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#my son look like rainbow
artsyunderstudy · 4 months
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“‘What do you want from me? To kiss it better?’ My lips quirk into a smirk, ‘So that’s your move with Wellbelove?’ He huffs, ‘Do they not teach you rich pricks when to shut up.’ ‘No. Just to be demanding and ungrateful. I’m still waiting on that kiss.’ ‘Fuck you.’ He presses his hand to his lips and then swats at my nose, ‘There.’ My stomach does a few flips because I’m a constant disappointment to myself. ‘Is that why your knickers are in a twist? Wellbelove and I?’ [...] His back is turned to me. He kicks the wall like a toddler, ‘No.’ ‘Then why, pray tell, did you deck me in the face?’ ‘Because you’re leaving.’”
I Knew a Boy, I Knew a Man by @shrekgogurt
Carry on Countdown | Day Ten: Wrath
This year I decided I wanted to honor the incredibly talented fic writers of this fandom, so I chose one fic per prompt to do an illustration for. I didn’t double up on authors so that I could do this for as many people as possible. I realized while planning this that there are way too many fics and authors that I love, and even after having picked 30 of what I consider some of my very favorites, I could have easily kept going. Please check the fics out if you haven’t, they all come highly recommended.
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hotvintagepoll · 2 months
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Propaganda
James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat
Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.
This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
James Stewart propaganda:
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"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."
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“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”
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“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”
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Toshiro Mifune propaganda:
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"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”
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Submitted: this gifset
Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)
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"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."
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"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."
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xhoneygirlxx · 7 months
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In My Feels
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Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
summary: Steve’s heart now belongs to the pretty woman who always comes in with her two adorable kids. When he finally decides to make a move, he’s shocked to find out she’s not their mom.
warnings: fluff. Barista!Steve. Reader and Steve are both in their 20’s. Nanny!Reader. Modern!au. Readers ethnicity/skin tone is not mentioned. Pictures above are used for aesthetic purposes only. Shitty writing/grammar errors, not proofread.
*if I miss anything please let me know.
a/n: day two of my birthday bash has finally arrived!! I’m so grateful for the amount of love and support you guys have given me. Although this is my birthday week, I wanted to spend it with you guys and give us both something we can enjoy :) I love every single one of you guys and I hope you like this!
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Now I’m in my feels 
Way up in the clouds somewhere now 
Don’t know what’s real 
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Working at the Java Cup, Steve dealt with a lot of different people. Tired students, doctors and nurses coming and going from shifts, and everyone in between. During the six months of his employment there only one customer seemed to catch his attention, you. 
From the moment you walked in he knew he was fucked. With one kid on your hip and the other in the stroller, you already had him in the palm of your hand. No matter what, rain or shine, you and your two kids always came in with bright smiles. Although a lot of your interactions were small talk or your older son trying to, his heart infatuation for you every single time. 
You were so fucking beautiful and Steve was nothing but a fool for you. So many times he would go home and just pray that you weren’t taken, that maybe somewhere written in the stars there was a chance for him. 
Steve wanted to ask you out but every single time he chickened out, throwing out multiple cup sleeves that had horrible puns written on them in the process. Ever since getting broken up with by Nancy, his self esteem and confidence dropped. No matter how many times his best friend and coworker, Robin, tried to talk some sense into him, he just couldn’t do it. 
It was comical watching him stutter and blush scarlet every time you would speak, tripping over his words like it was his first time ever talking. Because he was so smitten with you, his insecurities grew and poking fun at him any time he would think about possibly asking you out.
Here you were, a pretty mom with two adorable kids that he adored, so sweet and kind to him, and so far out of his league. There was no pot at the end of this rainbow for Steve, but he continued to chase it in hopes that maybe, just maybe he was wrong.
Now it's been six months and Steve has run out of steam, his legs growing tired and his lungs burning with exhaustion with how long he's been running. So, he's decided that it's time to give up on his mission to of getting to the finish line.
There was no point to continue trying, not when you're probably more than happy with the father of your children, going home to your white picket fence and happy home. So he pulled back, watched from behind the counter, and continued to daydream about the life he's always wanted.
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“You know you could just go talk to her, right?” Robin’s voice is louder than she thinks, the low music and hum of the espresso machine doing little to cover it up. 
“Say it louder, why don’t you.” Rolling his eyes, Steve continues to wipe down the counter that he’s been working on for the past ten minutes. 
“I’m just sayin’, it’s kind of pathetic and creepy that you’re always staring.” Shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, the brunette girl runs her hands down her black apron. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” 
“What’s the worst-” Turning on his heel quickly, Steve stares at his best friend with wide eyes, “Robin, there is a laundry list of things that could go wrong.” 
“Yeah? Try me.” Crossing her ankle over the other, Robin leans on the sink with a waiting look.
“Firstly, she could be married,” Steve starts counting on his finger. 
“No ring on her finger.” Robin counters. 
“Well she’s a mom with two kids, I doubt she has time for a twenty something, no good, barista that barely has his life together.” 
“EEEEEEEE WRONG,” She makes a loud buzzer noise, “One you aren’t no good, you’re actually a really great person who needs to see just how amazing he is. Two, you may be a barista who can barely keep his life together but, you’re reliable and take care of yourself, not to mention you have your own car and place, more than other twenty somethings. And lastly, you’re also a mother to a group of teenagers, so it works perfectly.” 
Dropping his hands down to his sides, Steve lets the words settle into his heart. He was a good person, he did have a good impression with the gaggle of kids he sometimes watches, and he did have some of his life together.
“Okay well, she could reject me and I will not only lose more of my confidence but I’ll also lose my favorite customer.” Sighing in defeat, he whips the rag that still sits in his hand over his shoulder. "Either way, I gave up on that dream a long time ago."
Robin shakes her head, stepping forward to the boy she calls her best friend and shakes him by the shoulders. “You are Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington! There was a reason everyone called you king Steve and it wasn’t just because you were a huge dick.” 
“Hey!!” Steve raises his voice in defeat and she waves him off continuing her peptalk. 
“Listen, I know that lady killer is somewhere in there,” She pokes at his chest, “So you’re gonna put your big boy panties on, walk up to her and ask her out! I’m sick and tired of watching you look all sad and depressing, so you’re going to do as I say or I’ll do it for you.” Smiling brightly at him, the girl taps him lovingly on the shoulder.
Robin may be a lot of things, including annoying, but a liar is not one of them. Steve knows that she will one hundred percent walk up to you, throw him under the bus, with a mega-watt smile as she does it.
Watching his friend walk around the counter with a broom and dust pan in hand, her head turns to wear your sat at a table by the front window, talking to your older son, rocking your baby in the stroller with your foot. Turning her attention back to Steve, she smiles wickedly and turns slightly like she’s heading your way. Anxiety rises in the back of his throat, heartbeat picking up and banging hard in his chest.
“Fine, I’m going just- fuck off.” It comes out through gritted teeth. Running a shaking hand down the front of his apron, Steve rounds the counter muttering something under his breath.
As he walks to the table, Robin gives him two thumbs up and an exaggerated smile to which he replies by simply throwing a middle finger up at her.
As he steps closer to your table the thought of turning back around and hiding in the back room comes into mind.
There’s no pot of gold here, only gray clouds and roaring thunder. He can turn back now and continue his sorrowful journey of pining.
But then he looks at you, smiling and laughing at something the young boy next to you said, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. What a beautiful way to die, Steve thinks. The thunder and lightning is all worth it when he gets to see you as he takes his final breaths.
“H-hey,” His voice is wobbly, nervousness clearly showing as he speaks.
“Hi Steve.” Your eyes meet his, saccharine smile tugging on the corners of your lips.
“Hi steeb!” The young boy next to you waves while clutching a red crayon in his tiny hand.
“Hi Aidan. How are you little man?” Steve seems to loosen up a bit, the presence of your son lets him exhale just slightly.
“M’colorin a pixture.” The small boy’s tongue pokes between his lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he draws what looks like a demented stick figure.
“It looks good, little dude.” Steve encourages, cooing sweetly at him.
“Fanks.” Still focusing on his picture, the smaller boy grabs a different crayon from the box that sits on the table.
“What’s up, Steve?” You ask, still rocking the stroller back and forth with your tennis shoe covered foot.
“Oh-h yeah, um I was just gonna ask, ah what you were doing.” Just like a switch, he’s back to being a fumbling doofus.
You giggle at him and he feels his cheeks tingle with heat. Looking between the two kids, you look back up to the older man in front of you.
“Well, I’m enjoying a coffee while Aidan colors and Bella naps peacefully.” You nod your head slowly, eyeing the barista questioningly.
Steve wants to slap a hand on his forehead, embarrassed by the fact he can’t even formulate one sentence.
“Yeah, no I see that. Seems fun, I mean not fun but like ya know, seems-“ His stammering is cut off by your soft voice.
“Are you okay? You seem really nervous.” Your eyebrows are pinched together, worry painted on your features.
“Me? I’m great, fantastic!” It comes enthusiastic and way louder than he intended, so loud that Robin hears and instantly facepalms.
“Well, that’s great Steve.” You’re still eyeing him suspiciously and he really wants to jump ship.
“I’m just gonna go and do my ugh, my stuff.” Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, spinning on the ball of his feet leaving before he can say anything else embarrassing.
No, he can’t leave now, not when he’s made it this close to the finish line. This is what he’s been waiting for, the treasure he’s been searching for. It’s no or never and he can’t go back to praying the same prayer that somewhere in this universe you two were destined to be.
With a new found confidence, he turns right back into the eye of the storm and faces it head strong.
“Actually, I came over here because I wanted to know if maybe you’d like to go out sometime.” His chest is puffed out like, more sure of himself than he’s ever been.
The confidence that’s surging through him starts to falter when he reads your expression. You, and Aidan who has now stopped coloring, stare at him with bugged out eyes and gaping mouths.
“Only if that’s okay with you and all. If you want you can bring the kids along and we can go get ice cream and stuff but if you need it I have some friends who are great with kids and who will be willing to babysit for you.” He’s back peddling, trying to give you a way out in case you want to reject him it won’t hurt so bad.
“Oh Steve,” it’s said with pity and he knows the lighting strike is about to hit, “I-I’m not their mom.”
“Yeah no I get it, sorry if I- wait..” Stopping in his tracks, he looks back and forth between you and the small boy, connecting the dots in his head. “You’re not their mom?”
You and Aidan share a look before giggling together. Gazing back up at the flustered man in front of you, you smile kindly at him.
“No, I’m their nanny, Steve. Although I love them like they’re my own, they’re not.”
“Oh.” Steve continues to stare at you, his pretty pink lips in the shape of an O.
“Yeah, I just watch these little guys.” You shrug your shoulders.
“That’s still cool, I mean the offer still stands.” Even though he’s confused, his voice is a little shaky when he asks.
“Do the kids still have to come?” You ask and Aidan shouts an offended “hey”.
“I mean they can if you want, it’s all up to you.” He eyes you, waiting for your reaction but your expression doesn’t give him much to go on.
“Hmmm, I’m going to have to ask my trusted right hand man.” Holding a finger up at him, you leave over to the smaller boy next to you.
Aidan covers you hear with a small hand trying to cover the movements of his lips, even though Steve can still his his muffled whispers from where he stands.
Shaking your head, you repeat back uh huh’s to him, taking everything that’s being said seriously.
Moving back to your upright position, you stare at Steve with a serious gaze.
“Well, my counsel says I should go but you have to buy me ice cream. No buts about it.” Your straight face begins to falter when Steve’s white teeth shine at you.
“Yeah, I’ll get you whatever ice cream you want.” Steve bobs his head, cheeks flaring pink and eyes shining brightly.
“You can’t kiss, only mommies and daddies do dat stuff.” Aidan pipes in and Steve can’t help but chuckle with how the little boys face is scrunched up with intensity.
“Yes sir.” Steve gives the little boy a solute, while sending you a sneaky wink, and the kid quickly accepts.
“So, I’ll text you?” Steve asks
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as you say it.
“Okay, cool cool. I’ll ah, see you later.” Steve nods his head, backing away from the table slowly.
Sprinting to the backroom, he sees Robin who pretends like she hasn’t been listening in.
“Robs, I fucking did it!” Steve whisper yells, still cautious knowing your still out there.
“I honestly thought you were gonna back out for a second! I’m so proud of you for hanging in there!”
The two of them start hopping around like jumping beans, beaming so brightly they can outshine any star in the sky.
“So you got her number?” Robin asks, heavily breathing from all their excitement.
“Fuck-“ stopping dead in his tracks, Steve bolts to the door and back out to the front.
That’s where he finds you’ve already left and he’s heartbroken. The only memory that you were even there is your lingering perfume that sticks to the air.
You’ll probably be back some time soon but he’s still a little let down knowing he didn’t fully seal the deal. Looking closely at the table, he notices Aidan left one of his drawings.
Picking up the paper, he looks at it closely realizing Aidan didn’t leave it, you did.
Steve,
You left before I could give you my number. I didn’t want to disrupt your little party or anything.
Can’t wait to get that ice cream.
-your favorite customer
683-027-9305
Folding up the paper, Steve sticks it in the pocket of his apron.
“Don’t worry Steve, she’ll be back.” Robin calls out from behind the counter, apparently not seeing the little not that was left.
“I know she will.” It’s said quietly but the smile on his lips isn’t.
It’s beautiful on this side of the rainbow, Steve thinks, the pot of gold was so worth all the work. Robin was right, he still had it.
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Thank you all for joining me on this second day of my celebration!!! I hope you all enjoy!! Love you all ❤️
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roosterforme · 3 months
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The Younger Kind Part 45 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley is loving his life at home. Skittles continues to fit right in while you inadvertently insist on nearly finding the one thing Bradley wants to keep hidden. A family day at the beach followed by a night alone with you are the only things he wants to focus on right now. It would be great if that's what he was allowed to do.
Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)
Length: 4000 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.
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It was late by the time Bradley got home with Skittles, and you were pretty tired after assisting with an emergency at work. But Noah must have heard him pull into the driveway as he called out, "Daddy's back!" in the middle of coloring a rainbow turtle. He was out of his seat and heading for the front door before you could stop him, but it didn't matter, because you were anxious to see Bradley, too.
When you rounded the corner, he was kneeling on the floor and collecting Noah in his arms, a light blue bakery box on the floor next to him. You were used to seeing him with one arm around Noah while he held Skittles, but right now he was looking up at you like you were the only thing in the room worth his attention. It was remarkable that he still made you feel this giddy.
"Hey, Baby," he rasped. "You had a good day? Your emergency patient doing okay?" Then he stood up with his arms full and leaned down to kiss your forehead. He was still in his uniform, tall and strong, holding everything you cared about against his chest. 
"Yeah. I had a good day," you replied, somehow managing to squeeze your way between Noah and Skittles to give him a kiss on the neck while he chuckled. 
"Me too. Skittles got a clean bill of health," he whispered, and you could hear his stomach growling. It had probably been seven or eight hours since he had lunch, so you bent to pick up the bakery box, already craving a donut.
"That's good. Come on," you coaxed, tucking your index finger inside the top of his pants and earning a raised eyebrow as you tugged him toward the kitchen. "We already ate, but I'll heat up some leftovers for you while the two of you color."
"Daddy, is Skittles your best friend?" Noah asked as you set the box on the counter and took a peek. You gasped, because it was filled with crown donuts. You looked at Bradley over your shoulder where he was now sitting with his son on his lap.
"I think technically either Mommy or Aunt Natasha is my best friend, Bub."
You smiled as Noah sternly said, "No. It's Skittles. Mommy and Aunts don't count."
"Right. My bad," Bradley replied as he fiddled with something in his pocket. When he met your eyes, you noticed his cheeks were a little flushed as you bit into one of the donuts. "I got you a whole dozen this time."
"I see that," you replied, setting it down again so you could heat up a plate of food. "Did you run into Casey?"
"I did not," he replied as Noah handed him a green crayon. "It was just Skittles and I running up the credit card bill. That animal clinic is expensive."
"I believe it," you replied, taking a bite of potato from his plate to make sure it was hot enough. You'd always wanted a dog, but according to your parents, everything to do with pets was too pricey. They wouldn't even let you have a goldfish when you were a kid. 
You set Bradley's dinner in front of him before grabbing the container of ants on logs out of the refrigerator for Noah. You arranged them on a plate in a zigzag shape before giving them to him, and he had one in his mouth before the plate was all the way set down. When you turned to get your donut, Bradley reached out and wrapped his hand around your thigh, pulling you back to him. 
"Princess," he whispered. "I love you."
He looked tired, and he was clearly in a bit of a soft mood. Maybe even sentimental. The way he called you his best friend a few minutes ago made you smile even now. But his dark eyes held so much devotion as he examined your face that you ran your fingers down along his cheek and let your forehead rest against his. You knew he was starving; you could still hear his stomach growling, but he made no move to release your leg to take a bite of his dinner. So you just stayed there, your lips brushing his every time you moved.
"I love you too, Daddy."
You grinned against his kiss as Noah crunched loudly on his carrot sticks. This was where you belonged. You could barely even remember the details of your tiny rental because of all of the richness of your home with Bradley. It was overpowering. Living with Bradley and Noah had a dreamlike quality that made everything better. 
"You need to eat," you whispered, kissing Bradley one more time before returning to your donut. 
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"I want Skittles to sleep in my bed!" Noah was practically crying, his cheeks bright red with frustration as Bradley tried to get him ready to go to sleep. He was overtired and cranky, and right now he was inconsolable. "You said after she got her cast off, she could sleep in my bed!"
"Noah," Bradley said in his softest tone as his son's arms flailed in his pajama shirt. "I said we can try, but we can't force Skittles to do things. Do you understand?"
But he just whined, "I want her to sleep in my bed!" 
Bradley sighed where he sat in the middle of Noah's bedroom floor, the engagement ring still tucked in his khaki uniform pants pocket. He didn't know where to put it. He didn't even know exactly when he wanted to give it to you. But he desperately needed to get it stashed away somewhere before he just proposed to you tonight, because having it on his person was making him feel a certain way about you. Maybe it was a good thing that Noah was kind of killing the vibe.
"Just get in bed," Bradley told him. "If you get in bed right now, I'll bring Skittles in."
He watched Noah launch himself into his twin bed and pull the blankets up to his chin. The odds that the pup would stay in Noah's room even for a few minutes were pretty slim. You had her out in the backyard right now so she could go to the bathroom, but the little pooch was almost glued to Bradley's side whenever he was home. 
