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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙢 || dieter bravo x camgirl!reader (part three; finale)

read 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 (part one) and 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢 (part two) first!

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || he can't believe you're really here— now he has to just try not to blow it... figuratively speaking.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (18+ only; unprotected sex, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms/overstimulation [for reader], creampie), sex work (however dieter technically does not pay the reader for sex, just her flight to visit him c:), mentions of covid-19 pandemic, soft dieter being soft, emotions!! lots of 'em!, extremely sappy/fluffy ending (oops?)

He wasn’t sure who he was more worried would get recognized: you, or himself.

It was his idea to go out to dinner first, in fact he’d insisted on it. Going out to dinner in times like these was a bit iffy, but thankfully the place had outdoor dining and you’d both already tested negative— for more than just the virus…

It was a beautiful evening to eat outside, but it made him even more anxious that any passerby might know him either of you from your respective works; so far, no one had said anything though.

As he watched you take a sip of your sparkling water, he realized that he hadn’t had a crush on anyone in a long, long time. He hadn’t had sweating palms and a racing heart and a dry throat over someone since probably high school. By the time he was in his BFA program, he was so focused on his craft that he didn’t find himself worrying much about that sort of stuff— and if he wanted to get someone into bed, it didn’t seem like much to stress over.

This was different. This wasn’t an issue of getting you to sleep with him, although he certainly hoped you wouldn’t renege on the intentions you’d stated before— this was about getting you to like him, maybe even (as he would’ve put it back when he last had a crush) ‘like like’ him.

“Was your flight okay?” Dieter asked compulsively to fill the silence, proud of himself for thinking of something to say.

“Still good,” you nodded. “You asked me that when we first got here.”

“Right,” he sighed, “sorry. I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, setting your glass down on the white tablecloth. “I’m nervous, too. But in a good way.”

He smiled. “Yeah— I’m just really excited that you’re here. And it’s still kind of weirding me out that you’re… you know, real.”

“It’s definitely trippy,” you agreed. “When you see somebody over video chat a lot, they look sort of surreal in real life.”

“Are you… speaking from experience?” he wondered, lowering his voice a bit.

“Yeah— but not this kind of experience,” you clarified. “I’ve never met anyone from my work before— I told you that.”

“Right, yeah— I believe you,” he assured. “Have you ever flown overseas just to meet someone before?”

You laughed, looking down for a second. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, “but this isn’t the first time I’ve been, you know, wined and dined by somebody…”

“Well, I figured this wasn’t your first date,” Dieter scoffed.

“No, I mean— well, yeah,” you hummed, “but I, um… before I started camming, I was actually a sugar baby. So I’ve had my flights paid for before, is what I mean.”

He widened his eyes a little, but nodded— hoping to look more intrigued than overwhelmed. “Oh, wow, that’s— I don’t know a lot about that, honestly…”

“I was about to ask if you’d ever had a sugar baby before,” you smirked, “guess not.”

“Yeah, no,” he shook his head, “not my— not for me. Not before, I mean— is that what you want?”

He got a little nervous that you would only want that— a relationship built on money. He was more than happy to drop some cash on you— he’d offered to pay for everything for you on this trip, it only seemed fair when you had to come all this way— but he got a sick feeling in his stomach imagining that that was all you wanted from him.

But then again, he just said he didn’t know a lot about it, maybe it wasn’t like that… he just felt like it was another performance, and that was the last thing he needed from anybody.

“O-oh, no— not with us,” you answered quickly, blinking a few times, and he sighed with relief. “I mean, it was nice— it wasn’t all old guys and crazy finance douchebags like people think,” you explained with a laugh, “but it was… it was hard work, in its own way. ‘Cause another misconception is that it’s sex in exchange for money and gifts— it’s not, not the way I did it at least. Those guys wanted the ‘girlfriend experience’... that’s the most profitable thing, whether it’s online or in-person.”

Dieter cleared his throat; can’t blame them, I guess…

“But, you know, they didn’t have the time for a genuine relationship, so it was like giving that emotion but never receiving it,” you continued, “and that was exhausting. Not to mention most of them had other girls involved… I’m not a jealous person, but you know, that’s obviously not what I want for myself in the end. So I switched to camming, worked out well with the pandemic and everything…”

“I’m sure,” Dieter agreed. “So, um… maybe this is kind of a forward question, for a first date, but… what do you want for yourself in the end?”

You seemed to get a little more shy, then. “Well…” you began softly. “Despite what you’ve seen me do, I’m a pretty traditional girl. I want a serious relationship, I want a lifelong commitment, I want… a family, probably.”

It was hard not to feel a lump in his throat when you said that, even if his emotions were conflicted at best.

“I mean— that doesn’t have to be you,” you rushed out, “I’m just saying… that’s the end goal. I have a lot of time for that, in my opinion.”

“No, right,” he agreed. “So then, I guess the obvious question— and probably a much easier one— is what’s your goal for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I already told you my goal for tonight.”

He swallowed thickly. He remembered your last message before getting on the plane pretty clearly: boarding now. hopefully i can get some sleep but i’m pretty wired ngl. just thinking about getting there and jumping your bones. i want you to fuck me so hard i can’t walk (or think) straight.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded at all if you just took me straight to the hotel,” you smirked, “but dinner is nice.”

“Yeah, I— I thought about it,” he admitted. “But… can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I wanted this to be more than just… that,” he said. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell you, but he hoped it wouldn’t bother you too much. Thankfully, the gentle smile creeping up your face seemed to indicate that it wasn’t particularly offensive.

“So, what do you want this to be?” you pressed.

“We can figure that out as we go,” he offered, “we should get to know each other better— for real. But that night that we stayed up until three just talking after what was supposed to be a one-hour call—”

He saw you smile even wider as you remembered it.

“I haven’t felt close to anyone like that in—” he began, but it all stopped as the waiter suddenly appeared from thin air.

“Your tortellini, ma’am,” he said as he set your plate down in front of you, and you offered an intrigued ‘ooh’ as you examined the dish, “and your langoustines alla busara,” he finished as he set Dieter’s food down.

“Thank you,” you offered the server with a polite nod, but Dieter could only muster a hum— he was a little miffed that the guy had managed to interrupt such an important moment.

“Anything else I can get for you two?” he asked, looking back and forth.

You looked over at him to check first, before shaking your head and replying, “No, I think we’re alright.”

“Excellent,” he beamed. “And— can I just say one thing?”

You both paused, not sure what to make of that. “Uh, sure,” Dieter decided, since the waiter seemed to be looking at him.

“I loved you in Hunger Strike,” he said excitedly; Dieter tensed up, wanting to look at you to gauge your reaction but suddenly too afraid of what he’d find.

“Oh, thank you,” he mumbled out, “that… means a lot.”

“I mean, it really moved me,” the waiter insisted, even though Dieter just wanted this interaction to end promptly. “You were so— I’m really not trying to intrude, but is there any way I can get your autograph?”

Then he looked at you, and he couldn’t quite read the expression on your face— amusement, maybe, with a hefty dose of discomfort as well. You looked away and took a long sip of your drink. “Uhh,” Dieter choked, looking back at his adoring fan, “you’ll get my autograph when you bring the check.”

Seeming to realize that he had gone too far, the young man straightened up and cleared his throat. “Right, uh— enjoy your meal.”

Scampering away, he left the both of you behind, along with all that tension he’d created. How come he got a escape a situation that was his own fault, and Dieter was stuck here wondering if you would be upset that he didn’t tell you who he really was— or if you’d reveal you were a crazy stalker-fan the whole time— or if knowing he was famous would change your interest in being with him (if you even had any)?

“I’m… sorry about that,” Dieter finally offered to you, and you started to smile.

“Don’t be,” you chuckled, “it was kinda funny. Do you usually react so… badly, to that kind of thing?”

He coughed a bit. “No, I— are you not…? Do you know—?”

“I saw the movie, Hector, I don’t live under a rock,” you admitted.

“Oh.” Not sure what to say next, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “What did you think of it?”

Shrugging, you answered with a simple ‘eh’. There was a pause before he began to crack up— and then you did, too.

“So, I’ve been worrying about all you finding out about my career for nothing?” he assumed, and you nodded.

“I didn’t recognize you right away,” you explained, “but I put it together before we planned all this.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he wondered.

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed to, really,” you shrugged again. “It’s just your job. I was ready to talk about it if you brought it up— if you wanted to vent about work or something— but you never did, so I figured it must not be relevant.”

“Does it… change anything between us?” he asked nervously. “Do you feel weird about going out with a movie star?”

“Mm, I don’t know about star…” you smirked, making him laugh again— and that was the part that was the same as always. You still made him laugh, and now that the two of you were really talking again, it felt just like that night that you talked for hours— but even better.

When the plates were cleaned and the bill was paid, the two of you walked back to his hotel— he’d picked this place in part because he could see it from his window. But that brief walk back was one of his favorite parts of the night so far, only because he’d slipped his arm around you, and you leaned into him: in that moment, he felt more normal than he had in a long time— and yet, at the same time, special in a way he’d never felt before.

“I tried to clean up in here, but—”

“Isn’t there housekeeping for that?” you wondered.

“Yeah, but… I’ve had the ‘do not disturb’ sign up for the past week,” Dieter explained. “Didn’t want anyone to come in while we were talking…”

“Right,” you smiled, finishing your examination of the room and turning to face him again. The door shut on its own; you were looking at him with every light in the room reflected in your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, and wrapped his arms around you, and— why were his palms so clammy? “I don’t think I’ve been this nervous to kiss someone since… since maybe my first ever kiss,” he recalled, and you laughed softly.

“Yeah, me either,” you whispered back, and he ran his hand over the curve of your hip. “Who was your first kiss?”

“Uh, Sandy something… Brendan, I think— no, Brennan… Sandy Brennan. We sat next to each other in History class in seventh grade,” he recalled. “What about you?”

“I mean, unless you count a peck or two from my kindergarten boyfriend,” you chuckled, “my first real kiss wasn’t until high school— Gregory Cho. But I wasn’t that nervous… actually, I was sort of ready to get it over with.”

“There was someone I was really nervous to kiss in high school, too,” he recalled, “but that was… different.”

“Who was it?”

That name was much easier to recall. “Alex Brooks.”

“Was she super pretty? Or popular?” you pressed, wondering what had him so nervous, what made it different.

“Both,” Dieter replied quickly. “And… he was captain of the basketball team.”

You didn’t react strongly, but he still noticed it.

“Is that—?” he began to ask.

“He sounds like a real catch,” you smiled. “Was he a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” Dieter laughed, “for a high schooler. I guess things don’t feel as special now as they did back then— just some decent making-out in someone’s dad’s truck was the coolest thing, now it’s like— it’s all right there, you don’t have to…” he trailed off, but started a new sentence. “I mean, even you— I’ve seen every part of you, but I just really met you for the first time. And somehow I’m so afraid to kiss you.”

You were still smiling, but it changed, and you reached up to rest your hand on the back of his neck; it made him shiver in the best way. “If you’re afraid, then it must still be pretty special.”

You kissed him, after all that; he would’ve felt bad for making you wait, if he wasn’t so fully engrossed in kissing you back and pulling you closer and breathing in deeply against your skin.

For a long time, that was all it was— just one, amazing kiss. Just his lips on yours and the gentle dance of trying to go further without going to far; just your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders as he gripped your waist through the dress.

You started to pull him across the room by his shirt— towards the bed— and broke away to speak; he tried to chase your lips for more, but stopped when you bit your lip and rested a finger on his chin.

“You haven’t seen every part of me,” you corrected him— even though he barely fucking remembered saying that after a kiss like that. “I mean, my body, sure, but… not who I really am.”

“Then show me that,” he pleaded. “That’s what I want— you, everything.”

You smiled wide and kissed him again, the two of you toppling onto the bed together.

He’d been thinking about doing this since the moment he saw you: pulling up the bottom of your dress so he could pet your thighs, enamored with the smoothness of your skin. “Baby,” he purred when he caught sight of your panties— what little there was of them. The lace just gave him a glimpse of what was beneath, a tease of your perfect little cunt.

“God, I need you so bad,” you groaned as you pulled him down for another kiss; he’d been hard since you wrapped your arms around him, and he could swear he was already throbbing by the time he rocked his hips against yours. “Fuck— feels even bigger than it looked…”

“Maybe your computer screen wasn’t big enough,” he joked, making you laugh lightly before another moan came out when he rocked down on you again. “What do you want, beautiful?”

“You… you know what I want…” you panted, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Humor me,” he encouraged, moving in to kiss your neck— and loving the way you squirmed under him.

“Want— want you to fuck me,” you whimpered, “want you to make me— fuck— yours…”

He groaned deeply as he rutted his hips into yours harder, finally taunting you to the point that you had to reach down and start opening his pants. “So eager,” he mocked playfully, as if he wasn’t going to ravage you the second you were done getting his cock out.

In fact, he almost tore your dress as he pulled it down to expose your chest, barely finding the time to appreciate the view of your tits before latching his mouth onto them. “Oh fuck,” you gasped, and he smiled around the pert nipple in his mouth; these had seemed sensitive from the way you toyed with them as you touched yourself, but it was heaven on earth to confirm his suspicion himself.

“Want me to make you mine?” he prompted again, voice muffled by your delicate skin in his mouth, and you whimpered as you nodded.

“Yes— please—” you begged.

“Not sure I can do that,” he warned, and you gave him a confused look. “You’re already mine, you told me yourself.”

You giggled, arching your back slightly as the tip of his tongue drew circles on you. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Mhm," he confirmed. "Hard to forget."

"Well, m'still yours," you offered, "but I need you right now, I'll do— fuck, anything, just—"

"You don't need to do anything," he assured, looking up at you as he moved his mouth from your breast down a little lower, "just lay back and I'm gonna take care of you."

You bit your lip and nodded.

"Second I saw you I wanted to kiss you all over," he sighed.

"Well, I've got a couple ideas of where you can start," you smirked.

And yes, he would love to start there, but he needed to do his best not to rush this. So, smiling up at you first, he began his journey. His lips and tongue explored your body on his way down: a kiss here, a lick there, a playful bite when he felt extra naughty. "You're so fucking beautiful," he mumbled against you.

"Yeah? You too," you sighed.

He didn't think of himself like that— handsome, maybe, certainly aware of his better angles, but beautiful felt strange. But he liked it, especially when you said it. Especially when you said it while he was slotting his face between your legs.

It was even prettier up close, and the smell was fucking intoxicating: tangy and musky and sweet, heady, earthy, human. And he knew you'd taste even better.

So he dove right in. Maybe he should've started with your clit, that would've been the obvious choice, but his instincts led him to just slide his tongue right into your hole. If nothing else, it certainly seemed to take you off guard, and you gasped as you grabbed onto his hair with both hands.

"Baby, fuck, that's— oh god, you can't imagine how many times I thought of this," you admitted, breathing heavy already. He smiled against you, then gave you one big lick from the furthest down his tongue could reach all the way to the very top— all while holding fierce eye contact with you. "Fu-uuuuck," you choked, dropping your head back just as your eyes rolled up. "That's so… just do that again, please…"

He did it a few more times, noticing the way you seemed to get more impatient with each one, until your hips were chasing after his tongue. "Stay still, baby, don't you trust me to do this right?" he purred, holding tighter on your hips.

"Yeah, I just— been so long," you whimpered.

He just did his best to find what made you scream the loudest and keep doing that— you were so sensitive, he just had to press his tongue down flat on your clit and move it in circles and you’d start shaking and sobbing and begging. He moaned into you every time you tugged on his hair, having to rock his hips against the bed to appease his attention-deprived cock.

"You're… so amazing," you panted, "I— fuck! Oh god, I can't remember the last time someone—"

You never finished your thought, because he started fucking you with his tongue and you were too busy moaning his name, but he couldn't believe what a waste it was that nobody was eating this pussy on a regular basis.

"Gonna— oh fuck, yes, gonna come," you warned, "I… I'm gonna come so fucking hard…"

You started shaking, and he started fighting to keep you as still as he could so his work wouldn't be interrupted. For a second he wondered if you were already coming or not— but then you made this noise, and your cunt clamped down on his tongue, and you cried out his name; it was perfect, it was the most beautiful moment he could ever imagine.

When it became too much, you went from tugging his hair to pushing him away with it, and he grinned up at you with a breathy laugh. “Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, and he saw the tear streaks on your temples and cheeks. He traced one with his thumb before kissing you again— deep and hungry, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He hummed when your hands reached down to work on getting his pants off— eager and shaky, he certainly related to that. As soon as your hand wrapped around his cock, he moaned, just from that. He was almost embarrassed about it, until you bit his lip in playful encouragement. "Does that feel good?" you purred.

"Yeah— your hands are better than mine," he laughed breathlessly.

"How about this?" you raised an eyebrow, swiping your thumb over his slit, and he groaned as he rocked into your touch.

"God, baby…" he groaned. As good as it felt, he found the strength to grab you by both your wrists and pin them down by your head. You grinned, struggling just a bit, and moaned as he slid his cock against your soaking pussy.

