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rae-writes · 7 months

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our bonds

om demons x reader

+ two bonus characters || 2.k wc

synopsis : [Rae’s] pact hcs ranging anywhere from size, placement, qualities, and additional little quips— in order of obtainment

Mammon’s pact mark is the biggest one you have; plastered over your upper back- right in the center- it circles around to the very end of your trapezius muscle, hitting parts of your shoulder, though it doesn’t reach past your neck. It glows a shimmering gold when in use. When activated, the feeling is the equivalent to a steady pulse of adrenaline

Mammon can splay his entire hand over the mark and not cover it all

Likes to hug you from behind so he can be pressed against it, and if you’re still enough, you can feel the quick thump thump of his heart against you

Loves when you wear tops that show it off

Has a Polaroid you took where your bare back is exposed to a mirror and you’re looking over your shoulder with a grin; it never leaves the clear pocket in his wallet

Traces it for comfort- whether he was feeling down or just to reassure himself that you’re his and you aren’t going anywhere

With the owner being so shy, it was a bit surprising to see Levi’s mark show up on the back of your right hand; the rather small size makes up for the bold placement. The very top of the sigil’s circle hits the bottom of your middle knuckle, going down until it hits your wrist line. When in use, it pulses a toxic shade of orange and has a faint iridescent tinge to it. The feeling is like a cold wave of pinpricks, as if you’d just jumped into the ocean headfirst.

Traces over it constantly- absentmindedly- as a form of both comfort and a way to relieve his anxiety

Can sit for hours and watch the iridescent shimmer (only if you’re fine with having it active for so long)

Preens subtly whenever you brandish it proudly when someone asks about it

Melts if you caress his face using that hand— especially if he’s been down in his sin and it’s glowing his orange

Bites the mark when he’s feeling particularly possessive, making sure the indents of his teeth (see: fangs) show

Unlike his brother, it was not a surprise to see Beel’s pact show up on your stomach. Evenly placed in the middle, it was your second biggest pact that reached a little below your belly button (much before your pelvis) and up to two inches below the tip of your sternum. Lights up a neon red when activated— almost like a warning sign. The feeling is practically numbing, like there’s suddenly a black hole there instead.

Always gives a big, dopey grin whenever he catches sight of it and offers you a bite of whatever he’s eating

He likes to nuzzle his head against the mark, occasionally sleeping there when he’s not holding you

Instead of having just an arm around your waist in town, he’ll also splay his hand over part of your stomach to feel even closer

Loves blowing raspberries right in the center of the sigil

Beel’s lock screen is a picture of you and him where you’re smiling with your arms raised in a cheer while he’s holding you up in his arms- in his fangol uniform and extremely sweaty- but with an even bigger grin as he rests his head against your stomach

Asmo’s pact shows up along your sternum, rather than being in a risqué location like you were expecting, and fits in the center of your chest thanks to its smaller size. When activated, the color varies from baby pink to hot pink, depending on exactly how much strength is flowing through the pact. It feels like a pleasant tingle blooming throughout your entire chest, slowly moving down to the rest of your body the longer it’s in use.

Rests his forehead over the area as a silent way of saying ‘I’m here, I love you, thank you for loving me as me’ especially when he’s feeling insecure

Uses it as the perfect excuse to include cleavage windows amongst the clothing he picks out for you

Likes to watch it turn from the lightest innocent shade to the darkest lust shade

Whenever you’re both doing a spa day, he makes sure to trace his sigil because it ‘will keep our relationship healthy!’

Cried the first time you showed it to him because you brought him closer so he could rest his head over it and the sound of your heartbeat made him feel so loved

You’ll find Satan’s pact marking your left wrist. It’s one of your smaller ones; it doesn’t pass the sides of your forearm and stays right below the wrist line— has a diameter of 3 inches from top to bottom. Is a neutral forest green when in use and gets either duller or brighter depending on how angry you get. Activating it brings a sensation bordering between a nice, cozy warmth and a scalding, burning warmth.

Kisses over the mark all. the. time.

also nuzzles his head against it like a cat

Like Levi, he has a habit of biting his mark whenever his sin starts to take hold of either of you

Can’t help but feel fuzzy whenever he sees it, no matter how many times he’s seen it

His favorite bookmark is a pocket sized photo of you throwing up a peace sign with his sigil showing

Located on your lower back, Belphie’s pact is very much the equivalent of a tramp stamp. A nice medium sized sigil that sits right in the middle, over your spine. When activated, the color is a faint amethyst with blue speckles floating about, no brighter than a nightlight. It sends a deep haze through you, like the feeling of finally settling into a comfy bed after a long day.

Falls asleep with his head resting against his pact— it’s one of his favorite spots

Has a hand resting there whenever you go out; it makes him feel assured and keeps him from losing you (he did that once…he nearly threw a tantrum in the middle of town)

His eyes always dart to your lower back when your shirt starts riding up

Can sit for hours and watch the blue speckles shift around

Another biter! Anytime he gets jealous or even just wants your attention, he’s biting over his mark sharply

Lucifer’s pact ends up on the back of your neck, big enough to see all the details, but small enough to fit right under your hairline and down to the base of your neck without stretching to the sides. It glimmers a deep, sapphire blue when in use and has a quick electric feel when first activated that smooths out into the equivalent of a light, steady buzz.

Has a habit of gently grabbing the back of your neck to get your attention (only when you’re alone)

Places a kiss in the center of the sigil every night before bed and every morning before leaving the bed

He doesn’t show it, but whenever his pact is visible in public, it sends a shock of pride right through him every time

While he would like to claim he’s more composed than his brothers, he also has the habit of biting his mark whenever he gets jealous or possessive

Tends to cup the back of your neck whenever you two kiss (and sometimes digs his fingers into the flesh gently when it gets a bit heated)

+bonus

Finally receiving one on your legs, Barbatos’ pact shows up on the outer side of your right ankle. Roughly the same size as Satan’s, it stops above your ankle bone and doesn’t breach the sides of your calf. The color comes in slow waves of jade green when in use and has a feel equal to being lost alone in an eerie forest— the coldness of the air and the distinct feeling of not actually being the only one there.

Subconsciously rubs his thumb over the mark whenever you’re casually lounging together

Anytime he’s helping you put your shoes on, he insists, because he is a gentlemen, he places a slow kiss in the center of the mark (if you’re wearing pants or long socks, he’ll pull up/down the material just to do so and then fix it right back)

There’s a picture hidden in your, Asmo, and Solomon’s D.D.D of a back shot of Barbatos, overcoat off, with your leg thrown over his shoulder, pact mark glowing on the skin of your ankle— magic works wonders when secretly snapping good shots

When you first formed a pact with him, everyone could see the silent smugness he radiated, but no one knew why for weeks because they couldn’t see the mark (everyone flipped once they did find out, though)

The rare times you’re both seated at a table together when he isn’t running around catering to everybody, he keens every time to rub your ankle against his under the table

Much to his surprise [and slight embarrassment], Mephisto’s mark appears on your left upper thigh, right under the hip bone. It’s also a good medium size, circling right in the center. It glows a pretty, royal shade of magenta when activated; gives you the feeling of simultaneously being both annoyed and accomplished.

Discreetly grabs your hips anytime he’s passing by behind you and runs his fingers over his mark before letting go

Anytime you throw your legs over him when lounging around, he always- absentmindedly- goes to rub over his mark

And another biter! He does try to maintain some ‘class’, but when it gets down to it and he’s just so frustrated and jealous, sinking his teeth into his pact makes him feel so much better

Sometimes gets insecure because his can’t be shown off as easily as the others

After seeing his pact activate for the first time, he became obsessed with the color magenta on you

Diavolo’s pact is the smallest one you have, formed to be discreet and to be able to fit behind your left ear; it's unnoticeable unless someone is actively looking for it. When in use, it’s a dull maroon shade- no brighter than one of those glow in the dark star decals. The feeling is that of having a powerful sugar rush.

Adores cupping your face for a kiss and being able to press his fingers against his mark discreetly

Was actually a bit pouty when he discovered it was far more hidden that the other pacts you have, but got over it pretty quickly

Got into the habit of brushing your hair behind your ear, just so he could touch his pact

Kisses the center of it every time you leave the castle

His home screen is a picture of you holding your hair up, revealing his mark, as you stick your tongue out playfully

++extra bonus

You get Simeon’s on the inner part of your right thigh, another one medium in size— about 3.5 inches in diameter, top to bottom. Activating it makes the pact shine with a gentle turquoise color. It’s a feeling of tranquility, of being secure and relaxed.

Enjoys resting his head over the mark whenever you’re both laying around

Caresses that area every time you’re seated in his lap

Even he didn’t expect it, but he’s also a biter; he’s gentle with it, though, knowing his mark is at a rather tender spot until those possessive urges hit

Involuntarily scowls when he sees one of the others touching the area his mark is at

+++extra extra reverse!bonus

Your pact mark goes right over Solomon’s pelvic bone— a nice medium size to where it doesn’t show above his pants (if someone were to catch him with his shirt off). It swirls a pearlescent white when activated.

You send him a sly look anytime he talks to one of the other demons he has a pact with (except for Barbatos) and it makes him weak every. single. time.

He practically keens every time you glide your nails across your pact

Embarrassed when he finds a picture on your D.D.D of him laying on his back, your thighs locked on either side of him, with your fingers curled in the fabric of his pants, pulling the material down just far enough to see your pact (but he doesn’t make you delete it)

Has to refrain from jolting whenever you sneak up behind him and press your hand down over your mark

Don’t even get him started on the times you and Barbatos team up to tease him

743 notes · View notes

sleepybbie · 10 months

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KOI NO YOKAN | nagi x reader

summary: koi no yokan - the sudden knowledge upon meeting someone that the two of you are destined to fall in love. nagi still remembers the day he met you and the day he fell in love with you.

nagi seishiro x fem!reader

notes: from nagi’s pov! h/c - hair color, h/l - hair length, e/c - eye color, f/n - friend’s name <33

a/n: aaahh i love this man sm ! ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

nagi still remembers the day he first saw you.

it was during one of his football practices at school. his good friend, reo and his other teammates were practicing as usual on the field, the soccer ball being kicked around—same old, same old. it was a hassle to have practices after school when he could just be at home at the moment, play video games all day and have the most relaxing naps alone at his home.

well now that his life had changed after he met the ambitious mikage son, nagi knew he couldn’t go back to that boring lifestyle he used to have anymore.

“nagi over here, over here…!” he hears reo yell from the side. today’s practice was a 5 on 5 match at hakuho high’s soccer club. nagi nonchalantly yet swiftly kicked the ball towards reo without any second thought in his head except of going home early after today’s game. when reo caught the ball, the purple haired boy ran towards the goal, confusing the enemy side with his small dribbling tricks to attempt to distract them, and passed it to a nearby teammate.

nagi almost let out a loud grunt when that same teammate that reo passed to, kicked the ball so high it went out of the field in full speed. “it’s out! someone catch it before it hits somebody!” someone beside reo yelled. reo looked over at nagi and shouted, “nagi quick! get it!”

what a pain…

his legs now running with speed, nagi’s eyes glued to the floating ball failed to notice people standing in his direction. including a group of friends who were now running out of the way. the ball was now heading towards someone..he picked up the pace a little.

“y/n watch out!” a call of somebody’s name echoed into his ears before nagi jumped up high and caught the ball within seconds with his feet. thank goodness he got it just in time, or else it would’ve already hit the person in front of him. the moment he stopped the ball, it was if he managed to stop time, too. nagi’s grey orbs scanning down to see a face just right below him.

a girl

her eyes were looking back at him, filled with surprise and amazement. his white bangs flowed along with the rhythm of the cold wind that hit his face, he could see her properly from his vision. h/c h/l hair, her eyes were a hue of e/c pupils. at that same split second, the earth created a collision between two people for their first meeting, much more different than fate walking pass by—like a painter touching a skin of a canvas for the first time in order to create a masterpiece.

the ball stopped, and nagi swiftly landed on the ground, trying to push himself as much as possible to not hit the girl on his way. kicking the ball back up, nagi kicks the ball back into the field and watches as reo takes it and slammed the ball towards the goal, earning another point for their team. 3-0, it was slightly unfair. there were yells from that same area—saying how that pass was even possible. though, mostly everyone knows hakuho high’s crazy soccer duo.

nagi places both of his hands on his hip, letting out a sigh before he faces the person standing behind him. she’s still there, looking scared of what just happened. “uhmm…” he began, “are you alright?”

she winces. odd..he was at least twice the times taller than her figure. although he knows that there were other girls shorter than her in this school, she was just one of them. “oh…! uhh, yes i’m ok. t-thank you for saving me..” she says, giving nagi a short bow. a shy type of student? she seems to stutter easily upon talking. nagi raises a brow, a little perplexed, “it’s not much of a big deal, anyways…i wouldn’t really call that saving..”

the girl blinks her eyes twice and she chuckles, seeming unbothered of what just happened. she had a nice smile, warm and stitched beautiful across her kind expression. he changed his mind, was this girl the calm type? she’s certainly showing no concern of the trouble his teammate made (and he had to stop it for him). thinking about someone’s facial expression is such a bother, why is he even thinking of it?

“i’m honest. if it weren’t for you i would’ve got hit. so, thank you so much,” she says, quite in a soft tone. maybe she was the soft-hearted type..? she looks studious. she’s probably smart, too. at this point, nagi feels like he’s already judging a person based on their looks, but he couldn’t help it.

“eh..like i said, ‘s not much of a big de—

“y/n! ugh, thank goodness you’re ok!” the sentences were cut off soon when the person who was with her (who is probably her friend) ran straight to her side, concerned expressions on her face as her hands clutch onto her shoulders, shaking them.

“i-i’m fine, f/n..! i didn’t get hit i swear..!”

“i know but still…!” her friend looked over to nagi’s direction, and the snowy haired boy knew he was going to get an earful by this random chick who was defending her best friend. maybe if he just sneaked off, then he’ll be safe..? “hey nagi, could you and your team kindly stop kicking the ball so hard?? you guys could’ve hit someone, y’know?!” she began, and nagi immediately discarded his short plan. yeah, he’s used to this by now.

“oi are you listening?!”

‘ugh, so noisy, what a hassle..and how does this girl even know my name? do i know her?’

“ahh..! f/n! i’m sorry, sorry. about my teammate kicking the ball out of the field,” well about time his savior arrived. nagi watches as reo appeared out from behind and nervously raised both of his hands up as a stop gesture to back the girl named f/n up away from the sleepy genius. f/n scoffs, “reo…hey, it would be appreciated if you tell your team to calm down with the ball or else it would’ve hit y/n right here. if it weren’t for this guy then i’d be seeing her at the infirmary room.”

this girl is so loud, nagi thinks. compared to the girl he just saved from the soccer ball. f/n mentioned her name is…y/n? huh..

“i’m really sorry again. i’ll tell that to them. i’m sorry, too, y/n. i hope it didn’t scare you much.”

“like i said, it’s ok…! you don’t need to apologize, reo. i’m fine, see?”

oh, his friend knows y/n, too.

“reo, you know them?” nagi questions. reo looked over at nagi and raises his brow, looking puzzled. f/n had an offended look over her face while y/n just giggled. did he say anything wrong? he’s sure he asked him right.

“nagi…these two are our classmates..”

nagi blinks. “oh…really?”

“the hell do you mean, really?!” f/n shouts at him, obviously pissed. maybe he should stop sleeping in class all the time…or sneak off during recess to play..? yet again, reo is always finding ways to look for him at break hours.

reo sighs as he rolled his eyes. “calm down…he’s always like this. c’mon nagi, let’s go back to practice. we got another match next week.”

“mm..”

“you better keep your word, reo..! let’s go, y/n,” f/n uttered to the purple haired male, reo waves off as a response while nagi still stood there. f/n calmly took y/n’s hand and walked off the opposite direction, dragging her along.

“ah..! bye nagi…! thank you once again..!” y/n waves to him, with a smile. and then the two friends left.

nagi was a little surprised. it was the first time a girl said goodbye like that to him…exception of his other female relatives and his mom. a classmate of his.

nothing else to say, he raises his hand up, waving back. “bye..?” his voice was soft, only he could hear it, as if there was a lump trapped between his throat.

that was strange

he remembers the first time he had a long chat with you.

it was when reo held a study group for the upcoming exams their school was having. everyone knew how smart the mikage’s son is, so they immediately asked him if he could help them with tutoring. who was he to say no?

however, reo wanted to drag nagi along as well for the group study session. nagi at first, declined; saying it was too much of a bother to even study for an exam (even if it was an upcoming long test) and that he was far too tired to come with them (not to mention a whole group of students he doesn’t know is coming, too). it took the lazy male awhile to just say ‘yes’ to the rich boy after what seemed like an hour of endless pleading for him to tag along. the only reason why nagi decided to, is because reo made a solution of doing the study session at a huge cafe that was nearby an arcade shop.

once the group was ready to stroll, nagi stayed far behind from them as mostly every student talked to reo while walking towards the cafe, he just walked, being occupied by his phone.

“oh! reo, f/n said that they’ll follow by. what cafe are we going to, again? gotta tell her so she’ll know where we’re studying.”

“oh, just the cafe 20 minutes near our school beside the arcade store. tell her and she’ll know.”

oh shit…nagi remembers her. the girl that gave him the stink eye when the soccer ball almost hit…

‘what was her name again…?’ nagi’s thoughts began to sink in wonder. oh right…her name is y/n. it’s been a long time since nagi last saw her. so y/n’s friend was coming by to the study group…great, looks like god wasn’t on his side today. he’s a 100% sure she’ll be irritated if she saw him there at the same table.

when the group entered the cafe, reo easily booked them a large table where all could sit beside one another without any problems. everyone cheered for him. nagi wasn’t able to sit besides reo since it seems like he was seated between two girls who were calling over for his attention, asking how this formula works or how to solve this problem in the most ear screeching voice nagi could ever hear. maths was hell, and reo was a master of all subjects in their class.

it was around 1:58pm when their group studying began. nagi barely paid any attention to what reo was tutoring to them. he’s silently playing on his phone that was well hidden under the desk, while his classmates focused on their books in hand. when he finds reo to be distracted with the tutoring, nagi decided to pretend to excuse himself to go to the bathroom; when he’s really planning to visit the arcade next door instead. the snowy haired male wasn’t interested in the study anyways.

he finds himself going outside the cafe and hurriedly rushed to the arcade door, where at first enter was a glance of neon lights and game-like explosions blasting from the inside. nagi’s eyes sparkled from the sight of one of his favorite games at one of the arcade stalls nearby, he had enough quarters with him, maybe playing a few rounds wouldn’t hurt.

the thing that was a pain, is that there were many players on line. as in many. the game had its reasons of why it was going popular today, and nagi knew that very well.

‘such a hassle…there’s so many people in line…better if i exchange a few quarters first just in case..’ he thoughts to himself as he heads towards to one of the employers in the arcade arena. the aisle was surrounded by a lot of people possibly his age, and some half of them were loving couples who were comfortable enough to flirt with one another in public. displaying affection in areas like this is enough to make nagi sick.

next to him were crane machines (and players throwing slight tantrums when the stuffed animal went back down), ticket counters, and racing car games. his eyes darted everywhere, trying to look for a few exchanges for his whole dollar yen until he spotted a figure in front of one of the crane machines.

h/l h/c hair..a short figure…and the reflection of the glass from the crane game.

oh..!

it was her

her hands were manoeuvring over the crane’s handle, focusing on what stuffed animal she plans to get. however, the stuffed bunny fell back down to where it came from, and he hears y/n groan in dismay. nagi finds himself watching her attempt to get the stuffed bunny for at least two more rounds. although, in those two rounds, the poor girl still wasn’t able to get the stuffed toy she wanted. her pout made her look like a toddler. nagi had no idea how long he was gazing at y/n till he failed to notice she was already turning around and saw him. she jumped in surprise.

“ah..! n-nagi-san..?! is that you??”

“oh…hey,” was all he replied, very casually. y/n’s face shifted into a look of puzzlement, holding her school bag tight in her palms as she tilted her head, “what are you doing here? i thought you were part of reo’s study group..”