As soon as you walked back inside in your cute little shorts and tank top set with Skittles at your feet, Bradley bent and scooped her up. "Noah is losing his mind. Wish me luck." He turned away from you with a smirk and kissed Skittles on her head. "If you stay in there until Noah falls asleep and long enough for me to fuck my Princess, I'll give you a treat."
You were cracking up in the kitchen as he walked away. "You're bargaining with the dog!" But he knew better. Skittles wasn't just a dog, she was his best friend after all.
Noah's eyes lit up in the soft glow from the nightlight when Bradley entered his bedroom with the pup. "She got used to her own bed, okay? So if she doesn't want to stay, we can't make her." But Noah's arms were outstretched, ready to hold his pet, and Bradley got her nestled in under the blankets next to his little body. 
As the dog looked up at him, concern for her new sleeping arrangement in her puppy eyes, Bradley bent to kiss Noah on the forehead and Skittles next to her bow. "Try to go right to sleep," he whispered to Noah. "I'm serious."
He just giggled in response as the dog licked his face, and Bradley did not see this little experiment ending well as he exited the room. He patted his pants pocket just as he had been doing all night. It took all he had within him not to open up the box and check to make sure your ring was secure, and he still didn't know where to put it for safekeeping.
When he entered his bedroom, he abandoned the idea of finding a good hiding spot when he found you in the middle of the bed wearing your paper crown. You looked so young and impossibly innocent with your glossy lips and your pajama set, but your filthy words betrayed you. "I heard you wanted to fuck a Princess."
He ran his fingers through his hair and smirked as he stood next to the side of the bed while you crawled toward him. "I always want my Princess," he whispered as your lips hovered just inches away from his zipper. When you looked up at him, every trace of innocence was completely gone, and you leaned in until your lips met his tip through his khakis. "Baby," he moaned, but before you could get his zipper down, he reached for your hands. 
"What's wrong?" you asked as he pulled you up so you were kneeling in front of him. 
"Nothing's wrong. Everything is very right."
You smiled up at him as he kissed your lips softly. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, as plainly evidenced by the ring in his pocket right next to where your hand just settled. So as he guided your fingers up to his chest, he asked, "Do you want to go on a date with me?"
You laughed against his lips. "You're asking me on a date? We're already in a relationship."
Bradley's hands settled on your hips as he nipped along your jaw until his mouth was next to your ear. "Doesn't mean I can't ask you out. I got selected to fly in the air show, and I want you to be my date for the weekend."
"Really?" you gasped, your fingers tightening around his shirt buttons. "Noah and I get to watch you fly? And you and I can tour the children's hospital?"
"Mmhmm. I wasn't about to let you go with Jake. That man only has one thing on his mind when it comes to you."
"Oh yeah?" you asked, feigning pure innocence once again through your voice. "What does he have on his mind?" When Bradley responded by tucking his hand inside your tiny shorts and stroking your bare pussy, first you gasped, and then you laughed.
His touch remained soft and tentative as he slipped one finger down to tease your opening. "You see, he doesn't want you the way I want you."
"How do you want me?" you whimpered softly, kissing his lips. 
"I want you with me for the rest of my life."
"Daddy!" you whined, kissing him desperately as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew nobody else had ever spoken to you the way he did, but he also knew he'd never been in love like this before. This time, when you reached for his zipper, he let you have him. His shirt and pants ended up on the floor along with your tiny pajamas, and you welcomed him into your tight pussy as you told him you loved him.
"I have everything," he groaned as he made love to you as you peppered kisses along his flushed cheeks. "You're everything."
After you came for him, Bradley let himself indulge in filling you up while thinking about your belly all swollen and pregnant, and you reached for him just as Skittle came trotting back into the bedroom. Your soft laughter as Bradley curled up behind you had him laughing, too.
"The dog will literally do anything you ask," you whispered as she walked across the room and turned three circles around her dog bed before plopping down. "She stayed in bed with Noah long enough for you to fuck me."
"Dogs are man's best friend for a reason, Princess."
You snuggled in his arms for a few minutes, fingers laced with his as you kissed his forearm. Just as Bradley was starting to doze off, you said, "I'll check on Noah before I get ready for bed." He squeezed you tight one time before releasing you and rolling onto his back to stretch. "Ow!" you gasped when you climbed out of bed. "Shit! I just stepped on something hard in your uniform pants."
His eyes went wide as you started to bend down to investigate, but he vaulted out of bed. "I'll take care of it," he practically yelled, and you dropped his pants. The ring box made a soft thud as it hit the floor, and you gave him a strange look. 
"Okay," you replied, glancing at him one more time before pulling your pajamas on and heading out of the room.
"Fuck," Bradley grunted, picking up the pants and rooting around in the pocket until the box was in his hand. He turned away from the door and snapped it open, revealing the most perfect ring he had ever seen. He was already obsessed with imagining it on your finger. But he snapped it closed again quickly and ran for the dresser. 
He could leave it with his undershirts, but when he opened that drawer, he realized you were in that one a lot, often borrowing from him. He opened the next drawer down, but it was filled with your cute underwear, so that definitely wouldn't work. He reached for the bottom drawer which was filled with his socks, but he heard you coming back down the hallway, so he dropped the box and kicked it shut.
"Aren't you going to get ready for bed?" you asked as you plugged your phone into the charger, still eyeing him a little cautiously. Bradley realized he was just awkwardly standing there naked in front of the dresser for seemingly no reason, so he was definitely going to have to move the ring later. 
"Yeah," he agreed, grabbing some clean underwear and kissing you as he walked past. "Getting ready for bed."
--------------------------
On Thursday, Bradley let you know that everyone was insisting on a beach day on Saturday, but when you texted Natasha about what kind of bathing suit she was planning on wearing, she claimed she might not even go. 
"Well I don't know if I want to go if Nat isn't going," you complained to Bradley while you made dinner. "I don't want to be the only female there. In a bathing suit. That would be weird."
"She's going," Bradley said with an eye roll. "She's just being difficult, because she's trying to pretend nothing is going on with Javy. Besides, I'm not going unless you're going." He took the spoon you were holding out of your hand and spun you around to face him. "I don't want to go anywhere without my Princess."
You let him kiss you and slip his hands underneath your top, trying not to moan as his calloused hands danced softly along your skin. When his lips skimmed along your cheek, you whispered, "You just want me there to help you walk safely across the uneven rocks and sand." You bit your lip as he eased his face away from yours to give you a cautionary look. So of course you immediately added, "Because you're such an old man."
One big hand slipped down and softly spanked you on the butt as you laughed. "Old or not, I can still get the job done. And that includes walking across the beach."
"Sure, Daddy. But I'll go, too. Just in case."
"Thank you. Now if you think you can be nice for a minute, I have something to tell you."
"I can be very nice," you said, kissing him on the tip of his nose before spinning around to check on dinner. 
Bradley patted you on the butt before reaching into the refrigerator to get two beers out. "Penny offered to take Noah home after the beach and keep him for the night."
As he opened both bottles, your gaze drifted to where Noah was sitting on the kitchen floor, building blocks while Skittles basked in the last rays of the setting sun. You licked your lips as you watched Bradley press his mouth to his beer and take a long drink, the bob of his Adam's apple capturing your attention. "We'd have the house to ourselves for the night?"
He winked at you as he set his beer on the counter and pressed the other one into your hand. "Just you and me," he rasped, pecking your cheek. "And I can think of a few fun ways to pass the time."
Then he was on the floor with Noah, and Skittles was in his lap, but he kept shooting you his smug smile that you liked so much.
On Friday night, after Noah was in bed, you started to get things packed up for the following day. "Why do we need so much stuff to go anywhere?" you mused out loud as you found sunblock and beach towels.
"Oh, hell no," Bradley said, taking you by the hips and pulling you away from the tote bag you were packing. "First of all, you used to bring your textbooks over in that bag when you were babysitting, so it gives me an instant boner." You erupted into laughter as he held you against his chest. "But second, you drastically over packed when we went to the lakehouse."
You looked up at him over your shoulder. "I know," you whispered. "But I want Noah to have anything he might need or want. And you know how my parents were." You didn't like talking about them. They never understood you when you were a child, and that's why you'd moved out as soon as you could. They were also the reason you had a hard time spending Bradley's money even though he wanted you to be comfortable.
"I know, Baby," Bradley crooned, and you melted back against him. "I love how much you love Noah. And I hate that you never got to do anything or ask for anything when you were his age, but there's no need to go overboard for a beach day."
You nodded. "Well then why don't you help me pack?"
"I'd be happy to."
But you and Bradley spent more time kissing and laughing softly than anything else. His hands were all over you, just pulling you closer and trying to keep you there. "Let's go to bed," he whined for the third time, convinced you'd packed everything the three of you could possibly need. "I want to cuddle with you."
You nearly shrieked as he picked you up, leaving the pile of gear for the beach next to the front door, and carried you back to the bedroom. "Oh, you want to cuddle?"
He hummed and nodded against your shoulder. "Yeah. Let's save all the nasty shit for when we're home alone tomorrow night." Butterflies erupted in your belly as he set you down on the bed and climbed in next to you. "Let's cuddle."
You were wrapped up tight in his arms, Bradley's soft, even breaths tickling your neck as he whispered that he loved you. This was perhaps the safest you'd ever felt in your life. Nobody was going to hurt you here. Not now. Bradley would take care of that. And you would take care of him. 
As you snuggled in to go to sleep, your eyes caught on the items lined up on the dresser. "What's all of that out for?" you asked softly.
"Huh?" Bradley grunted, probably already part way asleep. But you propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at the purple USB drive, a pile of your underwear, your purple plug, your paper crown, and the bottle of lube. All sitting in a tidy row.
"On the dresser, Bradley."
"Oh," he said with a chuckle as he pulled you down flat again. "I started packing for the weekend, too. So to speak."
-------------------------
Bradley grunted, trying his best not to let you see how awkwardly he was walking across the sand. Not after you made the claim that he'd need you to hold his hand and guide him. You and Noah pranced ahead of him, but he was stuck carrying two bags, a cooler, an umbrella and a beach chair. And the temperature of the sand was roughly that of the surface of the sun. 
"Fuck," he growled as the sand rushed into his flip flops and his aviators slid down his nose. How you were managing was literally beyond him. He just wanted to get this afternoon over with and get you back home and into bed. He had some plans for you, all of which were becoming more explicit by the moment as he watched your ass swaying in your purple bikini bottoms. 
Literally the last thing he needed right now was to become aroused, so he just pushed your delicious looking rear end from his mind. Apparently you found the perfect spot, because you finally stopped and turned around to look for him. Then you laughed and left Noah with Nat while you made your way back to him. 
"This sand is fucking hot," he complained before you could say anything at all. 
You took one of the bags and the umbrella from him as you said, "It's August, Daddy. Of course the sand is hot. Do you need me to help you along? Or, I could run back to the Bronco and get your walker?" You started to turn in the direction of the parking lot with an innocent look on your face.
"You're really looking to get it tonight, aren't you?" Bradley replied, dumping everything next to where Noah was burying Nat's legs in the sand. You looked so pleased with yourself, and he thought about the ring that he had moved to the pocket of his dress whites that he'd picked up from the dry cleaner. They were hanging in the back of the closet, and he figured you'd have no reason to look there. Before you could run off, he pulled you in for a tight hug and said, "Stay out of trouble. Be a good girl. And I'll give you anything you want later."
Your lips met his ear, nudging his aviators crooked. "I love you." His fingers skimmed your skimpy bathing suit bottom as you joined Noah who had Nat covered to her thighs. 
Javy was trying his best to casually toss a football around with Mickey and Mav, but he couldn't keep his eyes to himself. It was a good thing Bradley was absolutely convinced he was looking at Nat and not you, otherwise he'd have a problem. He left you next to the pile of everything you packed, intending to simply join the little football scrimmage that was going on, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder. 
"Hey, that's really nice, Bradshaw," Jake drawled. "You brought the family today. The little ball and chain, and the big ball and chain."
Bradley hooked his sunglasses with his index finger and dragged them roughly down his nose. "Funny," he said without emotion. "But you weren't calling her a ball and chain back in April when you tried to hook up with her in my kitchen."
Jake hooted with laughter, and it made Bradley's skin crawl. He was such a dick most of the time, and it was always intentional. "There's a difference between hitting a tight pussy and inviting it to live with you. I know the difference. You don't seem to. I'm surprised you didn't bring your dog along, too."
Bradley snapped. "What the fuck is your problem, man?" 
Jake met his gaze, and Bradley was reminded without a doubt that Jake would love to get inside your little bikini bottoms just to say he could. "I don't have a problem, but it looks like you do." He jerked his chin toward the volleyball nets, and Bradley turned to investigate. You were standing there, holding hands with Noah while you talked to a guy with blond hair. Upon further inspection, Bradley realized it was your ex boyfriend, Greyson.
--------------------------
Well, well, well. We actually hate you, Grey. If Daddy and Princess can manage to make it to their sexy night home alone, what would you like to read about? And I really hope that ring is well hidden until Daddy comes up with a plan. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 46
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7s3ven · 2 months
Text
UR MY LOVER. luke (pjo)
( master list )
IN WHICH… Camp Half-Blood has its very own band to entertain themselves. Most of the campers aren’t sure where they get their electricity for their instruments but one thing they are certain about is that the substitute lead singer and lead guitarist definitely have a thing for each other.
“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.”
A/N : Luke seems like he’d be in a band
Warning : sex references, some details differ from the og books, modern references
Y/N has been lounging in the sun on her rickety front porch when something, or rather someone, blocked the rays of warmth. She groaned, lowering her sunglasses to get a better look at who was bothering her.
“What?” She grumbled to the mischievous son of Hermes, Luke. It’s not like she hated him, quite the opposite to be honest. His presence was a breath of fresh air in her stressful days at Camp Half-Blood. But she was sleep-deprived and in desperate need of a rest. Luke merely smiled down at her, unthreatened by her hostile tone.
“Hey, little bolt.” He uttered, crouching down beside her to almost match her height. Y/N rolled her eyes, pushing her glasses back up with her middle finger. “So as you know, Chiron is letting us form a band. The only problem is I have an electric guitar and, you know, it needs electricity. And there’s not enough ‘round here. Personally, I think we’re lucky to have a daughter of Zeus.”
Y/N scoffed. “No.” She quickly retorted, already guessing what he was going to ask her. “I won’t power your stupid performances.”
“What? Why would I ask that? I was going to ask you if you wanted a quicky backstage.” Luke sarcastically joked, his lips curving into a cheeky smirk. Y/N’s lips curled into an unamused sneer as she set her sharp gaze on the boy beside her. “Help me out this one time, babe.”
“Ew,” She furrowed her eyebrows in disgust, “Don’t call me that.”
���Come on, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna stop until you agree. I won’t ever ask for this favor again, pudding.” His nicknames were becoming increasingly worse and Y/N's ears were practically bleeding. Y/N cringed and covered her ears, desperately wanting to bang her head into a wall to drown his voice out. Her last thread was Luke calling her kitty.
“Okay!” She sat up, flinging her glasses at him. Luke effortlessly caught them, looking down at the intricate rims. He traced his fingers over the gems embedded in the sides. They shined in the light and small rainbows reflected off them. “Just stop calling me those horrid names!” She exclaimed, slapping his shoulder.
He grinned, “Deal. Practice is tonight, 8 pm sharp. Don’t be late.” He tossed Y/N’s glasses back at her and quickly stood up. “See ya, princess.”
Y/N wanted to hurl a rock at him for that stupid pet name but Luke was already running away, bellowing out a laugh as he tilted his head back in amusement. “I’m going to electrocute you, Luke! I hope your guitar backfires!” She screamed, earning another chuckle from Luke.
“Yo, guys.” He burst into his cabin, grinning at Chris and Charles who were positioned on his bed, lazily lying down. “Y/N’s in. Now we just need a lead singer. Charles, how’s convincing Silena going?”
Charles pressed his lips into a thin line. “You know she has stage fright.” He uttered, referring to his girlfriend, “Maybe if I mentioned that Y/N will be there then she’ll go? I think she has a girl crush on Y/N.” Charles let out a low chortle.
Everyone liked Y/N, apart from when she was deprived of sleep and grumpy. She was like a fire ready to flare up, stalking its way through the high grass.
“So, how did you convince Y/N? I heard from Annabeth that she was in a particularly bad mood today.” Chris uttered, chuckling. "Did you promise her sex or something?" Luke shrugged as Charles chucked a can of Sprite his way.
He pulled back the tab and the can opened with a pop and fizz. “Nah. A part of me wishes, though. I might get some if I did. But, I have my ways.” He retorted, grinning. “Band practice is at eight. Charles, do your best to get Silena on board because I can’t deal with Clarisse as lead singer.” Luke sighed, taking a huge gulp from his can. Chris chuckled while Charles silently nodded in agreement.
“She is rather hard to deal with.” Charles muttered, his voice almost a whisper in fear that Clarisse would overhear him.
Luke would have asked Y/N to be the band’s lead singer but he knew she wasn’t happy with having to power up his guitar. She’d rather jump in water than agree to sing and she hated water. It probably had something to do with the fact that she could create electricity with her bare hands.
Water and lightning never went well together.
Luke was buzzing with excitement as he jogged towards an abandoned cabin Chiron had agreed to let them use for practice. He opened the creaky door, surprised to see Y/N already sitting on a dusty couch.
“I already hate it here.” She said, turning to face him. He cracked a grin.
“Not enough sleep last night, huh?”
Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “I barely got any. Some idiots were up all night, singing their hearts out to Olivia Rodrigo.” Luke was ashamed to admit that those idiots were him, Chris, and the Stoll brothers. “I mean, how much of a loser do you have to be to scream your heart out to jealousy?”
“I don’t know.” Luke shrugged, sitting next to her. Dust surrounded the air around him and he coughed, fanning it away with his hand. His actions made Y/N lightly chuckle. “Maybe they related to the lyrics. Unlike you, perfect girl.”
Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not perfect. I’m far from it.” Luke quickly turned to face her, resting his arm on the back of the couch.
“How come? You’re pretty and smart and you’ve got Zeus as your dad. Come on, you hit the jackpot on that one.” Luke grinned and the corners of Y/N’s lips twitched.
“You think I’m perfect?” She asked, confused. She quietly laughed, giving Luke an almost judging stare. “I don’t even have my life together. How can I be perfect?”
“Most of us don’t have our lives together. Look at me, I’m well over sixteen now and I’m starting a band at camp because there’s nothing to do ‘round here. And I’m also sitting in a dodgy looking cabin with dust everywhere. But hey, at least I have a pretty girl with me.”
