears. He dreams of accusation, bloody fingerprints staining the glass. He dreams of scorn, an eye that won’t even look at him. He dreams of love, rarely.

—

Theirs is not the bed he’s taken from, at the least.

No, King Ren is stolen from the castle, so as to be sure he never feels safe in any place he could conceivably consider home.

—

Ren sits on the deck of the ship, kneels at the feet of the Captain. When he looks up at the man who has stolen him from his new home, he finds himself eye level with a coat he knows very well.

The Captain speaks of assassination, then of ransom. Promises not to hurt the King, so long as he can get money for his life.

Ren wants to scoff, but he doesn’t. The only man who would have paid for his life is long dead, and the Captain wears a trophy of his murder tied around his waist.

Ren knows fear. He knows how to bury it, too, how to smother it in so much anger it boils him alive in his own bubbling, frothing blood.

He is so beyond the point of being afraid for his worthless, meaningless life. If he can make the Captain bleed, then it will all have been worth it.

#lew writes #blindsided #i will promise you the guy's not actually dead. it's probably fine

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