“Don’t tease me,” you begged, “feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

But he wasn’t teasing you— he was psyching himself up.

Believe it or not, he actually felt pretty nervous about this part. Not for a lack of experience— for the entirely opposite reason. Dieter had been with a lot of people, and for the most part, it was all… the same. It all blended together— he only remembered those people from when he was a kid because he was a kid, and his romantic encounters were so few and far between. He could remember details of his various partners from the last few years— Crystal who had a clit piercing, Marvin who begged to be choked, Cameron who seemed to enjoy giving him a blowjob even more than he enjoyed receiving it— but this, the actual sex, it was generally pretty interchangeable.

So, he was worried that after all that build-up, after all the yearning and fantasizing and talking, that this would be the end of it being special— and you would just turn into a hook-up with a slightly more interesting backstory than the rest.

As valid as that fear was, it was far from enough to stop him now, not when you were looking up at him and tightening your fists as he kept you pinned and silently begging for him with your eyes.

He had to let go of one of your hands to guide himself inside, but he interlaced the other with your fingers while he did it— and then, with one strong push, he was fully within you.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, “you feel… different.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling a little. “Uh, different than what?”

Than everyone else. “I— I don’t know,” he breathed, “I’m not making sense.”

“Not really,” you agreed with a laugh.

“Hard to think straight right now,” he defended.

It wasn’t just that you felt different— it was that this felt different: being with someone he really cared about, that he wanted to impress, that he wanted to see after this was over.

Someone that he never wanted to let go of.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you whimpered, “fuck, don’t stop— feels so good—”

One of the benefits of making you come on his tongue first was that he knew it wouldn't be that bad if he didn't last too long now— though that wasn't why he did it. In fact, this was rarely his issue, if anything sometimes he struggled to finish for unclear reasons.

But even if he could get away with finishing quickly, he wanted to make this last as long as he could. He never wanted this to end, actually.

As he found his pace— not too speedy yet, but with a bit of his eagerness showing— he kissed you again, deeply and hungrily. He wondered if he'd ever done this before: kissing during sex. He felt like he probably had, and yet he couldn't remember it— maybe that said more than anything.

This, on the other hand, was very memorable. He slid his arms under you when your back arched, he held you tight and close and drank in every one of your moans through that kiss.

For how many times he’d pictured fucking you, he never really imagined it like this… and he thought he’d imagined it every way before. But he realized that he’d mostly imagined it a bit kinker— you riding him, or him fucking you while you were bent over the table in his room, or 69’ing or something. This was passionate, and sorta slow; this was his hips grinding on yours with every thrust so he could keep rubbing your sore clit; this was making love, he realized— if it wasn’t, he couldn’t imagine what was.

“I— fuck, baby— think I’m gonna come again,” you warned him with the most beautiful whiny sob.

“Fuck, already?” he smiled, and you nodded feverishly.

“Just… don’t stop, please, just like that— fuuuuck!” you choked, and he gasped every time your walls clenched down on him.

“You’re so fucking perfect, fuck,” he grunted, moving a bit faster and not letting up on the pressure from his pubic bone on your clit, even when you actually screamed under him. “You’re so amazing, oh god, I—”

He heard it before he said it: I think I love you. He stopped himself before blurting it out— maybe he’d tell you after, but he wasn’t so far gone to forget that this wasn’t the right time. You’d think he didn’t really mean it, that it was just the delirium talking from how incredible you felt, but he knew it was so much more than that.

He shut himself up by kissing your neck— not too hard, but plenty to leave a mark, and make you squirm in the process. Your hands wrapped around his back and your nails dug into his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the pain of it, he couldn’t feel anything but the sticky, resplendent heat of your body.

“So much fucking better than the goddamn dildos,” you said suddenly, and he laughed against your skin.

“Do you miss all those people watching you come?” he wondered.

“No, fuck no,” you panted, “there’s nobody else but you.”

He couldn’t help but fuck you faster when you said that— you should’ve known better than to stroke his ego that way.

“Fuck!” you sobbed. “Hector, baby, you’re so— oh god, I don’t know if I can take it—”

“Shh, you can,” he promised, “you can do anything, you can come for me again—”

“Oh fuck, I— I might,” you admitted shakily, “but then I’ll— I’ll fucking pass out or something.”

“No, you’ll be okay,” he promised, cooing at you softly. “You’ll be so good for me, I know you will— just come for me one more time, baby, tell me what you need to come again.”

“I… just a little time is all I need,” you answered, voice breaking. “I swear I’ve never— I’m not usually so— fuck, it’s just you—”

“I know,” he assured, loving the way you babbled praises but worried it would distract you from coming again; and if you didn’t soon, there wouldn’t be time before he lost it. He was already barely able to keep his composure just from how beautiful you looked like this, let alone how you felt. “I know, just let it happen, I know it’s right there for me— just come for me, beautiful—”

You dragged him down into a sloppy kiss, and he felt it— those incredible pulses inside you, waves of slick coating him until he felt sticky all the way down his thighs; your sobs were more precious than anything he’d ever heard.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he praised, fucking you even faster now as your head fell back limply. “I can’t h-hold back anymore, I need to—”

“I know,” you said to him this time, “it’s okay, please— want you to…”

“You still— oh my god…” he choked, losing his train of thought for a moment. “You still want me to come inside you? Wanna be full?”

“Yes,” you whined, “yes, baby, please— wanna be so full of your come, I want everything—”

"Fuck, okay," he agreed, gasping as he tried to keep up his pace despite the growing pressure inside. "I'm really fucking close…”

“I’m yours,” you told him again— and then he went from ‘really fucking close’ to ‘already fucking there’. He came inside you with a long, whimpered groan; his head dropped onto your shoulder while each pump filled you, trying to catch his breath but feeling like he’d never find it again.

Admitting he loved you during sex wasn’t a good idea, but saying it immediately after wasn’t that much of an improvement. Now, though, he was too exhausted to keep his mouth shut. “I think I love you,” he blurted out suddenly.

For one incredibly long second, you didn’t react at all. You looked up at him, and he hesitated to even look back because he didn’t want to see anything less than ecstasy on your face. “Oh,” you said, “cool.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he anticipated, good or bad, but it wasn’t that.

“Let me know when you know,” you suggested.

“No! No— I know,” he insisted, reaching up to hold your face, “I know. I love you. I think I did even before you came here, but… it just seemed so crazy. We don’t know each other as well as we should for that, right? But I feel it— I feel something that I just can’t explain—”

“Hey, slow down,” you laughed, “I feel it too.”

The way you smiled at him, resting your hand on his chest— was he glowing? He felt like he was actually glowing. “Good,” he decided.

“Let’s get to know each other better, then,” you announced. “Start from the beginning, the whole thing: parents, siblings, school, favorite movies, worst dates, hot dogs or hamburgers—”

“No, you start,” he pouted, “you’re more interesting.”

“Me? Please, I’m just your average camgirl titty streamer, don’t worry about it,” you scoffed.

“And I’m just some lame old Oscar winner,” he shrugged.

But both of you talked— all night, actually. You never fell asleep, he was never even that tired— you kept him so full of energy he didn’t even notice how long it had been until the sun started to come up. And then you kept talking at breakfast. And then you fucked again, and talked some more after; he knew it had to end, eventually, but he didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about you going home and letting something so perfect end.

He told you just as much on the last night— assuming you didn’t switch your flight home to a later day again. You’d just been laying in his arms after another bout of passionately desperate fucking, both of you half-asleep but not wanting the separation of even just unconsciousness, and he blurted it out.

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded under his breath. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t,” you returned softly.

“I don’t want this to end.”

You were quiet for a while, turning over on your side to face him, tracing your fingers over his chest gently. “It doesn’t have to end, just because I leave,” you mumbled. “I know it’s crazy, but we can be together, even if we’re not… together. I mean, I’m certainly not gonna be with anybody else—”

“Me either,” he said quickly, before he could change his own mind with the doubts— the voice in his head that said he could never settle down because he’s too fucked up. “I only want you.”

“It’ll suck, being far away from each other— but you’ll be back Stateside eventually, right?” you assumed.

“God, I hope so,” he sighed, “if the world doesn’t end.”

“If it does,” you whispered, moving in closer, “I hope it’s tonight. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but here.”

It was a romantic thought, but as he kissed you, he realized he’d never wanted the world to end less than he did right now. He never longed for an apocalypse or anything, even on nights that his doubts and anxieties made him yearn for oblivion just for himself, but just now he could’ve cried thinking about everything falling apart tonight. Whether it be by fiery explosion or a quiet, instant disappearance, he couldn’t let armageddon happen now— now that he had you. For the first time, he saw himself having a future, in a way he never had before. Existing as a ‘celebrity’ meant being on the edge of irrelevance at any moment, knowing this could all go away overnight and you’d just be ‘that guy who was in that thing that one time’.

But this time, he stood on a precipice of something wonderful, of something natural, and it was the most beautifully terrifying unknown. It was tomorrow. Tomorrow, you’d get on the plane; tomorrow, you’d leave, because the world wasn’t going to end tonight. But his life was going to start tonight, and he didn’t have to face it alone anymore.

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x y/n #dieter bravo x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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marwolaeth-76 · 5 months

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Hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡, Can you make a one shot of Veneer with a female reader, where the reader is also a singer (solo) but Veneer tries to get closer to her, in every possible way until at one point the attraction between the two of them is so noticeable that in interviews they begin to ask them about it, and in the end they start a relationship.

Hi!! thank you for your request and thank you for waiting, I hope you like it🩷 and I want to apologize for waiting request other people, I’m sick right now so I don’t have the strength to write😢

Veneer x !FemReader stars fell in love with each other

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You take a deep breath as you walk down the halls of build preparing for your interview. Ever since your debut single dropped, your life has been a whirlwind. Fans, photoshoots, awards shows - it's all so exciting but also overwhelming at times. As you near the stage, you spot a familiar face in the crowd. Veneer gives you a small grin. Your heart skips a beat, you've been growing closer to the star singer over the past few months. Between running into each other at events and bonding over the pressures of fame, you've found yourself developing feelings for him. The interview goes well until the host notices your lingering glances at Veneer. "Soo tell me - are you two there is something between you?" Kid Ritz ask slyly, crossing one leg over the other, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You it’s hard to hide your nervousness, a chill of embarrassment runs down your spine, you should have guessed that such embarrassing questions cannot be avoided, people love drama, especially between stars. Before you can stammer a response, Veneer speaks up. "We just care for each other", -he says with a warm smile in your direction. "But for now, we're just enjoying each other's company and support as we both navigate this new chapter in our lives and careers." - His tone is calm, he must have planned this answer, it’s not just that he’s sitting among the audience? although maybe it's just a coincidence. His words are reassuring yet leave the door open for something more. After the show, you share a private moment backstage. "Before you think I'm a heartless ladies' man", - Veneer began to speak in his usual mannered voice. "I..I meant what I said earlier" - Veneer says softly, taking your hand in his. "You know? I really like you, It was already difficult for me to keep it to myself. Everything is happening so fast, I can’t say that I’m unhappy with it" To say that you are in shock is not enough to say, no, of course you dreamed of this, but to really have Veneer feel the same feelings for you as you do? You stand there like a real fool, staring at the guy with wide eyes for almost a full minute before coming to your senses, catching the slightly embarrassed expression on the singer's face. You beam up at him. "Um!..I like you too? this is so awkward, I'm sorry, Don’t get me wrong, I’ve really kind of... fallen in love with you for a long time.." Leaning in, your lips stretched out in an embarrassed smile, Your heart conquers the normal rate of beats per second, you pull the guy in to kiss him on the cheek. "Ohh only on the cheek?" - Veneer asks with a note of mischief, the slight nervousness left his face, although you could swear that his hand you were holding was shaking slightly, he looking at you with his sparkling blue eyes. Looking away slightly to the side, you shake your head, raising your eyebrows and answer excited: "everything has its time)" While love brings challenges, you're glad to face them with Veneer by your side.

♡♡♡

uhhh i really wrote little, srr, bad health does not allow me to think of something normally 😤

#veneer x reader #trolls band together #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #trolls 3 #fluff #veneer trolls #velvet trolls

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freuleinanna · 7 months

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I'm still confused about Verna.. I thought she was a demon?? Because why would Death be going around making a bunch of deals with people? After Verna told Pym she decided to go "topside" I thought she was some kind of crossroads demon since it implies she came from below (hell)

Oh! I feel you, and I struggled with that a lot too. She does seem a lot like a demon. I'm not saying I'm 100% correct in my thinking either, but here's why I personally think she's Death. Kind of a long post, sorry. I hope I make myself clear, but feel free to follow up!

So, Verna. An anagram for Raven, that much is established. Ravens are wonderful - symmetrical even - creatures. Bringers of death in a wide understanding. Bringers of good luck in many cultures. The duality is amazing. To me, that also leans majorly into the theme of death being a concept of duality: an enemy for some, a friend for others. Each greets her differently. I'm not talking about the characters here, but people in general.

There's a proverb I came across a while ago that reads 'Death is a great leveller'. Meaning, everyone's equal before her. You have no leverage or buffer against death, and it doesn't matter if you're poor or blindly, feverishly, grotesquely rich (like our folks here). Everyone pays the last bill. For everyone, there's a day of reckoning. It's a major theme with the show, at least. Verna also says 'Buy now, pay the bill later' - although it can still read very demonic, I agree.

She's obviously ancient, and I was leaning toward the demon theory based on all of her talking. Yet - she also keeps ranting about Egypt and pyramids and Cleopatras and such. What's the one thing with Egyptians everyone knows of? They honored death. Death may have been a bigger part of their lives than life itself. The Usher Twins' obssession with all things Egyptian, antiquities, jewelry, swords and such, plays a nice parallel here too, because they're just collectors. They have no grain of honor for the real thing, for what these things are tied to. Kind of a nice thought, I guess.

Anyway, back to Verna. She says on multiple occasions how intrigued she is with us, 'adorable little things'. She saw the pyramids, the expeditions, and she wanted to see what else we do, she wanted to see what Roderick and Madeline will do (in her own words). It's all an experiment to her. She makes an offer just to see what we, people, do.

Here's where my beef with a demon theory comes in. No demonic creature I could think of, be it an actual demon, a trickster, or something else, is that sincerely intrigued. Something something death loving life something something.

Demons, in my understanding, are most interested in winning the deal. They come up with incredible challenges, they enjoy torture, emotional or physical, they never let anyone win. Verna has never once expressed this. Quite the opposite. She gives everyone a chance to step back. Even when the ink has dried and everything's decided, each Usher sibling is conditioned to make a choice: push forward, or step back. Neither of them steps back. Neither of them takes a long hard look at themselves (except Tamerlane, both literally haha and figuratively, as she's the only one to have realized how lost she was in her way - just at the end, when it didn't really matter anymore, but still). Verna is kind to those she takes (sincere pet names, regrets of having to do it this way, making sure they know it's not personal, etc). She grieves with them, just before. Grieving - 'The Raven' being about an expression of grief and trauma - ravens as synonyms for death... you get the gist. Oh! Except Freddie - cause Freddie struck a cord. Infuriated her. So he doesn't get an expressed choice. And he would've blown it like coke anyway, so meh.

And then Arthur Pym. Oh, Arthur Pym. I honestly couldn't imagine a demon kneeling and thanking someone who's refused them.

About Arthur Pym, by the way. It's the one story I hadn't reread, and I should have, it turns out! haha Anyway, a few notes about his travels:

In the story, Arthur Pym is expressedly afraid of white color (North Pole, yada yada, white being the absense of colors/life, and the absense of life is death).

Verna enumerates the moments she witnessed of his travels. Someone getting left in Sahara. Someone getting shot in the Arctic. Something bad that was done to an Inuit woman. Why would she follow Arthur so closely? She didn't know him, he wasn't her favorite. I think it's because she came to collect those deaths. If she is death, she would've been exactly there, where people died. She would have also seen Arthur not partaking.

Aaaaaaaand it makes her 'You saw me' line sound better, because he had sure seen death along his travels.

I think the part about a place of out-of-time, out-of-space creatures and hollow Earth was a bit unnecessary, BUT I can try and tie it in this way:

It showed us how Arthur might have coped with what he saw, and he 'saw a lot', even in his 70s it's difficult for him to recall, and it made him think of humanity as a virus, literally;

He might have thought up that ethereal realm simply because he was in an expedition? Exhaustive conditions for both body and spirit? Traumatic experiences? If he saw Death, he might have cloaked it in his mind to cope with it, thus came his stories;

Verna going 'topside' may just mean that she had to go take a look herself, actually be willingly present for the events - to see the brave little humans conquer the earth. 'Topside', as in, 'visible, present, participating'. If Death exists, I doubt it bothers with our boring human realm but lives downunder, among all threads that weave the world.

So that's that on Arthur Pym.

A few other references my mind is too exhausted to tie in nicely:

Death takes Lenore. THE Lenore from 'The Raven' (mostly) and 'Lenore' (secondary). That happened. Also, death talking to a child of life? Regretting having to take her? Not very demonic of dear ol' Verna, in my opinion.