Y/N stared at Luke for a second before she huffed in amusement. “You’re a no-good flirt, Luke.” She playfully shoved him.
“You seem in a better mood.” He smiled, proud of himself.
“You had nothing to do with it, I can assure you.” She rolled her eyes and turned her head, spotting Chris, Silena, and Charles walking towards the cabin. “Looks like your band mates are here.” She uttered, sitting up.
“Hey man, what’s up!” Chris joyfully greeted Luke while Charles’ approach was more quiet. Silena smiled at Luke and waved at Y/N with a bright smile.
“Alright, so everybody’s here. We got Charles on drums, Chris as back up guitar, me as lead and sub vocals, and Silena as vocals.” Luke loudly clapped his hands as away to earn everybody’s attention.
“Does that make me your back-up generator then?” Y/N butted in.
“Yeah. Hold this, darling.” Luke handed her a cord that connected to his guitar and she begrudgingly took it.
“No more names.” She warned, sending a small current to shock Luke. He yelped, taken aback, all while Y/N smirked. She stayed true to her words to electrocute Luke if he ever annoyed her.
Y/N lay on the couch, clutching onto the cord and aimlessly staring at the ceiling. The sound of Charles’ loud drums and Silena’s soft voice merged with the loud ringing in Y/N’s ears. She kept her eyes fixed on a certain spot, completely dazed until Luke pressed a cold can to her face.
“We’re taking a break.” He said, offering her a drink. She arched an eyebrow.
“Why are you giving me one?” She questioned, sitting up and taking it away.
Luke shrugged. “I mean, you are powering up my guitar. You deserve a little thanks.”
Y/N merely stared at Luke before cracking open the can, taking a small sip. “I trust you haven’t drugged this?”
Luke lightly snorted. “I have no purpose to put coke in your drink.” He held out his hand, silently asking for sip. Y/N shoved the can into his arms.
“So, when did you get the idea of forming a band?” She questioned, tapping her foot against the wooden floor. She glanced at Luke who smiled, a strange wishful look in his gaze.
“I’ve always loved music.” He admitted, “And being a demigod, you don’t exactly have a lot of chances. I did play at one festival, though… and it was amazing. But then I got attacked by a monster.” Luke chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. “It was still the best moment of my life. And I want that kind of joy back.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it back. What’s it like playing the guitar?” She quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. Luke grinned, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth.
“Amazing. You wanna learn?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, “I can hardly hold a guitar correctly, let alone play it, Luke.”
“Come on, pretty. I’ll show ya.”
“I need two hands to play. But I also need to power up the guitar. How do you suppose that’ll work?”
“You’ll figure out a way. You always do.”
That’s how Y/N ended up holding the plug with Luke sitting almost directly behind her, guiding her hands. He smiled as Y/N struggled, her fingers never quite reaching the right chords.
A twig snapped and Chris walked into the cabin, wiping away sweat with the back of his hand. “Man, it is hot outside- Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt something?” Chris paused, staring the pair.
“No.” Y/N quickly answered. They practically jumped away from each other. She handed Luke his guitar, clearing her throat.
“I should get going.” She announced to nobody in particular. She briefly smiled at the two boys before spinning around on her heels, quickly walking away.
“Hey, pretty, wait!” Luke stood up in a hurry but Y/N was already out the door and walking past the tall trees.
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Y/N rubbed her tired eyes as she waltzed out of her cabin, almost screaming when she saw Luke leaned up against the wall.
He grinned and greeted her, tipping an imaginary hat. “Hey, pretty. You up for charging my guitar today? I need to practice my riffs.”
Y/N thickly gulped, looking for any sign of Chris or Charles or even Silena, who she knew was busy with teaching kids archery. “… Alone?” She questioned after a long pause.
“Yeah. Does that bother you? I can practice another time.” Luke offered.
The warm sun bore down on Y/N as she stared at Luke. “No… it’s not a problem. When do you want to practice?”
Luke stood up straight, folding his arms over his chest. He grinned down at Y/N. “Right now if you’re free, pretty. But it looks like you just woke up. Bad sleep?”
“Hardly any at all. Again.” Y/N retorted, sour and harsh. She silently followed Luke to the cabin, raising her eyes in surprise when she saw the lack of dust. “You cleaned it?” She questioned, craning her head to get a better look.
“Yup. The dust was getting to my eyes.” Luke uttered. Y/N hummed in quiet approval.
“You’d make a good house husband. You can clean, you can charm your way through everything, and you can play guitar. What’s next? Cooking?”
Luke smugly smirked, “I’m actually great with a pan, pretty. I’ll make you cinnamon toast someday. Or do you prefer pancakes?”
“Food is food.” She shrugged. “So, how’s the guitar going?” She fiddled with the cord, “I always wanted to learn piano. I tried it a few times but it never stuck.”
“I think you’d look charming playing the piano, pretty.” He flirtatiously smiled, twirling a strand of Y/N’s H/C hair around his finger. Y/N stiffened, her cheeks practically glowing red.
“Are you going to practice or stare at me until we grow eighty?” Y/N muttered, leaning away from Luke.
“I think I’m going to continue staring.” He retorted, winking at her. Y/N looked away, lightly frowning.
“So, what songs are you going to sing?”
“Silena’s gonna be doing most of the vocal work but there’s one song I’ll be singing.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, silently telling him to continue because as much as she tried to dislike being here with Luke, she was curious. Luke plucked at the guitar strings, humming out a quiet melody.
“Wait.” Y/N articulated, “You aren’t going to sing to me, right? I don’t want a Barbie moment.”
“Too bad.” Luke replied, already getting ready to sing. Y/N softly groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was expecting Luke’s voice to be like nails on a chalkboard, a horrible sound overall, but the lyrics slipped past his lips and Y/N found herself not entirely hating it.
“Are you seriously singing Elvis Presley?” She said over the sound of Luke’s voice and guitar. He merely grinned, nodding his head.
“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you?” Luke smiled, his gaze never faltering. He was staring straight at Y/N as he meticulously played complicated chords. She felt uncomfortable under his eyes and a part of her wanted to sink into the couch. “This is one of your favourite songs, is it not?” Luke asked as he continued strumming.
“How would you know that, Luke?”
“Trust me, pretty. I hear you singing with the Apollo kids. As grumpy as you are without sleep sometimes, you sure sound cheerful when you’re singing Elvis. Join in on the singing, won’t ya?”
“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.” Luke swayed, waiting for Y/N to join. She begrudgingly did.
“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help…falling in love with you.” They sang in unison. Y/N’s eyes were focused straight ahead of her while Luke’s ran over her soft features and lips that had been tinted with lipstick.
“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.”
Luke couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as Y/N’s voice drowned out his own and he stopped singing. She was far too lost in the music to notice.
“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.” Y/N turned back to Luke, faltering when she saw how he was staring at her. Like she was his whole world or like she had planted the beautiful stars in the sky.
“For I can't help… falling in love with you.” Luke sang the iconic last line, grinning. His face was much closer to Y/N’s than he anticipated, causing her to flinch. She didn’t shuffle away, though.
“Have I ever told you how pretty you look… pretty?” Luke chuckled at how his sentence and his nickname for Y/N clashed. The apples of her cheeks turned bright pink and she didn’t sneer at him this time. She only stared at him with eyes that were vulnerable lest Luke give her another compliment.
The door to the haughty shack slammed open, Charles entering. He spluttered in surprise when he saw Y/N and Luke. “Sorry… I can leave and come back… if you want…”
Y/N stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her shirt. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” She didn’t spare Luke another glance as she hurried out, flustered.
“Were you two about to kiss?” Charles questioned. Luke frustratingly groaned, holding his face in his head.
“I liked to think we were going to.”
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Y/N stood in the side lines of the stage, holding Luke’s cord while staring at a clipboard she held in her other hand. It was the list of songs Luke had given her to keep her occupied.
i, Lovesick by Laufey - sung by Silena
ii, Venus by Regina Song - sung by Silena
iii, Can’t help falling in love by Elvis - sung by Luke
The second song fit the daughter of Aphrodite. Y/N glanced at the stage, her eyes immediately finding Luke. He was helping Charles set up his drums. Luke seemed to sense her eyes on him and he lifted his head, smirking.
Y/N quickly diverted her gaze as she heard Luke jog towards her. “Hey, pretty.” He greeted her, “Silena’s vocals can only take so much singing so are you good taking over the last song?”
“No.” Y/N answered but Luke didn’t hear her, or he chose to ignore her.
“Thanks, pretty. I owe you one. Love ya!” He ran off while Y/N mentally cursed at him. She angrily looked at the list, her eyes slightly softening when she saw the song.
iv, Lover (remix) by Taylor Swift + Shawn Mendes
It was one of her favourite songs. She could remember listening to it when she wasn’t aware of her demigod status, always wishing for a love as pure as Jack and Rose’s. Despite being swamped by complicated emotions, she was still a teenage girl secretly wishing for a teen romance like the books and movies and songs suggested.
The makeshift concert started with a short light show conducted by an Iris kid and that’s when the band finally stepped out. The demigod crowd cheered, clapping their hands. The Aphrodite girls were holding signs up for Silena and Luke quietly chuckled as his Hermes brothers yelled a little too loudly.
Silena’s voice was beautiful as she sang and Y/N found herself shrinking back. How could she compete with that? She didn’t even want to sing. She was fine sitting backstage with nothing but a clipboard to stare at.
At least Luke seemed to be enjoying himself and all the attention he was gaining from the girls. Y/N felt her chest tighten. It’s not like she had feelings for Luke… did she? In this moment, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be an Aphrodite kid because at least they could sense love.
Luke sang the melody to the Elvis Presley song with as much tenderness as he did in the cabin, occasionally glancing over at Y/N to see her mouthing the words.
“Pretty, you’re up.” Luke said as the band hurried back stage for a small break. He took the guitar cord from Y/N, plugging it into some sort of machine that she didn’t recognise. “Drink some water so you don’t get dehydrated. You know the words, don’t ya?”
Y/N could only nod, too confused to process everything at once. “What about your guitar?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
“It’ll be fine. Don’t ya worry.” Luke ushered her up the steps onto the brightly lit stage. “Alright guys, we’re back. Did ya miss us? Of course you did. Anyway, Silena’s swamped so we’ve got Y/N singing. Don’t worry, folks, she has a great voice when she’s feeling nice.”
Luke cheekily grinned as he adjusted his headset microphone while Y/N glared at him.
“Anyway, this song will be a duet between me and Y/N. Last song for the night, hope you guys enjoy!”
The music started playing immediately, causing Y/N to stiffen. She locked eyes with Luke, who was standing a meter away from her, nodding his head to the beat.
“We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January. And this is our place, we make the rules.” She hesitatingly sang, earning a few hollers from the Apollo cabin. “And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”
“Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my…” The vivid image of Y/N and Luke singing together, their faces millimetres apart, haunted Y/N. She could feel her cheeks heat up as she glanced at Luke once more only to see that he was already smiling at her.
“Lover.” Luke mouthed as Y/N sang.
Luke tapped his foot, slowly playing his guitar. “We could light a bunch of candles and dance around the kitchen, baby. Pictures of when we were young would hang on the wall. We would sit on the stoop. I'll sing love songs to you when we're eighty.”
“See, I finally got you now, honey, I won't let you fall.” They lulled out in unison. “Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever, ah. Take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my lover.” Their voices blended together perfectly and the crowd found themselves swaying to the music, clearly noticing the romantic tension between Luke and Y/N.
“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand. I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.” Y/N nervously clasped her hands around her mic, her breath shuddering when Luke beamed at her.
“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.” Luke strummed the guitar cords as he walked towards Y/N, “I’d go down with the Titanic, it’s true. For you, lover.”
The music ended there, despite the song still having another chorus left. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at Luke. “You had enough electricity this whole time?” She whispered away from the mic.
“Yeah. I just wanted to spend time with you, pretty. I like you, Y/N. More than I should admit because my fan girls will be a little upset.” Luke chuckled as he jogged off stage, Y/N following close behind.
“So I used my electricity for nothing? You could’ve just asked me to accompany you!” Y/N slapped his shoulder.
“Oh, come on, pretty. Be realistic. You wouldn’t have come if I merely asked. Even if I confessed to you then and there.”
“And what exactly do you like about me?”
“Everything, Y/N. The way your eyes shine when you read, the way you smile when you sing Elvis songs, and the way you have freckles that line up in a square, like constellations on your face. The truth is, you could break my heart into tiny little pieces and I’d still pick them up for you to hold. You like rainbows, don’t you?”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“I adore you, Y/N. And it doesn’t matter that sometimes our worlds are coloured with different hues. Because when the colours bleed into each other, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Apart from your face and soul, of course.”
“What if the colour turns out to be an ugly yellow?”
“You’re ruining the mood, pretty.”
Y/N clicked her tongue as she tilted forward, gingerly pressed a soft kiss to Luke’s lips. He gently gasped.
“Your mics is on, by the way.” She whispered, “Just thought you’d like to know.”
PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303
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ravenalla · 5 months
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One of my favorite little fanon quirks given to Din is that he’ll do silly and light-hearted activities to keep Grogu happy but still play it 100% serious and gruff like he usually does with strangers. Like he’ll rush to join an important meeting discussing the terms for a bounty hunting opportunity while his flight suit is still just covered with rainbow chalk dust and crayon marks because Grogu was feeling artistic, or he’ll sit in a sleazy cantina giving an cold and daunting stare behind his helmet to anybody who dares look over at him for too long while also helping his son poke his straw into his apple juice box and not spill it on his robe. And if anybody thinks to question it or gives him an amused look he’s just like “Is there something you find funny? 🤨” and threatens to shoot them while Grogu sits in a baby harness on his chest and nibbles on his sleeve in the meantime.
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riaki · 4 months
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an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader
pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3
not proofread
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"su— guru!"
he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.
you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.
he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.
"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.
you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.
soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.
"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.
you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.
but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.
"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.
"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.
"um, yeah."
"so.. it burned up?"
"yes."
"you don't have it anymore."
"no, i don't."
"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.
"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.
"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”
his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.
his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.
you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.
...
he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur— always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.
he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.
he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.
suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.
"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.
and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.
you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.
it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.
when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.
and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.
needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.
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my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !
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my-castles-crumbling · 3 months
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Whoops. - AU Jegulus oneshot
(This isn't the smut, guys! That's next on my list!)
Regulus is a TA for Professor Monty Potter and Monty keeps trying to set Regulus up with his son. Regulus always refuses, of course. But what happens when, at the end of the term, he goes to the Potter Christmas Party? Just a fun oneshot based off this post! Thanks to @sebbianas for the idea and @heartshiii for the request!
“I think he’s shown up to class a grand total of three times,” Monty murmurs, jerking his chin towards the last of the students exiting the auditorium.
Regulus chuckles and continues picking up the exam papers from the desks. “Still want to go with your ‘progressive-no-attendance-policy’ next semester?" he asks lightly as he brings the pile towards the Professor.
“Eh. If he aces the final, he obviously didn’t need my help, did he?” Monty shrugs, flashing Regulus a grin.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then maybe he’ll show up a bit more often when he has to retake the class,” Monty finishes, laughing in earnest, now.
Regulus chuckles again and surveys the empty room. “Need anything else before I go?”
“No, Regulus. You’ve been an excellent help. Best TA I’ve ever had, but don’t go telling anyone I have favorites,” Monty says, smirking a bit.
“Thanks, Professor Potter–” Regulus begins, only to be cut off.
“Monty.”
“Monty,” he agrees, still feeling a bit nervous using first names even after all these weeks. He’s been trained in etiquette since birth, after all.
“And since you’re now officially not my TA,” Monty says, smiling, “You’ll come to my house tonight for my holiday party? My son will be there,” he waggles his eyebrows comically at this, and Regulus rolls his eyes.
It’s been an ongoing topic ever since he and Regulus had talked about it earlier that term:
“That’s a nice bracelet,” Monty said absentmindedly as they corrected papers together.
“Ah. Thanks. My brother gave it to me,” Regulus said of the black and rainbow bracelet on his wrist.
But Monty was looking closer at the bracelet, now. “Can I ask-?”
“He gave it to me when I came out,” Regulus supplied, looking at the Professor hesitantly.
Monty seemed unsurprised at the admission, but he also seemed like he wanted to ask something. “Can I ask something that might be seen as unprofessional?”
Regulus felt a bit nervous at this. It had been years since he’d left his extremely unaccepting parents, gone to live with Sirius in a tiny little flat by themselves. They didn’t live together anymore, but those years had been difficult, and it'd taken a lot of work to accept himself. He still had a fear of people, specifically adults, being cruel about his sexuality. But he was also curious. “Yes?”
“My son…my son recently told my wife and I that he’s pansexual. Could you possibly be kind enough to give me some advice? About how to show him that I still feel the same about him?” Monty’s face was so genuine that Regulus almost burst into tears.
But instead, he began to talk. To tell about all the things he wished his parents had done.
Of course, ever since that day, Monty had been casually bringing up his son, and how he and Regulus might get along. But Regulus had always refused, trying to respect the boundaries of the TA-professor relationship. Also, he'd never admit it, but he likes Monty, and worries a bit about losing him as a mentor if things went wrong on a potential date.
But he can't exactly refuse to go to the party tonight. Not after everything Monty has done for him.
“I’ll be there,” he says with a small smile, and bids Monty goodbye.
-
He feels a bit nervous knocking on the door of the Potters that evening, but also reminds himself that he knows how to deal with a party. He knows how to small-talk and kiss up to people and make a good first impression.
He hates it all, of course. Hates everything that reminds him of the way he was raised. But he can do this.
So, when Mrs. Potter answers the door and pulls him into a hug, he’s quite surprised- he’s never been hugged at any fancy dinner party his family has ever thrown. But he still thanks her kindly for the invitation and hands her the bottle of wine he brought.
“Oh, you’re so sweet!” Mrs. Potter gushes, leading him inside.
It’s- crowded. There are a lot of people, all dressed nicely and drinking from fancy glasses. Some look to be closer to his age, while others are older. And in the middle of one of the rooms is-
“Sirius?” Regulus asks incredulously.
“Reggie!” Sirius cries, bounding forward, dragging a boy with him. “What’re you doing here?”
“Monty invited me…” Regulus murmurs, looking around for the man in question.
“Oh, Monty is around somewhere!” Mrs. Potter assures him, waving her hand carelessly. “Sirius, dear, you know Regulus?”
“Only for my whole life,” Sirius says with a wink. “Reggie’s my brother!”
Mrs. Potter gasps loudly. “This is your brother? Well, Regulus was Monty’s TA this semester!”