“eh..got bored. decided to drop by here instead. what’re you doing here?”

she giggles. “aha, you’re…very blunt and straightforward about it. i’m here because f/n-chan is part of the study group..isn’t reo going to be angry if he finds out you’re here..?”

he shrugs, “don’t know. but i know reo, so i trust he won’t. i think..” he thinks. he’s been playing with the purple haired boy for almost 4 months now, and his talent being used as an instrument for soccer and for his and reo’s dream to bring home the world cup…nagi just wishes he would know how to study expressions more. but now…reo wasn’t with him, instead there’s this girl (who is his classmate at school), looking over at him with a curious stare.

“don’t worry. i’ll talk to him out of this if he did.”

“ah…ok, i see..”

“by the way, are you having trouble getting that plush bunny at the crane machine?”

“eh..?? so you’ve noticed..”

“ ‘ts easy. don’t know why you have such a hard time..”

“i-i’m not an expert..!”

“mm..then, i’ll give it a try..”

“you will..??”

“mm..”

nagi wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him when he decided to take over the controller of the crane machine, however he did know is that he easily won the bunny plushie for y/n, who gave him the most softest and widest smile he has ever seen. reo had beamed at him like that before, in fact he was the first one who had ever shown nagi appreciation and like towards the boring genius. but, something about how y/n did seemed…a little odd.

“that was amazing..! you did it with no hesitation..!”

“like i said, ‘ts easy..all you have to do is find the right angle and press the button to grab it.”

“how are you able to find the perfect angle so easily though?? nagi-san you must have sharp eyes.”

“you ask a lot of questions..”

“ah! sorry!”

and the next thing he knew, he was sitting next to her at one of the dining tables, licking on an ice cream while y/n continued to talk a lot about her interests. in return, nagi told her about him and reo, and at first y/n mistaken the two of them as a couple due to how close they were. the only reply nagi gave was ‘cringe.’

“i’m not interested in getting into a relationship…sounds like a drag to always have quality time with them just because you like them..”

“though, not quality time is always required in a relationship, nagi-san. there are other languages in love, too…i heard..”

“is that so? well that’s even more of a bother…”

having such a conversation like this with a girl…nagi has no idea what was coming to him.

he didn’t know how long they started talking to one another. all he knew, was that he helped her win a stuffed animal in some boring crane machine, and she followed him when he began to play the game he waited for, and watched him beat every player lined up, then, the two of them went to a dining table at the side and ordered ice cream. however, their convo with one another was cut short when f/n bursted inside the arcade along with reo, and spotted the two of them together eating. reo had this fizzled expression on his look, his face having questions of what the two of them were doing together, while f/n was surprised her best friend was with someone like nagi.

“oh! nagi-san, before we part, do you have line?”

nagi felt his shoulders weigh down a bit. “line id? uhh…yeah.”

“let’s exchange ids…is it ok? i…i wanna keep talking to you.”

head empty, nagi wasn’t sure what to reply for that while her best friend seems to be staring at him intensely.

“mm…sure.”

well, at least it was you who made the first move…nagi thinks to himself.

weird

he will never forget the day…in which the day he fell in love with you.

the news of the blue lock staff members giving the bllk-11 team the order of having a vacation after defeating the u20 team brought excitement over to nagi’s head. he missed his home, ahh he also missed his cactus, he misses his warm bed and…

‘ah…why am i thinking of y/n again..?’

once he got all his stuff back, nagi made the decision of jumping on his mattress and take a nap when he’s back home. he was fetched home by one of the blue lock buses, he bid farewell to the friends he made along the way during the (hellish) soccer project, and by the time he reaches his door, nagi was happy to find choki back all healthy on his window still.

probably ba-ya was the one who returned choki. he did leave it on her hands after all. then again…he remembered what he told reo back during their match alongside isagi and barou. nagi couldn’t help but give out a small sigh once he looked over choki.

‘such a drag…thinking too much is a hassle..’

he left his stuff on the ground before jumping on his bed and bringing out his phone. the weather was nice…comfortable even. the perfect weather where he can do nothing but sleep the entire day away.

if that’s the case…why is he suddenly looking for y/n’s contact number?

when the other line rung, he can hear her picking up the phone, her breath shaky on the side.

“y/n?”

“ah..! nagi-san, sorry if i picked up late!”

“eh..? that was a quick pick up than i expected, y’know..?” she… still sounded the same. during the match with u20, he could actually see her at one of the stalls of the audience along with her friends. he wanted to wave hi, nagi wanted to talk to her even like before after the game. he just didn’t know he only had the courage now to make a call. come to think of it, why did he even call her on the first place?

“ehe…sorry, i was cleaning my room. ah.! also, congrats on your team’s win. i’m so happy for you and reo!”

he frowns. “mm, thanks..”

“how is he by the way? i was texting him after the game but…he’s not responding. is he alright?”

nagi thinks of himself as someone who would just cast everything away aside so that it wouldn’t be a problem for him (or as he’d like to call it, be more of a bother to him). so, he’s so confused on why he’s telling y/n everything of what happened to him at blue lock, what happened between him and reo, and the rush he felt during the progress of becoming the world’s best striker. he was letting all of his feelings out…to nobody but y/n.

y/n listens attentively, humming on every detail he said. giving feedback of what she thinks…comforting him on the other side of the phone.

what nagi didn’t know the most, of why his heart was beating so fast right now.

more…he wanted to talk to her more..

he didn’t even realize it began to rain outside his window. the snowy haired male didn’t realize either he was talking to her for so long. nagi isn’t a chatty person, everyone knows his stoic and unbothered behaviour, however when it came to y/n..he just doesn’t know what’s going on with himself anymore.

nagi feels warm.

“nagi-san…are you ok?” y/n’s voice was soft, like a whisper. she sounded concerned, worried. nagi’s eyes dropped to the cushion of his bed, staring at his socks—feeling the rain patter hard on the window next to him, and his grey eyes painted with a natural dull cover.

“yeah..” is all he replied. “..m just feeling a bit tired. that’s all.”

“i see…i’m glad you called. i was also planning to call you. i just decided to tidy up around first before doing so, yet i didn’t expect you’d call me first..aha..” y/n says, letting out a soft giggle. nagi could hear her adjust her phone, the sound of soft pillows rummaging on the other side. she was probably laying down on her bed right now as it rained.

“you know…after your game against the u-20 team…i wanted to see you.”

just like the moment when reo looked up to him and his boring demeanor, when he first made the scoring goal against the u-20, when he managed to trick rin itoshi back at blue lock…nagi felt like his heart beating ten times faster now. the world pauses for a second, he couldn’t hear the rain outside anymore, only the sound of his heartbeat echoing through. the feeling of warmth that he felt when talking to her…it seemed to be increasing so much he feels the tip of his ears turning red.

this is a new feeling to him. not like any soccer match or anything involved with reo and his other friends, no. all of this fuzzy emotions building up inside of his stomach…all new. there was silence over the phone.

“u-umm..sorry, that was a strange thing to say, isn’t it?”

nagi fixed his posture a little, pulling a pillow close to his chest. “nah…well, maybe a bit. it isn’t much of a bother though.”

badump

“oh really..? well i’m glad then! i thought i might’ve said something awkward…sorry, you were just silent for a moment there i thought you were feeling odd about what i said.”

badump

he hugs the pillow tighter. “no.. ‘s fine..i was just surprised you wanted to talk and see someone like me. you and reo are weird.”

badump

“e-eh? only? i’m really sorry then!”

badump..

“but really though, i really hope you and reo get along again soon. you two are so well known in our school..! popular even, i overhear the girls in the bathroom that you two are amazing that you guys brought a powerhouse school down!”

stupid fucking heart..why do you keep beating so fast? you’re just talking to a girl.

the rain fell a little fainter, although the melodies of his heart didn’t seem to stop whenever y/n continued to talk on the phone. his bangs covered his eyes, only listening to her soothing tone of her sweet voice. she sounded pretty…so fucking pretty.

“hey..” nagi suddenly cuts her off. this strange sensation rubbing through his chest. y/n obliged, and immediately went quiet. “hm?”

“i think i like you.”

maybe he was the strange one after all.

#nagi x reader #seishiro nagi #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #lily’s.blog🌸#lily’s.fic🩷

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kentosbabes · 1 year

Note

Hi dear! How are you? Can you right part 2 of gojo x perfect reader? The one in which reader is intelligent and short? It's up to you to write it or not . Thank you! And your writing is great!

I'm good! I hope your doing well too <3 Part 1 here

Gojo who continues running to catch up with you as you walk down the corridor. 'come on pretty girl' he says as you finally stop at your locker and change your book 'Please'. You slam your looker and look up at him through your lenses holding your books close to your chest 'If I say yes will you leave me alone' you ask rolling your eyes. Gojo just chuckles and replies 'How about this, if you don't have fun I will leave you alone.'

Gojo who towers over you as you debate his proposal and finally let out a 'fine' making him smirk. 'okay smarty I'll pick you up at 6pm tonight' he says walking off leaving you in shock as you mumble 'How does he know where I live'. Although you'd hate to admit it you were more worried than you wanted to be about how you looked. you were using all your favorite products and making sure you looked your best. You hated how easily he had you in his grasp.

Gojo who knocks on your door exactly as the clock hits 6pm. you open the door in a skin-tight dress that barely covers your ass making his eyes go wide. 'I didn't know what to wear I don't know where you're taking me. I can go change' you say opening the door wider so he can come in. 'no no you look beautiful' he says a bit too fast. His height gives him the perfect view of your tits through the deep neck of your dress so he knows it's going to be a long night.

Gojo who leans on the doorway of your room as you grab a purse to take with you. 'Satoru' you say as you go through one of your draws looking for lip-gloss. he hums in response, 'Where are we going?' you ask. 'to the new restaurant that opened up last week' You head snaps round to meet his 'what? but it's like extremely expensive I don't-' you start but are quickly interrupted by Gojo coming towards you shaking his head 'dont you worry about your pretty little head about things like that' he says pocking your head.

Gojo who stares as you apply the tinted gloss to your lips. he can't take his eyes away, he loves the deep red color you chose and how plump your lips look as you smear on the gloss. Can you blame him for the thoughts that begin to plague his mind? he can only imagine how your lips look wrapped around his dic- 'Hey. my eyes are up here' you say your hand raising to lift up his chin so his eyes meet yours. you send him a quick wink before striding out of your room.

Gojo who links your arm in his as you enter the restaurant. he pulls out your chair and helps you sit down 'What a gentleman' you mumble as Gojo rolls his eyes in response. you both order your drinks and as you wait you feel his legs touch yours. you look up at him but he just sits there smirking at you. For the most part, the conversations were flowing and he was more fun than you expected. you found yourself laughing at his jokes and smiling when he would laugh at yours.

Gojo who's leg begins to move in between yours spreading your legs apart. 'dont even think about it' you say continuing to try cut through your steak. Gojo just lets out a chuckle before leaning over the table to help cut up your steak for you. 'thank you Satoru' you say his face now inches from yours. 'It's no problem baby'

Gojo who's leg in fact does not stop. your legs stay parted the majority of the time at the restaurant, that is until he brings out his credit card and pays for the meal 'I will pay you back' you attempt to negotiate 'Princess stop worrying about it let me spoil you' he says bringing your hand up to his lips. The action making your legs squeeze shut trapping his much longer leg in between yours. Gojo just smirks, adjusting in his chair so his knee practically reaches your heat, watching how your cheeks turn red and your hand covers your face.

Gojo who puts his jacket over your shoulders as you walk out of the restaurant 'Thank you' you say looking up at him, a sweet smile plastered on his face. He sits back on the hood of his car watching as you stand just out of his grasp. 'so did you have fun' he asks reaching out to hold your waist and pulling you between his legs. 'I don't know I'd give it a 6 out of 10' you say giggling in his touch. 'oh really now?' he says smiling at you 'you have so much attitude for someone so small'. Your eyes go wide and you shove his chest 'That was low Satoru' you mumble. 'I like when you say my name'.

Gojo who brings you impossibly closer to his chest. His hands are at your waist, and your own hands find his neck. 'you make me crazy you know that right' he mumbles as he brings his lips to your wrist and begins to kiss up your arm. 'I know' you say leaning into his touch. 'but I make you crazy too don't I' he asks his lips now meeting with your chest. you only whimper out in response hating how he was right.

Gojo who freezes when you lean over and place your hand on his thigh to balance yourself as you look up at him batting your eyelashes once you get in the car. 'If we're going to play this game I'm in charge' you say finally bringing your lips to his. His lips are soft and mould with yours perfectly. your gloss smears all over his lips as he bites and sucks on your tongue. He lets out small groans at your touch as you moan and arch in his.

Gojo who wraps his arm around your waist and brings you to straddle his lap. 'hey let's go back to my place' Gojo says between kisses. you nod bringing your lips away from his 'drive then' you shrug bringing your lips to his neck sucking on his skin. Gojo groans in response before starting the car and beginning to drive. luckily his place was not too far away so between your grinding and the road he was able to get you both home safely.

Gojo who practically carries you out of the car and into his apartment. You barely get a look around but you know it's more than twice the size of your own. You're pushed up against the door in an instant his lips all over your chest and neck leaving marks you know you'll regret in the morning. 'please' you moan out your nails digging into his back. 'not so in charge now are you pretty girl' he says smirking against your skin. 's-satoru please just f-fuck me' you let out feeling the pleasure between your legs begin to coat your thighs.

Gojo who lifts the bottom of your dress and grabs onto your ass before walking to his room. 'you gonna let me fuck you baby' he teases lowering you down onto his bed. you can only nod in response reaching out for him to bring him closer to you. 'say it '

'you ever want me to leave you alone again?'

'no Satoru please don't'

masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #kentosbabes #gojo hcs #jjk smut #satoru jjk #jjk headcanons #jjk #gojo x you

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mjanelupinblack · 5 months

Text

I don’t understand but I luv u (minghao x reader) PT1 ✨

Summary:

Where you are eternally in love with Minghao but your friendship with Mingyu prevents you from doing anything to have him.

Where a deep hole pierces your heart and there’s no way to fill it except for the touch of another lonely soul.

Pairings: Minghao x Reader / Mingyu x Reader (for now, this will get messy)

"Was it so difficult to stay quiet?" Mingyu complains, having run out of paper balls to throw. He's annoyed because, if it weren't for Hansol's suggestion, they could have left school ten minutes ago.

Mingyu is right, at least for the rest of my classmates who yawn and stretch in their seats, their school supplies put away, eager to go home. For me, those ten lost minutes are a free ticket to dream without restraint. Mingyu realizes this when I nod absentmindedly in response to his comment, completely unaware of what he said, as I'm more focused on the pristine strands of Minghao's golden hair. In the sapphire streaks that peek out amidst his straight hair, like a cascade of freshly cut lupines, fresh and ready to be arranged into a bouquet.

Minghao fixes a mischievous strand of hair and sighs, reclining in his seat with crossed arms. He appears attentive to Hansol's contributions until a wet paper ball hits his neck, and my heart skips a beat as he touches the spot.

He turns to smile at Mingyu, who doesn't respond to his friendly gesture. From that moment on, the world never returns to its course.

Mingyu and Minghao are friends. Not as close as to laugh together until their stomachs hurt or as loyal as to offer to catch a bullet with their chests for each other, but they exchange a word or two when necessary. They met at the beginning of high school, long before I entered the school to disrupt the already established dynamics of that classroom. It's not necessary to look closely to realize that they are very different, like the front and back of a coin, designed with their own peculiarities and destined never to meet. The sun and the moon. Heat and coolness. Mingyu's skin is chocolaty and melts with the warmth of his temperament. I've never touched Minghao's skin, but I imagine it shares the color and qualities of porcelain, like grabbing a snowball in your hands and trying to melt it with your body heat, but the snow is colder and ends up freezing your skin. Perhaps that's why interacting with Mingyu flows so naturally, like water, while just the sight of Minghao makes my teeth chatter and sends me seeking refuge by the fire.

I like his ethereal aura, like a dragonfly impossible to catch because his soul is free, and the wind supports it. So, all that's left is to watch him fly. Watch him touch the sky. Watch when I leave the classroom to go to the bathroom and casually pass by the practice room. I see him stretch his body like a dancer from those fairy tales. He seems even more flexible than them. Because Minghao is not from this world, but the world could be his.

"Are you coming?" Mingyu asks while Hao engages in a heated conversation with Wonwoo about why Tottenham Hotspur doesn't need Harry Kane to win.

Mingyu knows the answer to his question.

"Are you still afraid to share space with Minghao?" he insists. "He's human. Flesh and bone. He doesn't bite, unless..."

He mocks me. He refuses to let go of my infatuation with Hao, so he makes jokes, falls silent when they're not funny, and eventually changes the subject to avoid poking at the wound. He teases me about the blush on my cheeks. It's intense, like two freshly picked apples from a tree. He also teases me about my racing heart and my limited ability to take it out of my chest and carry it like an accessory in my hand.

For him, using his heart on his sleeve is so easy.

III

Gyu shares a peach with me that had been waiting its turn in his backpack among all the fruits. Flavors burst in our stomachs, like two hungry fugitives who devour and can't do anything else. Both of us have juices running down the corners of our mouths; juices that we absorb with our tongues and wipe away with the back of our hands. We end up with sticky fingers. He cleans one hand on his pants and offers me his earbud with the other to start our Friday afternoon ritual. I don't particularly like the song he plays, but I refrain from making comments as I gaze at the vastness of the sky. Not a single cloud disturbs its majesty. Only the seagulls do, gliding far away from our bench.

My eyes are tired. And my mind even more so because, every time I close my eyes, they replay the stretched silhouette of Minghao, as if trying to touch the ceiling with the tips of his fingers. His form seems to be carved on my eyelids. Engraved in every nook and cranny, despite the darkness. This time, I don't close my eyes, but the image presents itself to me almost as involuntarily as when I replay it in my head. Maybe because he is there this time, in reality. And from his lips, my name slips out with a sweetness like that of the peach I just nibbled.

"Wonu told me we're neighbors," he spits out what I've been hiding so easily, as if counting on with his fingers. "I wanted to offer to walk you home. To make it safer."

"Ha! Safer?" Mingyu asks. "She's a black belt in Jiujitsu."

Minghao seems surprised. Behind the clear glass of his glasses, he opens his eyes wide, as if asking me if it's true. An admiration I always longed to receive and that hurts even more deeply when it comes from him.

How much more interesting would it be if that were true, if I had already achieved the black belt a long time ago. How much more interesting would it be if I soared through the air and stretched myself like a fairy made of plastic bones. If I did things faster, if I didn't mind taking my time. If his kind gaze didn't terrify me and if words flowed like a river when he stood in fronto of me like a mountain.

Yes, we're neighbors. Yes, I would love for you to accompany me, and no, I'm not a black belt in Jiujitsu, but I would like to be one in another, more interesting life.

"We'll walk together after class," Mingyu replies because I'm frozen. He peels a mandarin without paying more attention to the matter. He didn't expect a different outcome. "Thanks for the offer."

Hao says goodbye. My mouth closes in an empty smile, licks the air, loses all its meaning after Hao leaves, and Mingyu changes the song to a more melodious one.

He seems at peace. Mingyu is the solace of silence; someone who speaks for you when your tongue is tied. He is the sigh of relief after smelling a vanilla-scented candle when you thought your lungs couldn't stretch any further.

He feels comfortable.

And Minghao walks down the street without a drop of tranquility to ease my thirst.

We head to the arcade; a playground for kids, a step into the casino for young adults. There are machines that make noise, scream, and cry with something akin to fun. Fun and joy go hand in hand, but I'm not sure they're the same thing. As we enter, we find Wonu sitting in a flight simulator. He shoots innocent civilians who will respawn as soon as he drops the game and start playing Just Dance.

"Yah! We told you to wait for us at the entrance," Mingyu complains, grabbing the monstrous headphones surrounding Wonwoo's head and shouting right into his ears.

"Yah!" Wonu imitates him. He tries to save the game, but the civilians escape like cockroaches and a tank breaks one of his airplane’s wings. "I waited at the entrance for twenty minutes!"