Her mourning veil, her last toasts to the Ushers at the cemetery? Demons don't tend to grieve their players. Demons don't respect and love them enough, and 'what is grief, if not love persevering'?

Death is the last threshold. Before death, we look upon our legacy (major theme with the show), we remember our losses and loves (Annabel Lee!!!!! love the poem, brilliantly done), we get heavy with regrets. We face death as an enemy & fight, like Madeline did. As a friend, like Arthur did. We confess, like Roderick did. All that is too significant to me overall.

And the last thing. It's Edgar Allan Poe. The whole Death tribute is a giant, incredible, thought-through-to-the-bits hommage to his literature where Death, figuratively and literally, takes the throne.

I hope I managed to express myself alright there. Thanks if you read it through, and as I said before, feel free to follow up or elaborate on some ideas. There are oceans to discuss. <3

#tore a few veins typing it out ughhhhh the poetry #asks #long post #the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #tfothou spoilers #tfothou tv #netflix #carla gugino #verna #meta post #the fall of the house of usher spoilers #edgar poe #edgar allan poe

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divijohm · 9 months

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Game night with the pastas

🎯 This is a way to keep harmony in the mansion and prevent that hell gets there. It's like a purge day, they can do (almost) everything that they desire in this one game night as long as they behave before and after

🎯 there'll be all kinds of games you can imagine, from Mario kart to black jack to monopoly. And all of the pastas will participate in at least 2 of them

🎯 Everyone knows Ben is the king of Mario kart but, surprisingly enough, Sally is as good as if not a little bit better than him. Maybe is because everyone takes easy on her or maybe is because she's that good.

🎯 Once in a blue moon, the pastas will convince Slender to join them in the game night. When he does he absolutely SMASHES everyone in almost all games, centuries of life (and maybe his mind reading power) made him a god in games. The only ones that he doesn't win are the electronic ones but "is just because I can't play them" in his words ((the truth is that he hasn't figured out how to even grab the controller))

🎯 Surprise to some, Jeff sucks in almost every game except Mario kart and black jack

🎯 They WILL play cards against humanity in every game night. Jane, Nina and Kate are the ones that win the most although everyone has their fair share of wins

🎯 They used to make money bets in various games but it would result in almost all of them cheating and in absolute caos. Money bets are now banned for good

🎯 Truth or dare is a must for them and everyone is forced to play.

🎯 The child pastas will participate in the beginning of the game night, it'll be significantly easier and family friendlier when they're there but as soon as they go to sleep that's when the real show begins

🎯 One time (after the childs are in bed) they played a strip game. Masky was the only one fully clothed after it ends, although he didn't cheat everyone secretly thinks he did.

🎯 Blood painter and LJ are kings in "guess who" with 3 or less clues they can already get it right

🎯 They always play Uno to end the night, is quick and fun. They'll have quirky rules like the "7 no talk", "9 slap the pile" and "0 switches", combining +2s with +4s is allowed and stacking them is also allowed. Due to the huge number of players they'll combine 3 or 4 decks Wich results in an significant increase of special cards which equals more caos

🎯 They have almost all the board and videogames known to man is insane

🎯 By the children request, they one time played hide and seek in the woods. It took almost all night for it to end

🎯 Toby smashes everyone in poker, I'll not elaborate

🎯 there's always alcohol, all kinds. wich if you stop to think isn't a very good idea. Mentally unstable people some of them taking heavy medication, competitive games and alcohol aren't exactly a good mix but who cares right?

🎯 MUSIC!! They have a collective playlist that lasts AT THE VERY LEAST 13 hours. They put it on random every game night. It goes from children music, to funk to rock and heavy metal to classical to pop. Is super chaotic

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unoriginal-and-dumb · 24 days

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i need to know everything about your infected like. now

Okay Dokay! (I’m gonna say everything that comes to mind I might miss stuff or repeat previously said things but I love never re-reading what I wrote)

God I got a lot to say sorry, I put this at the bottom too but if anyone ever has specific questions I will be (very) happy to answer them!!!

Infected is, at face value, pretty good at kinda acting like Kasper. Which is why nobody else really seems too bothered by his switch up besides Lampert. Lampert knew him best and for REAL so, well yea you know. He would know when his best friend is acting wrongggg

I think that the virus was inside the roomba that infected has in their apartment. The irony is too perfect, because I don’t imagine Kasper being gods cleanest fella so the idea of the thing that basically wiped out his consciousness coming from something he got to try and start being cleaner. I think he would’ve gotten the roomba because Lampert was basically begging him to do something to try and fix his fuck ass apartment

The virus itself feeds off of consciousness, it overwhelms and takes over the pervious one then kinda produces a shitty copy of it so it can continue feed off any form of consciousness that could’ve been

Infected MAY have the iq of wall paper. Stupid and dumb.

Infected kinda just has like 0 form of self preservation because the virus itself doesn’t really… understand it I guess? It’s more of like a “FEELING PAIN IS A WASTE OF TIME!” Although it wouldn’t just be pain-centric. He just kinda does fuck-all because it’s fun or everyone else does it or whatever

The error pattern on his arm (and other parts of his body tbh) can spread to other things via touch, but it doesn’t really just stay there

The virus is kinda weird because it’s like. Very much digital but it also is clearly affecting him physically? So it kinda just. Is both things at once I dunno magic elevator magic virus yellow person with dot eyes and no nose what can I say.

Infected is a flat and static character, he is unchanging as is, he is only the face value personality of Kasper, it’s like trying to hold a conversation with a half baked answer machine. After a while he kinda just starts repeating things.

Infected is friends with Split and Poob, as mentioned on the wiki. It’s not even remotely comparable to what Kasper and Lampert had though (😢). They are more of like yea let’s invite Infected over to a party since he kinda seems to just stand in the corner and be a freak. They enjoy Infected’s presence, but again it’s like speaking to an answer machine after awhile

Kasper would frequently change up his look, keeping a few things like his hat always but he was like constantly trying out different colors and whatever clothing stuff, but when he became Infected he kind of jsut got stuck on the tough guys wear pink shirt era (going full npc, wearing literally nothing else because ah yes this is Kasper and I am “Kasper”)

Almost nothing truly gets to infected, yea he’s upset about pop tart but it’s all very shallow and more played off as a joke. Bros life is all sunshine and rainbows wait till he hears about taxes 😭

^ however, it’s not impossible for things to really break through for them. Albeit really just not that likely, they could be made SUPER MEGA UPSET! It’s times like that when he actually seems to have even just undertones of Kasper existing (which is why, despite Lampert HATING infected, I think there would be a time he shoves those feelings aside and tries to comfort infected because that’s still his best friends face)

Infected cannot stand be called Kasper. He ignores it for a bit but after a while he lashes out pretty badly. To be fair though, having 0 memories of someone but everyone else claiming you are them is kinda weird

Infected (specifically) would sound like cooper2723, shitty mic and all

Infected skates like skate 3. He does that speed glitch every time and nobody gets it. He also sometimes rolls full force into a curb and just flies off the skate board (he forgort)

Eczema rep as mentioned before, the stupid error texture is super extremely itchy, but that’s also why it’s spread so much because he fucking scratches the hell outta it. It also just hurts in general (LIKE IF U HAD SAND PAPER. ON UR SKIN. ALWAYS.) but again 0 sense of self preservation bruh don’t give a fuck

He wears the arm warmer to try and hide the error texture. He consciously does not really have a reason but it is in order for the virus to try and be more discreet. Not many people have really taken a notice or care at least so it’s kinda working..? (Not rlly it’s pretty obvious)

Infected HATES unpleasant a blood curdling amount. It doesn’t matter if unpleasant does literally nothing they will blame EVERYTHING on unpleasant. Uh oh bad weather? It’s that fucking gradient’s fault

Infected sometimes just starts tweaking. Like straight Blair witching or honestly even like the boss in s2 of smiling friends. He goes right back to normal but he just does that sometimes (it’s because there’s another backseat driver getting pissed off and existing again before going bed bye go the next however long)

Kasper had pretty bad anger issues but he was able to not start genuinely losing it. Infected however. Infected is gods happiest/angriest soldier

He could be a real smiler, a real big yaaaayyyyyy typa fella one second but one thing sets him off and he is a nightmare to be around. We talking cod lobby throwing shit hair pulling slur yelling type stuff

Infected lives on energy drinks.

They also don’t really sleep, it’s seen as a waste of time when he could be saying terrible things online or skateboarding off a building. Only real time he does anything that a normal human NEEDS to do is when he’s like sims 4 forced to (I.e straight up passing tf out on the floor)

I made this up because I wanted BOTH but his stupid ass SNOT, when it’s green that’s just icky snot when it’s pink that’s not snot or blood but a malicious 3rd option (the error infection thing, although it is kind of just like blood for him at least)

Infected doesn’t really realize that people change appearance over time and that’s like normal so he may do absolutely fuckall half the time but he does maintain appearance (hair cut/dye clothes) and stuff very well because they think they have to look exactly like how Kasper did at the point of infection

Errr he’s aroace :) and trans :) yah :) because kasper is :) 🧡💛🤍🩵💙🧡💛🤍🩵💙🧡💛🤍🩵💙🧡💛🤍🩵💙 yaaaayyyyyyyyyyy

Infected’s eyes actually are white, that’s not just stylistic choice. Or at least they kinda catch the light the way a cat’s does. He is very very eerie in the dark because of this. The error pattern is unaffected by lighting (because. It’s an error texture.) so that combined with white ass eyes and some guy who stands and moves like something else puppeteering a human is… eerie.

He’s Wasian! Korean-American specifically. He does have a Korean name but really just doesn’t go by it ever

This isn’t Infected-centric but relating to Kasper, he grew up mainly with his mom cuz his dad peaced tf out (lol). He did like his dad though, which is why he wore the hat all the time, at this point though he doesn’t really care about his dad and just wears it because it’s his fucking hat and he does not take that shit off

Infected constantly acts out of it, extreme fever style. Weird forgetful says nonsense half the time and just laughs at everything when he’s not busy smiling creepily

Infected is indifferent on everyone, he doesn’t particularly hold grudges (he just forgets about any arguments in general or ignores them) he only really hates unpleasant

He isn’t really enemy to anyone due to the infection trying to get a good way to spread (if ur around a bunch of people all the time, I mean likeeee)

There’s other things but this is very long and I dunno, if anyone has specific questions I’d be happy to answer!!!

#regretevator

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whenrainhitsmyskin · 1 year

Text

Five Times Bakugo Katsuki Fell in Love with You

pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader

word count: 7.2k

summary: He doesn’t really know when it first happened, the longing looks in your direction, holding doors open for you, or making sure he attended your shared groups movie nights when he knew you would be there, but he does remember the first day violent butterflies swarmed his gut and attacked him from the inside.

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, talk about anxiety, hospitalization, emotional vulnerability, so much fluff it’s sickening.

The First Time

During the first semester of their second year at UA, Mr.Aizawa had begun instructing more hand-to-hand combat training exercises. It started with demonstrations from the pros and some lessons, and then finally the real deal, to put their learning into practice.

Aizawa had put together partner rotations, first starting out with people around the same weight class or height, but as the lessons went on the partners became mismatched so the class could learn how to fight someone smaller and more nimble than them or taller with a longer arm reach.

Today, Bakugo was paired up with Mineta, the small fry of the class. Although he always was very serious and dedicated to hands-on hero training, he couldn’t help but take it easy for the day considering he was way out of his competition's caliber.

And he guesses this also caused him to be more distracted than usual as well, considering he usually never lost focus, but today must be an exception when he can’t keep his eyes away from you and your training partner Kirishima. He turns in your direction as soon as he hears you raise your voice at the red head.

“What the hell are you doing Kirishima?” You ask with your hands on your hips staring at Kirishima, who is sitting on the mat in front of you.

“What do you mean y/n? I’m not doing anything?” He asks.

“Why are you going so easy on me, huh?” You shout, lifting him by the collar of his gym uniform. It’s like watching a bad car crash and not being able to look away. By this time the whole class and Mr.Aizawa had stopped what they were doing to get an understanding of what was going down.

“I swear I'm not man!” Kirishima explains, he looks mildly scared even though he’s a few inches taller and his biceps are probably double the size of your own, “You just got the jump on me.”

“Bullshit Kirishima, hand-to-hand combat is basically your specialty considering your quirk is better in close range.” You let him go with a small push, Bakugo swears he can see steam coming out from your ears, “I saw you beat Midoriya multiple times the other day, and I didn’t win against him once last week, so stop going easy on me, it’s not doing either of us any good.”

He would laugh if he couldn’t see how fucking serious you were, calling out one of your closest friends on his bullshit in front of everyone, even though he’s the nicest person in the class. He’s impressed, although he would never admit that.

“She’s right, Kirishima.” Mr.Aizawa cuts in, “This training is supposed to help everyone improve, so fight her like you would a real opponent. Now everyone get back to work!”

That’s what gets Bakugo to finally snap out of his daze from you and back to sparring.

The Second Time

The class was sent away to different locations to complete the practical part of their midterm for their second year. The goal of the exercise is to retrieve the dummy “civilian” from the pro hero who is acting as the “villain”. Class 2A has been split up into several teams, which is why Bakugo just can’t seem to wrap his head around how he is stuck with the Dunce Face who never fails to irritate him, the Icy-Hot bastard that is constantly getting on his nerves with everything he does and then there's…you, the only one apart of this shitty team he can kind of tolerate.

The “villain” his shitty group was up against is a holder of an animation quirk, who can bring inanimate objects to life. It’s already been proven to be a real pain in the ass considering every bush, rock and flower has been coming at them from every angle.

It’s around 1am and everyone is cold and exhausted, so the group decided to set up camp for the night. Himself, you and Todoroki were resting while Denki was meant to stay on watch, but he abandoned his post in favor of peeing somewhere deeper into the woods, which is when the villain decided to animate nearly every tree surrounding their camp site.

Bakugo woke up to the sounds of rustling and a violent scream from your mouth. The three of you start fighting back. How did nobody notice the trees were being animated? And where the hell is Dunce Face?

He’s probably taken down about a fourth of them himself by the time he hears Sparky running back behind him.

“What the hell happened?” Denki screams, as he joins in on the fight.

“You weren’t doing your damn job Sparky, that’s what happened!” He berated him. Just before Bakugo was going to take down the next one, he noticed your quirk getting weaker, and you were taking longer to defeat the enemy than you should.

“Take this last one!” Bakugo commanded, in order to make this way over to you.

“On it!” Denki said from a distance.

Bakugo quickly jumped in front of you and took down the last tree, Denki and Todoroki finished off their own as well.

“That one was mine, asshole.” You say, sounding winded.

“Yeah, well it looks like ya needed the help.” He responds, and that’s when he finally gets a better look at your injury.

The sight is absolutely gruesome, there’s a nasty gash in the middle of your thigh that’s definitely going to need stitches and recovery girls help, the blood is dripping down the span of your whole leg and onto the grass.

“Oh my god…” He says, not able to take his eyes off of it. You end up following his line of sight and look down. Your eyes widen when you finally see it.

“Oh shit.” You say, lowering yourself to the ground. He can see tears start to prick your eyes as Todoroki and Denki make their way over to you.

“Everything okay?” Todoroki asks, squatting down next to you, “That doesn’t look good.”

“Yeah, no shit moron!” Bakugo points out.

“Oh my god I can’t look!” Denki says, putting his hands over his mouth, “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Do it somewhere else.” Todoroki says, seemingly disgusted.

“You guys are the absolute worst!” Bakugo says in an aggravated tone, “This is all on you Sparky!”

“Everyone shut up!” You yell, Bakugo can see you trying to work something out in your head, a moment later you finally voice what you’ve come up with, “Denki get me your water bottle and-fuck, Bakugo, I need you to put pressure above the wound, lots of it and Todoroki rip off both of your sleeves.”

Bakugo thinks you seem pretty calm for someone that could potentially bleed out at any moment, given that a major artery could have been hit. He determines it is probably a mix of shock and the adrenaline from the fight.

He lowers himself to the ground and puts both hands above your upper thigh, using lots of pressure like you said to do.

“Fuck, we need to call off the mission and get you to a doctor y/n.” He says, his voice wavering, as Todoroki hands over the torn off sleeves and the water Denki retrieved, who is now standing a few feet away.

“Absolutely not, we are gonna carry on with the mission and pass this final.” You say sternly, grabbing the mask right off of Bakugos head and ripping it. You push his hands off of you and tie the mask tightly around where his hands once were.

“Don’t be so stubborn, we can’t-“ He begins.

“Well fucking deal with it!” You say as you begin pouring water on one of the sleeves, “I’m not going anywhere until we pass, I’ll be fine. Now I need you to clean this thing.”

He gives you a hard look and then does what you say. He pats the wound and tries to clean it out as much as he can. You hiss out in pain and fist the grass underneath your palms, he hears Denki gagging in the back.