“He never tells me anything, ever since he moved on campus,” Sirius complains, leaning against the boy he brought along with a dramatic sigh. Then, he turns to Regulus. “The Potters are James’s parents.”
James. Regulus has heard of him. He and Sirius became friends at the start of University. Sirius has said a lot about him on their weekly phone calls, but they’ve never met.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then!” Mrs. Potter says, leaving Regulus with Sirius and his friend to answer the door again.
“Thanks, Mrs. Potter,” Regulus murmurs, only to be told, “Effie!” by both Sirius and Mrs. Potter.
“Can’t believe you’re here, Reg! Let’s get you something to drink, eh?” Sirius says excitedly, dragging the tall-but-quiet buy he’s still attached to with him.
“Now would be a good time to run,” Regulus murmurs to the boy.
“We share a flat. I can’t run far,” the man says with a grin as Sirius shrieks about seeing another friend.
Ah. So this is Remus. Well, this will be interesting.
-
Regulus was imagining a proper party. With suits and ties and a five-course seated meal and six different types of silverware and lots of networking.
Well, it was a party, alright. And people certainly had suits and ties. Or they did, about six drinks ago.
Because this party has drinks. Not just a few, but an everlasting amount. And people are enjoying them.
“Never been to a Potter Christmas Party before?” Remus asks him with a smirk as he stands in a corner and nurses his fourth- fifth?- drink, the room spinning just a tad.
“Didn’t realize I’d need a designated driver,” Regulus murmurs back, though he’s safe, as he took a cab.
“Sirius told me that last year he threw up in the bushes,” Remus admits with an evil grin.
“Charming,” Regulus laughs.
But the conversation seems to stutter to a halt.
Because he sees someone across the room. A boy.
Alright, it’s not just a boy. It’s– it’s the most beautiful human Regulus has ever seen. His dark hair is tousled and he wears the nerdiest circular glasses. His tan skin is almost caramel-colored and his grin is jaw-dropping. He’s dressed in a navy suit and tie, but Regulus can see his muscles rippling just a bit under his clothes.
And then Regulus loses his breath.
The boy is looking at him.
He stares back, unable to tear his eyes away.
And then the boy, very purposely, looks Regulus up and down. Slowly.
And then he grins. And turns away.
And Regulus feels all…fuzzy. But in the most pleasant way. “Shots? I need shots,” Regulus hears himself say in a hoarse voice.
It’s going to be a long night.
-
The man is everywhere. When Regulus goes with Sirius to get another shot, he’s there in the kitchen chatting with Mrs- Effie. And he looks Regulus up and down again, his expression hungry.
Regulus almost spits out his shot.
When Regulus moves to a dining room, he’s there, too. He just has to squeeze behind Regulus to get to the plate of cookies. And as he does so, his entire chest brushes against Regulus’s back.
“Excuse me,” his low voice whispers right into Regulus’s ear.
Regulus almost drops his plate.
When Regulus moves to a sitting room to continue talking with Remus, he sees the man there, too. He’s speaking with Sirius. Regulus is too far away to hear what they’re saying, but the man keeps looking at him.
And Regulus looks back.
-
At some point throughout the night, someone puts on Christmas music. It blares through a speaker and some of the guests are tipsily dancing. Sirius is trying to lead Effie in a waltz as they both giggle hysterically and Remus takes pictures from the side.
And the boy is there. Again.
Except now, he’s walking directly toward Regulus.
“Care to dance?” he murmurs, his gaze almost piercing through Regulus, to his very soul.
Luckily, he’s taken dance lessons before. “Alright,” he agrees a bit nervously.
The boy leads him to a quieter spot in the room, away from Sirius’s insanity, and Regulus tries not to react to how it feels to just hold his hand. He’s not in middle school, after all. He shouldn’t feel so giddy. It must be the alcohol.
They begin to do a sort-of waltz that involves mostly just turning in a circle to the soft music in the background. As they do so, the boy’s hand rests on Regulus’s waist, his thumb moving back and forth slowly, making Regulus’s toes tingle a bit.
“You haven’t been here before,” the boy murmurs softly, looking almost desperately into Regulus’s eyes. “I- I’d remember you.”
Regulus can’t resist. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, pretending to be upset.
“I- no, I-”
“I’m joking,” he says with a smirk, and he feels the boy relax a bit.
“You’re…beautiful. That’s why,” the boy says, answering his earlier question.
And beneath the obvious attraction between them, Regulus senses that this boy is being genuine. And he almost melts right there. Nobody’s ever called him beautiful before. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“How am I doing at this dancing thing? My best friend says I’m terrible at it,” the boy asks, clearly trying to ease the tension, grinning wryly.
To be honest, he’s not great. But Regulus is just enjoying the way the boy’s hand is resting at his waist, making his skin there all hot. “You’re doing fine,” he allows, laughing, trying to resist the urge to pull the boy closer, so their bodies touch.
The boy shrugs, laughing, and Regulus is again stunned by his smile. “Well, I guess we all have our weaknesses. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you, really.”
And then they stare at each other, all attempts at conversations gone. And It’s cliché and ridiculous, but it’s like they’re the only people in the room. All Regulus can feel is the boy’s hand on his waist, the other clasped in his own. All he can see is the way the boy is staring at him- almost adoringly.
And then, they’re kissing.
And if Regulus liked the feeling of the boy’s hand on his waist, it’s nothing compared to the feeling of their lips together. It’s heat and perfection and desire but also somehow warm and gentle and caring. Regulus feels the want building in the base of his spine as suddenly, the boy’s hand lets go of his own and comes to the back of his neck to pull gently at his hair.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe Regulus is going crazy, but suddenly, he wants more. Fuck the fact that this is his Professor’s Christmas party.
But at least the boy seems to be on the same page, because as they separate, he grabs Regulus’s hand and drags him along yet another hallway, up some stairs, and into a bedroom.
And before he can really contemplate what they’re doing, he’s slammed up against the wall of the bedroom, the door closes, and the boy’s lips are all over him.
“Is this alright?” the boy murmurs gently, grabbing hesitantly at the hem of Regulus’s shirt, and he only has to nod once before his shirt is ripped off his body, followed quickly by the boy’s own jacket, tie, and shirt.
And God, his hands. They’re everywhere. Cool against Regulus’s hot skin, tracing against his pale chest as lips and teeth move along his neck, and he lets out a moan that is quite embarrassing, but it only seems to spur the boy on more.
He feels like he’s floating, the way the boy worships him, kissing seemingly everywhere at once- his neck and jaw and lips and shoulder.
And then two things happen simultaneously.
The boy’s hands start to move. It’s as if they’ve read Regulus’s mind, because all he can think is Fuck, lower, lower, yes, damnit, touch me lower.
But just as the hands are finally drifting over his waistband, the door opens.
“Jamie, you’re supposed to be sociali- oh!”
And to Regulus’s absolute horror, it’s Monty. Walking in the bedroom. To him and a half-naked boy.
He wants to run. Or hide. Or throw up.
But it all gets decidedly more confusing when Monty, who previously just looked dumbfounded, bursts out laughing.
He and the boy look at each other and back again, and Regulus is a bit relieved to see he looks confused, too.
“What-?”
But Monty finally catches his breath and says, “Well…I’m glad you two have, erm, met! James, this is Regulus, the TA I told you about! And Regulus, this is my son, James!”
Well. Whoops.
-
“Remember last year?” James murmurs into Regulus’s ear as they set out what feels like hundreds of bottles of wine for the annual Potter Christmas Party.
“Vividly,” Regulus says, but he hides a smile.
“Suppose we should do that again this year, but finish what we start- ow!” James shrieks, trying to turn away from Regulus’s light punch.
Regulus just rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. “Shut up, Potter.”
Leave comments and kudos here <3
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seresinhangmanjake · 5 months
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From Two to Four
Single Dad!Jake Seresin x Single Mom!reader
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Summary: a trip to the movie theater with your son becomes more eventful when you meet a man and manage to save his daughter's birthday from being ruined.
notes: this is going to be a mini series from @rosiahills22 request :)
warnings: none.
Words: 841
----
PART 1:
Your arm is being yanked on but that isn't unusual. With the way your son is, you're surprised you've not had a trip to the hospital to have your shoulder shoved back into its socket. He's strong for his age, and with the handful he is already, you just know you're in for more surprises as he ages; ones you can only hope you'll know how to tackle on your own.
Jamie pulls you through small crowd after small crowd in his effort to make it to the treats. Only when you're in line does he drop your hand so he can press his nose against the glass shelf displaying every variety of candy he could possibly want. A sugar-high child was not in your plans for the day, but you refuse to dull his excitement.
"Mommy, can we get rainbow gummies?"
His voice blends with a sudden cry, and you turn your head to find a small girl leaning against one of the theater's decorative pillars. Her blue tutu is scrunched in her little hands, and the bedazzled tiara on her head is beginning to slip sideways. Softly brushing away her tears is a man crouched in front of her. He tries to right her crown as her finger shoots directly toward the large movie poster behind the man's head.
"Daddy!"
"I know, baby, I know. But it’s sold out," he sighs. "We'll come back tomorrow, OK? I'm sorry."
He stands straight and takes her hand, a look of utter heartbreak marring his handsome features when he begins to lead her past you toward the door. 
"Excuse me,” comes out of your mouth without a thought. 
When he pauses, the little girl nearly bumps into the back of his calf. His eyes meet yours, and the tenseness tightening his brow and the line of his lips soothes. 
“I don’t mean to bother you, but I have two extra tickets to the same movie if you want them."
A dark blond brow raises. “You’re going to see The Dragon Princess of Amethyst Mountain 2?”
“Well, the first one had such a gripping storyline." You chuckle at the amused expression on his face. “My son is with me,” you say and look behind you at the boy all but licking the glass case in anticipation. “Jaime, come here, sweetheart.”
Candy magically forgotten, Jamie bounds over to you with the widest of grins, stopping right beside you to stare up at the man.
“Hi!” he says loudly and clearly, with a certain confident authority only a four-year-old could possess. “I’m Jameson “Jamie”.
The man laughs. “Hi Jameson “Jamie”, I’m Jake, and this is Olive.”
Jamie’s eyes immediately go to the girl. His head tilts. “Like the snack?”
“Jamie, honey, don’t say–”
“Yea,” the girl pipes up, her tiny fist rubbing at the dried tears below her eye. 
Your boy's eyes light up, and you know what he's about to say before it exits his mouth. “I love olives!”
"Really?"
"Yep yep!"
Jake chuckles, releases his daughter's hand, and moves to stand beside you so he may join you in watching your children form an instant bond. 
"Just so you know," he says, leaning closer, "I didn't name my child after a food, intentionally."
You don't care what and why he named his child as you watch Jamie take an immediate liking to her. He needs a friend, and you've never seen him invested quite so quickly. 
"Hey, I don't judge," you reply, making the man laugh again. You're starting to like it. It's deep and husky and has an intoxicating element that wants to lure you into your own fit of giggles. 
"I'm Jake," he formally introduces, sticking out his hand for you to shake. You do so as you offer your name in return. "So how did you end up with extra tickets to the best movie in town?"
"I've got a sister who's a flake and a brother-in-law with a missing backbone," you say before clicking your tongue. "Which is a shame, honestly, because I think he really wanted to see it."
"Well, I hate to say I'm thankful for that, but you've just saved my daughter's birthday, so…"
"Daddy," Olive calls, her entire mood having taken a complete shift, "can we get rainbow gummies?"
"Sure, baby."
Jamie and Olive jump up and down, their hands tightly clasped together. Then your son hurriedly leads the girl back over to the candy case to show her everything she's about to enjoy.
"How old?" you ask.
"Four."
"So is Jamie."
As if on cue, Jamie looks back at you. "Mommy, and cookie dough bites?"
"Your boy's got a good appetite," Jake says, crossing his arms and nodding his head Jamie's way. 
"Oh, just you wait. He'll want–"
"And popcorn, Mommy?"
You snort. "See?"
Jake's eyes travel over your face, pulling forth a light blush that you can already feel heating your cheeks. His wide open lips display pearly whites, and there is a glint in his gaze when he says, "Well we better get them their snacks then."
---
A/N: More to come for this little series! I hope you liked it :)
tags: @wkndwlff @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @kmc1989 @oliviah-25 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792
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queenimmadolla · 1 year
Text
𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃
(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)
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𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.
Summary: . . . After your eventful labor and delivery, you and Eddie can only wait to see what fate holds for your newborn son as you two finally decide on a name. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.
a/n: we have finally reached the rainbow at the end of the storm, my friends. wrapping this up feels so bittersweet, i'm going to miss all the interactions! i don't think i've gotten to talk to this many people here before and i hope it doesn't stop after part three. from the bottom of my heart, thank you. and a HUGE thank you to my partner in crime, @kitmon, for beta-ing this (all three parts) bad boy for me. while Wayne's World is finally over, i'm excited to continue writing for this little family. on to the next thing! word count is 4kish. happy reading! and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈
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While Eddie was out like a light, your doctor had also dropped in for a visit to inform you you’d be staying at the hospital for at least another day, which you weren’t too excited about. You were prescribed medication to take during your stay and so long as you felt good, you were allowed to roam about, meaning you could visit your son. 
  Wayne had also dropped by, with a bag he’d packed full of Eddie’s clothes and things he thought he would need. He hadn’t wanted to wake Eddie up, either. After making sure you were okay, he ended up taking Penny home with him. You’d debated on letting her stay, but you figured Eddie would be vehement on staying with you and she’d want to play with her toys soon. Wayne had promised to bring her back for visits.
  Then it was just you and your sleeping husband. Eddie slept through the morning, past the afternoon, and into the evening. You were just about to run out of patience—eager to see your baby—when he finally woke up.
  “Wha’ happen?” He rasped out, voice groggy and eyes squinted almost shut as he stretched, letting out an inhuman grunt. 
  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you glanced at the clock on the wall, “or goodnight, I guess.”
  “Night?” He followed your gaze, eyes shooting wide open when he realized how late he’d slept. “Oh, shit. It’s seven.” 
  “I’m aware,” you were entirely amused, “Your breakfast, lunch, and dinner are on the counter.” You pointed over to the counter and cabinets lining the wall.
  Eddie was starving, he tossed the blanket aside to get up and made quick work of all of his meals, to your surprise. 
  Watching Eddie eat was always so entertaining. He ate so chaotically, messy like a gremlin. And not just when he was starving. 
  “Where’s Pen?” He asked through a mouthful of food. 
  “With Wayne and Maude. He stopped by and dropped off some things for you.” You pointed this time to the duffel bag resting near his makeshift pullout bed. 
  The burger you’d got him for lunch was clenched in his teeth, the wrapper around it preventing its contents from falling out, as he rifled through it, pulling out a clean shirt, a pair of sweats and some boxers.
  “Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked, again with a mouthful of food as he unbuckled his pants, pushing them down his legs. 
  You watched as he struggled to get his feet out of them without using his hands, aggressively shaking them off his right ankle. He cursed under his breath once they were off and you couldn’t help but elate in the fact your husband was still a dork.
  “You were tired, snoring up a storm—’’
  “—I don’t snore.”
  “—And looking like you were in a coma.”
  Eddie snorted as he devoured the rest of his burger before he was able to go put on the clean boxers (you’d made sure to lean forward so you could get your eyeful) and yank on the sweats. Then he pulled his shirt off and you responded by clapping your hands appreciatively.
  “Now, give me a little twirl,” you swirled your finger downward, with a smirk and Eddie laughed as he threw the shirt at you.
  “Knock it off, six week waiting period still applies to you so you’d better not tempt me.”
  You whistled as you pulled his shirt off your head, holding it to your chest, “You might have had the dinner but I definitely got the show.”
  “You’re incorrigible,” but he was still grinning as he yanked the clean shirt over his head. 
  You waited until he was comfortable, with his food, on the pull out before you informed him, “My doctor came by, too. Said I’m stuck here for another freaking day.”
  Eddie pulled the fry he’d been about to eat away from his mouth so he could tease you with a pout. He was actually glad, you’d be surrounded by medical professionals so if for some reason something happened, they’d be able to take care of you. Plus, he’d be by your side every day until then. This was his last day off, but he’d call Norm in the morning and let him know he’d have to take the next couple of days off. He’d saved up more than enough paid time off at the shop, something he’d chosen this particular one to work at for offering. 
  Of course, when he’d gotten the gig as a teenager, he’d only been concerned about using that time to try out a new strain or micro dose. 
  You rolled your eyes and slumped back into your bed, “Jerk. She also said I could move around. After you finish eating, will you take me to go see him?”
  Fuck, Eddie would take you right now. He was about to set his tray aside when you hissed. 
  “Eat.”
  He held his hands up in defeat, but finished off his food a little faster. 
  While he finished eating, you’d gotten out of bed (yes, he almost had a heart attack and you had to threaten him to keep him from hovering) to freshen up. By the time you were done, so was Eddie.
  You’d dug around his bag until you found one of your favorite shirts of his and put it on, under the stupid hospital gown, along with a pair of his sweats.
  And you hadn’t wanted to, like really, really didn’t want to, but you allowed him to push you to the NICU in a wheelchair. It was the only way you were allowed to leave your room. Why didn’t you want to? Because Eddie insisted it was a game, full on running to propel the wheelchair, even spinning you around in it, when he wasn’t pretending to crash into things. It was fun, but you were sure the hospital staff didn’t appreciate it.
  When you finally got to the NICU and the nurse placed your baby in your arms, you knew everything you’d been through was worth it. Every single second you got with him was precious and worth the possible sorrow that may follow. 
  “He does look like Penny,” you agreed, lifting him up to press a kiss to his forehead. He was in better looking condition than you recalled, not pasty or almost blue, and breathing. You remembered the shock of fear that had shot up your spine when he hadn’t been after you’d pushed him out.
  He was small, smaller than Penny had been for obvious reasons, and while it made you sad that you hadn’t been able to keep him in you to develop more, you were still happy to have him.
  “Although, I think their noses are different,” you mused and gently stroked your finger over the small tip of his nose, tubeless since he’d been removed from his incubator to be placed in your arms. He scrunched it up at the contact, and you were delighted with his response, “he’s got your’s, Eddie.”
  “You think so?” Eddie was taken with that nose scrunch, absolutely entranced. He’d seen you do it in the wee hours of that very morning.
  “Oh, yeah. He’s perfect. I wonder whose eyes he has.” Selfishly, you hoped a pair of big, brown baby cow eyes, like his father’s and sister’s, were under the eye cover.