Wonu tries to be aggressive, but his shouts don't even tickle Mingyu's ears.

"Well, we arrived five minutes late!"

A woman looks at them as a librarian would. She asks for silence with a furrowed brow, even though they're in the palace of teenage chaos. In fact, that's the bait. With her disdainful humor, she makes Gyu look her in the eyes, his eyes wandering on the curves of her mature body. I wonder if I look equally exposed, equally filled with lust when I watch Minghao's slender body stretch. Or maybe I put on the same long face as Wonu, humiliated and disappointed when Gyu leaves us to talk to the stranger.

"It's just you and me," I say, trying to cheer him up. "How about Just Dance?"

"She could literally kidnap him."

"Maybe Mario Kart?"

"How old do you think she is? Do you even think they let her in here?"

"We can play bowling, basketball..."

He condemns me with a murderous look. One that was originally created for Mingyu, the guy who breaks his heart in every chance he gets. Wonu notices his terrible way of confusing emotions; of always directing them to the wrong people, and his gaze softens.

"I feel like punching a wall."

"Well then, Street Fighter it is!"

We never talk about Wonwoo's feelings. Not because we don't try, but because every time we think about it, a strange phenomenon occurs; his face tenses up as if he can feel our thoughts like a cold breeze. When emotions are too strong, it's better to keep them locked up. To refuse to open the Pandora's box unless the other person approaches, pulling their demons by the tail. Otherwise, they often reject the help and mistake it for condescension.

Stubborn. That's a word that fits both of them like a glove.

We go from Street Fighter to Just Dance. I let Wonu be aggressive in the first one, winning without soul. After all, he'll be too distracted to beat me in Just Dance, and if the tiebreaker game is about physical skill, my body will be more activated than his, with adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

As expected, I win. Much to my chagrin, the third game is not about physical but mental skill. The claw machine stands before me like a monster.

"The first one to get a plushie wins."

"I don't have money to play this."

"I'll pay, are you scared?"

In fact, I'm scared. Not scared of losing per se; what I fear are the emotions that torment me after each failure. I know Wonu fears the same thing. Maybe that's why we can compete against each other. Because the loser limits himself to buy the ice cream and the rest of the ride proceeds in silence. No jokes. No teasing or stirring what doesn't need to be touched.

"You go first."

Wonwoo almost wins on his first try. I try and try, but the teddy bear, the caterpillar, and the penguin slip away from the claw. Half an hour goes by without either of us getting close to winning.

"I need to go to the restroom," Wonwoo announces.

"Don't cheat!" I shout as he leaves.

"How can I cheat from there?!"

I try to take a break. Then I realize how difficult it is to soothe a hungry spirit. I try to find logical combinations, intelligent ways to cheat, but nothing works. I end up leaning against the plushie machine, watching Gyu from a safe distance; the woman he spent the last hour with looks much younger under the new light. Different from the initial stupor. My friend is helping her redirect the bowling ball towards the pins, but there seems to be much more behind that innocent gesture.

I imagine myself being held the same way; firmly, embraced by strong and affectionate arms. I get lost in a daydream where my friend laughs in my ear, tickling my neck with his breath. I would never dare to flirt with Mingyu, but my chest begins to feel bland. I think Gyu has spent enough time with this girl whom he will never see again once he gets bored. Two hours earlier, he had his fingers in my mouth, feeding me tangerine slices as if I were a little bird in need of care. She will find something better. But what do I have?

"You should align the hook with that puppy's ear," a calm voice says.

"That's what I'm trying to do," I reply. "Do you mean this one?"

Minghao shakes his head. He approaches and taps the glass three times.

"This one here."

I'm still wearing my school uniform, sweating the same sweat I've been dripping for hours. In contrast, Minghao wears tight-fitting pants that cling to his skin. His scent is so strong that I hope the particles find their way into my body and imprint it forever.

I speak before thinking, and I realize that's the only thing that allowed my voice to remain steady.

Next step, Hao inserts a coin. His hair falls loose over his ears. He manipulates the claw machine and it obeys him as if he was God himself. The claw drops, rests on the puppy's hairy ear, and rises again. His once empty hands now hand me the plushie.

"Thank you," I manage to respond. I appreciate my upbringing's politeness.

"It's nothing. I saw you both struggling to get it."

"Yes... We were having a little competition, actually."

"For the plushie?"

I have a feeling that it finally happened. It happened, and I responded with the wrong thing because going to an arcade and having a competition to win a plushie from the claw machine is such a childish thing to do when you're seventeen. I reply with a yes; it was a competition for the plushie, and I hug the puppy as if Minghao were about to snatch it from my hands. As if it were a test, and I had failed.

"Then you won."

"No, he'll know you got it."

"I'll leave right away. And I won't say anything to him."

God sets the rules. He determines what's right and wrong, what should be said, and what should remain hidden. Now, he's playing the Devil's game, taking the same things he said were wrong and making them right.

"Were you expecting someone?" I ask, aware of the gradual but sure crumbling of my morality.

My question seems to be the equivalent of his statement. It bothers him because no one dares to ask questions to a God who doesn't have time to give answers.

"My partner."

"A man?"

Hao nods.

"Actually, it's just my date."

He glances at his watch and makes a gesture indicating it's time to go. Before his departure, I can already see him disappear; become transparent and revealing that everything was a projection of my most cherished desire until then: to have a conversation with him.

But the plushie remains heavy in my arms. And it looks at me with the vital gaze of a living creature.

When Wonwoo arrives, I hand him the puppy.

"I won," it hurts to say that. It's a lie, and I think my friend notices it.

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen the8 #minghao fluff #highschool au #seventeen imagines

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spideystevie · 1 year

Text

strike-outs

summary: rust colored dirt, old jerseys & game winning strike-outs

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this has been brewing in the depths of my drafts for a hot minute. college!au because i said so. this is my take on baseball!steve who lives and breathes in my head constantly and if you don’t agree then cry about it. just kidding.

MARCH 1987 - GRAND RAPIDS, MI.

It’s an unusually warm day for Michigan in March. The sky’s a vibrant blue with picturesque cottony clouds scattered across. Sun rays warm your cheeks, a welcoming kiss after last week’s frigid cold. You roll up the sleeves of your university crewnecks to feel the sun on your arms.

Music flows through the orange padding of your headphones, walkman clipped to the waist of your jeans. You walk past the baseball field, eyes focusing in on the lone figure standing on the pitcher’s mound. It’d be almost embarrassing to admit that you recognize it to be Steve Harrington almost immediately.

Your feet stall, rooting you in place near the third base dugout as you watch him wind up and throw. The ball hits the ground and ricochets against the fence behind home plate. There’s a ringing of metal as the chain link fence reverberates. The ball rolls back towards home plate, stopping just a foot away from a worn pair of cleats, covered in a rust colored dust.

Davenport might not have been Steve’s first choice but it was the one that put the most distance between him and his father and that was good enough for him. It was also the only school that took a chance on a small town kid with shit grades so Steve really couldn’t complain.

Steve bends to pick the ball up and when he turns to walk back to the mound, he notices you. Your eyes meet just as Let’s Hear It For The Boy starts to play. A heat not induced by the sun creeps across your cheeks. It only worsens when a charming grin lifts his cheeks.

The two of you stare for a beat too long before someone breaks the silence.

“Hey,” he calls, walking towards the fence that separates the two of you. You step closer, pulling your headphones to rest around your neck. Steve catches a few notes of the song before you pause it. The toes of his cleats bump the bottom of the fence, the metal shaking briefly.

Steve pulls his glove off, shoving the ball inside and tucking it under his left arm. His fingers curl around the holes in the fence. You take a step forward, one more and you’d hit the fence too. His smile softens around the edges this close up.

“Hey,” he exhales. His gaze makes you feel warmer than the sun. Your smile is the slightest bit reserved, tucked away just slightly towards your chest.

“Hi,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest. You wonder if you hold yourself tight enough if it’ll suffocate the butterflies swarming your heart.

Things with Steve are new and covered in the sweetness of the early days. Everything is fresh and new, like a springtime blossom. The shock that sparks both your nerves when you’re around each other is not.

You’d been partnered for a project together in sociology in the fall and when the semester ended, you didn’t think you’d see him again aside from passing occasionally on your commutes to class.

And then you walked into your history course this spring and thought you were hallucinating when you spotted him. You thought you’d collapse when he waved you over to sit in the empty seat next to him. You nearly did when he asked you out a week later.

It’d been a couple months of dating exclusively, not even a week since he asked you to be his. And yet, he still hadn’t kissed you. It’s not that he hasn’t tried, it’s that every time his lips brush against yours something has to interrupt the moment. Steve’s determined to change that today.

“Thought you didn’t have practice today,” you muse, blinking at Steve through the fence.

“Coach wants to try me out as pitcher this season. Thought I’d start practicing now,” he shrugs and lets go of the fence, dropping his shoulder to lean against it. The fence bulges towards you. The sunlight catches on a curl of hair sneaking out of his hat. You have to grip your arm to resist reaching out to tuck it behind his ear.

“Look at you, all star,” you tease. Steve’s cheeks flush a soft shade of pink, hardly discernible in the shade that covers his face from the brim of his hat. You shuffle forward until the toes of your converse bump the fence separating you. “You ever pitched before?”

“Little league,” he laughs. The way it bubbles out of him makes you giggle along, the shoulder opposite to his leaning against the fence. He shakes his head. “Once or twice in high school, too.”

You hum, smile still present but eyes rounding into something more serious. “You’ll do great.”

It’s a reassuring hug around Steve’s heart, one that constricts itself around the muscle until it skips a beat. He softens like butter in the sun and he lifts a hand to clutch the fence near your head.

There’s a tenderness in the way he looks at you, in the way his fingers try their best to wrap around yours when you lift your own hand to clutch the fence. You don’t think about all the logistics behind kissing between a hole in a chain link fence, the only things running through your head being finally and a mantra of SteveSteveSteve.

Your chin juts out, tilted up for him to reach and Steve wishes he were on the other side of the fence so he could hold your face in the palm of his hand. He gets a hair's width away from your lips when the sprinkler system kicks on making you jolt back. He really wishes he were on the other side of the fence now.

You try not to look too disappointed as you step back from the fence, though you’re sure you’re not alone in your emotions. Steve looks almost apologetic, his smile sheepish.

“I’ll catch you later?” he offers, stepping back from the fence himself. You nod, reaching up to pull your headphones back over your ears.

“You better, Harrington,” you say, clicking play again on your walkman as you turn on your heel and leave back to your dorm. Steve’s eyes follow you until you disappear from view.

APRIL 1987 - HOME.

The glimpse of warmth you’d felt in March seems to have vanished into a haze. The weather had backpedaled to an early spring cold. If you focused hard enough, you could see wisps of your breath in front of your face when you’d exhale. First home game. Steve’s first game this season as a pitcher.

The cold metal of the bleachers seeps through the denim of your jeans, your knee bouncing anxiously. It’d been a little over a week since your last almost kiss with Steve. With the flurry of late midterms and the opening of baseball season, you hadn’t seen much of Steve outside of your shared morning history class.

He made sure he caught you yesterday. He waited outside the door of your Thursday literature class, already dressed for practice and cutting it close to being late, all just to ask you if you wanted to wear his jersey to the first game of the season. It was worth it when he saw your eyes light up, hands clutching the old jersey to your chest. He’d kissed your cheek before running off.

Sitting in the stands, wearing his last name on your back, you think you can still feel the lingering warmth of his lips against your cheek while you watch him warm up. The slight wind is icy, biting at your nose and leaving it with a burning numbness. You tug the sleeves of your thick long sleeve you’d layered beneath the jersey over your fists.

It’s easy to forget about the near frigid cold when you watch Steve play. It doesn’t hurt that his uniform pants hug him in the best way as he winds up his pitches and runs the bases. You’re not sure how much prouder you can get of Steve, watching him throw strike after strike.

Your team sits at a tie with the visiting team as the ninth inning rolls around. With two outs and bases loaded, the nerves start to eat at you and you can’t begin to imagine the pressure on Steve. You clasp your hands in front of you, thumbs pressed to your lips.

Steve closes his eyes and takes a breath before starting his wind up. He hauls a pitch down the line, exhales when it sinks into the catcher’s mitt and the umpire calls it a strike. He steps forward, glove extended to catch the ball when the catcher tosses it back.

You squeeze your hands together, whispering encouragement under your breath as though he can hear it from your spot in the stands. He winds up and throws, sinking another strike in the catcher’s mitt. You exhale, watching Steve shake out his shoulders as he walks back towards the mound.

“One more, baby, one more,” you mutter under your breath, not caring if the people sitting around you can hear you. Steve pauses at the top and looks towards the stands to find you. When your eyes meet you nod, releasing your clasped hands momentarily to give him a thumbs up. He bites back a smile, dipping his head down towards the ground as he gets ready to pitch.

You feel like everything moves in slow motion the moment he starts his wind up. The ball leaves his fingertips and seems to float down the line. This time, the batter swings and you watch with bated breath as it swings just above the ball and misses it completely. Everything syncs back to normal with the final smack of the ball meeting the glove and the umpire calling the final strike.

Steve’s shoulders visibly droop in relief, his teammates clapping him on the back and cheering as they head towards the dugout to prep for their final turn at bat. His eyes find you, standing in the stands with a grin on your face before he’s ushered into the dugout.

It’s Steve who bats first at the bottom of the ninth, blowing a kiss to you before stepping up to bat. He swings at the first pitch, a satisfying crack sounding when his bat makes contact with the ball, sending it out into far left field. He slides safe into second, bouncing up onto his feet with a smile.

Steve steals third after the first out, daring a glance at you in the stands to send a smile your way and crosses home plate with a grin, securing the first home game win of the season. He can’t even seem to care about the rest of the inning, his main thought being you standing in the crowd wearing his jersey and the proudest smile he’d ever seen.

You wait outside the dugout when the game ends, a giddiness coursing through you. As the team starts to file off the field, you stretch on your toes to find Steve. He comes out last and his eyes immediately find you. He barely has time to drop his bag to the ground before you’re hurling yourself at him.

His arms catch you around your waist while yours wrap around his neck. You press your nose against his neck, only minutely aware of how sweaty he is despite the chill in the air.

“You were amazing out there, all star,” you grin as you settle onto your feet. Your hands rest against the front of his jersey but his hold around your waist stays tight. Steve’s smile is blinding.

“You think so?” his voice is teasing and you roll your eyes but the smile hasn’t left your face. You push against his chest playfully and a laugh bubbles out of Steve.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, sincerity dripping off each word. Something inside Steve’s chest melts down into a thick honey, warming him from the inside out. He doesn’t even think twice before he’s cupping your face in his hands and slotting his lips against yours.

Your eyes close with a muffled sigh, hands sliding up to rest against the sides of Steve’s neck. Your mind is racing with thoughts of finally and SteveSteveSteve. He kisses you soft and tender, like he has all the time in the world. For once there’s no sprinklers, no pesky roommates or annoying teammates. There’s nothing else except the small bubble surrounding the two of you in the frigid cold of early spring.

Steve pulls back for a breath and his lips part to say something. You don’t let him get the chance.

“Shh, one more, I’ve been waiting to do this for weeks,” you pull him back into you, lips molding with his like they were carved from the same stone, missing puzzle pieces fitting back into place. His hands fall to your waist and pull you closer against him. You kiss him with a fervor until it’s more smile than kiss and you have to pull back.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling. A slight gust of wind pushes past but you can’t feel the cold, not after the searing heat that’s covered your skin from the minute his lips touched yours. Steve kisses you once more, sweet and chaste before squeezing your waist and stepping away to grab his bag.

“Celebratory dinner?” he offers, slinging his baseball bag over his shoulder and wrapping his free arm around your shoulders. He pulls his hat off his head and runs a hand through his hair as you walk.

“Maybe after you shower, you’re all gross,” you scrunch your nose at him, mirth twinkles in your eyes. Steve shakes his head and shoves his hat onto yours. You grin, leaning into him as he squeezes your shoulders.

He wonders if it’s too early to be thinking he might be in love with you.

#interrupting my momentary writing hiatus bc of finals season to bring you baseball!steve #the amount of research i did on the weather during 1987 in grand rapids specifically...astonishing.#baseball!steve plagues my mind daily and i needed to share my take with all of you #spending nearly all of your adolescent years on baseball fields supporting your younger brother will do that to ya #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #baseball!steve harrington #baseball!steve x reader #baseball!steve au #college!steve au #📝: a writes!

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leonscape · 1 year

Text

Spring Showers Spring Flowers Content Creator Challenge

"Parenting Practice"

Hosted by super cool people @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess Prompt #3: Baby animals | Check out the event here! Leon x OC (Irene); Irene and Leon are at the spring festival and they go to a petting zoo. By the end of the day, they end up adopting a puppy together! (Got this idea from @myonlyjknight) Word Count: 1267 Note: I am challenging myself and attempting to write for most of the prompts. I just wanted to post this one first but I have stuff for prompt one and two hehe.

The spring festival in Rhodolite brought the people together. Vendors lined the streets to sell their special products. Colorful fabrics, food, and other items stretched as far as the eye could see. Irene and Leon walked through the hustle and bustle, observing everyone happily celebrating.

“Mhh, what’s that smell?” Irene inhaled the scent of food wafting in the air.

“Smells like delicious meat,” Leon said.

The couple meandered their way towards the smell. A man was cooking and serving meat on skewers while the woman next to him handled the money. Irene rushed over, dragging Leon behind her.

“It smells amazing! Could we get two skewers please?” Irene ordered one for her and one for him. Leon and Irene chowed down on the meat, humming in satisfaction. “Ah! This is so good! I want more but I have to save room.”

Irene pulled Leon from place to place, attracted by all the sights and smells. After consuming a little too many sweets and other treats, they decided to take a break from eating things.

“Ahh,” she sighed, subbing her stomach, “I’m so bloated now.”

“Heh, that was nothing. I could keep going,” he boasted.

“Yeah, I’m sure you could eat your way from here to Benitoite,” she teased.

For a while, they sat down together on the bench, observing the people. Countless products were exchanged as the conversations flowed and the cheerful spirit of spring hung in the air.

It was quiet until there was a large commotion heading their way. Fur bundles were hopping their way through the street as people chased after them. One of the rabbits hopped towards Leon and Irene and she gasped suddenly.

“Aww, you’re so adorable!” she cooed, picking up the bunny. “Ohh you’re super soft too! Hehe, I wonder what kind of shampoo you use.”

Leon reached out to pet the rabbit too. “Woah, this guy is really soft.”

“I know! I want to use him as a pillow.” Irene stroked the rabbit’s soft fur.

A man ran up to them, out of breath, huffing and puffing, “Sorry to cause y’all trouble!”

“It’s no trouble at all!” she smiled.

“We’re running a petting zoo, but one of them kids left the gates open and all the rabbits poured out!” the man struggled to catch his breath as he explained.

“Petting zoo?” she questioned.

“Yeah, we got a bunch of animals; sheep, goats, ponies, ducks, and more rabbits…” the man said. “Come along, I’ll show ya.”

Irene carried the rabbit back to the petting zoo. It was a rather large area with each species having their own pens. “Aww, they’re all so cute!” she said. They quickly allowed Leon and Irene into the rabbit pen and the rogue rabbit rejoined rabbit society. Leon knelt to the ground to pet the fluff balls, and a childlike wonder glimmered in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen so many little rabbits in one place,” Leon said.

“Those rabbits multiply like crazy, that's why there’s so many of ‘em,” the man said.

They moved onto the little lambs with their wooly coats, and then the tiny baby goats with their high pitched bleats, to the weirdly small horses that were grazing the pile of grass on the ground.

Leon seemed to really enjoy petting all the animals, he did so quite earnestly. After they visited the ducks, they got to a quiet corner. An elderly lady was sitting down next to a pen full of puppies, fanning herself.