“Okay-okay that’s good.” You say, he pulls the cloth away and watches you tie the dry sleeve around the wound, he supposed you must have learned more in that Health and Safety class than he did.

“Well, what now?” Todoroki asks, awaiting your response.

“We go get that dummy, get the hell out of here and pass the exam.” You state with conviction, he can’t tell if you're trying to trick yourself into believing it, or if you are fully confident. You reach your hand out to Bakugos own, “Now help me up.”

Bakugo grabs onto the hand you are holding up and swings your arm around his shoulder, trying to relieve you of some of the weight you would normally be using on that leg. The group starts heading to the location where the dummy is supposedly located. Denki and Todoroki are a few feet in front of the two of you, but he can make out the faint sound of their whispers and catches them glancing back a few times.

“Thanks.” You sigh, you sound tired and worn out and he thinks you look slightly pale, but he knows if he even attempts to call off the mission you would probably try strangling him to death.

“You did good.” He says, thoughts slipping out, “You stayed really calm in a high stress situation. It’s…impressive.” There’s a pause filled by only your silence, he’s worried he caught you off guard with such a direct compliment, considering he’s probably never given you one before.

“Yeah, well if I wasn’t going to help myself, who would?” You ask.

“Me, it obviously wouldn’t be either of those two idiots.” He doesn't think the two of you have ever talked this much without other people being involved. He guesses you’re just trying to keep your mind off of your injury, he reasons talking with you in favor of passing this exam.

“You got some of the worst scores in our medical training class because you claimed it wouldn’t be useful to you.” You chuckle, giving him a look, unfortunately for him, he looks back.

You’ve got a small smile gracing your lips, even though you’re probably in an immense amount of pain. But what he really can’t wrap his head around is the fact that you’re smiling at him. Why does he even care?

“Yeah well maybe I’ll brush up on it.” He says, his ears are burning, and his heart is beating faster than it probably should be, considering the fight ended over twenty minutes ago.

The Third Time:

When Mina asked him before dinner if he wanted to watch a movie tonight with their shared friend group, he wasn’t all that interested. He would much rather get to bed at a decent time, wake up early tomorrow and use their one day off to study for Monday's Hero History exam.

“No, I'm not watching another shitty movie.” He says, grabbing his plate of food and sitting down at the common room table, right across from you, a recent development in the class's seating arrangements.

“Oh, come on! They aren’t that bad.” She says, taking a seat next to you, “y/n, movie night, are you down?”

“Yeah of course!” You say, seemingly excited to spend the night with your friends, “As long as Sero doesn’t choose it this time. Are you gonna join us Bakugo?”

He pauses, he can’t remember a time where you directly invited him to something before. He thinks you look sincere, and your question makes it seem like you actually want him to be there. Why does he care if you want him there or not?

“Fine, whatever.” He begrudgingly agrees and continues eating his meal.

“Okay cool.” You say, he notices the smile on your face when you speak.

Meanwhile, Mina's jaw is on the floor when she stares between the two of you, but eventually it turns into a sly smirk.

About an hour after dinner everyone meets in the common room for movie night, he notices that most of the class is there, taking up nearly all the space on the couches, besides the one to the far right where Sero, Mina and Kirishima are sitting. Bakugo sits on the edge closest to the tv, leaving space between him and Mina.

He looks around the room. On the couch across from him is Denki, Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Ojiro and Shoji and on the center couch across the tv is Todoroki, Asui, Uraraka and Deku with an empty space next to him. He notices that you aren’t anywhere in the common room like you were supposed to be.

Almost as soon as Sero starts the movie, he sees you getting out of the elevator with Shinsou, the pair of you are laughing. He sees you’re wearing pajamas, frilly little shorts and a sweatshirt, he thinks it's kind of cute.

The two of you make your way into the common area, still talking and giggling, he doesn’t like it and he is unable to pinpoint why. Shinsou splits off and sits next to Deku and you slot yourself into the seat next to your best friend and him.

“Anything happened yet?” You ask, not really to anyone in particular, but he takes it upon himself to answer.

“No, just started.” He says, watching you grab a blanket from a nearby basket, “You’re late.”

“Yeah, I wanted to get ready for bed so I don’t have to after the movie.” You say. He just grunts in response and brings his attention to the screen.

Once you get situated in your seat, he realizes just how crammed the small couch is, your legs are brushing against each other and he swears he can feel your breath, causing bumps to arise on his skin.

About halfway through the movie, which consists of sharks coming out of a tornado-seriously, who lets Sero pick the movie every time?-, he feels your body weight shifting on the couch to get comfortable, and your knee ends up hitting the top of his thigh.

“Oops, sorry.” You apologize to him in a whisper, he feels you trying to move away, but are unable to since Mina is right up against you.

“It’s alright.” He says, turning from the tv and looking at you instead, “Don’t mind.” He can see you start to get red in the face.

“Oh…” Is all you manage to let out in response, he gives you a hard look, your face exudes embarrassment, seeing as you are looking everywhere but his direction. He finds it within himself to turn his attention back to the movie, he wishes he could have seen the adorable expression on your face just a little bit longer.

With just a few minutes left of this god-awful movie, he feels your head hit his shoulder, he goes as stiff as a board and his stomach drops at the foreign feeling. He turns his head and see’s you knocked out by tiredness and unfortunately for him, he can also see Mina and Kirishima giggling, he mouths “shut up” to them.

When the movie credits finally start to roll, everyone begins making their way up to their respective rooms. Denki gives him a thumbs up as he walks away, making Bakugo unironically slap his forehead, not knowing what to do about you sleeping on him.

After the common room is completely cleared out and he looks at the clock and sees how late it is, he finally builds up the courage to wake you up. He pokes you in the forehead to start. All you do is stir a little in your sleep but nestle into him further and get more comfortable.

“Oh my god.” He says under his breath, “Time to get up.” He shakes his shoulder to move your head and then he tries nudging your own, but still no luck. He realizes you sleep like a fucking rock, and he is probably just going to have to carry you to your bed. He scoops you up in his arms and gets into the elevator. He arrives on the fourth floor where the both of you reside and if he remembers correctly, you are the last room on the girl’s side of the hallway.

He opens the door to your room, and it looks a lot different than what he would have expected. A lamp emits a soft light on the nightstand next to your unmade bed, which has gray sheets and a green blanket, an abundance of live plants sitting on the windowsill, your school books are piled up on your desk and a hanging black punching bag in the corner across from your closet, clothes and other items are hazardously thrown across the span of your floor. He’s surprised at how messy it is, considering how organized your thoughts and ideas are projected.

As soon as he lays you carefully down on your bed you stir awake. Of course, that’s the one thing that will wake you up.

“Bakugo?” You ask and look at your surroundings, “What are you doing in my room?”

“You fell asleep downstairs and nothing I did seemed to wake you, so I carried you.” He says, standing awkwardly at the side of your bed as you sit up and rub your eyes.

“Oh, well thanks.” You say, he takes a look at you, and he thinks you look kind of cute when you're all sleepy, and that's when he sees the long and jagged scar on your leg that was left on you as a result of last semester's final exam. When you finally open your eyes again, you catch him staring it at.

“Yeah, I know, it’s really ugly.” You state, with a pout on your face, you rub your thumb against it, like you're trying to erase the scar.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He says with a confused look on his face when he sees tears form a glassy sheen over your eyes, “Didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s fine.” You say in a tone colder than he has ever heard you use. He can’t wrap his head around on why you’re so upset about the once damaged skin that is now healing on you. Had he done something else to offend you? Did his staring make you insecure about your skin? He racks his brain, trying to come up with something, anything, that could possibly help make you feel better.

“It’s just skin.” He tells you how it is, he doesn't know why he felt the need and desire to say something, “All scars are just skin.” He finally looks at your face and you look like he just rewrote the stars for you, with just a few short words. You look back down at your leg, seemingly in a different light.

“Yeah, just skin.” You repeat him.

“Right. Goodnight y/n.” He says, before going to exit your room. He closes the door behind him and lets out a deep breath. He touches his pulse, its fucking racing, his skin feels like its buzzing.

The Fourth Time:

The third year at UA for the hero course students consists more of hands-on experience through their work studies, rather than being in the classroom. Because of this it’s rare for the class to be there all together, when everyone is out doing their own things for their respective agencies.

Today, Bakugo, Midoriya and Todoroki were called into Endeavours agency for a meeting on an upcoming mission. The first person Bakugo notices when he walks into the conference room is you, to his surprise, seated next to Miriko, who you do your work study with. After him, Deku and Todoroki walk in and the door closes behind him, you take a glance over your shoulder and your eyes meet his own. You give him a smile and a short wave.

His face feels hot, and his neck is sweating, he pulls at the constricting collar of his school uniform, in an attempt to keep it from sticking to him. How is it that even the smallest of friendly gestures you make towards him has him feeling this pathetic?

He sees Deku pulling out the chair next to you to sit down, but before he can, Todoroki grabs him by the shoulders and moves him to the next seat over, causing Bakugo to sit next to you. He thinks the act is strange, but Icy-Hot is one of the strangest people he has ever met, so it adds up.

When Bakugo sits down next to you, he can see you looking at him from the corner of his eye, he fidgets with his thumbs under the table, he blames it on nerves for the upcoming mission and not the attention you have on him.

The plans for tomorrow's mission are all drawn out and prepared to be executed. The Pro’s take their leave in a hurry due to their busy schedules and Deku and Todoroki booked it out of there suspiciously fast as well. He stands up from his seat and notices that you are also.

“I was surprised when Miriko told me we were meeting at Endeavors Agency today,” You say to him, “I never thought we would be paired up for a mission together.”

“It’s weird they have such an uneven ratio of pros to students, makes me think this is going to be an easy one.” He responds. He reaches the door handle and before he can even think about it, he holds it open for you to go through first. He mentally slaps his forehead, for such an obvious gesture by his standards.

“Yeah, I really hope so.” You say with a smile on your face.

The next day rolls around, and the mission is finally a-go. Bakugo and you have been stationed on the roof of another building to stake out the old manufacturing warehouse where there have been reports of illegal drug and weapon distribution.

They haven't been given any details on how many villains there are or what kind of quirks they have, so the mission needs to be treated with caution, hence the stake out, that has been going on for nearly two hours to see when the van's leave. That time mainly consisted of small talk between the two of you and building a strategy.

The first sign of movement is the back door opening up, three people with cargo loading up three different vans. He eyes you touching your earpiece.

“Miriko, they are loading up the vans with the contraband, what's the move? Do we stop them from taking off?” You ask for command.

“Negative, let them get far enough away where they can’t receive backup, but not too far where they will reach a heavily populated area.” She responds, her voice is a little staticky, but just clear enough to make out.

The pair of you turn towards one another and give each other a nod. Once the vans depart the two of you are off, jumping from building to building, to keep up with them, Bakugo takes a second to look back and sees the other teams heading into the building.

“I’ll get the one in front and you take the last one, ready!” He pauses, “Now!”

The both of you land on two separate vans, Bakugo kicks the front windshield open and throws the villain out the car door, he grabs onto the wheel, slams on the brakes and puts it in park, causing the vehicle to come to an abrupt halt. He gets out, pins the villain to the ground and restrains him with quirk prohibiting handcuffs.

He turns around and sees the van you were assigned to has been flipped over onto its side, and you are fighting the villain that was in the middle van, you’re putting up a good fight, but that doesn't discourage him from running over to assist you. The two of you start tag-teaming him, but its nearly fucking impossible to get a good hit because his body keeps disappearing and reappearing right before his eyes.

He hears the sound of metal being split in half behind the two of you, so he takes a look in the direction he hears it coming from. He sees a villain holding some type of hand-held machine pointed directly at you. The villain presses a button and all of a sudden, his feet are taking him in your direction, and he ends up on the other side of an extremely powerful blast of air.

It has him skidding down the road a few meters, throwing his body against the concrete. His ears are ringing, and his vision is blurry, he feels like he can’t breathe. He can just barely make out the sound of your voice and your blurry figure taking down and detaining the other two villains. And then you're rushing over to him. You fall on the ground, press on your earpiece and scream to whoever may be listening on the other end of it, it sounds like he’s under water.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Bakugo.” You put his head on your lap, you brush back his hair with one hand and put the other on the left side of his chest. You start crying, tears fall onto his skin, he feels your hands shaking, “You shouldn’t have done that for me, what-what were you thinking?”

He tries sitting up to get a better look at you, but his chest and ribs ache so bad he’s unable to, he hisses in pain and gives up. Instead, he says your name and covers the hand that’s on his chest with his own.

“It’s like holding a door open for ya, didn’t even have to give it a thought.” He says, and before you can even process his words or give him some words in return, exhaustion finally takes over him and everything fades out.

The next thing he knows, he’s stirring awake to an irritating beeping sound in the most uncomfortable bed he has ever had the displeasure of laying on. The air smells sterile and that’s how he concludes the beeping is probably coming from a heart monitor and he is currently laying in a hospital bed. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Icy-Hot, who is standing at the foot of his bed and squinting at him.

“Guys he’s awake.” Todoroki alerts the others in the room. Bakugo tries finding his voice, but his throat is too dry and they won’t come out.

“Oh good!” Midoriya says, sitting up from the chair against the wall, “How are you feeling Kacchan?”

He points to the water bottle on the bedside table, Deku hands it to him, he takes a large sip, then two, then three and next thing he knows the whole thing is gone.

“M’fine, how did the rest of the mission play out?” He asks, more concerned for the villain's arrest than his own physical being.

“It went well, we arrested the villains inside of the warehouse and thanks to you and y/n, a good portion of the drugs and weapons never got distributed!” Midoriya chimes, and that's when he sees you over Todoroki’s left shoulder, looking out the window. Your eyes are a little red and your face is puffy, he wonders how long you had been crying for.

“Hey Midoriya, you and I should probably go find the doctor.” Todoroki says.

“Oh okay sure.” Deku responds. They make their exit out of the room and the door closes behind them. Bakugo sits up on the bed and leans against the frame. You still haven’t looked or said anything to him, which is weird because anytime one of your classmates gets injured you always rush to their aid and attempt to comfort them.

“Well, it seems like the mission went accordingly.” His pathetic attempt at making some kind of small talk with a little more substance. All you do is scoff at his words. “The mission is over, we won, what’s wrong with ya?” “Really, what’s wrong with me? The hell is your problem, Bakugo?” You ask, that’s all it takes for you to finally look his way, even though you are kind of half-yelling at him, that's all he really wanted.

“I am just fine y/n, you're the one that’s sulking right now.” He fights back because he thinks it’s what you need right now. The only way most people can get you to reveal your true feelings is by getting you fired up.

“I’m not sulking!” You move to the side of his bed and start talking with your hands like you always do when you’re passionate about something, “You’re the one that nearly got themself killed out in the field today.”

“What, so you're mad I took a hit? So, what, it happens all the time, get over it.” He says with a roll of his eyes.

“No-no, that's not, that's not what I’m talking about Bakugo.” You say, awaiting a response from him. All he does is shrug his shoulders, when you realize you aren't getting a proper response you continue, “You-you took the hit for me, why would you put yourself in danger like that?” He sees your eyes start to water, but no tears fall. They sit there at the brim of your waterline ready to release everything pent up inside. He supposes his heart sort of feels the same way. Ready to unleash every emotion that has been stored up inside for so long, yet there is still something holding it back. Maybe he’s embarrassed or thinks it’s unnecessary, which is probably how you are feeling about releasing your tears at this moment.

“Cause I didn’t want you to get hurt, dumbass. You wouldn’t have been able to brace for the impact, but I was because I knew it was gonna happen, it would have hurt you worse than me.” He says, but what he really means is that it was because he cares more about your comfort and safety than his own. He sees you mulling over his words, processing everyone individually and trying to interpret exactly what he means.

“Fine, I can accept that. I have a question for you though, what did you mean when you said-” You are abruptly cut off to the sound of the door opening. The doctor, Deku and Icy-Hot walk in, much to Bakugos displeasure.

“Glad to see you are up Bakugo!” The doctor says, flipping through his papers attached to the clipboard he’s holding, “Your parents are on their way, but before they get here, I want to run some additional testing. You three should probably head back to UA, Bakugo is likely to return by tomorrow morning if all is well.”

The doctor ushers the three of you to the door, he watches you cross the room and get ready to close the door behind you, but before you do, you give him a small smile, the tears at your waterline are gone.

The Fifth Time:

As a last hurrah before the school year comes to an end, class 3-A decided to go on a camping trip for a three-day getaway. The class started by loading all their supplies off the charter bus and completed their three-mile hike to the camping ground they rented out. Everyone stayed busy until the early afternoon setting up their tents, getting logs for the fire pit, finding the bathhouse and scoping out the nearby lake.

When everyone was just about to get settled in, Mr.Aizawa reminded everyone that UA was only able to grant this excursion because he promised the class would be doing some endurance training while they were there. So, the class was ordered to go on a run on one of the trails. Little did they know it was by far the longest one there and it took them until the sun was about to start setting to complete.