  “You can take it off,” The nurse hovering nearby informed you, he was handling another baby but he’d heard your comment, “he’s done with his phototherapy. The lighting in here isn’t harsh either, so he’ll be just fine.”
  He stopped what he was doing to hand you a couple of wipes, “Just moisten the edges and it will come right off.”
  You did as instructed, Eddie hovering over you in anticipation. Once the edges were saturated with the warm wipe, you carefully peeled the eye mask away, heart squeezing as your baby boy blinked them open. Well, that was a stretch, he blinked them into a squint.
  He glared up at you like that for a few more moments, before his blinking became rapid and then they were finally open, forehead scrunched up in curiosity as he stared, little mouth just barely parted. 
  “Hi,” you giggled out, absolutely ecstatic to see a pair of familiar dark eyes peering up at you. 
  “Guess that answers that.” Eddie’s smile was soft as he watched you press another kiss to his head, your fingertips mingling with the fluff on his head. He couldn’t help but notice how enthralled his son looked with you, little fists curled near his face.
  “You are so perfect,” you cooed down at him, finger stroking his cheek, he blinked at the contact, gave your hand some serious side eye for surprising him then returned his awed stare to your face. “I love you so much, my little grump. You’re gonna be okay, yeah? ‘Cause you’re just like your daddy, aren’t you? Gonna make it out even when you’re dealt the shorthand.” 
  Was Eddie Munson about to cry again? Yes.
  “Perfect, perfect, perfect,” You enunciated each one word with a kiss to his head, “We still have to name him.”
  The morbid image of a potential name for his son, etched into stone came to the forefront of his mind and Eddie felt a stabbing pang in his chest as he forced the image away.
  “You know, I technically chose Penny’s,” you drawled, craning your head to look up at him, “I think it’s only fair you name him. Since you won’t let me name him Eddie Jr.”
  Eddie stared back at you, gaze intense before it shifted down to the little bundle in your arms, at the face peeking out from the blankets.
  He hadn’t wanted to name his baby after him, wanted him to be more than just a namesake. With Penny, well, her name meant something to him. Unconditional love. 
  It didn’t actually translate to that, but it had belonged to the one person in his life—other than you—who showed him affection, emotion. 
  The baby’s eyes moved away from your face, catching Eddie’s stare and something about it prompted a thought, a fact really. 
  Eddie was wrong. He was so, so wrong in his thought process. The weight of the realization almost had his knees buckling as he stared back at that little face.
  For the first time, Eddie thought of his son’s name. Etched in stone or not, it was the only one worthy of him.
  You’d let the nurse know and he retrieved your son's birth certificate for you. You loved the name so much and since Eddie had been the one to decide on it, you insisted he write it on his birth certificate as well. It had to be the neatest thing Eddie had ever written.
  It hadn’t been easy to let the nurse take your baby back, away from you and you had teared up, afraid it would be the last time you’d see him.
  Eddie had been upset too, in the last few moments you were allowed with him, he’d let his little guy hold onto his finger and reminded him of their earlier talk. He had to make it through tonight, so he could go home with them. After a few parting kisses, tears and reaffirming your love to him, he was whisked away to his incubator and you and Eddie made the sullen trip back to your room. 
  He held you in your bed while you both cried. 
  And cried.
  And cried.
  Eventually, the two of you fell asleep, the sheer emotional exhaustion too much for either of you. 
  When you woke up, it was to sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains and the nurse taking your vitals. Eddie was still lightly snoring into the side of your head and just as the nurse finished, both Dr. Eisenberg and Dr. Houseman entered your room.
  “Good morning!” Dr. Eisenberg chirped. Dr. Houseman silently made herself comfortable leaning against the counter.
  “Morning,” came your groggy reply as you shook Eddie awake. He peaked an eye open to glare at you but the moment he caught sight of both doctors, he snapped awake.
  “Sorry to disturb you two, we just figured you’d want to hear the news. Mrs. Munson, although I know you must love your hospital bed, today’s looking like your last day here. Which means I want to hear about you doing lots of walking today. I’m gonna check on you again tomorrow, but if all is well, you’ll be discharged then.”
  Halle-freaking-lujah. 
  Dr. Eisenberg stepped back, nudging Dr. Houseman’s shoulder enthusiastically to take her place.
  “I believe this is the first time we’ve met, Mrs. Munson,” she regarded you with kind eyes before acknowledging Eddie, “Mr. Munson. Nice to see you’ve gotten some rest.”
  Eddie tried not to feel personally attacked.
  “I come bearing news of your son. He made it through the night, with no issues. He’s out of phototherapy, responding well to feedings—that’s very important—and while his breathing is fast, it’s also a good sign. It doesn’t leave him breathless, so it may just be his excitement at being in the outside world and getting to use his lungs. He doesn’t tire more than would be normal for a newborn, either. We’re gonna keep him a little longer, let him develop a little more and ensure the hole starts to heal up, but I give it no more than two weeks before he goes home.”
  The amount of weight lifted off both your shoulders and Eddie’s was almost disorientating. Your baby made it. You’d get to take him home! You wanted to cry, jump around, do backflips, but you settled for leaning into Eddie, who was blinking an awful lot.
  “Alright, I think we served our purpose. We’ll let the two of you have some peace.” They both gave you grins as they made their way out of the room, though Dr. Eisenberg stopped, effectively halting Dr. Houseman as well, “By the way, LOVE the name you gave him. Really fits the little guy.”
  Dr. Houseman nodded in agreement before she was ushering Eisenberg out of the room.
  You held each other again as you cried, this time tears of joy and relief.
  Wayne stopped by again, this time with Penny and a bag of necessities meant for you (packed with care by Maude because Wayne was too embarrassed to go through your drawers). She’d begged Eddie, literally wrapped herself around one of his legs until he agreed to take her to see baby brother. He hadn’t wanted to, would much rather have them meet at the trailer when the two of you could finally bring him home and not when he was still in an incubator, patched up to machines, but he relented.
  Wayne kept you company while he took her to see the baby. She hadn’t asked any questions about the babies, only stating the stork must be getting ready to take them to their mommies and daddies because they were in boxes. 
  When he’d pointed out her brother, she couldn’t look away, placing both hands on the glass as well as her forehead to stare at him. 
  “My little baby potatoes.”
  “He’s not—alright, sweet pea.”
  “I getta keep him, huh, daddy?”
  “Yeah, you get to keep him.” Eddie found himself blinking away tears, comforted to know he wasn’t lying to her, didn’t have to be obtuse to avoid telling her the truth anymore. 
  “Okie dokie, les take ‘em home.”
  Eddie chuckled and pulled her a little ways from the glass to press a kiss to her cheek, “He has to stay here for a few more days, but he’s gonna come home.”
  “Pomise?”
  “I promise.”
  She eyed him suspiciously, “You won’t fuwwet ‘em?”
  “Forget,” Eddie corrected but Penny didn’t amend the word like she would normally do when reminded of the proper pronunciation. She still had a little difficulty with her ‘r’s so if a word had the letter in it and she said it right the first time, great, if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be fixing it, “And that was one time, sweet pea, I came back for you like a minute later.”
  Penny maintained an impressive, nonstop commentary about all the things she was going to teach her baby brother to do during the walk back to your hospital room. At some point, she’d asked Eddie to swing her the rest of  the way, which he scoffed at because that would make him look ridiculous to the staff.
  Needless to say, by the time they got back, Eddie was sure the staff would be making fun of him.
  Wayne hadn’t asked to see the baby, he was content knowing the little fella would be coming home with you. He still had that image of him in the truck stuck in his head, and he’d rather replace it with a baby in a car seat instead of an incubator. He and Penny stayed a while. She took your doctor’s walking orders (that Eddie foolishly mentioned in front of her) seriously and demanded you walk back and forth around the room with her. It was no problem until it just got annoying but you entertained her anyways. 
  Then all your friends had shown up, waiting strategic intervals of time to slip into your room as small groups so the nurses wouldn’t notice. They’d brought tons of gifts and Eddie had to sneak them to the NICU entrance, a few at a time, so they could see your baby through the glass.
  After what a c-section was had been explained to the boys, Dustin’s respect for you skyrocketed, which you hadn’t thought would be possible considering his high opinion of you in the first place, and Lucas thought you had to be some kind of superhuman to survive that, he was amazed. Poor Will and Robin looked like they wanted to throw up when Steve’s girlfriend explained how some of your insides had been briefly removed to get to the baby.
  It had been Nancy and Jonathan who got the group out of the hospital, and just in time. Your main nurse had come to check on you with all the suspicious hallway activity. Wayne and Penny left when visiting hours were over and you convinced Eddie to sleep on the bed with you, you always fell asleep fast when you got to cuddle up to him and you needed the night to pass already so you could get discharged. 
  You were impatient the next morning, Eddie watched on in amusement as you got ready, fluttering about the room until you finally slipped into a shirt and some comfortable pants with a high waistline (nothing was pressing into your scar until that bad boy was healed), then put your hospital gown over them and climbed into bed to disguise your getaway outfit. 
  Your plan was of course foiled when Dr. Eisenberg arrived and had you walk across the room a couple of times. She’d been amused with your expectations, but stuck to her promise and a nurse was wheeling you out after you were discharged.
  Wayne, Penny and Maude greeted you when you arrived home, and while you were pleased to be in your own clothes and trailer, you wanted your baby with you. 
  “What happened to the spot?” You’d asked Wayne, at some point while Maude and Penny were showing Eddie a new dress Maude had made for her.
  You were referring to the stain you were sure your water breaking had left—unfortunately, rather bloody as well. 
  “Maude got rid of it. Took ‘er a couple ‘a days but she managed to scrub it out, ‘s why she couldn’t come see you, reckon she figured you wouldn’t wanna see it.”
  The widow from a couple of trailers away—and Wayne’s lady love—was shy as hell, but you were positive you loved her. 
  You and Eddie made sure to visit your son as often as possible. While Eddie worked, you spent most of your mornings and afternoons at the hospital, learning from the nurses about his improving condition and how to care for him. You’d learned he was fed a couple of special formulas, though they still encouraged you to breastfeed. On day seven of his hospital stay, you got to nurse him for the first time. 
  It was difficult, he wouldn’t latch properly no matter how hard you or the lactation consultant tried at first. It took him a while to get the hang of it, and it had been mildly uncomfortable for you, but eventually he did start latching. Day eight was spent encouraging him to latch each time. You knew you’d have to feed him those special formulas, but that was the extent of sharing him with a bottle you were willing to go. It was 50/50, and they’d informed you as soon as he caught up in development, and started gaining weight, the need for the formulas would lessen and you wouldn’t have to share him.
  GOOD.
  On day nine, you and Eddie got to bring him home. It hadn’t been completely planned, Dr. Houseman had suggested it the day prior, hadn’t guaranteed it and hadn’t been expecting you to have a carseat and anything else you might need for the ride home, but when she mentioned that he was good to go—though he’d have to be seen regularly to ensure his heart was in healthy condition and healing—Eddie bolted to retrieve the car seat he’d had waiting for his little dude and came just about running back.
  “Don’t look so sour, baby,” He cooed as he tucked his little baby in and secured the harness around him. His son’s face was scrunched up, glaring at Eddie while he buckled him in. Clearly, he wasn’t a fan of the car seat, but he changed his tune when Eddie gently squished his cheeks between his thumb and index finger, the baby immediately relaxed, eyes wide as he stared up at his daddy. Then Eddie was tucking a blanket around him, and lowering the visor to protect him from the cold air.
  It was wonderfully symbolic how peaceful the drive home from the hospital with your son had been compared to how chaotic the drive to the hospital, with him, had been. 
  Wayne, Penny and Maude were waiting for you again. Penny practically attacked Eddie’s legs as soon as he made it through the door with the car seat. 
  “Whoa, sweet pea! Careful, daddy doesn’t want to step on you.”
  “I wanna see ‘em!”
  “You will,” You promised as you shut the door behind you. Wayne and Maude were perched on the couch as Eddie placed the car seat down and squatted so he could carefully take the baby out of it. Penny’s energy seemed to disappear, she was stock still, watching as Eddie lifted the visor, removed the blanket, unbuckled the baby and finally pulled him out. 
  Maude’s reaction was instant, sounds of adoration slipping past her lips as the baby scrunched his back while Eddie lifted him, tiny arms pulling up near his head. 
  Wayne laughed, relieved to see the baby looked nothing like he had when he’d first seen him. In fact, if he didn’t know better he’d think Eddie brought home the wrong one. 
  “You wanna hold him?”
  “Bring ‘im ‘ere.” Wayne held his hands out and Eddie carefully placed his newborn son in them.
  “Well, ‘yer in better shape, ain’t you?” He commented down at the little guy. As soon as those eyes were on him, he knew there had been no baby mix up. He was Eddie’s kid.
  “‘Shoot, another one with ‘yer eyes?” Wayne chuckled and Eddie’s chest puffed with pride. His next joke was directed towards you, “He’s lookin’ like Penny did when she was a baby, you sure you ain’t a copy machine?”
  “Not anymore,” You scoffed, smiling at the sight as you leaned into Eddie’s side. He slipped an arm around your shoulders, hand moving to the side of your head as he pulled you even closer to kiss.
  “He’s a cute lil’ fella. What’s his name?”
  Eddie smirked against the top of your head before he answered him, “Wayne.”
  “Hmn?” Then, without looking up from that little face, Wayne figured Eddie hadn’t heard him and was asking him to repeat himself. “‘Said what’s his name?”
  “I heard you, his name is Wayne.”
  Wayne looked up at the two of you then, eyes wide and unbelieving.
  “Wha—?”
  “His full name is Wayne Edward Munson,” you had to make sure they knew Eddie compromised and was willing to allow you to use his name as his son’s middle name, the smile on your face was smug. “Wayne.”
  Wayne cleared his throat, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. 
  “‘S really…” He trailed off, throat thick as he swallowed, head nodding a couple of times. 
  “I didn’t always imagine myself as a family man growing up,” Eddie confessed, “but when I did, I imagined having these crazy, weirdo kids who I’d love and who would love me back. Teach them to play the guitar, how to appreciate good music, play Dungeons and Dragons with. Was already afraid I’d mess up, though. And they’d stop loving me.
  “When we had Penny and she,” Eddie pressed another kiss to your head, “suggested we name her after my mom, I thought it was perfect. Naming the baby I was afraid would one day stop loving me after someone who never did was perfect to me. I was struggling real hard on names for him, didn’t think Edward was worthy of him. Then he looked at me. In that moment, all I could think about was how much I loved him. I couldn't help but wonder if that was how you felt when you saw me.”
  Eddie wasn’t the insecure kid he used to be—well, not as insecure. He’d been unsure of it at the start of his stay with Wayne, the older Munson was never very vocal with his emotions, though he had on occasion told Eddie he loved him. It wasn’t a machismo thing, Eddie was sure Wayne just didn’t know how to express emotions. It was how he’d been raised. Regardless, Eddie knew Wayne loved him. 
  Loved him when he was a baby, born from the woman he loved and not even his own son. Loved him when he saw him sporadically throughout his early life. Loved him enough to try and fight to keep him when his mom died, though the law gave him back to his dad. Loved him when a social worker showed up on his doorstep with him in tow, a broken shell of a boy. Loved him in those few awkward first interactions as they learned how to be around each other again. Loved him when he started getting in trouble, when police officers started escorting him home, when he’d had to pick him up from the police station, when he knew he was selling things and partaking in a business Wayne didn’t particularly approve of, loved him through it all. By blood, he might have been an uncle. By all other means, that man was his father. And his name was the only name worthy of his son. No rock star could compete. 
  “So, we named him after the other person in my life who never stopped loving me.”
  Eddie could see the shine on Wayne’s eyes as his mouth set in a firm line. 
  Finally, Wayne managed to rasp out, “‘Ye’ah, you’re right. Not for one secon’.”
  Not for once second had he stopped loving his boy. 
  Wayne looked down at little Wayne, whose stare was no longer scrutinizing, “You got ‘yerself a good pair ‘a parents. ‘Couldn’ta asked to be born in a better family.”
  “Uhm, ‘scuse me, I fuwwot his name. What’s he called?”
  “Wayne, baby.” Eddie chuckled and Penny leaned against Maude’s legs, craning forward to get a good look at her brother.
  “Waynie. I like it! Can I put ‘em in my stoller now?”
  “No, Penny.”
  After the flood of emotions that your living room became that morning, Wayne and Maude had stuck around for a couple of hours before they said goodbye to Penny and baby Wayne and made their way home. So, about a three minute walk, tops.
  You settled onto the couch, next to Eddie who had Penny curled on his lap, with baby Wayne, ready to nurse him as Eddie searched for something to watch. You’d just gotten Wayne to latch when Eddie made a pleased sound and you glanced up to find out what had amused him.
  On the tv was an episode of Saturday Night Live, specifically the beginnings of one of Mike Myers’ most popular sketches as Eddie’s favorite character from the show. 
  “Just in time,” At the mention of his son’s name on screen, Eddie glanced down at the baby attached to your boob, whose gaze flickered to the side to meet his as if he was aware of gaining his dad’s attention. 
The corners of Eddie’s lips twitched as his big eyes stared at him, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Welcome to Wayne’s World.”
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lovifie · 3 months
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Her Royal Highness Pt. 1
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The palace gardens.
Thousands of flowers, trees and weeds grow all together. Every one of them, their own use and their own mission. 
Growing delicious fruit, being used in medicinal infusions… decorating the burning chapel of the late Queen.
The hundreds of chrysanthemums that decorated her coffin is a sight you would never forget. On any regular funeral, the flowers would have been white. But not on your mum's, everyone from the kingdom who arrived to give their respect to the deceased royal brought flowers. Every flower of different colours, making it look like a rainbow, making it look like a painting. 
A gruesome painting.
But now, as the autumn winds circle your body in the garden; you look around for the chrysanthemums. As in trying to go back to that day, take another look at her face, and try to memorise her better.
But it's not her face the one you see, but of a man you have never seen before.
High in the tower, looking down on you through the window of your father's office. Blue eyes lock with yours, and a kind smile appears through his beard.
At that moment, Alissa, one of the maids, calls for you.
“Your Royal Highness, your father requested your presence in the Sun Room.”
The Sun Room, the stance where you would spend all those sleepless nights looking into the telescope. Visiting all those faraway galaxies, until the sun would come up. 
Now, it has been provisioned with a table and chairs, and it was your father's favourite spot to have breakfast. 
So you didn't think anything else of the request, making your way up to the Sun Room. Blue eyes already forgotten until you enter the run, and meet them again. But he was not alone. 