“Excuse me, could we pet the doggies?” Irene asked. The woman nodded and smiled. All the puppies suddenly came rushing to the entrance to greet Leon and Irene. “Aww, you guys are so cute! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good girl?” Irene kneeled to the ground to pet the two pups in front of her, unaware of the army of puppies attacking Leon.

Leon was barely fighting off the mountain of puppies all tugging at him in different places, pulling him in different directions. “Uhh, could I get a little back up here?”

The woman laughed, “They seem to like you very much! Maybe you should take one home with you.”

“Oh, no we couldn’t possibly do that,” Irene said. She pried the puppies off of Leon one by one. Eventually, the puppies went back to playing with each other, pouncing and wrestling.

“We’re putting them up for adoption, so they’re free. We had multiple litters and tried to give them to our neighbors and friends, but nobody wanted them. So here we are, trying to get people to take them home,” the woman explained. “This breed makes excellent family dogs; even tempered, easy to train, and good companions.”

Irene turned to Leon. “I really want one but I think Sariel would kill us if we brought home a puppy.”

“If you really want one, then we should take one home,” Leon said. “Don’t worry about Sariel. If anything, I’ll handle him.”

Irene did a little cheer and turned to the puppies to pick the chosen one.

Besides, this makes good parenting practice for when we have kids, Leon thought.

A little brown puppy with a small white spot on his tail was the chosen one. Irene held the puppy close, and happily grinned. While she was talking to the woman about care and training advice, Leon’s mind drifted away. He thought about the day they would have an actual child of their own. He had no doubt in his mind that she would make a good mother. Just by the way she held the pup and gently stroked his backside was indication enough.

When they got back to the palace, Irene immediately fixed up a meal and a bowl of water for the puppy.

“There you go bud. Eat up!” She placed the food in front of him and he did a test sniff before eating. “Aww, you’re so cute.”

Meanwhile, Leon was still in his daze, his fantasy of having kids.

“Leon? Are you listening?” Irene called him back to reality.

“Hmm? Oh yeah…”

“We have to make him a nice doggy bed!” Irene ran off to go fix the puppy his very own comfy crate.

The crate was placed in their shared bedroom; it kind of felt like it was a baby’s crib. They let the puppy roam around, getting comfortable with his surroundings. Leon watched Irene interact with the puppy. “We have to give him a name,” she said.

It’s like naming your own child, Leon thought to himself.

“How about Leon Jr.?” Leon suggested.

“No! We already have one of you,” Irene rejected.

“You wouldn’t want two of me?” Leon questioned.

“No, because there wouldn’t be enough of me to love two Leons!” she said.

She joined him sitting on the bed. “How about we name him Rio Jr. then,” Leon jokingly suggested.

“I’m not sure if Rio would like that,” Irene replied. She turned her attention away from the puppy and towards Leon. He was already looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“You’re so cute when you care for the little puppy,” Leon said. His mind was not actually on the puppy, but on the idea of having children.

Before the two of them knew it, their lips met in a passionate kiss. A kiss so full of love, it distracted them from anything and everything else. Until the puppy started to spring a leak right on the carpet. Leon groaned in dissatisfaction as Irene ripped herself away and gasped. “No! Not over there puppy!” She left him on the bed; Leon was deep in thought. Maybe kids can wait…

#spring showers spring flowers ccc #the leon agenda #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince leon #ikepri leon #leon dompteur #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri fanfiction #ikemen prince oc #ikepri oc #ikemen prince irene #leonscape’s ikemen prince au

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buttermynutter · 2 years

Text

Don’t Call It Face Painting | Mel Medarda x Reader

Summary: (Platonic gen fic) Mel is more than happy to do your makeup for Piltover's Progress Day Warnings: None! Word count: 2.3K

Snap, snap, snap.

You pressed the metal buttons of your suit vest together, each click more satisfying than the last. Giving the outerwear one last look, you moved on to inspecting your sleeves, the blouse much more loose and flowing compared to the sleak leather vest. It was embroidered with Piltover's typical teal and gold, mirroring the shoulder guards you were donning - the best you had, specifically polished for this year's showcase.

Although you were still among the city's working class - a blacksmith - the day was still immensely important to you, as new inventions could lighten your labor greatly. You faced the mirror, your hands on your hips, a small detail gnawing at the back of your mind, though you didn't know what.

A heavy knock on your front door broke you from your thoughts and a flash of worry began to settle in before you realized exactly who it was. You hurried out of the room to welcome your guest, their dazzling smile greeting you as soon as you opened the door.

"My, how beautiful you look! I was about to be worried that you weren't home."

Mel appeared pristine as always, not a single strand of hair out of place. She looked you from head to toe approvingly and you returned the movement, your eyes catching on her shoes.

"Mel!" you exclaimed, a bit worried your observation would prove to be offensive. "Your shoes are muddy! Well, at least, more muddy than I've seen them."

She only smiled wider, drawing a line in the dirt with the tip of her shoe. "I know, I'll have to go back to my quarters for a change. My assistant just happened to be out and I didn't want to bother with scheduling a ship, so I decided to walk here instead."

You blushed, slightly embarrassed that she would do so for you. It was a long way from the council offices, and you couldn't imagine that she did something like this regularly. Although, Mel did seem to overstep her boundaries quite often for you. You had first served as merely her goldsmith, but after many months it proved that she enjoyed your company just as much - if not more - as your craft.

"Do come in, you know your way around. I was just putting the finishing touches on my outfit."

She strided past you, brushing your shoulder affectionately as she did, her footsteps already fading into your bedroom as you locked the door.

When you walked in, she already had a medallion in hand - a token on the smaller side that was set with stones you had specially imported from Noxia, their fiercely vivid colors glinting as the eyes to the bird you had imprinted in the gold.

"Your own work?" Mel questioned, a slender finger gliding along its embellishments.

You nodded, motioning to the bin of mismatched jewelry it had came from. "They were all either rejected by the customer or made for practice."

Mel sifted through the container, looking impressed. The metal clanked against each other pleasantly as she did so, seeming almost entranced by the trinkets.

She picked one out abruptly, its chain rattling against the side of the tin as she held it up to the light shining through the window. It rebounded flawlessly against the platinum, a three dimensional star clearly illuminated.

If someone had asked you what it looked like when a person was in love, you indefinitely would've picked Mel at this very moment. Eyes wide, she asked you, "This was potentially turned away? Can I wear this to the event? I'll return it, I promise. You know I normally wouldn't ask something like this, but it's just too perfect."

You nodded, surprised she even thought it was wrong of her to ask. "Of course, you can even keep it. It's just collecting dust in my nightstand, and you've supported me so much, you deserve it. Plus, I think Jayce would like it."

She glowered at you, though her overall demeanor shone. "As dazzling as this is, I doubt how I look will mean anything to him when he's on stage. Though, I can't thank you enough, there must be something I can do for you. Also, I do like what you've put together. The blouse and vest is very Bilgewater-esque, a good change of pace from those high collars and heavy coats walking the streets." Mel rolled her eyes, continuing, "If I have to see either Salo or Hoskel wearing one more shirt starched to Zaun, I will simply push them through the council room's window."

You laughed in response, having shared her lack of affinity for the other council members solely from her stories. A moment of silence hung in the air before a thought popped in your head, putting a finger on both Mel's proposed favor and the missing element of your appearance.

"Mel," you said slowly, her eyes immediately flitting towards you. "How would you feel about doing my makeup for the occassion?"

She gasped, and though you didn't think she could look happier than when she found the star necklace, here she was proving you wrong.

"I thought you'd never ask! Just as well, I can go home and change into something that matches this more," she replied, dangling the chain in front of her, "and we can use my cosmetics on you! Just when this day couldn't get any better, you give me another gift."

You rolled our eyes playfully, glad that her usual formal tone was now considerably more animated.

"Well, what are waiting for then?"

You had guessed correctly that the walk between Mel's living spaces and yours was anything other than brisk, but soon you stood at the doorway to her quarters.

She was still over the moon as she swiftly inserted her key, the door cracking open to the subtle but distinct scent of incense. Her home looked exactly as you had imagined them, regal but modern. Before you could properly gape at the lavish furnishings, Mel grabbed your wrist and swept you into the next room, a vanity on one end and a covered easel on the next. Several palette knives were strewn across its base, a heavy stained tarp between them and the floor.

You turned your attention to the vanity instead, a tall mirror standing in the middle of its unusually wide desk, stacked with a myriad of ornate canisters and tubes.

Mel beckoned you into the carved wooden chair that stood before it, so flamboyant that you were afraid to even lay a finger on it, much less sit on it.

You stared awkwardly into your own reflection once you sat down, almost missing Mel's movement as she heaved another chair over to the vanity, gesturing you to turn your own towards her. She smiled wistfully as she broke the silence.

"I'd love to know more about this choice you made, assuming my eagerness hasn't scared you off."

Having already anticipated the question, you quickly answered, "Work doesn't leave me much time to practice these things, not to mention the budgetary aspect. I'm aware that most beauty products are imported, so I simply can't afford to buy any just to wear a few times a year."

Mel nodded, nimbly setting a few of the containers in front of her on the table. "Well, in that case, I'll make sure to find more opportunities for me to work my magic on you."

You barely began to deny her before she shushed you, opening and closing drawers so fast that you weren't sure which objects she was retrieving from each one.

"I'm confident you'd expect I would, but I'll be touching your face a lot, so is that okay?"

It was your turn to nod, Mel's fingers already hovering tentatively over your face.

"Good, just making sure you'll be comfortable."

She picked up a crystal vial with one hand, unstoppering it with just two fingers while taking up a square of cloth in the other. As she tipped a bit of the liquid inside onto it, you questioned, "What's that? Some sort of anti-aging potion?"

Mel laughed, the sound like chimes in the wind. "No, I realize the flask would beg you to believe it's horribly fancy, but it's just spring water. Art always needs a clean canvas."

Thinking back to the festivals you used to attend as a child, you absentmindedly responded, "Oh, so it's quite literally face-painting."

She feigned a gasp, reeling back in her chair. "Don't insult me like that," she chided, though the smile never left her face. "Face-painting, the gall."

You chuckled at her dramatics, enjoying how the warm fingers cupping one cheek contrasted the cool cloth that was pressed to the other. Mel thoroughly wiped your face before giving an affirmative hum, her hands moving to the canister nearest to her, a sturdy-looking circular container decorated with a pale blue design.

Mel opened it to reveal a glossy substance, almost ointment-like. She immediately held it up to your face, surprising you, before instructing, "Inhale."

You instinctively followed her orders, rewarded with a sharp but pleasant smell.

"What's that?"

"It's what we're going to use as your base, darling. I believe it's especially imported from Bilgewater. They know moisture best, after all. Prepare yourself as it's a tad sticky, but that's all the more helpful with adhering to the next few layers of cosmetics."

The substance was indeed a bit tacky, but you felt it had the same enjoyable cooling factor as the water. Mel rubbed it delicately into your skin, saying, "How's business been? I expected you to be in your forge when I arrived."

"That's only because I decided to pause working for Progress Day. I'm glad I chose to do so, I've already told you about how goldworking isn't exactly enjoyable for me. I still miss bigger tools and weapons, so this break is good, even if it's just for a day. Although, that does mean I'll be behind for some orders," you sighed as she tipped her head at you sympathetically. "Business in general has been more than decent, though. I was even told by a recent customer that you had referred them to me, so thank you for that."

Mel raised an eyebrow, quickly wiping her fingers on the cloth she had first used before picking up another tin, this time much smaller. It contained a more creamy-looking substance which she studied for a moment. "Shoola? I'm surprised she's been genuinely listening to our conversations, though I suppose that she already wears half the gold in your studio around her neck."

You laughed for a moment before she waved the box in front of you, continuing, "You're lucky I have a cream exactly your shade, it was shipped to me by mistake ages ago."

She quickly collected it with a large brush, the hairs of it almost ticklish against your faste.

"Perfect," Mel breathed, already reaching for another canister. "The next few steps will be easy, I'm quite familiar with your face shape."

Tins of cream and powder flew beneath your nose before she finally paused, tapping a slender finger to her lips.

"I admit I'm unsure of what to do with your eyes. I have this pigment straight from Noxus which was actually given to me by my mother." She scowled for a moment before resuming, "I may not typically trust her judgement, but any cosmetic import from Noxus is bound to be more than satisfactory. However, I usually only add a touch of purple under my own eyes, so I haven't exactly been exercising my creativity."

You studied what she held before you, a flat tin with powder packed neatly into square indents, their colors so vivid that you'd swear you could see them behind your eyelids after shutting them; the intensity made it seem they would permanently stain your face. As expected, the purple square was much more worn down, a few stray flecks of powder dotting its neighboring colors.

Your gaze flicked up to Mel's just in time to see her expression light up, no doubt a silent epiphany blooming.

"If I line your lips in a deep blue with a gold-tinted gloss, we can keep the Piltoverian theme and match your outfit perfectly by using a much more neutral color on your eyes, like this chocolate and dark brown."

You agreed, slightly confused but trusting in her judgement. The two of you chatted excitedly as she continued working, the anticipation of the holiday settling in. Time passed rapidly, each layer of cosmetics bringing new conversation.

"Have you seen Jayce recently?"

"Yes, though he's mostly been with his partner. I think they're even showing Heimerdinger something right at this moment."

"How do you tell all these products apart, each container's pattern is so intricate they start to look identical if I stare long enough."

"To be honest, I'm still learning. Part of me is afraid I'll apply the wrong one."

"It must take effort spending time on this every morning, not to mention wearing it for the whole day. I have to say I admire you, it feels heavy on me already..."

Eventually, Mel's hands left your face as she leaned back in her chair, nodding satisfactorily.

"All done?" you asked, not daring to turn towards your reflection.

"My dear," she said, pausing for dramatic effect. "You were gorgeous before even without me, but with, you're simply perfect."

You didn't expect to agree with her, but the reflection that greeted you proved you wrong. The makeup accentuated features that you didn't even know you had, and you were practically glowing - you couldn't help but think that you had never felt more ready for Progress Day.

"Satisfied?" Mel asked, her voice filled with obvious glee.

"You're a magician." You barely got the words out before she clasped her hands together and sighed contentedly, making you even more happy about the situation.

Maybe you did like working with gold.

#arcane x reader #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #arcane reader insert #arcane x you #mel medarda #mel medarda x reader #mel medarda x you #platonic #one shot #arcane #arcane netflix #x reader #reader insert #mel #arcane mel

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gaoau · 5 months

Text

alabaster

it's the color of deaf ears.

is there color in your world? warnings — none. word count — 1.8k

prev. — next.

when his phone buzzed late in the evening and [name]'s name popped on screen, rintarou had expected a new color to learn about. the usual: an image pulled out of google labeled with a creative name, followed by an explanation and a relation to their daily lives. this time, however, [name] threw the papers of their script to the air to jumble the common narrative he had grown used to.

one message. no image. no color. wanna go out for a bit? it didn't take him too much thinking to agree.

he found himself strolling to the nearby park under a setting sun, a crimson hoodie hugging his torso to combat a chilly night of spring. [name]'s white shirt reflected the light from the lampposts as if she had become a beacon to make sure he would see her even when she stood alone. her black skirt flowed in the wind while she balanced on the edge of a bench.

she hopped off upon meeting his eyes, landing with bent knees despite the difference in height being practically negligible. rintarou wondered if he simply couldn't handle the cold well, or if she wasn't human after all and his indigo jeans were a rational choice.

he could barely catch the ghost of a smile flickering on her flat lips. his brow rose in mild concern. "is everything okay?"

she gazed into his dull irises with sharp, round pupils. his skin sliced open like a knife running through butter. [name] turned on her heels without a word, hand beckoning his name for him to stand beside her. she didn't wait for him as she began sauntering away with steps that finally held some weight behind them.

"d'ya mind if we just walk fer a bit?" she spoke up when he appeared by her side. "i needa think."

rintarou only nodded. was it a good moment to bring back that joke about thinking? seeing her move like a regular human being rather than with the imperceptible skip that made her seem to be floating and dancing told him it wasn't. but thinking still was a dangerous hobby.

her hands never stopped moving. they either grazed past flower petals, or fiddled with the hem of her clothes, or played with a strand of her hair. the silence was deadly but so was the fact that she didn't bother reaching out for him. she had once grabbed onto his sleeve and his wrist and his fingers, drumming her nails on his skin and humming a random tune.

but [name] didn't care about consistency.

rintarou looked up past the foliage of a tree and towards the gunmetal sky. [name] had said it was gunmetal and he had taken her word for it—or her silence, more accurately.

rhythm was her lyrical nonsense, amaranth were the seeds in her alegría, nyanza were the leaves during summer, coquelicot were the flowers used as a homage. that night, gunmetal was just a color.

her eyes stabbed into his cheek, scalding his skin against the biting wind picking up speed. she darted her sights away from him just as quick and glanced to her side. a sigh slipped past her teeth while she craned her neck up.

"rintarou-kun."

he grimaced at the unexpected sound of her voice. he could only produce a hum to tell her he was listening.

"i guess i'm done. there's color in yer world now, right?"

was there color in his world? from the wilting jonquils in his irises to the raisins he didn't like. a made-up moral yellow and the catawba of noble fruits. the recognition of eminence for osamu and the nonexistent flirt for atsumu. "i think?" no, he knew there was.

she lowered her head, sharpening pupils aligning with his. her lips quirked into a realized simper. "mission success."

"so you're done?"

"i've nothing else to teach ya." a carefree shrug bounced off her shoulders. she blew a raspberry. "told ya i'd be outta yer hair as soon as you learned a thing or two from me."

rintarou couldn't recall those words even if he tried. they fell foreign on his ears, mostly because he hadn't wanted to save them when his surroundings dripped in grey. [name] laughed to herself at his lack of response. she could almost hear the cogs in his brain processing her statement. as amusing as it usually was to see his brows furrow in confusion, she nibbled the inside of her cheek, overflowing with frustration.

it was hard to believe curiosity morphed into attraction.

she quickened her pace to jump onto the nearest bench. "ya wanna get married?" maybe, just maybe, if she slung shot after shot, one was surely meant to hit him square in the face.

"i'm seventeen? i haven't thought about marriage. probably someday, i don't know." his voice behind her triggered her fight or flight response.

[name] shook her head, lungs filling with more air than she could handle. the smile she wore thinned into pursed lips. "no, i mean, right now. wouldja marry me?"

"what?"

there it was. sheer confusion and incapability to comprehend the words that she threw at him for spontaneous fun. "can't think of a better opportunity. i'm in alabaster an' yer full of color. seems like the perfect moment ta me."

"what's alabaster?"

"an off-white color. a light shade of grey, if ya will."

"is it even legal to get married at this age?"

"probably," she snickered to herself. her pupils and his face repelled like similar poles. "will ya marry me, rintarou?"

"sure."

her feet tripped off the bench to land twisted on the ground. "huh?" was all she could articulate with her breath stuck in her throat.

"i said sure. let's get married."

[name] usually played the role of the confusing, spontaneous babbler. standing face to face with him after he did not pick up a single hint—was he rejecting her nicely or simply dense?

she blinked out of her stupor to meet his bored eyes. a whispered what…? tumbled out of her mouth. "um, okay." her fingers hurried to snatch a stone off the ground. spontaneity was her strong suit. "suna rintarou, d'ya take me as yer wife on this weirdly chilly april night?"

"i guess." a shrug that screamed he was only following her. [name] tossed the stone in her hand towards him; he caught it with ease and sharp reflexes—unlike every word she had been trying to reach him. "[surname] [name], do you take me as your husband?" he bent down to mimic her and pick a stone.

"just that?"

he sighed, "here, in this park?"

laughter spilled out, trapped in amusement and disappointment. "i do," she pronounced her syllables with fondness and care, adding a touch of honey that stuck to the roof of her mouth. the stone he chose at random fit snugly in her palm. "fantastic wedding; a perfect reminder."

"of what?"

"it ain't often i see a jonquil." or in other words, i'd like to remember my dense high-school crush. her thumb caressed over the smoothness of her vowing stone. "'twas nice meetin' ya, husband." if she pushed it, her feelings wouldn't fly by his head like everything else.

rintarou snickered—either at the ridiculous pet name or the absurdity of the situation she created out of panic. "the guys won't be happy when they find out they weren't invited."

her ahahaha! giggles flooded over her lips and faded into an awkward sigh brimming with emotional pain. "remember to invite 'em to yer actual wedding. and if there's an open spot, me too. though i seen ya wear black and white enough."