“Good job everyone, now head to the showers you all reek,” Mr.Aizawa says, covering his nose slightly, “Once you're all done everyone will help with dinner preparations.”

Once the class is dismissed and everyone takes turns cleaning up, Iida takes it upon himself to assign everyone jobs, so the preparations go smoothly.

“Shoji, Koda and Tokoyami you will be in charge of setting the tables, Sato, Tsu, Kirishima and Bakugo are on grilling duty and y/n, Hagakure, Todoroki and I will be doing food preparation!” Iida announces, Bakugo eyes Todoroki and him talking with one another, “Actually I'll have Todoroki and Bakugo switch places, in the name of efficiency! Everyone else is in charge of setting up the campfire.” Bakugo walks over to his assigned station and sees you and Hagakure unloading the groceries onto the pop-up table, he slots himself in the space to the left of you and takes an extra bag from your hands. He pulls out a few eggplants, zucchini and shishito peppers.

“Well, what do we start with?” He asks, not really to anyone in particular.

“I was thinking that Hagakure could rinse off the vegetables while I scrub them and then you can chop and then you hand them to Iida so he can season them.” You say.

“That sounds like a very efficient plan y/n.” Iida praises you; Bakugo can’t tell if you're blushing at Glasses, or if it's just the sun, he’s hoping it's the latter.

When the four of you begin, Hagakure, you and Iida begin easy conversation, he finds himself unable to partake in most of it because every time you pass him another vegetable your fingertips brush is own. It has his brain short-circuiting and he’s unable to comprehend what exactly is being talked about, which is proven to be problematic when you ask him a question that he doesn’t know the context to.

“Bakugo, are you gonna join?” You ask him, he can tell you’re looking at him, waiting for an answer, but he just keeps his focus on chopping.

“Join what?” He responds.

“We're all gonna hang out by the lake tomorrow!” Hagakure says excitedly, “Were you seriously not listening that whole time?”

“Yeah whatever, I’ll be there.” He responds.

“Good, I'm glad.” He hears you say almost in a whisper. He pauses his movements and takes a look at you, your face is beat red, and he thinks your hands look a little shaky, but then he realizes his are too and he tightens his grip on the knife.

Once dinner is done and the sun has fallen, everyone gathers around the campfire to roast marshmallows and hang out. By this point there’s multiple conversations happening and it’s all a little difficult to keep track of, besides the one he sees you and Shinsou having.

You’re leaning closer to him in your seat and then Shinsou says something you find particularly funny, it has your shoulders jolting, eyes watering and a big smile on your face. He hates it. Not because you are smiling, but the fact that it’s because of someone else and not him that he finds an issue with it. He needs it to stop, or he might go crazy, so he walks over to your seat.

“Come get more firewood with me.” Is all he says before he’s walking away, he hears you following behind him almost immediately, “You and Shinsou seem awfully close.”

“Uh yeah I guess so?” You sound estranged, “I mean we are friends.”

All he does is grunt in response as he begins cutting some firewood. He can feel the jealousy radiating off himself, he hopes you can’t. When he hands you a piece of wood you speak up again.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t care.”

“Well then why did you ask?”

“Why are you reading so far into this, huh?” He fights back, “I don’t care if you two are together, it was just a statement. Now get over it.”

He sees your entire demeanor has changed. Your shoulders have slumped, your face has fallen, and you have turned away from him. You look like he’s just killed your dog. He goes back to cutting firewood and once you have gathered all you can carry, you storm off, back to the fire pit he supposes. When he gets there a few minutes after you, he sees you aren’t there, and neither is Mina.

“Bakugo, what happened?” Todoroki asks him.

“Nothin’ happened; the hell are you talkin’ about.” He says back, with a little bite to his words.

“She came back without you, so Mina asked where you were, and y/n just walked away. She looked pretty upset.” Todoroki responds. Bakugo’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach, did his words really affect you this much?

“Like I care.” His words betray his heart, “I’m going to bed.”

He unzips the tent and crawls into his sleeping bag. Unfortunately for him it’s a restless night, filled with tossing and turning, and feeling regretful for his heart fleeing so far.

The next afternoon, the entire class spends the day hanging out by the lake. Some of the class is playing beach volleyball, a few people are swimming, some others are tanning on the sand and then there's you, making a point of talking to every guy in the class besides him.

He pretends not to notice the way you laugh at nearly everything Denki says to you, he ignores the fact that you asked Ojiro to help you get some more towels for the rest of the class, he tries to forget the hug you gave Sero after he scored the winning point in the volleyball match.

However, the one thing he cannot get over is that he knows you are doing all of this because of him, it’s his own fault, he thinks the torture is deserving. But what he doesn’t deserve is that you look so good hurting him. The sun brings out the color in your cheeks, the bikini top and shorts you are wearing compliments your skin and you look happy, being around everyone other than him.

The rest of the day is spent in agony, and it follows him even when his head hits the pillow. He can't stop thinking, his thoughts are running rampant. So, he sneaks out of the tent, trying not to wake up Kirishima and walks over to the dock. He sits down and takes a deep breath. He looks at where the darkness of the sky and the lake meet. It isn’t hard to see because of the soft glow the moon is casting overhead.

He is left there, sitting with his thoughts, trying to find some sort of solace when he hears the creaking wooden floorboards behind him. He probably woke Kirishima in the process of leaving, and he knows the red head is too good of a friend to not go searching for him.

“Hey.” He hears, but it’s coming from a voice much to feminine to be Kirishimas, he sees you lowering yourself to sit next to him, your feet are dangling above the water, and you lean back on the palms of your hands, “What are you doing out here?” “Nothin’.” He sighs, he doesn’t have the heart to say why. All you do is hum in response and look out at the lake with him. Just for a second there’s a comforting silence between the two of you, but it is soon disrupted when his chest starts feeling tight and violent butterflies swarm his gut.

His heart rate is picking up and he’s starting to sweat, but he knows the sun isn’t to blame this time. It's you. The only one capable of making him feel like this. It’s intense and anxiety inducing, and he can’t imagine there will ever be a day where this goes away. He needs to get rid of it, so he thinks a swift confession and quick rejection will be the remedy.

“y/n.” He starts with your name, easy and familiar, the sound draws your eyes to his own, “I’m gonna tell you something and-and it’s okay if you don’t say what I want to hear or if you have nothing to say at all.”

Your eyes go wide, and he gives you a hard look, he lets out a deep breath and finally unravels is heart like he has been wanting to do for so long now

“I don’t know how or when it started, but every time I see you, I want to see you more. I like seeing you smile, but I really like it when it’s because of me. Your determined, smart and so fucking pretty that even a complete idiot could see it.” He lets out a deep breath and his eyes are covered with a glassy sheen, all you do is look at him, “And I know you don’t feel the same, but I needed to say it so you can put an end to this feeling that I have every time I'm around you.”

“Bakugo…” You say his name and the corners of your lips are turning up, “You actually feel that way about me? This isn’t a joke?”

“Why the hell would I joke about this?” He scoffs, turning away from you and back towards the lake.

“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe it's because I feel the same way and always thought it was unrequited.” You say, and that gets him to look at you again, he’s really hoping this isn’t some sick joke, “I think you're really nice. You always hold the door open for me, you took a hit for me on our mission, and you-you once told me something I really needed to hear, and it changed my perspective on so many things. You make me feel valued.”

He thinks of those examples, he remembers all of them so clearly. He never had to think about doing anything for you, it’s automatic, he likes making you happy. So, when he grabs your face with his hands and brings the pair of your lips together, he also hopes this makes you happy.

Your lips are soft and plush, unmoving. He is testing out the waters between both of your feelings now, trying to mend them together with one simple act. He pulls away. Your face is still being held in his hands, and yours are on his wrists. He looks at your expression and you are fully smiling, all because of him, his heart swells in his chest.

The feeling he now describes as butterflies in his gut never ceases, but he learns to like it because he is with you, and he now knows you feel like that when you are with him as well.

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a/n: I am so sorry for the delay on getting this fic released, I expected it to be a lot shorter and I got so busy I just couldn’t find the time for it. However, I hope you enjoyed this read !

sidenote: I also head cannon this to be an alternate universe to my fic Only Ones Who Know.

taglist: @mysideeffectsofyou

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha #bakugo and reader #todoroki is a good wingman #emotional bakugo #katsukibakugou #sorry this took so long #bakugo fic #bakugo katsuki fan fic

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turvi · 3 months

Note

Please some snape x wife reader. They are on vacation withou their child and Severus obviously missed her so much.

Thank you very much 💕

Y/n couldn’t help but smile when she heard Severus grumble about the overpriced dates they bought from the local shop. She knew her husband loved to complain but he was complaining more than usual. As Severus grumbled with a frown Y/n gently held his hand distracting him from his thoughts. It surprised him how his heart still skips with her one simple touch even though they have been together for 6 years now.

One look at her husband’s frowning face she could tell the real reason he was more grumpy than usual. It was not the overpriced dates. “Severus it’s only been 2 days we will get back to her in no time.”

Severus rolled his eyes. The audacity of this woman thinking she knows him well (she does). “How are you so calm knowing our daughter is back home without us?”

Y/n chuckled kissing his cheek, her thumb gently wiping the lipstick off “Sev she is with Mama and Papa she is in good hands.” She didn’t mind his grumbling not one bit because she knew their daughter Clementine had Severus wrapped around her little finger since day one. Although he had been terrified and anxious wondering day and night if he would be a good father or not, it all changed when he held her in his arms.

“Can we call your parents again?” Severus knew if Y/n hadn’t left him yet now she would, but her soft giggles soothed his thoughts and for a moment he couldn’t take his eyes away from her.

“My love, I have never called my parents so much in my life as I am now, while on vacation with my husband who misses our sweet angel.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, giving a quick peck on her head. “You tolerate me, my heart.”

My heart. It still made her blush after being with him for such a long time. “Hmm, I do…but I guess that’s what I get for marrying the notorious Severus Snape.” she yelped as he pinched her hip, her laughter swallowed by his lips as he kissed her. A kind of kiss that said so much. Thank you, I love you, I am so grateful for your presence in my life.

“To be honest with you, I miss her too. She has your smile and Severus she is so smart for her age.”

His eyes were full of love as he saw the mother of his child talk. “I think that’s where you are wrong my heart she has your looks and I am thankful for that because I wouldn’t wish my looks even on my worst enemy.” He felt her soft palm on his lips and a scowl on her face, which was quite hypocritical of her given she also looked down on herself, but in Severus’ eyes she was the most beautiful girl. He had not a single clue what she saw in him that she liked so much that she decided to spend her life with him and have his child.

“Severus Tobias Snape, don’t you dare speak such foul words about the man I love.” Her eyes. He loved her eyes the most. They were so expressive, so soft yet intense. He kissed her palm and believed every word he said, yet he kept it to himself for he loved her so much.

“I can never understand how you love me so much. But maybe that is the beauty of it,” he spoke so softly that Y/n would not have heard if they were not in the quiet part of the town.

His smile got wider when his wife wrapped her arms around his waist his arms immediately doing the same “Now I miss her too.” Severus chuckled. Even though they had taken this vacation to get some alone time, they missed their daughter. “Seems like we are cutting short our vacation.”

A/N: Here I am again responding to an old ask. REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS

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sgiandubh · 8 months

Note

I want to ship SC, trust me I do and I love them together, but I just can’t fathom how far they stretch a fake relationship (her and T). Like for example the recent picture of them holding hands- now it’s not an insane gesture but definitely one we haven’t seen before. So maybe they truly are just a private couple. But in my heart of hearts I just love her and S together so much, and don’t know what to think because on one hand they are simply everything together and on the other it seems like she really is with T. I’m confused 🥲 what’s your take?

Dear Confused Anon,

I will be brutally honest: no, I do not trust you and I do not care about your crocodile tears. Not a single bit. In fact, once I will be done with my answer to you, you are most probably going to press CTRL+C, then CTRL +V. And run to the nearest Mordor sweatshop, in the hope one of the Three Sopranos will insult me again.

You see, to trust you, I would have to speak with at least a handle, not a coward in disguise. And then, even DMs are neither always safe, nor always honest - I have recently learned it the rough way, despite my best efforts, tried (and up until now failed) to forgive and will never forget.

By now, I suppose everyone got a good look at this splendiferous picture:

Take a long, quiet, hard look at it, Shire.

So organic it could kill a moth colony on the spot.

So heartfelt - she doesn't even look at him.

So sentimental - that icy smile of hers. A happy couple, indeed.

A general round of applause, all across the Nation.

You are very wrong: it is not the first time they are holding hands, I mean, sort of. The much touted London marathon pic immediately comes to mind - although you'd have to admit, I looked and looked and he seemed to be checking her pulse, rather than being lovey-dovey.

A real private couple would never stoop as low as a cheap, laborious retcon, in retaliation for a couple of thousand people speculating on a niche blogging platform.

It took four years, a month and four days after that Remarkable Week-end to see McSideburns clumsily try and claw her hand. Remarkable, indeed.

And are you trying to tell me the MC didn't shake your beliefs and this does?

This perfunctory, formulaic, scripted AF, blip?

Wow. I have no words, Anon.

That unkempt, bland person - for God's sake, mister, tuck that damn shirt in your pants! - looking like the elephant in the china shop at a carefully curated event celebrating the supreme form of French refinement?

This is insulting, to say the least. To her (and her prized image), to Chanel, to this fandom, to S and believe it or not, to himself, too. Granted, the Berluti shoes are showing some improvement and are now clean. Hmph.

So here is what I think, Anon (and I know people are going to shriek and guess what, I do not care, for once):

It's been at least one year this fandom has been asking for this specific pic and for this specific whiplash. A childish tantrum, as she is regularly throwing. Mind you, that doesn't even come close to the painfully slow, monumentally boring Flukenzie Floozy Saga and looks as staged as the Ochoa & S London sighting (ah, patterns!).

This is the reaction to our scriptwriting ineptitude.

This is also the reaction to some underground shenanigans, directly related to a birth certificate apparently being peddled around. I will not discuss this, yet know just that: this is a legal claptrap, right there. I can, and if needed I will prove it. With the cold, surgical precision Mordor is so afraid of.

But she is a mother, for Christ's sake!

A mother!

As I said, I am not a mother and never will be. I do not wish this trial on anyone. But if I know something about life, I can guarantee you a mother would do whatever it takes to protect her child(ren).

Including taking precisely this kind of sad and forgettable pic.

So, there's that. We choose and we choose now: we fall for it once more and let the playbook fiddle with our insecurities once more and post endless trails of old pics once more to soothe the searing indignation.... Or GROW THE FUCK UP and show to whom it may concern we're not buying this shit anymore.

I know what I'll do. You're on your own, Anon: my tough love took you only this far, down the road. Sorry for the length. It was needed.

For the moment, I just booked an appointment with Miss Fotoula (roughly Claire, hehe), my genius hairdresser. I will ask her to refresh my dirty blonde mane.

#anon

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hauntedestheart · 3 months

Text

Security Measures - Body Swaps

Entry 3 in the Security Measures series- the stories of a boy named Trevor as he attempts to protect his possession-prone boyfriend Andy from snatchers.

I speak from personal experience when I say that if the average person were to be interested in trying to snatch someone else's body, a body swap spell would generally be the most accessible method. For obvious reasons I won't be offering any pointers on how to find any, but they're out there and they can be very tempting.

While every spell I've come across is fairly complicated in terms of setup, the results of a body swap are reliable and pose less risk to the user than other methods of body snatching. It's simple math really- because possession begins with two souls and two bodies and aims to end with one soul and one body, compromises are made along the way which causes it to be messy and temporary. By comparison a swap is very tidy because every soul and body involved is accounted for, which means a well executed swap spell can last indefinitely without too many side effects.

(If you find a spell involving "fern seeds" do NOT use that one because that's the one that got us into this mess to begin with... it's tempting but trust me, it's trouble.)

I never quite know what I'm in for when a swap happens since, unlike ghosts and hoppers, it's impossible to really paint the motivations of ordinary humans with a broad brush. People will swap because they want to get out of their lives, but there are countless reasons someone would want that and thus countless ways they'll behave after they do it.

Maybe they're jealous of Andy and want to steal his life, so they study him and do their best to impersonate him. Maybe they want an escape from their old life and are trying to use his life as a way out, so they take his body and try to run off with it. Maybe they don't really have a plan and just want to be young and hung, consequences be damned! But it's always about them with no consideration to how poor Andy is going to feel about the situation, so no matter what their reasons are they get no sympathy for me.

I don't doubt that every guy would swap with Andy given the chance even if I hadn't accidentally cursed him to be vulnerable to it- he's a gorgeous, 6'2'' stud who spends a quarter of his week in the gym -but the same looks that cause Andy so much trouble are actually a big asset in these situations. Being such a dreamy hunk means every guy wants to be him BUT once they are him, they're usually so excited by the state of their new body that they get distracted by... well... by this point I'm sure you've figured out what their first thoughts are. While they play, it buys us some time to start working things out.