Five men were seated around the table, only one of them you know. 
Right in front of you was your father, smiling at you while pointing to sit on the chair opposite to his. 
On his right, was sitting the man you saw on the window. Around the same age as your father, with blue eyes, a beard and a smoking pipe on his lips.
Sitting on the left of your father, was a man wearing a hood and a veil-like fabric covering the lower half of his face leaving only his eyes exposed. You thought he was looking at you for a second, but when you tried to meet his gaze you realised he was looking at the man sitting next to the first mysterious man.
You follow his gaze, meeting bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile looking at you. A bit of stubble surrounded his mouth, only interrupted by the small scar on his chin. 
The last man on the table caught your eyes as he left the cup he was just using on the table. Tan skin, brown eyes and just as kind smile as everyone else on the table met your eyes. 
Everyone on the table except for your father quickly got on their feet as you entered the room, bowing to you as a sign of respect. 
You bowed back, almost on autopilot after so many years of training.
The brown-eyed man quickly makes his way towards you and moves your chair back to make it easier for you to sit, and once you do he pushes you closer to the table. 
“Thank you…” You say, a bit surprised by the action and follow him with your eyes until you look back at your father. “Morning, Father.”
“Morning, angel. Let me introduce you to King John Price, he has come all the way from his kingdom with his son and his two best knights just to meet you.” He says pointing to the older man on his right. 
“It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.” The sudden deep voice from the foreign king quickly gains your attention as you smile at him courteously. 
“The pleasure is mine, your Royal Highness.” You answer by bowing with your head and picking up the cup of tea on your right. “May I ask the reason for such an odyssey?”
“Well, my son here, Prince Simon is still unmarried and as my only heir, I would like to meet my grandchild before my passing to die in peace. So when the news that the young princess was of age to marry, it sounded like the perfect opportunity. And now, having met you, I can rest assured that my grandchildren will be handsome.” The king jokes laughing softly but gets interrupted by the choking sounds that erupted from you. 
What news of you being of age? Marriage? Grandchildren? As you try to get back to breathing you cover your mouth with the napkin and try to figure out what is happening. But it is not hard to figure it out, your father is using you as spare change to keep the kingdom safe. A marriage between kingdoms means a bigger territory, a bigger army, and a bigger treasure to live in peace.
It quickly downsides to you how little your opinions matter to the kingdom affairs, it doesn't matter whether you want to get married or not, whether you like the prince, your soon-to-be husband, or not, any of that matter, because you are just like a horse being sold to a bigger farm.
Even though you can barely remember your mother's face, you can almost hear her screams of rage inside your head, the impotence flowing through your veins. She would have fought your father on this, completely against this interchange. Giving away her only daughter to the first man who knocks on the door, completely unaware of his real intentions. 
But your mother is dead, your father is getting old, and you are just a princess sitting between two royal knights of a foreign kingdom. 
So you do what you must, you stop coughing, get your breath back, stand up apologising for the rumble and excuse yourself by letting everyone know that there is a task that cannot wait to be done that you forgot to do this morning. 
You make your way out before any men in the room can say anything and walk to your room as fast as you can, hating more than ever living in such a big palace.
Once inside and with the door locked, you fall to your knees letting the tears flow. You should be ashamed really, of getting knocked out this easily after your first royal mission. 
But you can't help it, the fight that ignited inside your soul. You knew this would happen, ever since you were born your duty has always been to be married to some foreign prince, the easier way to make allies. But your poor romantic heart, which would keep you awake at night, dreaming of how a kind prince would appear to court you, how you would fall in love with each other, finally marrying and living happily ever after.
Those dreams get shattered in such a brutal way, leaving you no time to try and conceal your feelings. So you indulge in those feelings, suddenly taking notice of how little freedom you have left, you decide to not conceal your feelings. So you move onto your bed, and you cry. You cry until you no longer feel your mother's rage inside your heart.
—————————————————————
The knock on your door wakes you up, not having noticed falling asleep. You make your way and unlock the door coming face to face with Alissa, who looks at you with a worried look.
“Your Royal Highness, your father requested your presence in his dormitory. You should come quickly.” She says as she starts to walk looking back to make sure you are following her.
“Did something happen? Why the hurry, Allisa?” You ask trying to get next to her and when she doesn't answer you grab her arm making her turn to you. “Allisa, what's wrong?”
“It's better for you to see yourself, Princess” Allisa says grabbing your hand back and walking with you to your father's room door. 
She opens the door and looks at you waiting for you to enter but without moving herself. She avoids your gaze almost as if she feels guilty about having you in the situation. 
Both the curiosity and anxiety of the moment make you enter the room without another thought.
The smell of chrysanthemums invades your nostrils, but there aren't any flowers in the room. But the sight brings you back to that grotesque painting of your mother's funeral.
Your father lays on his bed, breathing with difficulty and his eyes closed. He looks weak, a sight you thought was impossible now was right in front of you.
You run to your father's bed, kneeling at his side and grab his hand with your shaking fingers.
“Father? Please talk to me, what has happened to you?” You ask with your vision getting blurry with tears.
“Oh, my sweet bird.” Your father says opening his eyes and smiling weakly at you. “Why do you sound so worried? Don't you ever worry about me, it's my duty to worry about you. Something I ate must me fighting back, but it is nothing I can’t beat.” He caresses your cheek, feeling the cold of his fingers making a tear fall on top of his hand. “How are you feeling? You looked upset before when you left, do you not like the Prince?”
Like the Prince? The Prince you didn't hear say a word? The Prince you didn't even see his whole face? The Prince that didn't even look at you? That Prince? Did you even have a say in whether you like him or not?
“I was just… surprised.” You lie.
“They are nice people. They have a big kingdom, bigger than ours. They will take good care of you, birdie.” Your father says and you see him begin to close his eyes. “I'm gonna try to sleep again, alright? I'm sure I will wake up feeling better. You should try as well, it's been a strange day, hasn't it?”
You smile at him as you see him close his eyes but you don't move. You stay put while holding his hand, and only look up when you hear the door open. 
The King Price enters accompanied by the brown-eyed knight, who is grabbing a tea set on a tray.
“Leave it on the nightstand, Kyle.” Says the king without noticing you are inside and when he finally does notice his expression changes. The more crude and stone-like expression he was using, changes into the kind one you saw before. “Oh, greetings, Princess. Your father requested some tea to ease his sleeping.”
Kyle, the knight, puts the tray on the nightstand and gives you a smile when you look at him. Feeling your throat dry after crying the whole day, you stretch your arm to grab the teacup but before you can do it, the knight grabs your hand.
“Apologies, Princess. But it is for your father.” He says while looking at you with a smile but without letting go of your hand.
“I'm sure my father wouldn't mind sharing a cup. I only want a sip.” I say trying again to grab it but meeting the same luck again. The knight moves his hand to grab my hand more softly instead of my wrist and moves it up to his lips leaving a kiss on my knuckles.
“Your Royal Highness, with all due respect… I wouldn't recommend drinking the tea.” A shiver runs down your spine and you feel the king put a hand on your shoulder making you look up at him.
“Princess, why don't you go back to your room? We will take care of your father, don't worry.” King Price says and you feel like screaming, shouting, hitting, biting, fighting them until they leave the palace and never come back. But you don't, you stay looking at them like a dumb child.
You look back at your father. His skin looks almost grey, a pained expression on his face and cold hands meeting yours. Just this morning, he was fine. Having breakfast with everyone, joking, talking about marriage with the other king. And now, this.
“This is your making, right? You have poisoned my father. You are trying to murder my father’’ You say with a shaking voice looking between them and you hear the king sigh.
‘‘Princess, you are far too young to understand. Your father's kingdom has way too much potential for it to go to waste under such a careless king. He is already too old, and he was never that bright to begin with. When your mother was alive this was a great kingdom, but it has only been getting worse. Is the best for everyone, once you and my son get married, you won't have to worry about anything anymore. You are clever like your mother, aren't you? So prove it, leave your father to rest and let me make everything easier for you.’’
You feel your head throb, so much information all at once. The shameless way he just admitted to the murder of your father, how he let you know that this has been his plan for years even knowing your late mother, the way he expects you to just accept this reality.
You know you need to fight, but you know you would never be able to fight them alone. You think about different things would be if you had any siblings, maybe an older brother that didn't need to get married in order to reign. How things would be different if you were not the next in line… and then you remember. Your uncle. Your mother's brother is the next in line to your throne after you. 
But only if anything happened to you…
What's more important? The kingdom? Or yourself?
The blade on Kyle's waist suddenly seems too close to ignore. And you don't fully register what you are doing until you see the fear in the knight's eyes.
The blade feels heavy on your hands when you raise it above your head, and Kyle jumps in front of the king to protect him of your attack.
But you are not aiming at the king, you are aiming at yourself. And before they can prevent it, the blade is already through your torso.
‘‘If there is no marriage, the kingdom is for my uncle not for you.’’ You say barely above a whisper, feeling cold. A wide contrast with the warm blood covering your hands.
Your ears feel stuffed and it is more and more difficult to stay kneeled without falling. You hear the King curse and order the knight to go for the sages.
You feel the cold floor against your temple, not having noticed being lying on your side. You never thought about dying in a battle, or poison, or murdered. You always thought that's how powerful people die, and unimportant princesses like you would most likely die of old age somewhere alone.
But dying in order to save the kingdom seems noble enough.
In your last moments, you think about your father. Lying on his bed behind you, still breathing but already being given up on by everyone. Even his only daughter. 
What would he think if he got better? If he woke up right now? And saw his child, lying on a pool of her blood inserted on the visiting knight’s blade by herself. 
Useless.
You were supposed to help the kingdom and didn't even try to fight. Gave up before the fight started.
Coward.
Leaving the job for your poor uncle, as if he was not already busy enough.
Selfish.
Dying.
Alone.
—————————————————————
Since I uploaded the little something I did yesterday I couldn't stop thinking about it.
hehe
I hoped that you liked the first chapter <3
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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year
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Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt 7)
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6)
This, Cinderella thinks, is a fairytale.
The nobles are bowing to the Prince, to her, and the air smells like the desserts on the table to her left. The music is still going, a sweet flute that serves a placeholder until the greetings to the prince are done. Over the bowed heads of the dancers nearest them, Cinderella can see her stepfamily curtsying to the arrival of the Prince.
Curtsying to her.
“I am glad that my tardiness did not hold up the festivities,” the Prince says. He inclines his head to the dais where the Queen and King sit. “We should resume.”
The Queen and King.
The Queen is as beautiful as the rumors say. Her long, black hair, streaked with grey, falls around her shoulders like vines, pinned into curled shapes against her violet gown with pins that sparkle like the night sky. She wears a simple gold circlet that glitters in the candlelight. Is it encrusted in jewels?
The King wears a heavier crown in burnished copper. His eyes remind her of the Prince’s, hawkish and knowing when he looks at them. He’s dressed completely in black except for the sash that crosses his chest. That is the same violet as his wife’s cape and his son’s jacket.
Cinderella is prevented from curtsying by the way the Prince presses her hand against his arm. She bows her head as best she’s able, heart thundering in her chest. Somehow looking at the Queen and King reminds her of the rainbows in the meadow. They swim in her vision as if obscured by power.
“Hold your head high,” the Prince whispers to her. His breath is hot against the shell of her ear and when she glances at him out of her peripherals, his eyes are warm. “You’re with me.”
Cinderella has never been with someone. She’s always been trailing behind, packages in hand, or at their knee with a hairbrush and sewing kit in hand. Even as a little girl she was never with her parents. She always felt like she was a step behind them, watching as the distance between them grew into an ocean.
She doesn’t feel like that now. The Prince’s arm is warm under her fingers and the gaze of so many people makes her face hot even if she knows the Prince’s magic protects her from being recognized. Cinderella has never felt so keenly in her own skin as she does in this moment.
Cinderella pulls her shoulders back and looks right over every noble to the blooming mosaic on the other side of the hall.
Well done, the voice in the back of her head purrs. There’s satisfaction curling in Cinderella’s stomach that feels foreign and heavy. She likes standing tall. She likes feeling bold and confident. Very well done.
“I know I promised you champagne,” the Prince says. He waves his hand and the music begins to play again. The nobles don’t resume their dance right away, their eyes fixed on the Prince’s every move. Expectant? Hopeful? Envious? The Prince only has eyes for her. “But I am jealous your first dance wasn’t with me.”
“Perhaps if someone had been on time it would have been,” Cinderella says. The Prince snorts and Cinderella’s smile widens. “Your highness.”
The Prince leads her onto the dance floor. The band is gently coming together again, string instruments rising underneath the lonely flute, the pianist adjusting on their bench in preparation. The nobles part for them like water, sliding back into their places without a word.
The Prince comes to a halt in the center of the dancefloor. If he notices the way the nobles stare, it doesn’t seem to bother him. He slides his arm out from under Cinderella’s hand, but doesn’t relinquish it. He kiss the back of her hand and asks, “May I have this dance?”
Cinderella must be beet red. She breathes in through her nose and smiles on the exhale. “Yes.” Then, because he is her friend, “You’ll be the first to have a dance from me, if that makes you feel better. The rest only shared one with me.”
Does the Prince’s gaze soften? Candlelight catches in his eyes, setting them ablaze. “Having or sharing, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “As long as it’s with you.”
Cinderella is speechless. The Prince takes the opportunity to sweep them into their first dance together, one hand on her hip, the other still holding her hand aloft. She’s not ready or at all prepared for it and has to rely on his grip for support when she stumbles.
“Where on earth did you learn to talk like that?” Cinderella hisses. She kicks at his shin and scoffs when he evades it easily. “Ugh.”
“I’m fairly certain that’s not how this dance goes,” the Prince says, tone mild. He’s smiling when she turns her glare on him. He whispers, “You’ll need to be faster if you want to kick me.”
Laughter bubbles in her chest. Cinderella fights it down. “You’d better show me how this dance works before I give into the temptation.”
“My pleasure.”
Dancing with the Prince is better than any of the other dances, though she doesn’t think she can bear to tell him that when he’s grinning like he knows it. He doesn’t guide her like Cy, her first masked partner, pulling and navigating her through the steps like a teacher might. He doesn’t make it a competition like Iz did, doesn’t change the rhythm whenever she manages to catch up to his pace. He isn’t considerate like Morrigan, waiting for her to catch her breath after a particularly tricky step.
Dancing with the Prince is like…it’s like being in the meadow. It’s like laying underneath the oak tree and watching the sun through the leaves, his gentle voice in her ear and the feeling of his magic chasing the chill away. It’s the feeling of being together where anything she says or does will be welcome or celebrated.
She doesn’t know when the other dancers join them, but she notices when the Prince nearly runs into a pair. She neatly takes the lead, spinning them to avoid a collision. The Prince startles and then scowls.
“I would have noticed,” he says. His gaze is dark on the dancing couple as if he’d like to curse them for the near accident.
“But you didn’t have to,” Cinderella says. Somehow she knows he isn’t that irritated. She thinks about spinning him but decides against it. She’s never tried spinning her partner before and is afraid of throwing him into the swirls of skirts and tailcoats that now surround them. She follows him away from the couple who nearly collided with them, surrendering the lead easily. “I did.”
“You did,” the Prince says, an inscrutable look on his face. It only lasts for a moment before he’s quirking an eyebrow at her. “Another song?”
Cinderella doesn’t feel tired at all. “Yes.”
They dance.
-----.
The night is a dream.
Cinderella holds onto it even after the Prince escorts her back to the Emerald Castle, after Helga pulls the pins from her hair, after she gulps down water and fruit before climbing into bed. They never did manage to have a glass of champagne. Cinderella can’t bring herself to regret the missed opportunity.
I’ll just have to try it tomorrow, Cinderella thinks with a thrill. Tomorrow. She’s going to the ball tomorrow.
She danced with the Prince all night. He delighted in each song with her, always keeping up with her mood and inviting her into faster steps or higher leaps. They talked and they laughed and, looking back, they must have seemed like children to everyone else. Cinderella felt like a child, free and excited in a way that she hasn’t been allowed to be in a long time.
She closes her eyes and can’t wait for the Prince to come pick her up for the ball tomorrow.
-----.
The carriage lurches and jumps as it transitions from the smooth Royal Road to the rougher cobblestones of the royal town. The silent occupants seem to wake up from their stupors all at once, the jostling as good as cold water on a dreamer.
“Mother,” Drizella whines. She doesn’t understand what went wrong. She did everything her mother said to do! She curled her hair and wore her lilac dress and didn’t dance with anyone other than the Prince. Except— “He only danced with her all night!”
“I have never been so embarrassed,” Anastasia says. She bites her thumb. Visions of the woman in green spin across the back of her eyelids every time she blinks. “We wore the same color! How dare she?!”
Baroness Ramsey doesn’t answer her daughters. She promised herself when she married the Baron that she would never allow anyone to guess at her non-noble past through her conduct. So she lets her face remain impassive and thinks carefully before she speaks.
Inside she is seething.
“That woman was in the wrong,” the Baroness says at last. She lays her hands daintily over her lap. “A ball like this – well. It’s for all noble ladies, isn’t it? The Prince was meant to dance with others. I’m sure the King and Queen will talk with him tonight. Tomorrow…”
She trails off. Her girls misunderstand as she meant them to. They perk up at the mention of tomorrow and the idea that the Prince will be different then. Anastasia begins debating what jewelry she will wear to compliment her gown tomorrow, going over the pros and cons of each one (“That woman wore gold tonight and won’t tomorrow, so the gold necklace might be the safest choice. But the prince wore silver tonight and might again and if I wear silver we could match.”) while Drizella pulls at her curls, lost in the daydream of what tomorrow could bring.
Inside the baroness is not so sure.
“A second invitation will be sent to those the Prince has taken an interest in. Expect news by dawn.”
They are not high nobility. It is only through the baroness’ hard work and clever deals that they’re nobility at all. Perhaps it would be different if her husband were better at networking like her, but he’s not (if he’s still alive at all) so they have no advantage through title alone. Their only advantage lies in her daughters’ beauty being recognized and – thanks to that woman – that didn’t happen.
Maybe I was hasty to leave Cinderella at home, the Baroness muses. Cinderella would have caught the Prince’s eye. There’s always been something…unsettlingly compelling about that girl. To be honest, the Baroness has always been a little afraid of Cinderella. Even as a child she always seemed to look through the Baroness rather than at her. With her golden hair and odd, light eyes, Cinderella would have been enough to compete with the woman who had captured the Prince’s attention. Then, when the second invitation arrived, the baroness could have kept Cinderella away to leave the real work to her girls.