"i'll make sure you're there." he flashed a lopsided smile that wasn't fair at all.

"let's seal it," [name] exhaled, pushing the words out of her tongue to free-fall onto his ears. her palm raised in the air in defeat. if she'd had a wall nearby, she would've banged her head against it to get the message across.

their hands came in contact for a brief moment as rintarou joked, "until death do us part." the stinging on her skin didn't compare to the pain pulsating on her temple. this guy was stabbing a headache into her brain with mere sentences.

"i'll watch yer matches for sure this year. i'll cheer in all of 'em."

"maybe don't help out the student council so much."

a chuckle. "the prez asked me ta help with the elections."

"and you will?"

"i've nothin' better to do, honestly."

"i have a question, though." dull yellow burned on her skin like the sun beating down on a scorching summer day.

"yeah, tell me."

"why end it on a grey?"

her fingers tightened around her stone. she chewed on her bottom lip to consider replying. "this was never 'bout you, rintarou. i was tryna teach some things to myself."

"expand." bored brows, tilted head. such a pretty face demanded an explanation.

"bein' black and white ain't bad, as i'd originally thought. i was wrong. so i'm cool with it now. and it seemed like a good idea to take ya back to where you belong. don't let me fool ya."

"so you're black and white, too?"

he flinched under her sharp gaze, almost as if alabaster had lost its saturation to gainsboro. "i just know we're two of a kind."

"you talk so much, but you never say anything."

"i say more than ya think. if you can't grasp it, that's yer loss." a slanted smile dug into her cheek. rintarou replied with a heavy sigh. she giggled behind closed lips. "where's the fun in bein' direct?"

"you'd make it a lot easier for me."

"i can be straightforward when i wanna."

"can you do it right now?"

a hum was all she could muster, her head shaking gently. "don't think so. i just hope ya understand that yer very unique to me. whether it's blue or red, i'm just glad you let me spend the year with ya."

silence stilled the night. his eyes trailed over every inch of her smile. "that's it?" he asked with a raised brow.

[name] swallowed down the sigh threatening to slap him across the face. if her words couldn't find their way to his ears, then there was no point in creating them. he heard but he never listened. "pretty much," she mumbled as she smacked her lips. "'m gonna head home, s'gettin' late."

"i'll walk you."

perhaps the immense density of his brain didn't allow the shots to get through; perhaps he dodged them swiftly to kindly let her down. reading shades of grey had only become more complicated as the days went by in vivid hues.

"i'll be fine."

"see you."

"night, rintarou." she nodded her head as farewell to the night and her eventful second year of high-school. blooming cherry blossoms signaled new beginnings past the spring.

#is there color in your world?#Haikyuu #Suna Rintarou #Suna Rintarou x Reader #Suna x Reader #Haikyuu x Reader #ohh... los pinguinos

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adrianapicerno · 1 year

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Virtual Sketchbook 2

JOURNALING –

Unity and Variety:

Unity is sticking to the same style and elements in your artwork, this helps make an artist’s work recognizable. Variety is mixing it up, so all the artist’s pieces have a different focus point. Balance is the key to finding harmony with unity and variety in artwork.

This painting is by Fernando Botero called The Musicians. This piece creates unity through the men’s similar outfits and appearance while the woman is the variety because she is the different, eye-catching element as she is dressed in a blue, poofy dress.

Balance:

When artists use opposing elements to create an equilibrium either through symmetry or asymmetry.

The piece is called Cutout of Animals. This artwork clearly demonstrates balance through symmetry and uses a repetitive pattern as each animal has a mirror image on the other side.

Emphasis and Subordination:

Emphasis is usually the focus point of an artwork and uses subordination which is areas of less color and interest, so your eyes are drawn to the figure in the piece with emphasis.

The painting is by Francisco Goya and is called The Third of May 1808. Emphasis is drawn to the guy in white as there is a spotlight on him and everyone else is dressed in dark clothes, which is the subordination.

Directional Forces:

These are elements that draw a viewer into different paths and places within the piece.

I could not find the artist of this painting, but the artist uses directional force through the waves as they crash into each other, and multiple are going separate ways causing the viewer to look at many paths in the current.

Repetition and Rhythm:

Repetition consists of unity and multiple uses of an element in a picture and rhythm is the pattern and overall flow of the artwork.

This piece by Tughra is named Sultan Süleiman the Magnificent. This artwork depicts repetition through the lines and shapes. The rhythm is created using the same color palette as well as the straight and curved lines.

Scale and Proportion:

Scale is the size between two objects in artwork and proportion relate to the size relation of elements compared to the whole piece.

This painting is by Ben Shahn called We French Workers Warn You..Defeat Means Slavery, Starvation, Death. The artist uses scale and proportion by enlarging the workers’ hands to draw attention to them. This puts emphasis on how these workers are at the mercy of their hands as they need them for the hard labor jobs they were doing.

2. WRITING AND LOOKING –

Utagawa Hiroshige, Light Rain at Shono. (Pg 5, Ch 8)

This woodblock print by Hiroshige contains directional force through the diagonal lines covering the print, chaotic rhythm, shadows on top of a gradient, vanishing point, highlights to add depth, focal point, and contrast with the dark, gloomy background.

3. CONNECTING ART TO YOUR WORLD –

I love color. Just like the sun, color gives me joy and warmth. I feel like color adds life and radiance to a place. For example, like how people say, a new paint job can change the whole look and feel of a home or building. Humans are attracted to color; we think dull things are boring. Color excites me and I can feel passion and emotion through the intensity or hue. Color even can influence my mood as I have a more positive mindset in areas with bright colors compared to darker and dreary colors. If I had to pick a color scheme for my life, it would be pops of orange, green, yellow, blue, and purple.

4. ART PROJECT – ARTIST’S CHOICE – CARTOON

5. PHOTO/DESIGN –

Good Layout Design:

Coca-Cola has a good layout design because it is simple and uses the same logo for all products. The intent of this layout is a bold color like red that captures people's attention and is consistent throughout time. A good logo layout is something that can be recognized easily and associated with the company of the top of people's heads. Coca-Cola practically owns this topography as they have been using it since the company was created which is what makes this a good layout design for the brand. This logo fulfills its purpose as millions of people can comprehend the logo and the contrast of the logo makes it very legible and easy to understand. There are no distracting figures or symbols around it making it easy to remember as your eyes are immediately drawn to the letters.

Bad Layout Design:

This is a bad logo design because Kraft changed its logo colors and they do not nearly resemble the color palette of the original. Kraft's intent was to make the logo simpler so that it is more recognizable for consumers. Since they choose less subtle colors it throws customers off as it can be hard for customers to associate the new logo for Kraft's products. This design layout was a bad choice because it did not fulfill their purpose as it caused a miscommunication to their audience.

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 2: Breeding Kink

Day 2 of Kinktober and… I got carried away with this one. The others are not going to be nearly as long as this one, so you guys are gonna be spoiled with this. I hope you enjoy it! Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Some warnings for violence and blood mentioned, though nothing too graphic. PinV sex, unprotected, consensual, nonhuman character, exophilia, slight hint of biting kink

Tags: Dilf!werewolf x reader, exophilia, kinktober

Moonlight Through Colored Leaves

When you’d first moved to the tiny Irish town in the middle of nowhere, you’d originally hoped to escape the family drama that haunted you back in America. Thanks to your grandfather’s Irish immigration, you’d been able to get an Irish citizenship and move relatively easily. So, you’d packed your bags, only told your grandfather where you were going, and boarded the first flight to Ireland you could catch.

You’d quietly made your way to your grandfather’s tiny hometown far out in the countryside, and moved into the long-since abandoned house that had belonged to your ancestors before. Though it had been run down and you’d had to do some major repairs and cleaning, you’d finally made a cozy cottage on the outskirts of the small village-like town.

The town had been quite welcoming and friendly, and you’d quickly found a job working at the local town pub as a waitress. Your boss had been very welcoming, and you’d earned favor from your coworkers and boss for your hard work and quiet, unassuming diligence. The pay was good, and you found yourself growing comfortable in the sleepy town life, meeting your neighbors and getting familiar with the town dynamics.

You’d just gone in for your shift of the day when conversation caught your ear. You put on your waitress apron, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and walking out to the bar to grab your tray.

“Did you hear about the news?” Jaina asked, arms propped on the countertop. “I mean, about that Romanian vamp that landed on Scotland the other day. Word is that he’s headed this way.”

“Well why would it want teh come here?” Sean snorted. “We’re out in teh middle o’ nowhere, Janie, t’ere ain’t not’in’ here t’at it would want.”

“Well didn’t you hear that apparently they’re expecting Agent Blue to be chasing it down with the Dullahan?” Jaina hissed. “Why wouldn’t they come over here?”

You hid your discreet grimace, instead walking out in front of the bar. To your delight and surprise, you found yourself facing a familiar little figure sitting at the bar in a corner. The little girl caught sight of you and squealed, waving.

You went over to her giving her a hug. “Well hello there, Miss Morrigan,” you greeted cheerfully. “How are you this fine evening? Having a drink?” you teased, noticing the glass of juice near her notebook.

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah! I’m with Daddy today,” she answered, feet kicking against the bar. She turned her head to see the bartender approaching. “Daddy!” she said excitedly. “Look, it’s the nice neighbor lady I told you about!”

You looked up to see Lysander Sullivan standing there, polishing a glass with a cloth. He gazed down at his daughter with a fond look deep in his eyes, then turned to look at you, his ice blue eyes meeting yours.

“Is that so?” he asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the relatively quiet bar. It hadn’t gotten to heavy traffic times, so there weren’t many people around yet. His grey-flecked hair had been swept back into an elastic band, and his beard had been neatly trimmed.

You gave him a small, shy smile, a little embarrassed. Though you knew that the man lived next to your property, you’d been a bit timid about approaching him. He was a kind enough gentleman from everything you’d seen and heard, and he’d watched out for you as you worked, but you didn’t see any reason why he’d be interested in any further contact with you. After all, you were a younger woman in your mid-twenties that lived alone.

“Yeah! She helps me with homework sometimes,” Morrigan prattled on, “and she lets me water her flowers!”

You laughed a little, feeling the color splash across your cheeks. “Well, I certainly enjoy the little Queen’s company,” you admitted. You’d heard some of the other workers gossip about Lysander, saying that he was a single father to nine-year-old Morrigan and that her mother had died in a tragic accident. You didn’t really know, and you’d tried not to pry or overhear too much. The man had a right to privacy, just like you had things you were running from as well.

“Thank you for looking out for the little cub,” Lysander said, a small smile crossing his face. He mellowed out around his daughter, his love clear in how he interacted with her.

“Of course. It’s a delight,” you said, smiling at Morrigan. “She’s a smart little cookie, aren’t you, Queenie?” you asked, tugging at her pigtail teasingly.

She giggled. “Yeah!” Then she tilted her head at you. “Are you working with Daddy tonight?” she asked curiously.

“O-oh, well, sort of,” you stammered, taken aback a little. “He works behind the counter, but I serve people out there,” you said, motioning to the tables. “So I guess we do, in a way.”

Morrigan nodded sagely. “Ohhh, so you do the food and Daddy does the drinks.” She nodded, satisfied at her conclusion. “Oh, I’m making a drawing! I want you to see it later, when I’m finished,” she said, tugging at your sleeve.

You smiled. “Of course, Queenie. You just let me know and I’ll pop by when I have a moment, alright?” you promised.

She nodded, turning back to her notebook and picking up her crayons again. Tongue poked out, she diligently returned to her masterpiece. You gave her a fond smile, noting the way the soft lights made a halo in her blonde hair.

“She’s such an angel,” you murmured, grabbing some straws from the bar to stick into your pocket.

“Aye, that she is.” Lysander’s comment almost startled you. He glanced at you across the bar, the sleeves of his crisp maroon button-up rolled halfway up his arms. “I apologize for not bein’ a better neighbor,” he remarked.

You blinked, then reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, no— not at all,” you blurted, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’d met Morrigan when she was coming back from school, since I was in the front yard. She just… hopped on over, so I said hi. Honestly I should have introduced myself better, but…” You bit your lip. “I just kept putting it off because I didn’t want to bother you…”

He blinked, then chuckled slightly, as though surprised. “An’ here I thought it was ‘cause you didn’t really like me for some reason,” he said, amusement laced in his tone.

You gave him a horrified look. “Oh! Not at all!” You shook your head with a sigh, tugging mournfully at your ponytail. “I’m… notoriously bad at meeting people for the first time,” you groaned. “I just get nervous and tongue tied and I don’t know how to interact and… ugh.” You winced. “I am sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I should be a better neighbor, especially since I somehow got to know your daughter.” You half-laughed at yourself.

He waved you off. “I’m just glad you get along with Mor,” he chuckled. “She speaks endlessly about you. Seems like you’ve impressed her.”

You looked up at him, genuinely surprised. “Really?” you wondered, glancing at the girl. Then you smiled. “Well, I’m flattered. She’s such a smart, curious girl. I’m rather honored that she’d find me interesting.” You breathed a laugh, then glanced up at him. “I should get to my station, but… if you don’t mind, would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow to say hi and properly introduce myself?”

He nodded calmly. “Of course. She gets back home from school at three, if you wanted to catch her as well.”

You nodded, propping the tray on your hip. “Thank you! I’ll do that. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll stop procrastinating and actually start working,” you laughed, and walked off with a wave.

The night progressed relatively smoothly, customers rotating in and out with regulars stopping by. The crowds ebbed and flowed, sometimes more rowdy and sometimes more calm. Still, you enjoyed the atmosphere and the liveliness of it all. Despite it being a pub, and an Irish one at that, the town was small and most people knew everyone else. Plus, Lysander was the bartender for more than one reason. Everyone knew that making trouble of any sort was not tolerated and had force to back it up.

You occasionally popped by Morrigan’s place at the bar, either to have a chat or to admire the progress she’d made on her drawing. And throughout the night, your worries started to mount the more gossip you heard around the pub. Some of them had heard confirmation that the Romanian vampire gone mad was making a beeline for Ireland, though no one seemed to know why. There were even more rumors that Agent Blue, the famous Will-o-the-Wisp, was after the rampaging Pricoli. And still others said that the Scott Pack would be making a reappearance.

Once you’d finished your shift and helped close up shop, you started the trudge back to your cottage down the road. It wasn’t a far walk, really, and it gave you some time to think and clear your head from the smells of the pub. Reaching up, you pulled your hair free from the ponytail and sighed, shoulders slumping.

You’d come to Ireland to escape your problems, but it felt like they were all closing in on you as the days went by. As you got home and got ready for bed, you wondered if it was asking too much to hope for some peace.

Instead, you distracted yourself by trying to think of something to make for the Sullivans the next day. You didn’t want to go empty handed, after all. Maybe some bread-?

You fell asleep thinking about it.

You’d just lifted your hand to knock when the door flung open. Morrigan practically tackled you, wrapping her arms around your waist with a shriek of greeting.

Laughing, you balanced yourself and wrapped an arm around her. “Well hello, Queenie,” you greeted. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

She grabbed your hand and dragged you in, chattering happily about her day at school. “Oh, and you should have heard how everyone laughed!” She interrupted herself as she led you into the kitchen. “Daddy, she’s here!” she called.

Trying to balance the homemade sourdough in one hand while still holding Morrigan’s with the other, you looked up to give Lysander a helpless smile. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan,” you greeted, a little breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Well hallo, Miss,” he greeted back, wiping his hands with a towel. “Mor, why don’t you let her set the plate down before anything drops,” he said, shaking his head.

Morrigan let go of your hand, bouncing up and down. “Ooh, what is it?”

You offered it to Lysander, a little flustered. “I… well, I didn’t really want to come without an offering, so… I made some homemade sourdough,” you offered, a little awkwardly. “I hope you like it, it’s a fresh batch, still warm.”

He took it from you with a nod. “Thank you. We love sourdough, don’t we, Mor?” He seemed far more comfortable in his own home, less stoic and stern than in the pub.

Morrigan nodded, throwing up her hands with a cheer. “Yeah!” She danced around. “I love bread!” Then she grabbed your hand again. “Oh, oh, you gotta come see my room! Daddy just made me a new desk, and it’s really nice and shiny!”

Lysander waved you off as you turned to him. “Go ahead. Oh, I was going to invite you to dinner,” he added. “If you’d like. The food is almost done, actually. Your bread will be a perfect addition.”

You smiled. “I’d be honored. Thank you.” Then you let Morrigan drag you away.

By the time Lysander called for you both, you’d been given the official tour of her room and had happily listened to her tell stories of what she’d done at school and the projects she planned to do in the coming days. The little girl always cheered you up with her bright and cheerful presence. If anything, it eased your heart to see the little girl clearly so healthy and happy with her Father. She openly adored him, quite the Daddy’s girl.

As the three of you sat down at the table, you realized with a slight start that you’d never felt so comfortable in Ireland as you did in this moment. It felt… right, like you’d finally come home.

“Thank you for the food,” you said, giving Lysander a grateful smile. “It looks amazing.” The soup simmered in the bowls, while the sourdough bread had been cut into slices and set by the butter.

He nodded. “Thank you for the bread.” He passed the steamed potatoes, and everyone dug into the meal.

You let out a soft hum of contentment as you ate, enjoying the rich flavors and the homey comfort food. Clearly Lysander was a good cook, and you almost envied Morrigan for being able to come home to this every night. Not that you weren’t a good cook yourself, but you supposed company really did make a difference.

“The bread is so good!” Morrigan chirped, taking a giant bite of the bread slathered in butter.

You laughed softly. “I’m glad, Queenie. Take it slow,” you warned, worried she’d choke. “The bread isn’t going anywhere.”

She nodded, scarfing down her food. “Oh, oh, Daddy, cartoons are on soon! Can I please go watch? I did all my homework!”

Lysander nodded. “Alright. Go take your dishes to the sink.”

“Thank you! Morrigan cheered, sliding down from her chair and carefully taking the dishes. She trotted to the kitchen, then got herself a glass of juice and went to go to the living room.

You realized with a slight start that this was the first time you’d been alone with Lysander. Looking down at your spoonful, you wondered if you should maybe ask him the questions that pressed on your mind. Perhaps he would know. Then again… it’s not as though he were related to your grandfather’s clan… and not to mention, most of the people in the town didn’t even know that you were aware of the nonhuman community. In fact, you were rather positive that your coworkers thought you didn’t.

“If I may ask, what brought you to this small town?” Lysander asked, his voice calm and mellow. His blue eyes glanced up at you, and the question died on your tongue.

“Oh… family history, actually,” you admitted with a smile. “And, well…” You shrugged lightly. “I needed to get away for a while. I wanted a fresh start, somewhere where people didn’t really know me.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I essentially did the same with Morrigan when we moved here a few years ago.”

You hummed, reaching for a piece of bread. He handed you the butter, and you gently grasped the sleeve of his flannel for a moment. “You’ve got a bit on your clothes,” you said, wiping the smeared butter off with a napkin. You’d just let go when your fingers brushed across his briefly as you took the butter. You didn’t notice the way he froze, his movements jerky as he pulled his hand back.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you— I mean, does any of your family still live here?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. But technically, my extended family is here. My grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America, where I was born, but through marriage there are still people here I’m technically connected to.” You shrugged. “I haven’t really gotten in contact with them, though. They probably don’t know me that well,” you laughed with a rueful shrug. You glanced at him for a moment. “I bet it’s even harder when you have children.”

He glanced toward the living room, where the faint sound of the cartoons floated through the house. “Well, I suppose,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. She’s my life, really.”

You lowered your eyes to your plate, unable to deny how your chest tightened at the way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter. You’d always tried to forget how much you’d been attracted to the older man. You’d only ever dated once, and while he’d been nice enough and it had ended cordially, you still hadn’t been able to forget the lingering feeling of disappointment you’d had from the experience. You’d known, after that, that it would either be a long time before you ever tried dating again or it would have to be to someone whose maturity at least matched yours. And, unfortunately for you, that tended to mostly apply to men past their forties.