Andy will usually head for me with his new body right after a swap happens (tip: code phrases work!) but I can usually guess what the person who did the swap looked like even before Andy turns up in their body based off of what they're most excited about:

If the snatcher is obsessed with bouncing his pecs, their real body is usually skinny.

If they keep rubbing his abs, they were probably fat.

Younger guys are generally really impressed by his biceps and will spend a lot of time flexing and showing those off.

Older guys are the only ones who pay attention to his hair- although since Andy has afro-textured hair it does catch a lot of men off-guard if they aren't used to that.

If they spend more than fifteen seconds checking out his ass, they're gay, but straight guys are usually more concerned with what they're packing in the front.

The last guy to try swapping with my boyfriend was a classics professor who translated a spell during his research and tried to use it to relieve his youth in the body of one of his students... which, of course, wound up being Andy. The spell transformed them into each other and I can't lie, it was kind of cute to watch Andy whine about being old– he made me promise to never let him get that out of shape.

We found the professor stumbling around drunk off his ass at a frat party trying to grind on any girl that got close (which was gross considering he was actually old enough to be their father) and just generally behaving like a slimy old man hiding behind a handsome young face. I distinctly remember that he was wearing a bedsheet toga, so when he went to do a keg stand it slipped off him and everybody saw Andy's dick hanging out- the real Andy found that pretty mortifying.

(Given how often he's running around in various states of undress, everybody on campus just thinks that Andy is really free with his body... which is correct, but not in the way they think.)

That was actually a fairly easy swap to fix AND we got to blackmail him into changing Andy's grade in the class to an A, so I guess it all worked out. He didn't even get stuck with the hangover!

In general, swaps being easy to do also means they're easy to undo. A spell is specifically targeted so it's often someone we're at least acquainted with AND we get their face in the trade, which means we can retrace their steps and figure out what they did. Every spell has a loophole so while it can be tricky to meet the criteria sometimes, a little bit of savvy always pulls us through. At this point we've reversed so many of them it's just a matter of opening up our glossary and trying stuff until something sticks.

Speaking personally, Andy and I have mixed feelings on swaps: we both appreciate that he gets to be awake and in a body during these but the bodies he gets are usually... less than ideal. Let's just say that the people trying to borrow other people's bodies generally aren't the ones who are happy with their own.

Every single time Andy gets swapped, he asks me if I'd still be able to love him in his new body. I haven't said no yet- but his real body is my favorite, of course.

#male body swap #Series: Security #this one turned out long but I have a weakness for swaps so

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wardenparker · 8 months

Text

The King's Queen - chapter 4

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Illness/cancer, not the world's best father/son relationship, character death, parent death, hospital Summary: There is sad news to be delivered to the people and decisions to be made, but the one thing you can promise Javi is that you will be beside him while he makes them. Notes: Guys this is just...this is a really hard chapter, so we tried to keep it short and push through the topic respectfully. And, of course, gif choice has no reflection on the reader's physical appearance.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

You are a godsend and Javi is happy you are with him, unable to think of what might have happened if you had not been there for him as chaos and confusion swirls around you both. His brow furrows and he shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

"The doctors will tell us what happened." Javi had told you that his father did not have much time, but from his reaction you doubt this is what he meant. "Can you tell me what happened?"

“I do not really know.” It seems almost like a blur. “My father had a meeting, and I was walking beside him when he suddenly froze and started to gurgle before he fell out of his chair.”

"And you had not been doing anything strenuous this morning?" You don't believe that anything he could have been doing would have caused that reaction from his father, but the doctors will surely ask and you want to be able to tell them in case Javi is too upset. "Did he seem upset or not himself while you were looking at rings?"

Javier’s eyes close guiltily. “No— but….” He sighs heavily and opens watery eyes to find yours. “The ring is…special.”

"Special...to him?" Trying to figure out if the king may have been upset or under some kind of stress isn't simple – not when you would hazard to guess that he rarely shows any real emotions whatsoever.

“It was…the ring my mother wore.” Javier admits. “My father was pleased with the idea. But urged that you should pick your own band.”

"It doesn't sound like he was upset about the choice, or that it caused any tension." Although you do squeeze his hand a little tighter. "You...you really want me to wear your mother's ring?" Your own mother's engagement ring is in a safe somewhere meant to be passed to your brother's future wife, so the idea isn't strange to you at all. In fact, it's reassuring. It shows just how sure about the idea of the two of you together that he has become. He would never even think of giving you something of his mother's if he thought badly of you in any way.

“I would love it. It is special and I think that you would wear it well. Treasure it as I do.”

"I will." You can promise him that without hesitation, and you bring his hand up reflexively to leave a kiss on his knuckles. "It does not sound to me like he was upset by anything that happened this morning. The doctors will tell us what has happened, and we'll go from there."

“I’m not ready.” Javi admits quietly. “I thought I had more time. I need more time. I need to tell him things.” There had been a time where he had imagined his father would always be there.

The unfortunate reality is that he may not have time. There is a chance that today is the day the king dies, and you hate to be the one who is detached from the situation enough to actually have that thought clearly. “Think of what you want to say to him,” you encourage him instead, trying for optimism. “When he has had some rest, I’ll leave you and your father to talk.”

“Please stay.” His eyes turn towards you, soft and begging. “He— he approves of you. Never would have allowed my mother’s ring if he didn’t. Please.” His fingers tighten against yours. “I feel so alone.”

“Okay.” Your free hand comes up to him, cupping his cheek gently, and you nod. It seems like that feeling of childlike fear when a parent is sick doesn’t change even as you get older and it breaks your heart to see him so sad. “I’ll stay. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Javi. I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“Thank you.” Javi sighs, shaking his head. “I know it seems ridiculous, but he has always been there. I had hoped the doctors were wrong. There could be some kind of miracle.”

“It isn’t ridiculous to have hope, or to love your father.” In fact, it’s fairly refreshing as political parent-and-child relationships go. “We’ll do this together. Whatever this ends up being.”

“It’s good you are here.” Javi had dreaded your appearance, but it seems like his mother had chosen perfectly when she had insisted that her friend’s daughter was perfect for him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." It's obvious to you, even after a day, that things have been difficult for him for a while now. It feels like a failing on your part, somehow, that you weren't here to be by his side much earlier.

“I do not know that you could have been.” Javi admits, looking down at your joined hands. “I don’t know if I would have been as accepting. But I am glad that I am.”

"I am glad, too. I wouldn't want to make your life more difficult than it already can be." There is quiet between you in the car for a moment as it speeds down the city streets. The hospital cannot be too far – the island simply isn't that large. "Your cousin is...forceful." You murmur, hating to break the silence with it but wanting to at least breach the topic in private.

“Hm?” Javi looks away from the road, his eyes fixed on the ambulance where his father is being transported.

"Lucas." You prompt quietly. "He seemed...very ready to take charge."

“He is always very eager to help.” Javier frowns slightly, the unease whenever he is brought up starting to make his stomach roll. He bites his lip and wonders what you thought of the man who had been deemed more worthy than he had been to marry Gabriela.

"Does he help you often?" It did not seem as though help had been first on his mind, but rather entirely railroading over Javi to take over the situation.

“He is more than willing to help, although my father normally assigns him tasks that take him away from the palace.” He tells you.

"I see." That seems like a deliberate choice, but you don't have enough information on the situation yet to determine more. Instead you squeeze Javi's hand gently. "Is it alright with you that I have chosen Gabriela to be one of my ladies? If it will make you uncomfortable, I fully understand. She just seems a very kind woman to me."

“She is a wonderful woman.” The bittersweet ache that normally occurs when he sees her or hears about her doesn’t come this time. “As long as you know our history and are okay with it, I do not see why you should deprive yourself of her company.”

"It's one of the reasons I chose her," you admit. "Because I know that she has been important to you and sometimes people like that are hard to find." There are plenty of women who would be worried that Javi might begin an affair or make her his mistress, but somehow you just can't see that as a possibility. He doesn't strike you as that kind of man to begin with – and if he is? Then he would find a way to take a mistress regardless of the situation. You would rather it happened with your knowledge and someone you know rather than as a trussed up little secret to end up in the papers.

He stares at you for a moment, unable to believe that you are so incredibly gracious. You will make an excellent queen, one that will be kind to his people and help him bring his country into a new era of health and prosperity. “Thank you.”

"I care about you very much," you tell him softly, already feeling the deep impulse to say more but knowing that this is not the time or place for such a confession. The car turns abruptly, following the ambulance around a curve and then tips downward as though it is going down into a tunnel. You have to assume that the emergency vehicle and your car are allowed under the hospital for security reasons and you're grateful that at least there will not be onlookers or cameras down here. "Whatever happens, I am right here," you remind him as the pulls to a stop.

Javi takes a deep breath and nods before he steps out of the car. His hand still in yours, he turns to help you out of the car and immediately turns to watch his father being rushed out of the ambulance.

"This way, your Highness." The guard that had been riding in the car with you is already following after the gurney and has a hand out to guide Javi alongside him. The look he spares you is polite but noncommittal, having seen the way you handled Prince Lucas at the palace. "His Majesty will be seen to immediately, but you will be able to wait in his room for news."

“Thank you.” Javier nods. “I want a media blackout in the hospital.” He tells the guard. “No news of my father’s condition is to get out until we know more.”

“Yes, your Highness.” The man immediately taps his watch to check a message, and you realize you have been wrong about this person’s job title. He wears a uniform, but a less elaborate one than the other guards and that seems to be for a reason. “I am ordering a blackout at the palace as well, until you are ready to deliver an official statement.” This must be the king’s personal assistant.

“Yes.” Javier nods, his jaw flexing slightly and his face suddenly a lot wearier than it had been. Weathered by the sudden onslaught of responsibility. “That would be best. Nothing is to come out until we have determined what our course is going forward.”

“Very good.” The man nods, continuing through the halls at the prince’s side until he glances again toward you as board an elevator together. “Your Highness, at the risk of being impertinent?”

“What is it, Julius?” Javier asks, frowning slightly. His father’s man has never been one to mince words and he knows that his father probably is more candid with him than Javier.

“The hospital officials will be reticent to speak in front of your guest,” he is doing his best to be polite, but this situation is slightly more important than basic manners would usual cover. “Do I have your permission to assure them she is to be treated as family?”

“Absolutely.” Javier turns towards you and asks permission silently. “Are you comfortable with that? I had— my plan was to formally propose tonight.” He admits quietly.

“I am perfectly okay with that. Formal proposal or otherwise, I’m not leaving your side.” You assure Javi, and nod to the man he has called Julius. “Whatever today holds, we will respond accordingly.”

“I was planning on making it special.” Javi murmurs sadly. “Having your favorite meal prepared and served out by the cliffs. Moonlight and fairy light proposal.” He chuckles. “One of my ancestors had a good sense of humor and there is a glass slipper in the royal collection. I was going to put the ring in the toe of the shoe.”

It sounds perfect, if you’re honest with yourself. Like a real life fairy tale. And you hate how defeated Javi looks over something so romantic. “It sounds utterly romantic. And we can still do all of that,” you promise him, voice soft and gentle to be reassuring. “A worrying day does not have to rule all of our decisions. And we can even decide to wait if you prefer.”

“I don’t know if that would be prudent.” Javi sighs, wishing that the king had not collapsed. “I am the next in line for the throne. My people need to see that I am strong enough to carry them.”

“You are strong enough, but I am here with you. And you know my answer.” It isn’t meant to be cruel or cold, and you squeeze his hand in yours as the elevator starts to slow. “If you had the ring with you, I would wear it immediately and we can have our romantic dinner as soon as timing allows.” It isn’t ideal. Not to either of you. But right now idealism matters much less than the reality of the situation.

His brow furrows a moment and it’s going against everything in his entire body to do it, but he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a surprisingly nondescript box. “I do have it.” He offers quietly. “Are you sure?”

“It may surprise you to hear it.” A glance to your left and you see Julius dedicatedly studying the elevator wall facing away from you. You turn a smile back to Javi and nod. “But I have no hesitations. Whatever hardships you face, I face them with you. Whatever joys we have, we have them together.” Years have come and gone where you had questioned if you had any ambition to be a princess. To be a queen. But the moment he smiled at you, the truth washed over you like a wave — your ambition is him. To be what he needs. And tonight or tomorrow or whenever he decides to formally ask the question, you’ll tell him then that you’ve started falling in love with him.

“I have had no question where my life was directed.” Javi admits. “Since my first breath, my path was determined and shaped for me. And even though you were also selected for me, I am surprised by how earnestly I look forward to our adventure together.” He smiles, not as brightly as the night before, but it is sincere. “That is what it will be. Our adventure.”

“I have always known it was an honour to be chosen,” you tell him honestly as he lifts the brilliant diamond ring from the small leather box. “But now that I have met you? I am excited for it.”

“I hope that you stay excited.” He hopes as he takes your left hand and starts to slide the ring onto your finger. “It will be difficult at times.”

"There are things worth fighting for." The heavy meaning of the ring isn't lost on you, but you watch him slide it into place with a feeling of deep, true pride. "I will always fight for you and at your side." The elevator stops almost as soon as you finish speaking, and Julius turns after softly clearing his throat. "God save the Princess of Mallorca," he intones seriously, though the smile on his lips belies him. He was listening to every word and he is glad to hear such honesty from you. "After you, your Highnesses."

It's nearly surreal, hearing 'the Princess of Mallorca' and for the first time, feeling as if this is his decision. He decided that the despite the personal termoil that is going on, he would go through with the plan that had been laid down. Modified of course, but the there was no hesitation on his part when he had time the think about it. "Get used to that." He warns you.

"For your father's sake, I hope to remain princess for a good long while." You promise him, but even in spite of that you can't help smiling slightly. Deliberately tangling your right hand in Javi's left means the ring on your left will be on display for anyone who catches sight of you ask the three of you walk swiftly down the corridor and maybe it's a little bit of that American 'image is everything' mentality that makes you think of it but that might not be a bad thing. Some things are symbols for a reason, and engagement rings are a very important symbol all on their own.

Javi smiles and applies the tiniest bit of pressure to your hand, although he doesn't think that will be the case. The very serious expression on the medical staff's faces was telling him more than anything else. They are all very concerned about the King. "You will be a beautiful princess." He promises.

"Your Highness." A tall man with shock-silver hair and a deliberately calm demeanor despite his solemn face approaches you and Javier with his arm outstretched. He is wearing a white coat with his name embroidered on it and a laminated badge that marks him as the head of the hospital's oncology team. "Your father is being examined. This way, please." There is medical staff and security everywhere, but no one speaks as you, Javi, and Julius are ushered into a room on the left side of the hallway. Once the older man shuts the door behind the four of you, a pinched if polite smile is the most he can manage. "I need to know everything you can remember about this morning and what happened when the king collapsed." The doctor asks, although it is urgent enough that it could almost be perceived as a demand. "Even the smallest clue may help us determine the course of his treatment."

Javier nods, frowning as he sits down. Starting to go through the entire morning slowly, mentioning every wince and shift of pain in the King's seated position in his chair. "He took his medication right before we left the royal safe." His frown deepens. "He does not like when anyone sees him take it. Even me, normally."

"He has the medication on his person?" The doctor has been listening attentively, nodding along with the prince's recounting of the morning activities. "We will put it safely with his things," he assures Javi when the younger man nods. "His physician is with the examination team. For now all I can tell you is that we are working to stabilize him."

"Does it— does it look dire?" Javi asks, almost afraid of the answer, but he also needs to know. "Do you think it was a heart attack? A stroke?"

"It does not appear to have been a stroke." The doctor pauses, clearly not wanting to deliver the news that the prince has asked for. "But it is very likely that it was a heart attack. A severe one."

Javier's eyes close and he sways slightly on his feet, absorbing the news and nodding after a moment. "If it was a heart attack, what are his chances?"

"We do not know yet." It would be impossible to guess, and this man is certainly not going to be the one to choose statistics out of thin air. Not when it is the king's life at stake. "We will do everything in our power to help him. But...it is probably best to be ready for unfortunate news."

As much as he doesn't want to hear it, Javier appreciates the candor of the comment. He reaches out and takes the doctor's hand and shakes it firmly. "Please." He asks, keeping his voice low so it doesn't break. "I know you will, but please do everything in your power."

"We will, your Highness." As solemn as the moment is, it is honest. And the doctor excuses himself from the room with a polite nod.

"Shit, shit, shit." Javi's head drops the moment the door closes and the three of you are alone. "It's— he's going to die."

"We don't know that." Immediately putting your arms around him, it's all you can do to rub his back gently and offer him a safe place to exist with however it is that he's feeling. "Heart attacks are not always fatal."

“The doctor did not seem very optimistic.” Javi sighs and looks towards Julius. “Did he?”

"I would say that he was cautious." Julius answers, not inclined to be very optimistic himself. "Your Highness, there are certain...protocols that should be observed. In the event of an emergency." While it is obvious that the prince does not wish to hear any of this, it is the man's job. "With your permission, I will have black clothing brought from the palace and retrieve the draft of the palace's formal statement that your father last signed off on, for you to make adjustments to as you see fit."