She eyes her daughters. No. She could not have chosen any differently. It’s been hard work ensuring her daughters never grew afraid of their strange stepsister. Imagine if they were forced to watch the prince be bewitched by her? The baroness was right to leave Cinderella at home, dressed plainly, rather than allow her daughters to see through the soot and rough clothing to the strange, menacing woman beneath.
“We will stay up all night until the invitation arrives,” the Baroness announces. She won’t be able to sleep anyway. “I want each of you to go over every detail of tonight. Who did you notice? What could you have improved on? We will need to be even better tomorrow.”
Anastasia and Drizella complain, but the Baroness tunes them out. She knows what’s best for her daughters. If she says that they need to go over noble greeting they say, every pin, every broach, every conversation, they will.
It will come, she tells herself. The Prince may not have noticed her daughters, but the Queen was certainly interested in them. She seemed particularly interested in Drizella. Perhaps she will be the one to choose the prince’s bride. Yes, that must be it. She was too attentive to my daughters for that not to be the case.
The second invitation will come. The carriage squeaks to a halt outside of their inn and the baroness waits impatiently for the coachman to open the door. Yes, her earlier concerns were born from anxiety. Obviously the Prince won’t choose his own bride. Clearly! He’s a prince and princes must marry based on their parents’ wills. She, a baroness, wouldn’t allow her daughters to choose their husbands. Certainly the Queen, a fellow noble mother, feels much the same.
Cheered, the Baroness doesn’t yell for the coachman to hurry up helping her daughters down from the carriage. Anastasia does it instead and her Capital accent is even beginning to sound convincing! Drizella nearly falls when the coachman supports her step down too weakly, but her recovery is much quicker than it would have been two years ago.
Yes, the baroness must not lose herself to anxiety. She’s raised her daughters well and that will all pay off when she sees one of them married to the prince. Perhaps she should talk to the Queen herself tomorrow? Mother to mother?
Yes, that’s the best plan. She’ll leave her girls to the business of catching the eye of the prince. If they prove successful, wonderful. If not?
The Baroness hides her smile. There’s a reason she came to the ball despite the invitation not including mothers of the potential brides.
-----------.
Three important invitations are delivered at dawn.
One is snatched by the Baroness who breathes a sigh of relief that she must hide from her daughters.
The second is handed to Helga who rolls her eyes at the redundancy and promises to deliver it to her charge once she wakes.
The third is delivered via raven to a lone man on the road on horseback. He holds his arm above his head as soon as he recognized the purple ribbon tied around the bird’s neck, barely flinching when its talons cut through his thin, traveling shirt.
“A summons?” the man asks. The bird does not answer. It takes off as soon as he unties the message from its leg. He flips the letter over to examine the seal. His stomach lurches. “From the Queen?”
He can’t ignore a letter from the Queen. With a sigh, the man turns his horse gently before even breaking the seal. The Queen only accepts replies in person. A bitterness coats his tongue.
Another letter has brought him back to his ancestral home. A very important letter from someone he’s been forced to leave alone too long. And now, barely four days’ ride from the sender, he’s forced to ignore her once again.
I’m coming, Cinderella. Just a little longer.
Baron David Ramsey has been away from home for too long.
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blingblong55 · 2 months
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Can't catch me now- Simon "Ghost" Riley
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Photo credits: @ave661 ---- No mentions of reader, angst, comfort? fluff? death of character ----
"GHOST!" 
It was too late, the body hit the ground. Simon Joseph Riley was pronounced dead. Gunshot to the head, his heart penetrated by the bullet and the ones to witness this are his mates from the team. His blood ran down the rocky mountain. The team witnesses something. During this whole mission, they only experienced rain and thunder, to their surprise, the second Simon dies, the sun shines through the clouds. A rainbow was born over the horizon. "Enjoy your new home, soldier," Captain Price nods at his own words as with glee he knows his comrade is finally home. "Take it easy," Gaz takes his cap on and looks at the sun that pours from the clouds. "Tell Soap we'll meet him for drinks someday," Price adds and fights back tears.
 It's the end of an era but the beginning of a good life for the two past comrades. 
Three days later, there he is, his body in that casket, a proper military funeral given to him and he is laid to rest with the rest of his family. 
Simon opens the door to his childhood home, the sun rays casting through the window, the walls grey and white "Welcome home, son," his mum greets him. There is confusion in Simon. Why was he here? is this a dream? Before he can even gather his thoughts, his brother, nephew and even his sister-in-law walk into the entryway and hug him. "Welcome home, brother," Tommy whispers as he hugs a confused Simon. 
Why is his dead family here? Welcome home! what does this mean?
Oh...
Oh by all luck, he's dead. 
"Mum?" 
"Yes, Simon?" the woman's sweet voice rings in his ears. 
All of a sudden, he is excited and happy. A smile creeps into his lips and there it was, that good feeling. He is home. His body doesn't ache, the scars are gone and all that is left with him is a smile and an afterlife where in this one, he finally has it all. 
"The girls are in the kitchen," his mum whispers. 
His wife and girls? There it is, that smile. He hasn't seen them since their funeral, this must mean he truly is in heaven. 
He walks past his mother and goes into the kitchen. The sight is too much to not just stop and idolise. His wife, his three daughters and those smiles and giggles. "Girls?" His voice is raspy. There is a knot in his throat. He is home with them too. "Daddy!" His youngest smiles and runs to him with her small arms open, his two other daughters follow suit. 
"Oh, my loves," his big arms wrapping over all of his daughters. Tears run down, happy ones. It's been two years since he last held them this way. "My lovie," Simon holds his arm out so his sweet wife can join this moment. That gentle and soft hand of hers, god it's like the heavens finally gave him peace. He sobs, it's uncontrollable and how can a man like him control such tears when after so long of losing his family...families to his job he finally has both? 
He gives kisses to all their foreheads. "Daddy, what took so long?" His eldest little princess asks. "I don't know princess, but I'm finally home," he reassures and hugs her again. Those tears run down yet again and he won't stop them. 
This is his heaven. The walls, the giggles, the hugs, and that familiar scent. Heaven is not clouds and a pearly gate for him, no, but it is this. A kitchen, his four loves, his mum, Tommy, Joseph and even Beth, everyone that has ever mattered to him is here and for once, he is in heaven. 
"Uncle Soap!" Joseph smiles. 
Soap?...Johnny?
"About time you came to the party, LT," Soap pats Simon's back. 
"Great to see you, mate." 
"Likewise. I held onto a good bottle for ya, yer girl won't let me open it though," Soap sends a teasing annoyed look at Simons's wife and a small chuckle escapes Simon. 
"She's a stubborn one, like yer, Lt." Soap teases. "I married her for a reason, isn't it right, love?" Simon can't help but smile as he gets to finally say that nickname again. "Very, Si." What a sweet delight, to have his pretty girl call him that again. 
"Price and Gaz joining?"
"Not yet, give them a few good years."
"Daddy, let's go play outside!" 
This is what he missed. The demands from his princess, the giggles, the big eyes and that pout when he would say no. "Okay, but only before your mum wipes that chocolate stain from your nose." He chuckles. "Deal," the little girl runs back to Simons's wife. 
From a corner, Simon sees Tommy. He's playing catch with his son, laughing at some dumb joke. 
It's beautiful. It's painfully beautiful how one can die on Earth but live in their heaven. 
One soldier dreams of this, they yearn for it and that is what Simon did for nearly 28 years. Now, all he has is this. No more war, no more aches, no one to chase. He can grow in this home again. He will live the life he always dreamed and right now, that is all he wants and needs. 
Yeah, you thought that this was the end
A/N: I honestly don't know where this was heading so....im sorry if it's shit
Tags:
@joyfulmarvelofavengers @ghostnna22 @hermizery @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed
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epicbuddieficrecs · 3 months
Text
Weekly Recap | December 19th-24th 2023
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Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you're all having a good time with your loved ones. You might get an extra rec this week as a treat! 😊
Complete
running in the dark (let the storms arise) by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (6x10: In A Flash | 2K | Teen): As Buck sleeps, Eddie dreams.
give it to someone special by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, Christmas | 12K | Mature): Buck and Eddie meet at the airport after their respective girlfriends live their Hallmark movie dreams and dump them right before Christmas.
I Couldn’t Stand the Person Inside Me I Turned All the Mirrors Around by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Hurt Buck, Established Buddie | 7K | General): The shattering sound of plates erupted in the air like a crack of thunder and Eddie’s gaze shot up from his phone. Something was wrong. It was a hair thin trigger that had been switched the moment he caught sight of his boyfriend and the whole world could’ve stopped for all Eddie knew. Buck was staring down at his hands, breathing way too fast, and drowning in some kind of panic that only he could see. “My hands won’t work,” Buck said so quietly.
🔥 Kink Club AU series by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, BDSM, Dom Eddie, Sub Buck | Complete | Explicit): Canon compliant one shots where Eddie works at a Kink Club as a side hustle and meets Buck there before his first shift in 2x01.
The Warmth (of You) (25K): aka where Buck and Eddie first meet at a kink club before the firehouse To Weather the Storm (With You) (21K): aka the fallout of Buck finding out the dom he met at a Kink Club is his new coworker Safe Here (With You) (20K): aka Buck and Eddie handle working a shift after their first scene The Building Pressure (of You) (15K): aka Buck reaches out to Eddie after he leaves Abby's place in 2x07 An Offer to Torment (You) (14K): aka Eddie is all twisted up inside about what to do with Shannon. Buck offers himself up for some much needed holiday stress relief.
🔥 to be found by ZainClaw/ @zainclaw (Werewolf AU | 71K | Mature): After being mistreated by his alpha for the last time, Buck abandons his pack and heads for the city where he’s found by Eddie - another werewolf who’s nothing like the ones Buck is used to. Eddie is gentle, kind, and has made a pack for himself and his son that Buck desperately wishes he could be a part of. (Part 1 of to be found (verse))
🔥 to belong by ZainClaw/ @zainclaw (Werewolf AU | 9K | Explicit): Reluctantly, Buck detaches himself from Eddie’s neck and lifts his head just enough for them to look at each other. Eddie’s eyes are dark even with the room bathing in sunlight, his pupils blown. His chest rises and falls at a quick pace, his cheeks flushed. Buck can’t help but lick his own mouth at the sight of Eddie’s kiss-bruised lips. I did that, he thinks. A few months ago he hadn’t even known how to kiss Eddie properly for the first time, and now he can do this. Can leave Eddie looking completely disheveled with just his mouth and hands, the sound of his fast thumping heart loud in Buck’s ears. It makes his chest swell with pride. (Part 2 of to be found (verse))
Christmas Lights by ZainClaw/ @zainclaw (Established Buddie, Christmas | 1K | Teen): “What are we looking at?” Eddie asks, his voice slightly muffled from where his cheek is resting against the top of Buck’s head. “The lights.” “Okay,” Eddie hums. “And what do we think about the lights?”
don't waste a dime on me by QuietLittleVoices/ @hawkeyefrommash (Established Buddie, Secret Relationship | 2K | Teen): Buck and Eddie attend the LAFD's Winter Charity Gala, where Buck is up for auction as a 'date with a real firefighter!'.
Pining. Get it? Like the Tree? by littlechivalry/ @jonlybonlyfromboldlygo (Christmas, First Kiss | 2K | General): Buck likes Christmas. Well, he likes the idea of Christmas.  Loved ones getting together. Generosity. The magic of the season. It's wonderful. The reality however, or at least the reality he's experienced? Not so much.
all I want for christmas by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Eddie has to work Christmas Eve and asks Buck to take him to the Buckley-Han Christmas dinner. Buck is happy to spend Christmas with Christopher, but being with his parents dampens the mood. It makes it worse when his mother questions his place in Christopher’s life. Luckily, Christopher knows Buck enough to see him hurting and has a plan to make him feel better. To show him who his real family are.
baby, you never lookеd better than you do in that ugly Christmas sweatеr by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Christmas, Getting Together | 7K | General): Buck mentions he always wanted his family to wear matching Christmas sweaters, but never got it - Eddie takes matters into his own hands.
Like The Cavemen Did by DeadlyChildArtemis (PWP, BDSM | 4K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie discover a new part of themselves.
🔥 still sitting in a corner i haunt by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel | 7K | Mature): Unable to imagine a scenario where acting on his feelings for Buck doesn’t end up with everybody hurt, Eddie rejects Buck. Before he can finish the conversation, Eddie is ripped from his time and hurtled into several, seemingly random moments from the future that help clarify his decision.
How Eddie Learned To Stop Worrying and Embrace the Kitten Life by DeadlyChildArtemis (PWP, BDSM | 7K | Explicit): Or, 5 times Eddie refuses to acknowledge his cat behavior and one time he does
All it took was one sniff by kas_delafere/ @janekburza (Incubus Buck, Werewolf Eddie | 1K | General): Buck’s been starving himself since Abby left. But the new hire in the station apparently took one look (one sniff, really) at him and decided Buck is The One.
and i feel just like i want to kiss you underneath my mistletoe by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Christmas | 9K | Teen): 5 times the team tries to get Eddie and Buck to kiss under the mistletoe and the 1 time they do. Kinda.
ain’t a drop of bad blood by grandpacat (Post-Lawsuit | 2K | General): Buck cries, Eddie apologizes, Eddie cries, Buck apologizes. Post-lawsuit canon divergence.
Hearth by grandpacat (Post-S6 | 6K | Mature): In which Marisol finds out about Eddie's will and isn't happy, Eddie has some realizations, and all the important conversations happen in the kitchen.
Brain Machine Broke by grandpacat (Getting Together, Post-S6 | 1K | General): Buck sees Eddie holding Jee-Yun and his brain breaks.
You and Me Here (underneath the mistletoe) by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Christmas, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): It’s fine. It’s just a kiss under the mistletoe. It’s a Christmas tradition, and in this case, just a joke. Not a big deal. He can play along – his only other choice is being weird about it, which sounds too much like revealing his feelings. So, he swallows it down and looks at Eddie who is still standing frozen, staring up at the mistletoe hanging above them. Buck forces an easy smile. “C’mon, I’m not that bad,” he jokes. The tension in Eddie’s shoulders lessens a little and he laughs softly. “No. No you’re not,” he admits. “So, what do we do?” Buck shrugs, trying to remain casual. “I guess we just suck it up and French a little.”
Bottled Poetry by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Fake Relationship, Valentine's Day | 7K | Teen): Buck and Eddie take a platonic trip to a winery and everyone assumes they're a couple. Eddie pines.
Home is Just Another Word for You by Bob_loblaws_lawblog/ @buddierights (Christmas, Different First Meeting AU | 10K | General): Eddie misses his flight home to his son on Christmas Eve, and just so happens to get stuck with the handsome man who sprinted across the airport with him.
Dance the Night Away by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting | 7K | Mature): "Just promise me something, okay?" Eddie is brought around to the present, blinking as he wraps his hand around his beer bottle and nods for Ricky to go on, even though he's already half-sure of what's about to happen. "You have to rescue that poor boy over there." Ricky nods over Eddie's left shoulder, and Eddie, even though he knows better, finds himself twisting, hip cocked against the low bar, to follow Ricky's line of sight toward the cluster of round tables in the corner of the room.
Please Don't Wake Me Up by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Incubus Eddie | 11K | Explicit): "You've been having wet dreams about me." And shit. Fucking fuck. That was not what Eddie had wanted to start with. But the words are out in the open, and Buck is gaping at him, jaw damn near on the floor as he's frozen, blinking quickly and processing what Eddie's just said. "You- how- did Chimney tell you?"
Cat Scratch Fever by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Cat Hybrid Buck, PWP, Established Buddie | 3K | Explicit): When another cat hybrid on a call accidentally gets Buck hyped on pheromones, Eddie's there to take care of him.
When the Lost are Found by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Soulmates AU | 3K | General): When everyone seems to have a better soulmate identifying system, Buck can't help but consider his own to be lackluster. How's he meant to find his soulmate with loose change and mismatched socks after all?
Capture Something by ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Percy Jackson Fusion | 3K | Teen): "Let's see," Buck counts off on his fingers, "he just broke up with his girlfriend. He lives in Texas while I'm in Pennsylvania. We have no evidence he's even interested in boys, and, oh yeah!" Buck fake gasps as though this last point has just come to him, "he's an Ares kid."
WIP
They don’t know (your name is already mine) by thewolvesof1998/ @thewolvesof1998 (Post-S6, Secret Relationship, Hurt Buck | 3/4 | 7K | General): Buck gets in a car accident on Christmas Eve Eve and the only ID he has on him is Eddie's dog tags. A case of mistaken Identity, a trip to the hospital and a Christmas Surprise.
Packing Light by devirnis/ @devirnis(Last Holiday AU, Christmas | 1/4 | 8K | Teen): The discovery that he has a terminal illness prompts Buck, who has been stagnating as a sales associate at Kelly’s Department Store, to withdraw his life savings and jet off to Europe. There, he lives like a millionaire at the luxury hotel where his sister works. The only one missing from his new life is his coworker and longtime crush, Eddie Diaz.
Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 19/? | 13K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.
a foundation of trust and love we cannot see by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (FWB, BDSM, Sub Eddie, Dom Buck | 1/17 | 12K | Explicit): “It’s like I want to explore it and dive into it, but it’s not exactly like I’m seeing someone to try this all out with,” he explains, doing his best to keep down the annoyed huff that threatens to escape him at every other word. Buck nods to himself before steadily going silent. For a minute, Eddie thinks that this is the end of their conversation. “I can show you if you’d like.” Eddie nearly chokes on his beer.
🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 89K | 20/? | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.
🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 15K | 6/? | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.
Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 41/54 | 78K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.
42. Head Empty Just Vibes : Rated G - just more of me being obsessed with the possibilities of Eddie's recovery and Buck being there for him. 43. Phantom Sensation : Rated T - just to be on the safe side for blood and trauma and such. Yet another post-shooting "Buck stays over and helps Eddie recover" ficlet.
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xjustakay · 19 hours
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✺ (3/27) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: birthday — 1,009 words (jegulus dads ft. harry; sugary waffles and a very happy birthday for the world’s greatest dad —love, harry and regulus)
“Shhh, we have to keep quiet, darling,” Regulus whispers, shooting Harry an amused look.
Harry cups both hands around his mouth, whispers between them, “Sorry, papa.”
With a quiet snort, Regulus ruffles the mess of his dark hair —made even worse by the fact that they’ve only been awake and out of bed for all of thirty minutes. Getting ready for the day had been put on hold in favor of tiptoeing around the kitchen, being as quiet as humanly possible for a five year old who’s over-excited to make his dad waffles for his birthday. Regulus is under no illusion that James is actually still sleeping in their bed, but they’ll both pretend for the sake of their son.