You really did try to forget how Lysander ticked all the boxes.

“I can see why.” You smiled. “She’s really precious.” Your eyes slid toward the living room. “Does she… inherit from you?”

Lysander looked up, his gaze suddenly piercing as he stared at you openly.

You gave him a faint smile. “I don’t talk much about it, but my grandfather comes from the local O’Connor Faoladh Tribe,” you said calmly, taking another sip of the soup.

His shoulders relaxed, the hard edge in his expression melting away. “Ah. Yes, she does. But she hasn’t fully shifted yet. It will be another year, we think. Are you-?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. It’s funny, really,” you said thoughtfully, motioning with your spoon. “My grandfather is Faoladh, and my mother’s side of the family is a lycanthrope pack.” Your lips twitched. “And somehow, I got the recessive genes and ended up a simple Seer.”

His eyebrow raised. “Not so simple, I’d think,” he remarked. “Aren’t Seers rather uncommon now?”

You shrugged. “For a reason. There’s plenty of potential but not many who actively practice anymore. The price is heavy for knowledge like that.”

He gave you a discerning look. “Is that what you’re running from?”

Your silver spoon clinked softly as you set it down on the edge of the plate. “I suppose you could say that,” you murmured. Your eyes closed as you shoved away the memories of distant screaming, the crackle of fire, crimson splashed across stone floors— “Or maybe toward something.” After all, you mused, there had been a reason you’d felt drawn to your grandfather’s homeland, and town in particular. And of course, you’d never been one to fight Fate too hard.

“Perhaps so,” he conceded. Then he stood. “May I take your plate?”

“Oh— please, let me help.” You stood, taking your dishes and starting towards the kitchen. “At least let me wash or dry.”

When you finally got back home, you sat down on the couch and buried your face into your hands. Seeing Morrigan and Lysander together had stirred up old memories you’d long since tried to forget. Old desires that you’d thought you’d given up on: hopes and dreams of a family to call your own.

You crawled into bed, everything inside you aching. After all, what could a Seer with a cursed fate possibly offer anyone?

The night the Dullahan rode into town, you’d just started closing up the pub on night shift duty.

They’d ridden in, followed by the famous Agent Blue clad in his dark robes and carrying his lantern over his shoulder. He strode in the door, followed by the Dullahan. At first, you hadn’t even noticed the other figure trailing behind them.

Your Boss, Dorian, had walked out of the back room to greet them. He, of everyone in the town, was the only one to know of your heritage, as the elected leader of the supernatural community in the town. He nodded to the group as they entered.

“Welcome, Dullahan, Agent Blue.” He nodded at them, shaking the Will-o-the-Wisp’s hand.

“Greetings in return, Chief Dorian,” Agent Blue replied, his face still covered by the hood. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Pricoli that’s been running amok all over the Isles.”

Dorian nodded. “We certainly have. I assume you’ve come on a hunt.”

“We have. And I’ve brought someone with me.” Agent Blue turned, motioning towards the back of the group.

You’d been distracted, still working on trying to finish clearing up and getting out of the way. If your boss had asked, you were ready to offer to serve the new guests as well, giving Lysander a glance that he returned with a small nod.

It wasn’t until you straightened and turned around, finished, that you heard a familiar, startled voice call your name. Turning, you looked up and saw, to your shock, a very familiar face staring at you. You froze as the figure lunged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. After a moment, you awkwardly hugged him back, mind whirling.

“What are you doing here?” Your younger brother stared at you incredulously, holding your arms. “I didn’t even know you left home! Last I heard you were still there.”

You grasped his sleeves, disoriented. “O-Oh. Ray,” you gasped, processing. “I—“ You suppressed a flinch. “I just… moved into grandfather’s old cottage,” you stammered, then looked down. “I had to get away,” you said quietly. “It was too much.”

Of all your family, you knew that Ray would best understand. He’d been the only one to really stand up for you back home, try to support you as best as he could, being a younger sibling. When everyone else constantly reminded you of your Fate, your Destiny, Ray had been the only one who had encouraged your personal hopes and dreams, had listened to your fears and worries.

He sighed. “I mean, I can’t blame you,” he said, shaking his head. “Still… does anyone know?”

You scoffed slightly, turning your head away. “Only Grandfather ever cared about me besides you, Ray. There’s no one else who probably even asked.” You shrugged. “How is school?” You’d been the one to support him when he decided to move to Scotland to attend University. He, too, had wanted to escape home.

He grinned. “Pretty great, actually!” Then he glanced behind him. “Turns out my best mate is actually one of Agent Blue’s sons, so when the whole Pricoli thing went down, I offered to be his in to the Faoladh Tribe here. For formality, y’know.” He shrugged. “I remembered what Grandfather had always taught us about how picky Faoladh are about tradition.”

You nodded. “Yeah…” You huffed slightly. “Technically only the people in here right now even know that I’m a part of the supernatural community,” you said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s some dedication to keep it quiet. How has the local gossip train not found you out yet?”

You snorted. “Maybe because I’ve always been quiet and kept my mouth shut.” You rolled your eyes at him, though a smile twitched on your lips. “And we both know who never can.”

He playfully cuffed your shoulder. Then he grinned. “Oh, but guess what?” His eyes sparkled. “I found my Mate!”

Your eyes widened. “Really?” Your heart lightened for him, happy that your younger brother had finally found his Mate. “Does she know yet?”

He shook his head, face falling a little. Well, not yet. I mean, I’ve kinda only just met her and all, so… and it’s kinda awkward, cause…” He winced. “Well, she’s my best mate’s younger sister.”

You gave him an incredulous look, then sighed, shaking your head. “Well, good luck with that one, Ray,” you snorted. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation with that one.”

He shrugged. “I know, but…” His grin turned goofy. “She’s so pretty. You should see her. She’s even pretty sassy, kinda like you are with me.”

You laughed softly, patting his arm. “Well, I’m glad I was able to catch up with you. If you need a place to stay, you know my house is always open to you.”

He nodded. “Thanks, sis. I should probably head back. I don’t know what else they might want me for.” He paused, then gave you an odd look. “Have you… found anyone?”

You blinked at him, startled. “What? Ray, you know what my Fate says.” You frowned.

An odd expression crossed his face, then he shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Just… don’t forget the promise you made me.”

You sighed. “I won’t, Ray.” As if you ever could, you thought with a hint of bitterness. He wouldn’t let you.

He squeezed your hand, slipping a piece of paper into your grasp. “Text me. I wanna keep in touch.”

You nodded, pocketing the note. “Thanks. Good luck, Ray. Stay safe.”

He nodded, then jogged back to Agent Blue with a wave. You were left to stand there, your heart sinking with every step he took away from you. Everything was lining up far too well. Though you’d vainly hoped to escape from the Fate that had hung over your head for so long, it seemed as though you’d just walked right into it instead.

Turning back to the bar, you quietly packed up your things. Bidding Lysander goodnight, you checked to make sure Dorian didn’t need you and headed back for home.

It was only a matter of time.

Rain splattered against the ground, heavy and thick like a curtain. Shielding your eyes from the drops, you pushed yourself to run, faster, as fast as you could. There was no time left to think.

The vision you’d had kneeling under the large Fae Maypole tree you’d found in the forest nearby kept flashing through your mind, insistent and horrific. Your Fate loomed, past and future meshing into the present in ways you could hardly stand. You’d thought you’d been running, cowardly but maybe safe from the Sword of Damocles—but now here you were, fallen headlong into the trap of the Fate you’d known since childhood would claim your life.

And yet your feet would not stop running, pushing you forward without hesitation. Was this not worth it? Was this Fate—this Fate that you’d feared for so long, hated and loathed and tried in futility to escape—was it truly so horrendous? Now that you were here? In this moment of truth?

You barreled up the steps, slamming your shoulder against the door without a pause. It broke, sending you headlong across the threshold to skid across the carpet. Ignoring the burn on your arm, you looked up as you heard a scream. Morrigan’s face stared at you, sheet white as she curled up in fear by the foot of the couch.

Jacking yourself up, you didn’t take time to glance behind you. “Mor, into the safe room,” you gasped, “your Daddy sent me, okay? I need you to get in the safe room, now.”

She nodded shakily, bravely scrambling to her feet and running towards the safe room that Lysander had made for her. Nothing would get through the doors, you knew, once they locked. You waited until you heard the lock click, then turned and scrambled back out the busted door.

In the empty area between your houses, out on the outskirts of the town, everything seemed oddly distant yet crystal clear. Your memories nudged at you, whispering about the deja vu that filled your every pore at the sight of the green, rolling grass and the relentless rain that poured over everything. In the distance, the red glare of a fire fueled by gas and undaunted by rain began to dominate the color of the sky.

It didn’t surprise you when cold fingers wrapped around your throat, leaving mottled bruises to bloom against your skin. You stood still, knowing that any movement might crush your throat. You may have been Fated to die, but not until you’d finished your task.

The enraged Pricoli snarled, hissing in your ear. “I know he sent you to hide her,” he sneered. “You helpless, pitiful Seer. For all your preeminence, did you not find a way to best me?” he barked a laugh, maniacal and loud. “You useless Seers and your cursed fates—and for what? A single moment of ruined glory?”

Your breath shallowed, airflow restricted. Agent Blue, several Dullahan, your brother, Dorian, and Lysander all emerged from the tree line, pausing as they saw you being held hostage. You closed your eyes for a moment as the icy hands constricted around your throat even further.

“Tell me where she is, and you get to live, Seer,” he snarled, his face nearing your ear. “She is my perfect match, my BloodSong. She is fated to be mine, my apprentice!” he howled. “Give her to me, my right!” His nails started to lengthen, turning into claws, digging against your skin. “Or I’ll drink you dry first and use you as fuel to take these maggots down.”

You brother’s face had gone ashen in horror, staring at you as though trying to deny his own eyes. His face twisted in despair.

“I’ll never give her up to you,” you answered, aware that everyone could hear you despite the rain. You tilted your head up, letting the rain wash over your face. “I am a Seer,” you declared, loudly, proud of it for the first time in your life. “And I embrace the Curse of my Fate. I pay the price gladly, if it means the power to make sure you never lay a finger on her.”

The Pricoli snarled, the rage almost audibly warping his voice into something demonic. “Then meet your Fate, Seer.”

Your knees gave out the moment his fangs ripped into your jugular. Strangely enough, the pain wasn’t even that bad, you mused hazily. Your eyes—were they blurred by tears or the rain?—rolled up to see your brother, mouth open as he reached for you. Even Lysander, white fur matted and soaked, had his maw open as his snout pointed to the sky.

Distantly, you could hear screaming. A roar, loud, tumbling through your chest, rattling into the ground. The crackling of fire. Everything started to get.. so… cold. Vaguely, as the hand shoved you forward and you landed against the ground, you could see out of the corner of your eye the Pricoli hunch forward. Despite the pain, the numbness… your lips curled in a vindictive smile.

The crimson eyes turned to you, a horrified anger sweeping through them as they landed on your twisted grin. A cold hand went up to his throat, and the Pricoli started to choke. His body lurched, tongue lolling as he gagged on your blood, his veins starting to light from the inside out with a toxic green. Slowly, agonizingly, he fell to his knees, his face contorted in a paroxysm of agony as he choked on your blood, your concentrated inherent magic tearing him apart from the inside out.

Your limbs felt sluggish as you forced yourself up, your ears ringing. Reaching up, you pressed your hand to your ruined neck and staggered to your feet, starting to lurch away from the destroyed corpse of the Pricoli. Warmth smeared across your skin, and every breath sent needles raking down your throat and into your lungs. Your feet stumbled, and before you realized it, you were leaning against something broad and firm.

Two icy blue eyes stared down at you, claws wrapping around your arms. Strangely enough, though, you didn’t fear that grasp. Lysander’s maw moved, you noticed faintly, but all you could hear was the persistent ringing in your ears. Vaguely, you reached up, your fingers clumsily landing on the side of his snout. Red smeared his fur, and your arm dropped down numbly to your side.

With the last of your strength, you forced your mouth to form the words that your shattered throat couldn’t say. Tell her goodbye.

The world spun into crimson.

Shivering, you shook your head as you curled into the corner that you’d pressed yourself into. Tears burned behind your eyes, and you heard your breath start to rasp and wheeze, rattling your throat.

Your brother’s face crumpled as he stared at you. “Please,” he begged, his voice wavering. “You need to drink.”

Agent Blue rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Take it easy, son,” he said, voice firm but compassionate. “She’s understandably frightened. Even though she’s successfully gone through the change to being a damphyr, she’s had quite the scare and probably doesn’t want to feed.”

“But she needs to!” Ray exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice. “She’s already hurting.”

It was driving you insane. The pure power of the Will-o-the-Wisp’s blood was calling to you like a tempting beacon, and your brother’s hot blood practically screamed at you. The thirst flared in your throat, an ache so powerful you wanted to gag. It was like sandpaper. But you didn’t want to feed from them. You didn’t want to risk losing control, didn’t want to didn’t want to didn’t want to—

“I’ll take care of her.” Lysander stepped into the room. He turned to Ray. “She gave her life to save my daughter. This is the least I can do. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”

Your brother paused, then sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know you will, Sir,” he said, defeated. “I just…” He glanced over at you, eyes reflecting his misery.

Lysander reached out, squeezing Ray’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Ray nodded, then approached you again carefully. “Hey.” His voice softened. “I know you probably don’t want me around. But you have my number. Please, just… contact me when you’re ready, ok? You know I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. I’m gonna go back to Scotland, but you know how to reach me if you need anything. I won’t tell any of the family that you’re here.”

Swallowing back the drool, you tentatively reached out and barely ghosted your fingers against his cheek, hoping your eyes would convey your thanks. You just… needed space. Away from him, to control yourself, get yourself together.

But his expression turned a little more hopeful, and he nodded. “Love you, sis,” he said quietly. “Please… live.” With a small smile, he stood and followed Agent Blue out of the room.

With a quiet whine, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push past the unbearable, insistent pain scratching down your throat. Your throat roared for a drink. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Lysander approach. Though you didn’t know why, his presence always sent you into an absolute panic, though not of fear. Your thirst around him seemed to impossibly skyrocket. Like something about him drove you crazy.

He knelt, his blue eyes fixed on yours. He reached out slowly, giving you a chance to move away. Instead, your body froze, entirely fixating on the way his plaid shirtsleeve pulled tight around his arm, rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed thickly, his blood an absolute siren call. You could smell it, practically taste it. Dripping down your throat, into your veins, ambrosia sweet and thick— Drool slipped down the corner of your mouth, past the pressure of fangs against your lips.

Lysander’s eyes strained. “I know what it does to you,” he said quietly. “Just the fact that you’re not lunging for me right now is…” He sighed, his other hand raking through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or-“ His lips twisted as he cut himself off, as though conflicted. “There’s a reason why my blood calls to you.” He settled himself in front of you, making you want to scream as both relief and a frenzy of want roared through you.

“Of course, Mor is my daughter,” Lysander said, his voice low as he looked down at the floor between you. “But her Mother was… not my true Mate.” He sighed. “I didn’t really care, because I loved her. But she… well, she left me. Didn’t want Mor, didn’t want… me.” A self-depreciating smile passed across his face. “But it was okay, I had Mor and I only wanted the best for her. But still… somewhere inside me, I knew that my true Mate was out there somewhere.”

You almost couldn’t focus, his proximity almost painful because he was too far, and yet not close enough—

“And then you appeared, and Mor started to love you, and I—“ He sighed, hand reaching up to cover his face. “And I didn’t know if I wanted to run or stay.” His shoulders slumped. “Seeing you with Mor, working with you, talking with you… every moment I spend with you near is like agony, but when you leave it’s like you take a part of me with you and I can’t breathe.”

Abruptly, your mouth went dry, shocked almost clear out of bloodlust. Wait, was he saying-?

“I told myself that you’d be better off without me,” Lysander admitted, voice thick. “I’m… not young any more. You’re beautiful and— and you have so much more promise, a whole life ahead of you… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d gone for so long without my true Mate, I thought I’d be fine. But when I saw you lying on the ground…” He turned his face away, jaw ticking, a wild, feral light in his eyes. A low snarl rumbled through his chest, dissolving into a whine he quickly cut off.

He looked back up at you. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel… obligated to do anything. But you deserve to know the reason why my blood calls to you so strongly, and why— why I want you to drink from me. Why I don’t mind.”

Your mind whirled. The permission. The heady scent of his blood. The warmth he promised. The realization that he was calling you his true Mate. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Reaching up, you clapped your hand over your mouth with a half-sob of desperation. You wanted it. You practically ached for it, the kindness and love he offered. The promise of a family, a home, someone who had seen you at your worst and still somehow wanted you.

“Please,” Lysander rasped, his eyes laced with that same desperation roiling in his gut. “You don’t even have to accept me as a Mate. But you need to feed, and I—“

You were at your limit. You’d already taxed yourself as a newborn damphyr somehow trying to resist the frenzy of the first feed, and now that your Mate was in front of you, offering freely, practically begging you to feed from him, you could only take so much.

You lunged, a snarl dying on your lips as you lunged forward, the strength of your desperation actually knocking the seasoned werewolf down onto the floor. And still, even as you straddled his waist, your fingers curled around his shoulder, eyes fixed on the tempting expanse of his neck… you still tried to fight. Still tried to fight it, to control yourself.

But Lysander’s broad, warm hands gently wrapped around your waist, not fighting or pushing you off. The scar slashing across the left side of his face seemed to glow in the light streaming through the curtained window, and he gave you a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice low and soothing. “I can handle it. I know you won’t hurt me.”

You shuddered, drool dripping down your fangs. Leaning forward slowly, you tried to keep yourself paced, tried to force yourself to some modicum of control. Mouth opening, you lowered your head until your fangs just barely grazed the crook of his neck and shoulder, not too close to his jugular but just enough.

The moment your fangs sank into his throat, Lysander’s fingers went weak around your waist. A deep groan pooled into the air, and a tremor ran through his body underneath you.

Heat pooled in your stomach, even as his blood slid down your throat with a satisfaction unparalleled. He tasted sweet and dusky, like fresh bread and sunshine, and freshly-cut grass after the rain. The pure heat and warmth he radiated soaked into you, and you felt the bloodlust slowly slake as you drank. Finally, you forced yourself to let go, vaguely aware with your instincts that you’d taken enough to not hurt him but probably still leave him a bit lightheaded for a moment.

The bite wound almost instantly healed over, and his grasp on your waist tightened again, fingers flexing as he regained his bearings.

You leaned your head against his chest, the gratitude and shame warring inside you. Grateful that he’d been so kind, so understanding and gentle. Ashamed of your own arousal, the way your entire being reacted to him.

Your name slipped from his lips, and a moment later his face pressed into your hair. His voice ached with the same torn desire that roiled through you. “I shouldn’t—“ He sucked in a sharp breath as you pressed your body flush against his. You could feel how tight his pants were, could feel the lines of his bulge pressed up against your thigh. A choked groan accompanied the way his hands spasmed around your waist.

“Mate.” The whisper slid from your mouth, the first thing you’d said aloud since your change. Your fingers clenched in his flannel shirt. “Mate… wants me?” Your voice cracked with your fear. Fear that he wouldn’t want to deal with you after all, that you weren’t worth it—

He pulled you closer to him, hand sliding to your hair. “So damn much, sweetheart,” he rasped, cradling your head to his shoulder. “You’re so goddamn beautiful and fierce— I don’t care if you’re human, Seer, damphyr. You’re my true Mate, my love.”

And you buried your face into his shoulder and let yourself shed a few tears of relief. He wanted you. Accepted you, in spite of everything.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to stay,” his voice strained. “You gave your life for Morrigan, and I’m so much older—“

You reached up, your hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you slanted your lips over his, tears slipping down your cheeks. His mouth opened, kissing you back with a fervor as he splayed his hand over your lower back, pressing you into him. He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into your body. Your entire body flushed, and you let out a quiet whimper.