“Yes.” Javier nods solemnly and then looks to you. “Include a black outfit for the princess as well.” He instructs Julius. “If a statement will need to be made, I want it to be done from the palace. If the king is dying, I want him transported back. He should pass in his own bed.”

"Yes, your Highness." Julius nods in much the same way the doctor did before excusing himself from the room, already extracting a cell phone from the pocket of his suit.

“This is really happening.” Javi sags under the weight of it all and collapses down into a chair in the room. “He—” he can’t say the words and shakes his head, eyes closed and face pinched in pain.

"We're alone," you urge him quietly, glancing up at the door to make sure no one can see in and only seeing the back of Julius's suit guarding the entrance to the room. You immediately pull the second nearby chair up beside Javi and take up the soft circles you were rubbing on his back just a second ago. "Let it out. Now is the time." As far as you can tell, the next time the two of you leave this room, there is a chance that you may be bringing the king home to die. And if that is the case, you want Javi to have had a chance to vent his fears and frustrations in private.

The tears don’t come like he had thought they would, but he holds his head in his hands. “I should have more time.” He chokes out. “I need more time with him.”

"The doctors will find out what has made him worse." Certainly he looked ill last night at dinner, but not on the verge of collapsing. It is beyond you to know exactly what to say, but you hold on to him with everything you have and let him breathe as best he can.

“Sí.” Javier nods and is eternally grateful that you are here with him. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t, probably collapse into a pile of worry and fear. “They must. Few know of his condition as it is, but his doctor is here.”

You are used to waiting hours for news from medical staff even in the case of an emergency. This is not, apparently, how it works when you are royalty. Or perhaps when it is just this specific situation. When the door to the room where you are sitting with Javi reopens some half an hour later, Julius and the silver haired-doctor are accompanied by another man – a physician in scrubs who looks like he has just aged a decade in the last hour. “Your Highness.” The man bows his head deeply, regret and respect lying heavily on his shoulders.

Javi knows that his father is either gone, or there is no hope, just from the tone of the man’s voice. He stands and takes a moment to roll his shoulders back, taking a deep breath as he walks towards the trio. “Sí?”

“It was a blood clot that caused the heart attack.” Despite being almost twice the prince’s age, the man seems reticent to make eye contact, and it is no wonder. No physician ever relishes delivering news like this to a family. Least of all when your patient is the king. “We detected a second very near to his lungs.” He swallows, hands already wrung out with worry. “But the king’s heart is already failing. I—I am afraid I cannot even guarantee that he will make it back to the palace before he passes.”

“I see.” It’s a miracle that Javi didn’t fall to the floor at the news, perhaps he has already accepted the fact that his father was going to die today. “If the king cannot be transported, he should stay and be made as comfortable as possible.” Javi tells the doctor. “Is he awake? In pain? Does he know?”

“He is awake.” The royal physician nods solemnly. “And mostly aware. Though he has been given an appropriate dose of medication to manage his pain.” With a nod to the door, all three men bow their heads. “He has asked for you, your Highness.”

“Take me to him.” Javi turns back towards you and reaches out his hand for you to join him. He knows you will come, and that you will make the king happy when he sees the ring on your finger.

The group of you is formidable as it moves down the hallways, turning together down a long passage and coming to a stop at a doorway blocked by two uniformed palace guards. They instantly move out of the way for Javi and the door is opened, allowing your party inside. The king in a hospital bed is not a sight anyone relishes. He is pale and visibly weak but seems to be aware as he turns his head slightly to see his son walk into the room.

“Papa.” Javi rushes forward with you, not caring about royal protocol. He cares about spending the last moments with his dying father.

“Mijo.” The pain of breathing has been eased by medicine, but it lurks somewhere in the background like a knowing predator. “Let Julius help you. Papers in,” He breathes deeply and it is obvious how much effort it takes. “My desk.”

Javier nods, reaching out and taking his hand. “I will.” He promises him. “I will make sure everything is exactly how you would wish it.” He knows that he has long disappointed his father, but he won’t let him down now. He wants him to have peace in his last moments.

“Be careful—” Miguel coughs, the inelegant force of it shaking his body. “With trust.” It is not precisely what he means but the medicine makes out frustratingly difficult to think of the right word to use and he frowns slightly. “Choose one person to tell your secrets.”

Javier frowns slightly and nods. He’s already decided to trust you and motions behind him to beckon you closer. “Mamá was your confidant.” He knows that because she had told him so as a little boy. “I will choose my wife, my queen as well.” He takes your hand when you stand beside him and pulls it forward gently. “It is done, papá.” It doesn’t matter that he still needs to formally propose, he wants his father to know that he is taking his future role seriously.

“You.” The king looks up into your face with such utter seriousness that you stand stock still in the face of it. “You will not fail my son.” It is clear it is an order, but somehow there is an edge of fear in the thought, as if he simply has forgotten – or maybe never knew – how to plead.

“No.” Shaking your head, your other hand goes directly to Javi’s shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She has chosen her ladies-in-waiting.” Javi assures him. “She had chosen well, and will be well served for the crown and our people.” He smiles. “You have done well for me, father.”

“Stay.” Again the order seems like it might have once been a request, but the king has long forgotten how to make them. Instead he holds his son’s hand with what strength he has left and shakes with the effort of a breath. “Stay.”

“I am not leaving you, Papa.” Javier chokes out, tears swimming in his eyes. He’s not a doctor but he can tell that his father is about to draw his last breath. In just the last few moments his breath has become rattled and his skin taking on a waxy appearance. “Never. I am here.”

It will be recorded in King Miguel’s story that his last thoughts on this Earth were of his wife – the way he gasped her name before exhaling deeply one last time making you so utterly sure that he must have seen here there in front of him in the room even as he held Javi’s hand. Long silence in the space seems to have swallowed the hearts of every witness: the doctors present alongside Julius, yourself, and Javi all sharing a moment of contemplative grief in the room with the now deceased monarch.

Until Julius’s deep voice vibrates softly through the space. “The king is dead. Long live the king.”

Javier’s eyes close and he swims in his grief for a moment. Allowing himself to grieve his father, despite the monumental moment that is the beginning of his reign. “King Miguel rests. His reign is over.” He murmurs quietly, leaning in and kissing his father’s hand.

“God save the King.” Is a mighty sentence to be heard spoken by the men surrounding you, and you find yourself murmuring the words along with them like you have been swept up in the tide of the moment. It is as heartbreaking as it is groundbreaking, but you stand back and let Javi absorb it for himself for now.

Javi stands and lays his father’s hand over his chest. His shoulders roll back, and he straightens before he turns around. His eyes are still grief stricken, but his face is composed. “Handle his body with care.” He instructs the doctors, “thank you for your efforts in making him comfortable.” He tells the doctors before he steps closer to shake their hands.

The transformation is, sadly, one you think that his father would have been proud of. To see gentle, hopeful Javi feel the burden of the world on his shoulders only solidifies your resolve to be by his side. You listen as Javi gives his thanks and instructs again that the late king’s body be delivered to the palace with care.

“We will, your Majesty.” The doctor who had worked on the king nods and he slips out of the room to inform the discreet staff of the procedures.

Javi turns towards Julius. “My father’s statement, have someone bring it to me immediately. I wish to release the announcement within the hour.”

"If you would prefer to make the address from the palace, I will have your valet meet you with your change of clothes in your office." It is his now, as the office that once belonged to King Miguel has instantly become his son's. "I have an electronic version of the statement for you to read in the car, your Majesty." A few strokes of his fingers on his smartphone and the file is instantly sent to Javi's phone. That is all it takes these days. Julius had always had electronic copies of things kept at the ready even though the late king preferred paper.

“I believe that it would be fitting to have the address be from the office,” he agrees. “Have the mirrors covered with black drapes and find the official photograph from my father’s sapphire jubilee.” He orders Julius. “I will read the speech in the car and make any adjustments I see fit.”

"Yes, your Majesty." This transition may have come sooner than Julius had expected, but he is grateful to see that the prince's first steps as a king are outwardly smooth and confident – even if he does not feel it in himself yet. After a few keystrokes on his phone, no doubt sending directions to the staff at the palace to have things ready for the new king's arrival – the older man turns his head to you. "Flores has things ready for you on our arrival, your Highness. It would be prudent to report to your suite immediately, change, and be on hand for the king's address."

"Perfectly right." It is the thing that will benefit Javi the most, and that is what you're here for.

“Julius.” Javier turns towards the man who has advised his father for years in an unofficial capacity as his personal secretary. “I would like you to stay on in my staff.”

If he was expecting it or not, the small and nearly pleased small that graces the man's face temporarily is full of gratitude. Some new monarchs replace an entire palace staff in order to have things their own way. It seems the new king will not follow that path, and Julius nods deeply as you walk together. "It will be my honour, your Majesty."

Javi turns towards you, and takes your hand. “I do not want the joy of our announcement to detract from the nation’s mourning.” He explains quietly. “However, I want you there with me.”

"Perhaps having a new beginning to look forward to will ease the pain that comes with mourning." You hold onto his hand tightly, offering him the supportive smile that no one else around you can muster at the moment. "I'll be right beside you. I'm sure whatever Flores has picked out will be appropriate and I can be shown to your office immediately." Having promised him that he wouldn't have to do any of this alone, you intend to keep your word.

“Thank you.” His hand squeezes yours and he sends you a grateful smile. “This is not how I wished today to go, but I am grateful you are here with me.”

“Nothing is ever exactly as we plan it.” He is holding the hand is adorned with his mother’s ring, and the metal bites into both of your hands ever so slightly. Like the physical representation of the promise that binds you together. “But I would not be anywhere else.”

“I appreciate that.” Javi murmurs seriously, reaching up to cup your cheek gently. “Let us go prepare the country for bad news.”

******

The drive back to the palace is not quite as efficient as it was to the hospital, but when you return there is an air of questioning about nearly everything. Of course no one has been told much of anything beyond Flores and Javi’s valet having prepared mourning clothing, but you give his hand a squeeze in the hallway before you leave him to change your clothes. “I’ll be with you soon,” you promise, the look of solemn seriousness on both of your faces sure to alert some eagle-eyed staff to what is to come. “As quickly as I can be.”

“Take your time.” He insists. “Take a moment, I know it’s hard to deal with.”

“I’ll take a moment later, when we can take one together.” Your hand is on his cheek like his was on yours earlier, and you would kiss him if things were less public or less strained. But for now you swipe a bit of moisture away from his eye. “I will meet you in your office, and we will do this together.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs softly, showing his uneasy emotions to you for the first time since he has immediately become king. Unsure of why he has someone so amazing in his corner, it bolsters his confidence.

“You’re going to be wonderful, querido.” Something instinctive tells you that. A certainty you can’t name. “Go with Julius and change your clothes. Fix your speech. I’ll be back to you before you even remember I’ve gone.”

He nods once and turns on his heel to follow the man who is now his personal assistant through the wing to get to his rooms. Although he will be moved into the king’s chambers after the funeral.

As quickly as you can move down the hall to your suite without drawing attention to yourself, you’re eternally grateful to find Flores in your sitting room with your jewelry box when you come through the door. “We need to be quick,” you tell her, already unpinning the hat you had been wearing all day before now.

“Yes, your Highness.” She quickly takes the hat from your hand and moves to your dress and unzips it. There can be no modesty between you and your lady’s maid. “I have a Dutti black sheath dress laid out for you.” She explains. “They are a Spanish designer but have a design branch here in Mallorca.”

“I should not be surprised that things have already been acquired for me, should I?” No doubt the late king had your sizes on file and things ordered as soon as he sent for you. He was an efficient man and that was a virtue for him in his position. “Is it appropriate to work out of my own jewelry box for now? It’s not unlikely that the king will want me beside him when he makes his address, and I don’t know if having me in borrowed jewels right away would be seen as the appropriate choice or like an American is barging into the palace head first.”

“The piece from the royal family you are wearing will be very visible, but there is also a selection of jewelry that King Miguel, may he rest, had pulled to round out your welcome wardrobe.” She explains. “He had known you would pick your own style, but he had ordered that this be made available to you as a working example.”

“Flores, you’re invaluable.” As soon as your bright, floral sundress can be whisked away, her capable hands are directing you into a sleek black sheath dress that will hit just below your knees and make you look suitably official for your first appearance as the Princess of Mallorca.

Unlike other kingdoms, who might only have given you the title once you were married to Javi, here it is bestowed on the woman who is to be married to heir to the throne. There will be a small ceremony at some point – you have no idea when – where Javi sets a tiara on your head for the first time. And then you will be the Crowned Princess of Mallorca – the future wife of the king. It’s all based in medieval traditions and regulations, but since you have spent most of your lifetime making yourself aware of the traditions, at least you know what is coming.

“I think…before we get into the crowned jewels…there is something in my jewelry box I would prefer to wear.” Looking up at her in the mirror, the dress is immaculate but your eyes land on your maid’s face. “There is a little silver box that has a pair of pearl earrings and a matching bracelet. They were a birthday gift from the late king. It…would be nice to honor him that way.”

That would be perfect and the way Flores smiles and nods shows you that. “It would be most fitting, your Highness.” She agrees and moves towards the box that had been unpacked that contains your jewelry. “Shall we reset your hair or just your makeup?”

“Just makeup, I think.” The hat you had been wearing had the virtue of being small and not making much of an impact on the way she had styled your hair this morning. “I have no idea what the rest of the day will hold but it would be best to do something neutral, I think. Soft.”

“Yes.” She nods and gives you a small smile. “We will make you look both strong and soft. A welcomed haven for our King Javier.”

“He’s doing well so far.” For as few orders as he has had to give so far, he has been level-headed, reasonable, and gracious. “One of the most difficult days of his life and he has been nothing but kind to everyone around him.”

“He is a good man. A kind one.” Flores nods in approval. “Unlike some, he does not take the staff for granted or abuse them.”

"As long as we are on the topic." You have a feeling that you know precisely who she is talking about, and glance up at her again as you sit in the vanity chair for her to touch up your make up. "I know there hasn't been much time, but have the Countess and Dama Maisie been able to settle in?"

“They have, your highness.” She informs you with a small smile. “Unfortunately, the suite where the Count normally stays has been taken so he had decided to go back to his estate.”

"Oh, how unfortunate." But the knowing sparkle in each of your eyes when they meet in the mirror says otherwise. "I do hope the countess can be persuaded to find comfort and some relaxation without his presence."

“She seemed positively sublime when she was finished settling in and had a tea service sitting in front of her.” Flores giggles quietly.

"I am extremely glad to hear it." And really, you are. Whatever is happening with Gabriela and her husband, it cannot be allowed to get worse. A small shake of your head accompanies the thought and you reach for the earrings on the vanity in front of you while Flores attaches the bracelet to your wrist and hands you a soft, dusty rose shade of lipstick. "Shoes, and then I will be ready. Unless you see something out of place?"

“You look perfect, your Highness.” She tells you with a smile. “It is not the introduction I would wish for you to the country, but you will win their hearts with your respectful honor and kind heart.”

“I don’t think this is the introduction anyone wished for, but it’s the one we have so we must make the best of it.” That’s your mother talking, but you don’t mind it. Sometimes her voice comes through at the best of times.

There are a few extra touches, just to make sure that everything is perfect and then Flores steps back. “You are ready.” She announces with a nod of her head. “I shall walk you back towards the king’s office, unless you wish to go alone?”

"Between you and I?" You shake your head at yourself before smoothing your hand over the dress nervously. "I may get lost if you don't. It's a miracle I managed to find my own rooms on my own."

“It is confusing as first,” she agrees, quickly putting away the cosmetics and ushering you towards the door. “You will soon know it better than anywhere else you’ve lived.”

Setting off down the hall in all black does draw a bit of attention from those people who know who you are – but that number is still so slim that most of the palace staff still seems to considering you invisible. The five minute walk from the residential wing to the king's office is brisk, though, and the footman at the door is taking his job incredibly seriously today.

"The Princess of Mallorca." He announces in a somber and low tone, just as you walk past him.

Javier looks up from the speech and for a moment, he is breathless. You are dressed impeccably, not that he had any doubts that you would be. The dress is respectable and looks lovely on you. Standing, he motions you closer. “Come. I would like your opinion on the speech.”

"Of course." He has changed as well, as you knew he would. Gone are the linen shirt and loose pants that he had been wearing just twenty minutes ago and now he looks every inch a royal in a bespoke black suit. Even the square in his pocket is immaculate. Despite the tragic circumstances, he looks stunning.

He pulls out the seat for you, sitting you behind his father’s — his desk. “Please, give me your honest opinion.”

The page and a half long speech is eloquent, as you knew it would be, and concise. It addresses the handing over of power with clear love for the people. It assures of stability and continued progress. It even has a line deliberately mentioning the new king's intended which Javi has scratched at and edited in his own scribbling handwriting to include your name. It is very...official. And while that is not a bad thing, the bit of it with the most emotion seems to be the part that Javi has added in by himself. "You might make sure to mention that he passed peacefully," you suggest, indicating the paragraph where the late king's illness is mentioned. "It will give people comfort to know that he was not in pain or afraid at the end."