Almost before you could register it, he flipped you over onto the floor, hovering over you. His teeth bared, and he stared down at you with a heat in his eyes that scorched through you. His hands clenched around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his.

You whimpered, tilting your head to the side and exposing your throat to him, sprawled against the floor. Your chest heaved with breath, and a moment later his teeth closed gently on the arch of your neck. A soft breathy moan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering closed as his scent washed over you, his mouth marking your neck, replacing the memory of the Pricoli’s fingerprints mottled against your skin.

With an effort, Lysander wrenched himself away, though he half rutted against you. “Darling, I’m going to need you to tell me if you don’t want this,” he rasped, voice thick and half a snarl already.

“Lysander,” you whispered, lips caressing his name.

His hips stuttered, and he pulled you up against him before heaving himself up and staggering to the bed. He lowered you onto the bed, wasting no time before he practically yanked you to him, his hands hot and greedy. He kissed you, somehow still gentle and yet needy enough to take your breath away.

“May I?” He tapped your shirt.

You nodded shyly, letting him slide it off of you. You lifted your hips in an invitation, and he lowered his mouth to your neck as he slipped your shorts off. He groaned, hands sliding across your bared skin. His skin felt so hot to the touch against your chilled body, wholly satisfying. You practically melted into his hands like putty, malleable to however he touched you, moved you. He made you feel safe. Loved. Cherished. Wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “So beautiful, leannen.” The Gaelic spilled naturally from his mouth as he slid his hands under your back, unhooking your bra. You let him slide it off, too desperate for the warmth of his hands to process embarrassment. His hands cupped your breasts, callouses rasping across your nipples in a way that left your breathless and aching.

You whimpered, a little encouraged by the way you felt his bulge throb against you at the sound. Fingers tangling in his shirt, you tilted your head for air, arching into his hands.

“Fuck,” Lysander hissed against your jaw, his hips rolling into you. His hands slid lower, and his thumbs hooked in your underwear. “Can I?”

You nodded, fingers clenching against his shoulders as he slid them off. His shirt was already straining at the seams, threatening to rip. At your tug, he took a moment to reach down and practically rip his shirt off, tossing it uncaringly to the side as he opened his mouth against your neck.

You were already dripping, just his touch and scent enough to arouse you. Breath hissed through his teeth as his fingers dragged through your slick, just barely brushing past your clit. A whine escaped your lips as you shivered, fingers slipping against his chest.

“You smell so good,” Lysander groaned, one finger slipping into you as his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re wet. Can I take care of you?” he rumbled, teeth nipping at your ear. “You already gorged yourself on my blood. How about I fill you up with something else?”

You flushed, fangs sinking into your lower lip. “Please?” you whispered.

His ice blue eyes flashed, and his chest heaved under your hands. “Oh, are we a little desperate?” He smirked, sliding another finger into you, stretching you. “Want me to pull your legs up on my shoulders and keep you here all night?” He chuckled, feeling you pulse around his fingers. “Mmmm, I think your gorgeous body is being pretty honest, sweetheart. Well. I aim to please my Mate.”

You only had a moment to wonder when he’d managed to get his pants off. His fingers slid out of you, only for you to feel his cock rest heavily against your entrance. He slid against you, and you could feel a dribble of precum smear across your skin. One hand went to your waist, holding you, while his other found your clit again.

“Is this alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and suddenly soft. “I’m a bit of a stretch. I’ll try to go slow.”

With how wet you were, you sincerely doubted that he would find much of a problem. Still, you swallowed and nodded, grateful for his care and the way he tried, every step of the way, to make sure you were comfortable. Then again, you could already tell he wasn’t lying about how big he was. You could feel him resting against you, throbbing against your thigh. Slowly, he pressed just the tip into you, his breath shuddering.

Your lips parted in a gasp as he stretched you open, sliding into you. Compared to the chill of your body, his cock practically radiated heat. By the time he completely bottomed out, pelvis flush against yours, you’d already come so close to the edge, drool slipping from the corners of your lips. He seemed to completely fill you, pressing up against every spot inside of you until you swore he’d stretched you into his shape.

Lysander slumped over you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. His entire body shuddered, and his hands clenched around your waist. His chest heaved against yours, muscles flexing as though he were physically holding himself back.

“Thank you.” The shaky whisper pooled against your skin. “For saving her. Giving your life for her. Thank you. For choosing me.”

Your fingers slid into his salt and pepper hair, relishing the stubble against your neck and shoulder. “I love you.” The confession spilled from your lips, quiet in the room.

He shuddered, letting out a low moan. His fingers clenched, just as he pulled you down further onto his cock, pressing up into you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Lysander,” you repeated obediently, wholly truthful. Your core clenched around him, and he hissed, pulling out to thrust back into you.

“I love you,” he groaned, starting to thrust in a slow but steady rhythm. He reached down, then pulled your legs up around his hips. The new angle made you pulse as he seemed to reach impossibly deeper into you, angling up justenough to hit that one spot inside you that had you gasping and arching.

“You’re so tight,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Feels so good, sweetheart. So good.”

He suddenly reached behind you and grabbed a pillow, then lifted your hips up to prop it under you. Setting you back down, he shifted himself up and pulled your legs up to his shoulders.

A cry left your lips, utterly wrecked and broken. His cock completely filled you, fucking any semblance of coherence out of you, going so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach. He seemed to know exactly how to read your body, adjusting to every whimper you let out, not giving you a break as he kept pounding into you with devastating precision.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” he chuckled, the sound raking down your spine. “Is this what you want?” He thumbed your clit, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You gonna give Mor a little sibling? Taking me so well like this, spread open for me?��

The thought of adding more kids to your life, together with Lysander, proved to be the last straw for your poor mind. You came, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you cried out his name and the wave of heat and pleasure washed through your body.

And Lysander just kept fucking you through it, going harder as he pinned you against the sheets under him, not caring that your fingers raked against his shoulders. He bent to kiss you, murmuring your name in a husky voice that just wrecked you even more. He gave you no mercy, his gaze predatory as he stared down at you, soaking in your ruined expression.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he murmured, coaxing you through your high.

Even when you rode it out, he didn’t slow down or let up the pace. “You gonna make me cum, darling? Can I cum inside you?”

A plea staggered off of your lips, followed by his name. Your jumbled, blissed-out mind wouldn’t allow you to do anything else, barely recalling your own name.

“Fuck— gonna cum, sweetheart— gonna fill you up—“ He let out a moan before his hips slammed into you one last time. He ground against you as he came, his bruising grip not letting you move an inch away from him.

You melted back into the bed, eyes closing as you soaked in the feeling of his seed filling you, pouring into you. Your fingers slid up the back of his neck as you lay there, docile and welcoming to his every move. Even when he’d finally stopped spilling into you, your stomach full and hot, he slumped against you.

His lips slid across your throat, soft and almost reverent, and he pulled you into his body. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, his hands running over you with gentle, loving strokes, soothing you.

“I promise I’ll do my best to protect you, treat you the way you should be,” he promised. “I love you so much, sweetheart.” Then he chuckled, hand running over your stomach. “I wonder if Morrigan will want a brother or a sister. She’s already going to be so excited to call you Mommy.”

You gave him a shy smile, accepting his soft kiss. “Thank you, Lysander,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Perhaps the price of your Fate had been high, you thought, but it had been entirely worth it.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #x reader #my writing #mywriting #nsft #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #xyou #smut #kinktober

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

s.o.s, m | knj

pairing(s): namjoon x reader

summary: It's two in the morning and Kim Namjoon is at your doorstep, asking you to fuck. In a fuckbuddies way, because, as a wise man once said, "I may not know love, but I know snacks." Well, you do agree with this statement. Let's go with the flow!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics, blowjob, cowgirl); friends-with-benefits and feels through fucking (classic for me, haha, maybe I fell in love with him while writing it, oops)

happy birthday, Kim Namjoon <3 #happyRMday

now playing – pado by bibi

“Hey!”

“Shit, Namjoon, are you trying to break my door down at two in the morning or what? What’s with you? Why didn’t you just type in the lock?”

Kim Namjoon’s large frame and big brown eyes glanced at the silver-blue electronic number pad on your apartment door. “Oh. Right. I forgot you had that now.”

“I have it because you keep losing my key!”

He rubbed the back of his now blond head sheepishly. He must have dyed it recently because it had been dark brown last week. It was shorter than before, trimmed at the sides and longer at the top. Usually it was styled, but right now it was messy and puffy like he had been running across the city on those long legs of his or, more likely, windblown from riding his bicycle on his way here.

Namjoon didn’t drive. He said it was to maintain world peace.

“Do you wanna fuck?” he asked you breathlessly.

You looked down at your massive black sleep shirt that made you look like a lump of fabric, but, well, he picked today to pop the question and what were you gonna do? Say no?

You snapped back up, smacking your finger on your left wrist. “It’s two in the morning!”

“One forty-five, yeah,” Namjoon agreed, glancing at his brown leather-banded, white-faced watch. Simple and sleek. You noticed he had a few colorful string-woven bracelets on his wrists, likely handmade by someone in the various rural villages Namjoon liked to visit in his spare time. He dropped his arm and smiled brilliantly at you with those dimpled cheeks.

“I was thinking about you. You know, that habit you do when you run your hand through your hair and flick your wrist at the end, elegantly spreading your fingers out. Super sexy.”

You felt your ears heat. “Hahah… what?”

He scratched his head and stuck his hands in his loose black pants, draping his warm gray t-shirt over his wrists. Lowered his chin and flickered his eyes to you, awkward half-smile on those full lips.

Oh.

Shit.

“D… Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, backing up and shifting your eyes. “You always do that.”

“Do what?” Namjoon chirped, stepping inside and out of his brown sandals.

“Give me those puppy eyes even though you’re built like a fucking tank.”

“I snore like one too.”

“Yeah, I know.”

But none of those things really mattered because your arm was snaking up, your other hand slapping the door closed, looking down until you couldn’t look down anymore, lifting your head to playful dark brown orbs and a dimpled smile, already leaning down, his scent of warm cotton and faint florals washing over you, and then his lips touched yours and it was over.

You could say no, you could, but you never really wanted to.

Namjoon wasn’t being rude showing up so late. After all, you had already told him it was one of your fantasies, a late-night rendezvous, a bit of unexpected expected fun. Namjoon was willing to help, a game of ping-pong between casual, sometimes lovers, both too busy and scatterbrained at this point in life to commit to anything, but that worked for you and for him, or at least that’s what you told him and what he told you, his large hands now encircling your back, fingertips pressed into the thin fabric, sighing into your mouth, rhythm of those long fingers dancing up, up, sinking into your hair, tangling himself in it, nibbling at your lower lip.

“I just love touching your hair,” that deep, deep voice whispered to your lips, eyes still closed, smirking as the tip of your tongue darted out, playing with him as he spoke. “And I like messing it up a little.”

“A little? You like messing it up a lot.”

Namjoon curled his fingers inward and pulled back, your head following automatically, grinning with you as he opened his eyes, devious even with the dimples.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

It wasn’t fun if it wasn’t with him.

You raised your hand and spread your fingers out, slowly running your nails up and then down his chest, smirking back at him, your tongue peeking out between your teeth.

Namjoon once said to you, let’s just go with the flow, ride the wave.

He sucked in a breath right now and pulled you close, hands letting go of your hair as he captured your lips again, deep, ravenous kisses that took your breath away, such wonderful lips that loved to travel across your body and wander that wonderland, his hands already reaching for the hem of your shirt, bunching it up as he stumbled back into your apartment, dragging you with him, you riding the wave of his passion, dragging his shirt up with yours, tossing them aside, body to body, exploring lips on that warm skin and muscular chest.

Namjoon also said things like, I may not know love, but I know snacks, so, yeah, he was always poetic like that. Full of wisdom and weirdness, arguably the best combination one could have when struggling through this nonsensical world.

You pushed him down on the bed, kissing all that tan skin, running your nails down his shoulders, walking down his defined biceps finger by finger, digging in a little harder, pairing it with kisses and drawing stars on his pecs with your saliva, making him smile and flash those dimples.

“Like that?” you teased, drawing back a little so he could watch the mastery of your tongue at work.

“You know me,” Namjoon chuckled, the sound radiating from his chest to your mouth, sending ripples through your spine. “I like cute things with a little pinch.”

“Like those tiny beach crabs?”

Now he actually laughed, that throaty, booming laugh of his, nodding with affirmation.

You sometimes wondered when the waves would stop and roll out, sometimes wondered if the tide of Kim Namjoon would go low and leave you behind, but maybe it was the moon or something, cosmic threads that sent him rushing back to your beach, bright and sparkling, always catching the light and looking good from every angle.

“Fuck, I always forget you’re huge.”

“I am not huge. You are being dramatic.”

“Dramatically sucking your dick.”

You knew how to take his breath away, how to make him gasp and his hand fly to your head, groaning as he pushed you down, your throat closing around his rapidly swelling length, tongue all over in the small window you had to wetly caress every contour and vein, bobbing your head in time with his gentle nudges, waiting for you and your jaw to adjust before thrusting a little harder, a little rougher, choppy waves and lost breath. His scent filled your nose, his toned hips in your hands, digging your nails into that muscle, inhaling and drowning in the feeling, pressing him between tongue and roof of your mouth, feeling the head hitting your throat, so you tightened your muscles.

Namjoon moaned your name, brown orbs turning darker from dilated pupils.

It filled your ears and soaked into your chest, your heart pumping faster, beating harder, drawn to the sound like a sailor to a siren.

You took him deeper, pulsing around the head, sticking your tongue out a little to lap at his balls collected in your hands.

“A-Ah, fuck… You’re always so, so good… always making me think of you…”

You watched his eyes close, his hand gripping your hair, not unkind, simply adding a little bit of force, but you were in control of the pace, riding the wave, filling your mouth with his hardness over and over, closing your own eyes, small tears collecting at the corners, unable to breathe, but you already knew you were diving and you practiced for this, holding your breath and bobbing your head fast and tight, your fingernails clawing at his sides just the way he liked, a little neediness, a little desperation, maybe an act or maybe not, honestly hard to tell with how often you had blown him, so maybe it was part of you now, just like how sometimes you would be alone and smell his scent even though Namjoon wasn’t there at all, maybe real but probably an olfactory memory, strange that it would happen just like that, a wave of warm cotton and faint florals that you drank in small trickles right now, your mouth occupied with his thick length, listening to the sloppy, wet sound of his cock being swallowed over and over again by your suffocating mouth, saliva sliding over his balls and onto your chin.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

Pushing you down, forcing you to deep dive, swallowing on instinct, clamping your lips around his jerking cock with every gulp of gushing cum, the strong salty taste lingering in the back of your tongue as your throat was stuffed with the swollen head. Namjoon shuddered deeply, resonating pleasure that drifted down his torso and through your fingertips. You lapped up anything you missed, sucking it off and Namjoon hissed at the sensitivity, tugging at your hair sharply.

You hummed and retreated a little, breathing again, licking the underside of the tip, wiggling your tongue over the slit and around head, opening your eyes to Namjoon’s panting smile.

“You want me to punish you or what?”

Nah, you wanted to ride the wave, but this particular wave was pretty fucking big.

“Oooh, fuck…!”

Namjoon raised his arms and grabbed your pillows, thrusting his hips up into your pussy after you had lowered halfway. The condom wrapper flew off the bed, probably to be found in some random place in your room tomorrow morning.

A later you problem.

Hands on his chest, sinking down, gasping for breath at the forced stretch at his girth, but it was nicer that way, wet and getting wetter, spreading your knees and arching your back, your hair falling down your shoulders, rolling your body to smack down onto his crotch, fuck, so hard and so full, starting a rough, choppy rhythm because Namjoon was deliberately not letting you set up a reasonable pace and kept thrusting up a little too fast, a little too hard, hot moans tumbling out of your mouth, feeling the crashing pleasure try to overtake you, drawing your knees back in to feel all of him, your palms sliding up, grasping those strong shoulders, lowering your head to speak to those sultry brown orbs reflecting your open mouth and half-lidded gaze.

“Namjoon… please, oh, f-fuck… if you’re gonna be like this, j-just fuck me…!”

He grinned, dimples on display.

“Anything for you.”

Mayday, mayday, you needed to be saved from that teasing smile and those words.

His hands fitted to your shaking hips and held you up easily, lifting his hips up at a deep, hard pace, emphasis on strength and less on speed, the muscles of his arms tense and locked to keep you above him as he slammed his hard cock into your pussy.

“Ah, yes, yes, right there, Namjoon, yes…”

You could go deeper so you did, slapping your hips down too and making Namjoon grin under you. Shit, something about those round cheeks and bright smile while he was railing you practically to heaven was doing something to you, washing out your senses and giving you no time to think, squeezing him inside you and feeling him twitch back, something so sexy about how he could do that even while fucking you, and you saw him suck in a breath, witnessing your effect on him, his hold becoming tighter, his dark lashes lowering, hooded eyes and locking with your gaze.

Drowning in the pleasure with you.

“Come on, you want it, right?” he panted under you, voice so deep it felt like you were underwater, your skin vibrating with the seductiveness of his tone and the depth of his sound mixing with the harsh slaps of skin to skin, wet and wonderful. “Show me you want it, give it to me.”

You couldn’t say no, already tightening your core and smacking down on him harder before he could even finish speaking, the ecstasy shooting up your spine and pouring all over your scalp and mind, letting go, pitched cries and blissful moans, Namjoon moaning with you, your name on his lips and filling up your bedroom, clutching his shoulders and staring into his eyes, breathing in warm cotton and faint florals, cast away into a wild paradise.

You clenched around him and gasped, a powerful jolt rocking through you, surprised at the sudden squelch but then you felt the overwhelming rush barreling through you, sweeping you into pulsing pleasure, one of your hands losing grip and grabbing onto the pillow beside Namjoon’s head, his heavy breath and your exhaled name blowing over on your prickling skin, realizing you were accidentally closer than usual because your hand slipped, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist and slamming you down onto his crotch, groaning and tipping his head back, his eyes closing, Adam’s apple prominent against his flexed neck.

If possible, suddenly you could breathe even less.

Your pussy throbbed around his twitching cock, his orgasm spurting into the condom and your juices soaking his skin with each flinch of the aftermath, wave after wave crashing into you, your arms trembling to hold yourself up so you could absorb it all – him, the dwindling pleasure, the moment when his eyes opened, your name drifting out of those lips in a lustful haze.

“I should… go back to mine, huh…” he wheezed, chuckling slightly. “Otherwise, I’m going to snore too loud and you’re not going to be able to sleep…”

You slid down, closer, closer, seeing the mole underneath his lower lip with his rueful smile. His fingers were drawing circles on your hips.

“I bought earplugs.”

You silenced his laugh with a kiss.

masterpost

#namjoon x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you

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seraphdreams · 3 years

Text

take another hit.

✯stoner! armin arlert x fem! reader

contains - modern/college au, weed use, edging, dacryphilia, praise, dry humping, finger sucking,

“take another hit” armin says with a chuckle, resting his head in his hands while looking at the way you inhaled the herb between your lips. he wouldn’t admit it, but that’s when you’re the prettiest; head fuzzy and nothing coming out of you but short giggles.

his car was starting to fog up at the smoke and increasing the temperature inside. eren was supposed to be there with you but he got too caught up in a college party not too far from your apartment, where armin’s car is parked. you didn’t really prefer the party scene rather than just spending as much time with your boyfriend.

after passing the blunt back to armin, you grab the crisp, cold water bottle from the cup holder. the feeling of the liquid sliding down your throat like much needed relief. “armin? were your eyes always this blue?” you say to him, a half smile on your face. he looked back with his ocean colored orbs tinted with that pretty red of a high.

he chuckles, finishing off the blunt then saving the end. the high finally settles in his body, watching your face, eyebrows quirked as you awaited his answer.

“yeah, were you ever this gorgeous?”

there’s a small pause, you admiring his smile and the way his eyes lid with nothing more than pure desire. you try to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together, ridding yourself of the arousal that’s building inside of you.

“what’s up? bad high?” armin asks, taking notice of your movements. after a moment or two, it finally registered in his mind what you really wanted. he leans in closer to you, taking your hands from your lap into his own.

“oh. i know what it is” he whispers, his lips centimeters away from yours. you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks from his proximity. he pulls away, looking at you with clouded intent. “arminnnn” you whine, upset that he “ruined” the moment.

“why don’t we go inside?” he questions, jerking his head to the side. you inhale deeply before moving to open the car door, armin mirroring your actions.

it was a matter of time, once you got inside, before armin drags you to your bedroom. you were just lucky you decided to clean up earlier that day. once you’re on your laid out on the bed, he crawls over you, hovering above your face.

he crashes his lips onto yours and holds your wrists above you. he drinks in your whines while using his tongue to taste yours. it’s already bad enough that his smell was so fresh mixed in with the earthy and strong scent of weed, but the arousal inside you was growing stronger and stronger with each swipe of his tongue.

he breaks away, reattaching his lips to the skin on your neck and sucking harshly. his bites and kisses trail down to your chest, where he doesn’t hesitate to help you remove your top. “armin!” you snap at his eagerness when he removes your bra and cups your breasts.

“ah, i’m sorry—just couldn’t wait” he apologizes, eyes transfixed on your chest. he takes one of your tits in his mouth while flicking and pinching at the other in his hand. the pleasure shoots straight to your cunt while you try to conceal moans and whimpers.

he notices the way you squirm under him. thinking of a solution, he spreads your legs with his knee, lodging himself in between, rutting his hard, clothed cock onto your clothing clad clit.

“armin, feels—feels good!” you pant, coming to wrap your arms around his shoulders. he groans in response to your moans before releasing one of your breasts and replacing it with the other. he feels himself getting closer with the way he grinds on you, too caught up in making sure you’re feeling good.

he continues his ministrations, pretty blue eyes lock on yours while you feel yourself about to release. “armin...wait..ar-“ you cum before you can even finish your whiny pants. he soon follows suit, cumming in his black jeans.

“damn” he says as he releases your breast with a soft pop.

he removes your bottoms along with your underwear before he does the same to himself. he collects your essence with two fingers, watching how it glistens and stretches on his digits.

“god, you’re so wet”. his voice comes out as a low moan. you take notice of his thick cock. how it’s flushed a dark pink and dribbling out precum mixed with his previous orgasm.

he aligns his dick with your slit, prodding a few times before slowly sinking in. you couldn’t help but hold your breath when it slipped in so nice, him finally bottoming inside you. “let me know when you’re ready”. you nod your head when you feel ready, comfortable for him to move inside you.

his strokes began slow, searching for your sweet spot. his hips rolled into yours softly as he looks down at you with an adoring look. you couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes tighter at the feeling of his fat cock stretching you out.

you grab ahold of his shoulder, digging into the muscular flesh. he speeds up his pace and folds your legs over with a grunt. the way he was thrusting into you nearly knocked the wind out of you.

the only coherent words you could form were, “armin too much!” and “‘s too big!”. that all familiar feeling stirs up in your core again, threatening to get tighter and tighten.

you feel your cunt about to flutter until, it stops.

the pleasure you were feeling, the high you were oh so close to achieving—gone.

you look up at him with a lidded and pouty gaze. “why-why’d you stop?” you question, tears starting to trickle in your eyes. he reaches his hand out to rub against your cheeks, thumb swiping over your plump, soft lips.

“don’t want you coming just yet, baby”.

you melt into his touch, nodding your pretty little head at his words.

after a brief pause, he continues his movements, crashing into you just as he did before. your legs were a shaking mess and the way he angled his cock against your walls, only made them worse.

his blond locks fanned over his face, eyes almost closed from his high and lust. each thrust made you jolt, and that white hot feeling from before comes right back to you.

you grip the sheets beneath you, rocking your hips along with his. the angle and the way his dick curved inside you had you seeing stars

and then—it was gone again.

this time, the tears began to flow. he looks at you with much pity. “i know, baby. i know”. the way he dotes on you only makes you want to be pliant with him more.

you felt the soreness in your walls when he picked up his pace again. it wasn’t like you wanted to go through this a third time, but the way he was fucking you—with much passion and care, cleared your mind of those thoughts.

“you feel, so—good” armin grunts between thrusts, throwing his head back and groaning at the feeling of your warm head sucking him in each time. you could help but whine back.

almost unexpectedly, your climax builds up. you were practically begging for armin to let you have this one, this one release.

the way he uses his hips, stroking deep into your cunt has you seeing white when you finally cum. the experience would’ve been so much better, if it weren’t for the slight pain of overstimulation as he aims for his high.

“fuck, baby please. let me cum inside you” he groans. and after a few hard and sloppy thrusts he does just that. you both wait for a while catching your breaths.

he finally pulls out his softening cock before stuffing two fingers in your cunt. he collects his cum along with the mix of yours before he raises it to your lips.

“clean them off for me” he demands, but with a hint of politeness backing him.

you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and sliding over them, doing your best to clean him up.

“there you go—good girl”.

tags - @onyxoverride @fiaficsxo @dxtemi @sleepyrintaro

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messers-moony · 3 years

Text

Hope | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

A part of growing up means maturing. Maturing means realizing that the world is cruel and unfair. People die every day without a reason or a why. Children are born into this world every day with love or hatred. Growing up, parents tell their kids, “Life isn’t fair”. No one had experience unfairness like Y/n Potter and Remus Lupin.

He was right there. So close, only a few feet from her arms yet so far apart in that wretched woman’s arms who held him like he was the grossest thing she’s ever touched. Those enchanting green eyes that glistened with trauma and pain. The brown hair that started to sprout from his scalp, already messy and untidy.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Y/n wailed as Remus held her tight to his chest, “I’m his biological aunt! Please!”

The Minister of Magic was merciless, “And so is Mrs.Dursley.”

“She’s a muggle! Harry is bound to be a wizard!” Y/n cried in contradiction; the feeling to vomit became relentless, “They’ll torture him. Please, you have to let me have him.”

“With your current living situation, it isn’t safe, Mrs.Lupin.”

Remus grimaced at those words, “My current living situation? Are you daft!?”

“With Mr.Lupins…” The Minister pondered, “condition, it isn’t safe for him.”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt him.” Y/n sobbed quietly, “He’s never hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Lupin, but Harry Potter is the safest with Mrs. and Mr. Dursley.”

The gavel was hit upon another circle of wood, adjourning the meeting as a finality. This was it. The fight was over. Harry Potter would grow up in an unloving household that wouldn’t be capable of understanding his magic. This was the epitome of unfairness. Remus’ hands were on her waist, her back to his chest while she sobbed, trying to get him to release her.

Eventually, she collapsed to a heap on the floor. Petunia and Vernon, each holding a baby watching the couple. Harry was wailing loudly, and Petunia couldn’t get him to settle down, making Y/n only cry harder. The young boy had just begun babbling nonsense due to Sirius’ hard effort to get him to say “Padfoot”. But it was that day he said his first word.

“Moo-me!” Harry yelped, and Remus could’ve sworn his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, “Moo-me!”

The brunet boy was trying to reach for Remus, and he squirmed for the adult male, but Petunia had a tight grip. Y/n could barely hear the little boy's words over her own sobs. Her body ached and shook with every tear that fell. The silver streams stained her cheeks, and her face was a brilliant rose red.

“Please make it stop….” Y/n muttered as Remus covered her from the other four people in the room, “If he says that one more time, I might not be able to handle it. Remus, help me, please.”

Hearing her so desperate broke his heart more. Remus’ body covered hers entirely in their crouched position. Harry was practically attacking Petunia to let him go, to be in the arms that are familiar to him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t know these people. These people weren’t his parents. Where was daddy? Where was mummy? Where was uncle Sirius and Peter?

What he did know was his aunt and uncle were right in front of him. Uncle Moony and Aunt Y/n. He could feel his aunt's sadness, her frustration, her anger. He could sense his uncle's remorse, desperation, and hopelessness. Why were they feeling this way? Why weren’t they protecting him? Harry so desperately wished he could speak and say, “Help! Save me from these strangers!” But all he could get out was “Moo-mee and Tee” for Moony and Auntie.

Petunia couldn’t handle his squirming any longer and allowed him on the floor. Harry was ecstatic with this new change. The boy crawled to the two adults on the floor. Harry could feel the warmth of their bodies before he tugged at his aunt's sleeve. Harry stared into her e/c irises and his uncle's green eyes. Those eyes he’d remember forever, engraved in his memory to never forget. His aunt collected him into her arms. His head pressed to her chest. Harry’s sobs calmed, now in the arms of familiarity.

The scent of chocolate, ink, and books surrounded him. His nose was barely catching the smell due to it being runny from crying. Petunia and Vernon approached them. Remus was hugging his wife and his best friend's son, protecting them from the outside world. Gently Y/n pulled Harry from her chest, leaving him to stare at his aunt and uncle.

Y/n sniffled and wiped his tears from his cheeks like mum used to do, “Harry, I promise you, I really don’t want to do this.”

His head tilted in confusion as Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’ll come back for you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“If he’s anything like Prongs, he’ll always have hope.” Remus commented, making Y/n smile.

“That’s what daddy used to do to mummy when she was sad,” Harry thought, “he used to say something to make her smile.”

Despite the soft smile on her face, she had wet trails on her cheeks, “I love you, Harry.”

Y/n kissed his forehead where the lightning scar was placed—hugging him one more time and Remus doing the same as his wife. Harry didn’t understand. Where was he going? Why was auntie Y/n letting him go? Why weren’t they taking him home? Where was mummy and daddy?! So he began to wail again. Petunia picked him up, and the family of four now started to walk out of the room.

She couldn’t even cry anymore. The water that once flowed down her cheeks had stopped. The dam had broken but no longer had water to give. Y/n turned to put her face harshly in Remus’ chest. His arms raked through her hair and rubbed her back. Silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, reaching his jawline and falling into Y/n’s hair.

“That was-“ Y/n hiccuped, “the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know, darling.” Remus whispered, “He’s got James’ spirit, and that means he won’t lose hope. He’s got Lily’s kindness. Harry will be fine.”

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the point. He should be with me. Not that horrid woman.”

“I know. But you and I will get through this.” Remus assured, tilting her head to face him, “We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.”

Solemnly, Y/n nodded. Remus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The room was precise and silent, aside from Y/n’s hiccups. The clicking of a clock could be heard echoing throughout the room. Usually, the sound would bring a sense of solace to Remus but right now, it was a constant reminder that time had gone by. James and Lily were no longer with him. Sirius had betrayed them all, and Peter was dead. Godric, how could this all happen?

Remus flicked his wand from his pocket, apparating them back to their residence. Inside it was cozy and warm. Remus took off Y/n’s coat along with his own as she took a seat on the leather couch. She grabbed her wand, muttering an “Incendio” to start a fire in the fireplace. Her body was curled up, and Remus placed a blanket over her while he went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a pale blue with dark oak flooring. The marble countertops and dark cabinets. A brilliant contrast. He could almost hear James’ laugh from when they were painting it together while also hearing Lily and Y/n’s scolding them for making a big mess. It brought an emptiness to his heart, but he filled the kettle with water, allowing it to boil on the water.

Inside the cabinets laid an assortment of tea. Something James and Lily had bought him as a joke. Remus always made tea no matter the occasion. It was so him. James had seen it at a muggle store Lily had brought him for. He had been dying of laughter in the store just thinking about it. It got laughs around the Christmas tree when Remus unwrapped the decorative paper.

Remus grabbed a tea bag for himself while grabbing cocoa powder from the same cabinet and two mugs from their wedding night. The kettle began making a high pitch noise, and Remus poured the water into both mugs. Placing the tea bag in one cup and a couple of scoops of cocoa powder in the other, mixing them both, adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate and whipped cream. He added honey to his tea.

Mugs in hand, Remus walked to the living room. He placed the cups on the coffee table. Coaxing Y/n to sit up and he set the mug in her hand as she sipped it carefully, not to burn her mouth. Y/n leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder, still holding her mug with both hands. The blanket draped across their laps. Remus had the cup in his right hand, his left arm draped around her shoulders, the pad of his thumb rubbing her shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

The holidays were hard. Almost too hard for Y/n and Remus to celebrate. But despite their pain, they decorated their house with garland, lights, and knickknacks. The Christmas tree sat in the right of their living room, covered in the beautiful colorful lights. Placed upon the tree were ornaments and tiny pieces of tinsel. Beneath the tree held presents for each other and a little boy.

Y/n stood in front of the tree, staring at it with a longing look. Remus walked behind her, putting his arms around her neck gently. Y/n’s hands instinctively reached for his bicep, rubbing it gently. Remus kissed her cheek and placed his head on top of hers.

“I wanna visit him.”

“Okay.”

Y/n turned to face him, “Okay?”

“What am I gonna tell you?” Remus joked, “No?”

“No. I just- I didn’t expect you to agree so fast.” Y/n replied, and Remus cupped her cheek, “He’s your nephew too. You have a right to see him.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He kissed her forehead, “First Christmas without them….”

“I know.” Y/n said sadly, “It feels strange not to have James jumping around like a child.”

“It feels not having Lily in the kitchen trying to make your mums mince pies.”

Y/n chuckled, “She never got to master them.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure she’s up there trying.” Remus replied, smiling, “You think Peter is trying to steal the batter?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, definitely!” Remus exclaimed, smiling more than he had in months, “That bugger always used to Nick my chocolate at Hogwarts.”

“I dunno how he found my stash every time.”

The couple placed their foreheads on each other’s, closing their eyes, “We miss you, James and Lily.”

“We miss you more than ever.”

Y/n sighed, “I love you guys.”

Christmas morning was dull compared to their regular routine. Y/n was used to having James jump on top of her every Christmas so they can wake up their parents and open presents. Instead, she was woken up with kisses being placed on her neck and shoulder. Y/n turned and was faced with the sleepy face of her husband.

His sandy hair ruffled and on top of the white pillow. Green eyes glazed with a film of sleep. His lips pulled up in an effortless gentle smile. The scars on his face were whiter instead of their usual pale pink. His stubble was growing into full facial hair due to his lack of shaving. Y/n let her hand cup his right cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“You need to shave.”

Remus chuckled, “It’s Christmas, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Merry Christmas, you need to shave?” Y/n corrected with a smile, making him laugh, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They shared a soft and gentle kiss. His lips taking her bottom one, hers taking his top one. Soft and slow. Gentle and sweet. Pulling apart, their eyes fluttered, focusing on one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. Looking into her eyes, Remus could read an endless amount of stories. The gorgeous e/c. His eyes were evergreen. Holding so much love and adoration. She could read him like a book through his eyes.

Christmas meant eating a good meal and sharing kisses beneath the mistletoe. The couple opened each other’s presents. Y/n earning new books and some of Remus’ old sweaters that she thought he threw away. The last item she received was a maroon and gold jersey. It was her brother's Quidditch Captain jersey from when he played. Remus must’ve found it in the wreckage at Godric’s Hallow.

Remus opened his presents, getting ink, quills, notebooks, and books of his own. Since Remus couldn’t work, he always dreamed of writing a book. At Hogwarts, Remus excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he wanted to write a nonbias textbook for it. Y/n always encouraged his dreams and goals. If anyone could do it, it was him.

Left under the tree were three wrapped boxes meant for the little boy. Remus grabbed a tote bag and placed them inside of it. Y/n gripped his hand tightly as they apparated to Privet Drive. They began walking down the street, sweaters on in the snow, while she grabbed his hand tighter.

“What if- What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“Y/n, he couldn’t forget you.” Remus assured as they stood outside house four.

Gently Y/n knocked on the door. It was oak wood, and the house appeared to be at least two stories. Remus kept his hand intertwined with hers as his other held the bag with the boy's presents. Footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. Petunia had opened it to be faced with two young adults.

“Mrs. Dursley.” Remus greeted curtly, “May we see Harry?”

Petunia began to ponder and saw the bag of presents in the man's hand, “Sure.”

The woman walked into the hallway and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was coaxed out of the storage space, and he turned to the left, where he saw his uncle and aunt. The boy's lips curved into a great big smile. Harry ran into the arms of his aunt, hugging her tightly.

“Auntie!”

Her heart melted, “Hey, mini Prongs.”

Harry turned the male beside her, “Moony!”

Remus wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up as they walked inside. The three of them sat in the foyer on the floor. Harry sat between Y/n’s legs, his back to her stomach as Remus sat in front of him. Gently Remus disposed of the bag and placed the presents in front of him.

“Go on, Harry. These are for you from Moony and Auntie.” Remus cooed, and Harry grabbed one, gently ripping the wrapping off.

Inside was a baby stag stuffed animal, which Harry hugged close to his chest, “Your dad's favorite animal was a stag. Thought you might want something to remember him by.” Remus stated, smiling sheepishly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, daddy.” Y/n replied as Harry smiled up at her.

“Go on. There’s two more for you, baby.” Y/n pointed at the other two boxes, and Harry began unwrapping another.

This was a tinier box, and inside were golden glasses, “You don’t need these just yet, but these were your fathers. I wanted them to be yours.” Y/n informed him as he placed them on top of his nose.

The final box was mini-figures that Harry could play with in his spare time, which he seemed more than grateful for. Harry was giggling and laughing, happy with all his presents. The boy turned in Y/n’s lap, hugging her as tight as he could. Y/n’s hand rested on his back, and she gently kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

“‘Ove you too.” Harry replied, having a hard time pronouncing words.

Next, he hugged Remus, who did the same. He didn’t want to leave Remus’ arms. He always ran hotter than the everyday person. Remus was a personal furnace. It makes sense why a cold young boy didn’t want to let go of the man. Within minutes the young boy was asleep in Remus’ arms.

Petunia came into the hallway an hour later to see Harry soundly asleep in the man's arms, “Excuse me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/n took Harry from Remus’ arms and gave him to Petunia, “Thank you for letting us see him.”

Petunia took the boy from Y/n’s arms, “Yes.”

She put the boy in his bed under the cupboard, making Y/n frown at his living situation, “Do you- Do you think that Harry could stay with us some weekends?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n muttered, “Thank you again, but we must’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Of course.”

Y/n took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the house. They walked to a safe spot to apparate back home. They both took off their coats and placed them on the coat rack. Y/n went to turn on a movie on their television set while Remus made hot chocolate and snacks. Both of them curled up onto the sofa and fell asleep.

Over the course of the next nine years, Harry has been visited by his aunt and uncle on many different occasions. Birthdays, Christmas’s, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, and sometimes just randomly, but he always looked forward to seeing them. Every time without fail, Harry would always jump in Y/n’s arms no matter how old he got.

The warmth and feeling of being safe in her arms brought a sense of comfort no one seemed compared to. She felt like daddy. His radiate smile, his incredibly warm body, the smoothness of her voice, the glitter in her eyes, her untied hair. Auntie Y/n felt like James. But no matter how hard he tried, she never was dad exactly, but she was auntie. Y/n was his dad's sister, and for now, that’d have to do.

Of course, uncle Moony felt the same. But there were some days he didn’t show up, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry loved sleeping in Remus’ arms when he was a young toddler. The chocolate, ink, and parchment smell always filled his sensitive nose with such a safe feeling. Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas when Petunia would make hot cocoa, filling the room with its sweet sense. Although he never got a cup of it himself, the smell brought a sense of comfort. As if uncle Moony was embracing him tightly on all sides.

When Harry reached eleven, owls began delivering envelopes to Privet Drive number Four. But it seems that uncle Vernon refused to let him open any of them. He did whatever he had to, blocking the mail slot in the door, burning the letters, even going as extreme to leave the house. Where inevitably Hagrid - gamekeeper - at Hogwarts came to retrieve him and give him the letter.

He couldn’t believe it. He was a wizard! All this time being belittled by Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley, he finally felt special aside from those times with his other family. Harry had a chance to prove himself to be great. To prove himself that he wasn’t just a bug on the ground to be stepped on. Only one thought crossed his mind though.

“I can’t wait to tell aunt Y/n and uncle Moony.”

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