Javi nods seriously. “Yes, I will include that in the speech. Thank you.” Biting his lip, he looks around the office nervously. “Other than that, it sounds good?”

“Yes.” Your hand finds his on top of the desk and you repeat that gentle squeezing motion you’ve both become accustomed to so quickly. “It sounds very kingly. And comforting. The country may be shocked to learn of the loss but they should also feel like you have things under control, which is as close to perfect as we can hope for under the circumstances.”

As long as you believe in him, Javi feels like this might actually be possible. He’s not sure when you became such an important figure in his life, but it is clear that you are vital to his reign as king. “Then that is what we will go with.”

“Short and sweet, as we say in America.” You smile warmly, hoping to give him another moment of reassurance before Julius clears his throat politely.

“This will be an interruption of regular programming, sire, and it will be live. It will take only a few minutes to contact the news channels.”

“Okay.” Javier nods. “Make the calls. I want to be on the air in ten minutes.” He decides.

“Is there anything I can do besides be here?” Whatever he could ask, you already know you’ll do it. The deep initial connection between the two of you has been cemented in a way that no one could have guessed at but has so far made you nearly inseparable.

“Not that I am aware of.” Javi is grateful that you are so willing to jump in and do whatever is necessary. “Are you ready to become known as the Princess of Mallorca, officially?”

“I’ll do my very best to live up to the title.” Given that the last Princess of Mallorca was his mother, you don’t take the title or the responsibility lightly. “Perhaps tonight we can still enjoy a dinner together? Even if it isn’t as elaborate as what you had originally planned?” You know he’ll be exhausted emotionally and mentally after today, but the hope is to give him something to look forward to. A bright spot after a day that has held so much darkness.

“I think that would be nice.” Javi sighs softly. “It might be later than expected since I have to have a meeting with my cabinet and advisors.”

“You do what you need to do.” You promise him quietly. Julius is supervising the entrance of a woman with a television camera with the utmost seriousness and you wouldn’t want to distract him. “I still have an appointment to keep this afternoon and I have a few things to go over with Flores. When you’re ready for me, just call and I will be there.”

“Thank you.” Even though the woman is there, he’s leaning in to press a respectful kiss to your cheek, lingering slightly. “I hope you enjoy your appointment.”

"I think it will be significantly less nerve-wracking with Maisie and Gabriela there." Shifting away from his desk after you squeeze his hand tight in yours, you nod to the woman with the camera and Julius beckons you out of the way to stand by his side.

"If you would stay with me, your Highness," he murmurs quietly as the technician begins to set up the shot and speak to the king at his desk. "I believe it would do him well if he could see your face during the address. Sometimes the presence of the ones we love is all it takes to get through life's hardest trials."

Javi sits down behind the desk, fiddling slightly with his royal seal that is pinned to his suit jacket. He’s terrified that he will fail, but now the time has come that he cannot fail. The country is his to rule, the people his to care for.

A little fussing on the camera woman's part is all it takes, and the room is oddly full by the time the red light off to the right of Javi's desk begins blinking to signify the countdown to being on the air. A few members of the staff have filed in quietly behind where you and Julius are standing, silent as stagnant air but eager to witness this historic moment.

Once the light is solid, Javi begins to speak: “Today, I address you from the royal palace to bring you sober news.” He recites from the speech. “King Miguel has passed away peacefully this morning at eleven forty-three at the royal hospital following a medical event.”

The small group of people around you cross themselves or press their hands to their hearts. Even Julius nods his head. You never take your eyes off Javi, though, nodding to encourage him and breathing deliberately to remind him to do the same. The sort of things your mother used to do with your dad before campaign events.

“King Miguel led our country with compassion, wisdom and an infinite love for his people.” Javi praises. “His presence will be missed and our grief palpable as we move forward into a new time.”

He's doing so well. As far as you know it is the first televised speech Javi has ever made in his life and you give him a discreet thumbs up from behind the camera line.

“I understand that there will be worries about the future,” he personally shares those worries, but he can’t say that to the country. “Rest assured that the transfer of power had already been anticipated with the arrival of the Princess of Mallorca, future Queen.”

When he says your name you could not possibly stand any taller or feel any prouder. He had penned the words into the speech himself and the emotion behind them rings with intent, making your hand move to your chest with a very different feeling than everyone else in the room. Every end is also a beginning, and as devastating as that end may be for some, you cannot help but be excited for the beginning you and Javi face together.

“Tonight, we will remember King Miguel, celebrate his life and his reign over the people that he had dedicated his life in service to.” He looks into the camera solemnly and with a quiet pride. “He was a king, a leader, a diplomat, but he was also a man. A husband to his beloved wife and a father. The king took his last breathes with his wife on his mind.”

There is a shadow of a sniffle from behind you and one of the older members of the house staff crosses herself again. You can make out just the mouthing of a blessing from the corner of your eye. Queen Gloria was adored; you know that well.

“I will leave you with a message of hope and remembrance. Grief and joy. Mallorca is a strong nation and while we will remember King Miguel as one of the best monarchs of our illustrious history, the path forward will be forged on the service he has provided his people. Good day and God bless you all.” Javi signs off and holds the camera’s view until the red light goes dark.

You are the second to move, only stepping out from behind the camera when you see the woman operating it switch off the unit and look away from her monitor. "You did splendidly," you promise him, moving directly back to his side at the large mahogany desk.

His hand reaches for yours, for comfort and assurance. “Thank you. I was hoping that my voice was not wavering. I felt like I was about to cry.”

“No,” you shake your head. “Not wavering. You sounded moved, but not unsteady.” In fact, you smile at the honesty of the thought. “He would have been very proud.”

“You think?” He asks, his brows raised and his face nearly pleading with you to be serious. He still wants his father’s approval now, especially. He had left the care of an entire country in his hands. It was much more than a mere inheritance.

"I absolutely do." With no thought to the other people in the room, you bend down to leave a kiss on his cheek the way he did with you earlier. "That was a wonderful way to greet your people as their new king."

“I don’t feel like a king.” He admits with a rueful chuckle. “I thought there would be this moment where it just clicked, but there wasn’t.”

"Maybe there wasn't a time that you felt it." It is unexpectedly intimate, the way your fingers seems to develop a mind of their own and brush one tousled curl away from his forehead. "But the rest of us did." He had transformed almost instantly, and you had seen the different set of his shoulders and the way his head came up a little higher since then. "When you stood up from your father's bedside, every one of us in that room knew it had happened."

“My greatest fear is to let him…them—” he motions to the staff behind you and the rest of the kingdom. “Down.”

"That is not a bad fear to have, querido." You've settled into it. You like the little pet name for him and it seems as though he doesn't mind it either. "But we cannot let it make you too afraid to act. Be afraid, but do things anyway."

“You are very wise, margarita.” He murmurs, leaning into you for a moment and pressing his head to yours. “Very wise.”

“We both have things to do.” If you don’t remind yourself – and him – of that it would be all too easy to get wrapped up in each other. Instead you smile softly and let your hands linger on his arms for a second more. “But call for me and I’ll be there. Especially for our meal.”

“Sí.” He nods and would like to linger but Julius is giving him a discreet look. He needs to convene the council immediately. “I will see you later, Princess.”

Javi's day will be absorbed in policy and in ritual, but yours will be dizzying in a different way. Walking back to your suite, there is no mistaking the reaction that people have to you now. That broadcast went out to the entire country and as such the entire palace has been informed. King Javier I has stepped up to his responsibility and has announced the arrival of a new princess. You're met with bows and curtsies instead of disinterested looks, and the doors to your suite are opened for you a whole six feet before you could reach it yourself.

"Your Highness." Flores is beaming as she rushes towards you, her own station elevated by the news that you are the next queen of Mallorca, although she is more interested in your reaction. "How has the change been?" She asks. "Nearly instantaneous, sí?"

"Very much so." And as dizzying as that is, you are glad to see that Flores is only excited and nothing has changed here. Not in this room, at least. "How long do we have until the dressmaker arrives?"

"They will be here in ten minutes." She checks her watch. "Would you like to change into something else, or greet the dressmaker in your current outfit?"

"This will be fine." There is no need to change a third time only to have to essentially undress to be measured and fitted for new clothing. "Perhaps it would be prudent to have the Contessa and Dama Maisie brought in before her arrival?" You glance at the clock on the mantle across the sitting room and bite your lip when you look back to Flores. "And maybe a tray? I know teatime isn't exactly Spanish but we have all missed lunch due to the commotion."

"I can have a light fare brought in for you and your ladies, as well as the designer?" She asks. "Tapas?" She knows that today is a trying one for you and she wishes to make sure that you have everything you need.

"That would be wonderful." You have seen already how invaluable Flores is going to be to helping you navigate your way through things, but she seems to prove it continually. "I am..." You sigh, floundering as you look for the word, and ending up with just a shake of your head. "Scattered. I am scattered, I think." Without Javi to focus on, the threads of your concentration seem to just slip away like waves from the shore.

“You are not scattered.” She shakes her head and frowns at you. “You must select a personal assistant.” She reminds you. “Someone to keep your schedule for you and coordinate your needs.”

"I wish my brother was here," you admit quietly. "He would be able to manage everything beautifully." Despite your father's insistence that Sebastian would be a Senator just like him one day, you know your older brother. He is a far better hand behind the curtain than the man standing in front of it.

“The Princess can ask anyone to join her team.” Flores hums. “If your brother was willing, I know that there would be no reason to deny him. Although it is a very…personal position. Even keeping track of your menstrual cycle.”

For a second you almost ask why that would be necessary, but you swallow the question when you remember that royal heirs are a necessary part of the job. Because what you have isn't just a job. It is an entire life that is dedicated to an entire country. And just as Javi can't let them down, neither can you. "He has had to take care of worse," you acknowledge with a half-laugh. "I'm going to call him." The decision is instant, and you even feel a little lighter for it. "Would you be kind enough to see to a tray and have my ladies join me in a few minutes?"

“Sí, su alteza.” Flores nods and curtsies before she starts to hurry out of the room. She will make sure that the tapas will be enough to fuel you through the day and give you a selection of the chef’s specialties.

Taking a deep breath, you dig your cell phone out of the purse that you had left sitting on your vanity from this morning, and sit down in the beautifully crafted chair to select your brother's contact information and hit Send. As a staffer in your father's office you know he's busy, but hopefully not too busy to take a phone call. After all, two in the afternoon in Mallorca is 8 a.m. in New York City. He probably hasn't even left for the office yet.

“Hello?” He rattles off his name and title since he uses his cell phone for more business than anything else.

"Hey." You relax instantly at the sound of his voice. It's so easy to picture him standing in the living room of the apartment you shared until just two days ago, mixing his coffee. If you strain, you can even hear the spoon in his travel mug. "It's me."

“Hey!” His voice ticks up and he immediately stops to think about the time difference between him and you. “How is it going? The prince? Is he a jerk? Do you want to come home? I’ll hide you from dad and the whole Balearic Island kingdom.”

"Actually?" You sigh a little at the question. "He's a dream. Manners, romance, and insanely attractive to boot. I—" There's no use beating around the bush, and you don't really have time for it anyway. "Seb, his father died today. Barely two hours ago, actually."

“Oh god.” He’s not without compassion and he hums sympathetically. “I am so sorry. I— it hasn’t broken over here yet.”

"Javi just announced it on the air about twenty minutes ago." You're used to being close to a news cycle, but this is the first time you've ever been directly a part of a breaking story. "So, um...your sister is officially a princess... No doubt Dad will be annoyed that I told you first instead of him."

“What he doesn’t know.” Sebastian practically rolls his eyes through the phone.

Both of you laugh softly, knowing how true it is, and you nod against your phone. "I have a weird question for you, Seb."

“How weird could it possibly be?” He snorts. “You are in a modern day arranged marriage and it seems to be making you happy.”

"The thing is..." He's right, again, and you're glad for the little reprieve in what has been an otherwise stressful day. "There's a lot going on here. As I'm sure you can imagine. It's a lot to manage and my lady's maid is amazing but there are some things that are just...outside of her wheelhouse." For as composed as you have been with nearly everything else today, you are sitting at the vanity biting your lip as you tilt your head back and close your eyes. "I need to hire a personal assistant, Seb. And I honestly can't think of anybody who knows me better or can manage all the crazy stress better than you can. I mean hell, you've survived being Dad's assistant. There's no way literal royalty could be more demanding than that."

The pregnant pause on the other end of the line grows as Sebastian thinks. He knows the job would be stressful but rewarding. Plus, he would be able to see his sister, something he had missed in the short time you have been gone. Getting off dad’s staff would stop the comments about running for his seat when he’s ready to retire. “How soon would you need me?” He asks.

“As soon as you can get here.” The utter relief that runs through you has you sagging in your chair. “And if you decide you hate it or it’s too much, I will totally understand. But I—” You sigh down the line. “I really appreciate it, Seb.”

“Give me two days to settle my affairs here.” Already his mind is whirling and he’s making lists of things he needs to do. “I’m assuming the necessary visas will be available?”

“I’ll have Javi’s assistant make sure everything is in order, and we’ll send the jet for you.” The wheels in your mind start turning on other things, and you glance up at the clock again. “You’re the best brother in the world, you know that right?”

“Of course I am.” Sebastian chuckles, knowing you would say that regardless. “I’ll see you in three days, honey. Hold it together until I get there.”

"I'll get everything ready for you here." Whatever that will mean. But you'll find out from Julius everything that will be entailed. "I owe you, Seb. And I'll call Dad now so that you don't have to break it to him."

“Are you sure you want to do that?” He winces and figures that you are better off not dealing with the headache.

“How much yelling do you think there’s going to be?” You ask honestly, wondering if he might have a point. “I have an appointment in a few minutes.”

“Dad?” Sebastian snorts. “At least twenty minutes.” He rolls his eyes. “Plus a lecture and a tirade. You save yourself the trouble and I’ll tell him that I went to work for a Republican.” He jokes.

“You’ll be disinherited.” Huffing a laugh, you nod even though he can’t see you. “Thanks, Seb. And remind him before he decides to call and leave me a furious voicemail that I’m royalty now. So making me cry might be treason.”

He’s laughing as he says goodbye and hangs up, immediately calling his father to start the ball rolling on changing his entire life, just like you had. You calling him had been a godsend, he had been unhappy with his current direction and had no interest in running for office himself.

Your phone is barely down on the vanity when the doors to your suite open again, letting Maisie and Gabriela inside. They have changed into black clothing as well, in accordance with officially being a part of the royal household as of today, and you pull yourself up to standing when the door shuts again behind them. "How are you both doing?" You ask, not knowing how close either of them may ever have been to the late king.

“It is very sad.” Gabriela sighs and shakes her head. Even though she had been denied the pleasure of marrying Javier, she had tremendous respect for Miguel. “I think that the entire country will be mourning for a long time.”

"His reign was long and influential." Having taken the throne at just eighteen years old, being king was his entire life. And the people of the Balearic Islands would not soon forget him. "Although I am relieved to say that he was not in pain, at the end."

“Yes.” She agrees, nodding her head and folding her hands together in front of her body. “That is the most we can hope for.”

"Gabriella, if you need some time to yourself, I completely understand." Stepping closer to her, you don't want her to feel forced or invalidated in any kind of sadness she might be feeling. Especially when today has taken such a drastic turn.

“It is better to focus on the future than the past.” She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Keeping busy will be good for me.”

“If you ever feel overwhelmed or like you need to have time to yourself, will you please tell me?” It can’t be something many princesses have ever said to their ladies, but if anyone expected you to be a ‘normal’ princess they have another thing coming altogether. “That is for both of you,” you insist, looking to Maisie as well.

“Thank you, your Highness.” Maisie nods. “I must ask, is there something you would like us to call you in private? Or would you prefer to keep to formalities?”

"I like nicknames," you admit, thinking fondly of even the few times that Javi has used your new pet name. "My mother called me Daisy, and I was always very fond of that."

She tilts her head and nods, smiling softly. “I like that. If you wish, it is completely acceptable for your ladies to call you by that.” She assures you. “Although, only in informal situations and when we are alone.”

"I would like that very much." In fact it's oddly comforting, and you're smiling when the door to your suite opens once more.

“Your Highness. My ladies.” Flores nods respectfully as she wheels a silver service cart into the room. Laden down with fresh squeezed lemonade, a pot of tea and three tiered displays of tapas for you to snack on while you are consulting with the dressmaker. “Please let me know if there is something you wish to have in addition to this.”

“Flores, you are a wonder.” Maisie hums happily.

“She is.” There is nothing that could possibly make you disagree with that, and you lend your maid a smile. “I called my brother, after we spoke. He’ll be here in a few days. Thank you for encouraging me.”

“That is wonderful.” She smiles and starts to set up the food and drinks. “José, the butler, will be escorting the dressmaker here when they arrive.”

"Then let us snack while we can." Maisie grins conspiratorially, shooting you a playful wink. "Before we must have ladylike manners again."

______

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