“Should we put whipped cream on top?” Regulus suggests as he drops the fresh waffle onto a plate.
Harry nods hurriedly. “And rainbow sprinkles, and a cherry! Like a sundae!”
“Of course,” Regulus chuckles.
He follows the little boy’s giggled instruction, allowing Harry to be the one that tells him when to finally stop piling the whipped cream on (there’s more whipped cream than there is waffle, by that point). Regulus hands off the shaker of sprinkles, lets Harry take that over as well. In the middle of watching him, he notices his phone light up on the counter. Reaching for it and finding a message notification on the screen, his lips curl upward.
How bad is it?
Regulus eyes the mountain of whipped cream on top of the thick waffle on the plate. Harry has taken it upon himself to try to cover every inch of the sugar pile with rainbow sprinkles, tongue poked out between his teeth in concentration. It’s the same thing James unconsciously does while deeply focused and it warms something in Regulus’ chest to see it.
He snaps a quick, secret photo, unnoticed by the boy, and sends it off with no comment. The moving dots of a reply show up near-immediately.
Say goodbye to my abs, I guess
Regulus laughs a touch too loudly at the message, startling Harry out of his focus. With a furrowed brow, Harry lifts a hand, holding a finger to his mouth and shushing him.
“Too loud, papa,” He admonishes.
“Sorry, darling,” Regulus mutters, a grin unchanging from his face. “Maybe we’re finished with the sprinkles, yeah?”
Harry nods his head but continues shaking the container over one last section of the plate until he’s satisfied. He plops a bright red cherry on top of the colorful, sugary mess, then wide green eyes are looking up at Regulus.
“Do we have birthday candles?”
Regulus nods. “In the drawer by the sink.”
Before he can move to retrieve them, Harry scrambles off his stool and goes to do it for him. He comes scurrying back over, holding up the package for Regulus to take.
“How old is daddy now, papa?”
“He’s just turned thirty today,” Regulus answers, voice purposefully louder than moments before.
Exactly as expected, his phone buzzes with another message shortly after his voice carries from the kitchen.
Quit smiling about it
Regulus laughs quietly to himself, sends back a quick ‘never’ and tucks his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. Despite Harry’s suggestion to try to fit all thirty candles on the melting pile of whipped cream, Regulus talks him down to just three. They’re very carefully situated and lit, Regulus balancing the plate on his palm to carry it down to the bedroom. Harry rushes ahead, feet thumping hurriedly on the hardwood before he pushes the door open.
James, bless him, is in fact pretending to be asleep still. His phone sits set aside on the nightstand, his arm tossed over his face where he’s sprawled dramatically in the center of the bed. Harry creeps around the side, tiptoeing once again and glancing back at Regulus behind him.
“Should we wake him?” Harry whispers.
James chooses that precise moment to make a loud snoring sound that send Harry clapping both little hands over his mouth to stifle his laugh. Regulus smiles widely, fond gaze flickering back and forth between his husband and his son. Harry looks at him expectantly once again and waits for a nod of approval before clambering up onto the bed.
He’s poised to pounce right on his father, wake him up enthusiastically, but before he’s given the chance, James jolts upright toward him with a playful roar. Harry squeals loudly, losing himself in a fit of giggles when he’s scooped into James’ arms, relentless fingers tickling at his sides.
“Papa, help!” Harry shrieks between peals of laughter.
“Papa can’t help you now,” James threatens jokingly. 
Regulus snorts, shaking his head. “Okay, lit candles here, let’s settle for a minute, yeah?”
James finally gives Harry a reprieve, both of them breathless and pink in the face. Harry flops onto his back between James’ outstretched legs, the bedsheet tangled around one thick thigh and the opposite calf. James makes a ‘bring it here’ motion with his hand and Regulus steps forward, carefully perching on the side of the bed nearest to the two of them. Harry hauls himself into a sitting position, watching eagerly as Regulus holds the plate out in front of where James sits.
“You have to make a birthday wish, daddy!” Harry tells him.
“What, you’re not going to sing to me?” James replies.
“No,” Regulus says immediately, earning a loud laugh from his husband. “Blow out your candles, the whipped cream is melting.”
James sneers at him but adjusts his lopsided glasses to stare at the flickering candle flames. His hazel eyes dart to Harry in front of him, then to Regulus at his left. A wide smile stretches across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes, helpless adoration bright in his gaze.
He locks eyes with Regulus for a long moment, the two sharing a fond, knowing look. James doesn’t have to say a thing for Regulus to know what he’s thinking; what else is there to wish for, when this is what life looks like?
138 notes · View notes
tteokdoroki · 1 year
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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— count to five + mirio togata.
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૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — when your job as your teacher takes you halfway across japan, you don’t expect a little boy and his father to change your life nearly as much as they do. or the five times in which you encounter mirio togata and his son, yoshi.
⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, single-parenthood, mention of hospitals, mentions of reader being smaller than mirio, unprotected sex, rough sex, exhibitionism, choking, dacryphilia, auralism, scratching, biting, creampie, squirting, fingering ( f!receiving ), praise!kink, daddy!kink, size!kink - fem!reader, teacher!reader, single-dad!mirio.
⭑ words — 6.3K.
⭑ notes — hi !!! it’s been a while! thank your being patient with me! here’s a little commission written for the lovely @roses-and-whisky who has given me permission to post. i hope you all enjoy !! - m.list ✩
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the first time you meet mirio togata, it’s oddly warm for the season— the usual bite to a late autumn’s day nowhere to be found. sunshine beats down on your back, only adding to the heat simmering and rushing through your body as you work to unload moving boxes from the van you’d hired. though, you’re sweaty, and tired from hours of travelling across the cities of Japan, you’re excited for your fresh start. a degree hanging from your belt, plenty of experience behind you— the world is now your oyster.
cardboard filled with knickknacks and memories from your parents, childhood and all your school years sits heavy in your palms before you place it on the sidewalk— knowing that your host in this city will help you move into the gated community nearby, a room with your name painted into the blank white walls already set up for you. 
“thas’a cool snow globe!” a childish, boy-ish voice squeaks from beside you once you’ve set the box down— daring to tug your gaze upwards to meet a child who perhaps embodies the same sunshine that’s giving you warmth today. his eyes are a brilliant blue, gaps in his teeth where his adult ones just about break through the gums. the boy points a finger tip covered in blue marker, no doubt, towards the trinket in your box with glimmering matching eyes. 
smiling softly, you take it out of your box, thumbing the embossed logo of your university before shaking it and handing it to the tiny blonde. “isn’t it?” you whisper to him like you’re sharing a secret, leaning in real close and cupping his hands in your own. they’re warm. “if you hold it up to the sky, just right…” you add, pushing your hands upward with his to hold the snow globe under the sun. “the light catches on the glitter inside, making a snowy little rainbow!”
“woaaaah! that’s even cooler!” 
the boy grins, eyes scintillating like the pearlescent flecks mixed into the water of your snow globe— little bits of white covering the two happy caricatures stuck inside. 
“yoshi! how many times do i have to tell you not to run ahead, buddy?” the little boy, that you now know as yoshi, freezes in place— candescent azure eyes shooting over to his father as if he’s been caught in the act. he knows they’ll be late for swimming if they don’t keep walking…but your snow globe is just so cool. if you thought the kid was bright, the man before you is even brighter…the centre of your solar system, a warm heart lodged between his two juicy pecs and a chiselled jaw. he looks like he’s walked straight out of a movie, sending your brain into a tizzy. 
he’s stunning and your words come out jumbled as you address him. “is he yours?” you ask, body struck with the heat of the pro hero before you, the sun above you too. 
you feel a bit silly for asking the question, the uncanny resemblance between the two becoming even more obvious— as with the fact that it’s lemillion you’re talking to. the elder blonde’s hearty laughter echoing between you both on the side of the street. “yes, he’s mine. all my own flesh and blood,” mirio responds proudly. you’ve always loved children, but you never thought the pro hero would have one of his own.
and you never thought you’d wanted to mother someone’s children as much as you did his. mirio togata, desirable, handsome and good with kids. 
“introduce yourself buddy, be polite.” 
the little boy nods eagerly, bowing to you with respect after beaming at you warmly. “i-i’m yoshi togata! nice ta’meet you ma’am!” 
you giggle and mirio grins. you’re cute, endearing almost— and he finds himself laughing with you.
“it’s lovely to meet you too, yoshi,” you reply, sticking your hand out to shake his tinier one as you give them both your name kindly. 
sweet, just like you. mirio likes the way you interact with his son. he likes you, so far.
before mirio can introduce himself back, the driver in your mover’s van honks loudly. “move it lady! i’m not waitin’ out here for you all day or i’m uppin’ the price of your service.” you give the pair an apologetic look in response, offering a high five to yoshi and a shy wave to his dad, scurrying off to finish unloading the van. 
and mirio watches you go, for more than one reason.
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the second time you encounter mirio togata, is after a disaster— his very reason for existence, his sunshine, little yoshi, nearly loses his light. 
you had always wanted to teach. nurturing children into the faces of tomorrow was your calling— guiding them to be good and help others without question…and as it turns out, the graduate teaching position you’d been hired for took in a lot of students who were the children of pro heroes, and the little blonde raised by his almost identical father just so happened to be a student in your kindergarten class. yoshi togata had taken an instant liking to you as his teacher, a child-like wonder akin to magic from fairy tales emitting from the little boy whenever you looked at him, helped him along in reading and solving calculations in the dreaded maths classes. 
yoshi absolutely adored you. 
he wanted to sit with you at lunch time, tucked himself into your side during nap time and screamed your name the first time his quirk ever activated. as much as the darling boy looked like pro hero lemillion— his quirk was scarily similar to it as well.
yoshi wails the whole way to the hospital, the lack of air he received after slipping through the concrete in the school yard while scraping his knee, a little beyond the school nurse’s jurisdiction. you’d already gotten someone to cover your class, speeding to the nearest emergency room with hope that someone had alerted his father of the situation.
when mirio arrives, yoshi’s cheeks are luckily smeared with chocolate pudding cups instead of saltine tears and he’s surprisingly cheerful for a kid attached to a small IV drip— dressed in his own red-riot themed hospital gown, with you resting beside the bed in his ward.
“how ya feelin’ buddy?” lemillion whispers, tone on the edge of worry as he slips off the cape to his hero costume. “heard you got your quirk today.” 
the bouncing baby boy with sunshine in his eyes shuffles onto his knees, wobbling over the edge of his bed before being snatched up by his dad, bright laughter bubbling on his lips when he nearly slips through the beefy man’s arms. “uh huh! an’ miss got me puddin’ cups! said i was real brave.” 
“you were kid, but we gotta get this quirk under control! dad’s gonna have to teach ya!”
togata turns to you next, appreciation evident on his matured features— radiating around you warmly. “h-he really was brave,” you say sincerely, sitting up and a little more awake now the pro hero of your dreams is looking deep into your soul. “i was so worried! but yoshi behaved just like a pro.” you cringe a little at your choice of words, but the strapping blonde before you only takes your hand, lips brushing across the back of your knuckles in such a way that tingles run down your spine. 
sapphire orbs flick upwards to make yours as you feel the heat of the sun simmering underneath your cheeks. 
“thank you for looking out for him,” he says, voice cheerful and like honey in your ears. “i never got to properly introduce myself, even after all this time. i’m—“
“lemillion, i-i know.” 
“mirio. togata, actually. and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” mirio cuts you off but the gentle smile never leaves his handsome face, and you’re sure you might pass out— embarrassed by his forwardness and flirting in front of his son, your student ( who’s too occupied by pudding cups and old cartoon reruns to actually care. ) 
there’s a knock to the door before it opens as the two of you share a moment. “mrs…togata and lemillion, sir! i have an update on your son’s vitals and quirk—“ suddenly, the doctor enters the room like a hurricane disrupting a quaint little farm.
and you jump back from the pro hero, bashful and shy. “o-oh! no. i’m not…we’re not!” gesturing between yourself and mirio, you shake your head— trying to dispel any wedded-couple vibes the pair of you might give off. “i’m just the teacher.” 
the doctor raises a brow, looking up from his sheets on the young togata’s vitals and then hums. “my apologies then,” he turns to mirio. “your son seems to be doing extremely well— considering the circumstances and shock to his body he must’ve experienced….” 
the doctor’s words fade into nothing but static as you attempt to calm your beating heart— sending reassuring smiles in yoshi’s direction from time to time while his father and the medical expert discuss the next steps to take regarding his quirk. 
but you don’t think you’ll get your heart to calm down tonight… not with the way mirio still holds your hand, thumb brushing over the back of it fondly.
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your third memorable encounter with mirio togata falls on the day of your school’s winter fundraiser. 
lemillion had made himself a permanent fixture in your humble little life as a teacher—somehow acquiring your number from the school offices to constantly text you throughout the day. you knew that the pair of you were crossing the boundaries of professionalism, parent and teacher, but it couldn’t be helped. your heart fluttered at every message you exchanged, pictures of yoshi enjoying himself at school and some of mirio on patrol being sent back and forth. 
and so, you were beyond excited when the winter fate rolled around, the children of your class volunteering with their parents to help out at different stalls— yoshi had been sure to sign up to help you with the bake sale, roping in his dad as well. the two stayed up all night prior, baking pro hero themed cupcakes decorated with hundreds and thousands and dollops of tubed colourful frosting to sell, though messy, it only warmed your heart having their company.
“remember yoshi, i don’t want you phasing through the tables to steal the merchandise from the bake sale!” you remind the younger togata sweetly as he helps you set up the various baked goods for display. he shakes his head in affirmation, golden curls bouncing over ocean eyes and freckled cheeks despite the crumbs residing on them— evidence of his crimes. “though, i’m sure your dad will boost our donations! since he’s a pro hero and all.” not to mention all the mothers and single teachers are ogling the hell out him right now, you’re sure that they’re plotting your murder too. 
wiping yoshi’s mouth, you shift your attention to his father— rolling your eyes amusedly at the bags under his own from staying up late to bake. “i certainly must be givin’ you an ego boost helping out too, having a pro hero do all your dirty work.” lemillion teases, voice lowered and husky— though grateful when you pass him a hot coffee. 
“oh please mister togata,” turning on your own flirty charm, you send a wink the pro hero’s way. “you adore being my little helper, i’m sure you’ve missed having a woman boss you about like you need.” the second half of your words are whispered, almost sultry as you cross more boundaries in your unique and blossoming relationship. 
mirio flushes, and in the tight space of your bakesale booth— presses his broad and molten-warm chest against your back, coffee in one hand while the other sits in a calculated manor on your hip. 
“oh, i do love a woman in charge, miss.” the way he utters your name, sounds like and is as sweet as melted chocolate— far too risqué for a school fundraiser, and it’s your turn to shy away from the heat of the moment. 
you allow yourself to be distracted by the children, yoshi included — who must have snuck off using his quirk— playing dangerously close to a heavily decorated Christmas tree that threatens to topple over as they weave around beneath it, and rush off to stop them— leaving the darling lemillion to deal with a swarm of hungry mothers and staff, desperate for a slice of his pie and not the cake your booth has to offer. he can’t help but watch you longingly, the way you bend down to speak soft to the children, holding their chubby little hands while giving them a gentle reprimand. 
you’re so good with kids, good with yoshi— and mirio would be lying if he didn’t say you were good with him too. 
you didn’t judge him for having a child before marriage, when he was still making a name for himself— you were kind to him, sweet and oh so understanding. 
and perhaps he’d come to like you for reasons more than just being good with his son.
though his fantasises of having you close, having you to himself and making you a part of his family are promptly cut short by the intrusion of his long time friend…izuku midoriya. when the number one, his competion from way back when, seems to appear from nowhere— joining you with the now squealing children, giving them a lesson ( no doubt ) on how to be a good hero. or some mushy crap like that. 
you seem impressed, smitten at how good deku is with your students, ruffling their hair and holding them up high above the green ringlets that make everyone go crazy…including you. mirio doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up brighter than those on the Christmas tree as izuku plays with your kids, puts his hand on the small of your back and whispers way too damn close to your ear. 
since when did that shrimp have moves? the blonde can’t help but wonder. why do you like him so much?
your smile is near blinding when you return back to the bake sale booth with izuku on your arm— rambling about how much it took to get him to come, how good for the school it will be… as if togata hadn’t been standing right there the entire time. it bothers mirio a little bit, just how bright you shine when this other man is around, despite the budding romance you both might be sharing. 
so he really can’t help himself, jealousy boiling over, when he blurts out. “are you two dating? am i missing something, number one?” in a strained, faux happy voice. 
“o-oh! god no!” 
“w-what? mirio no! midoriya is my cousin.” you’re quick to dismiss the idea, shaking your head while the number one hero turns bright red. “i invited him along today because he’s obviously a hit amongst single parents— freckles like this are sure to bring in the big bucks.” you cheer, punching your relatives star spotted cheeks. 
izuku is rendered embarrassed for the remainder of the fundraiser, mirio absolutely mortified and you extremely amused but the rest of the bake sale goes without a hitch until closing and clean up time. yoshi sleeps on a bench behind your booth ( ultimately crashing from a sugar high ) as your cousin serves the very last of your eager customers trying to tempt him with their cookies instead of buying the ones izuku‘s girlfriend makes for a living.
as though not to disturb his sleeping son, the elder blonde shoots you a quick text.
mister togata - 5:45PM : I definitely was not jealous earlier. 
mister togata - 5:46PM : So pls disregard me making a fool out of myself in front of your cousin.
you stifle a breathless chuckle like music to mirio’s ears, before looking back to see if yoshi is still resting peacefully and shoot another text in response.
yoshi’s pretty teacher lady - 5:49PM : oh i dunno, don’t think i can forget you mistaking my cousin for my boyfriend. 
yoshi’s pretty teacher lady - 5:49PM : but maybe i can make an exception for you. 
that familiar crack of heat flitters in the air when you both look up from your phones and catch one another’s gaze— suddenly aware of how small the space in booth is, how close you both are…how if you stood on your tiptoes you might be able to…
to kiss him.
to kiss one another.
but the moment is soon lost, wanting energy dissipating within the air as yoshi stirs to mumble tiredly. “don’ get too close to daddy miss!” the baby boy utters your name once, rubbing his eyes. “he’s got cooties.”
it’s only then that you truly realise how close you to the man…to this pro hero whose son is someone that you teach. it’s wrong, unprofessional… and losing your career isn’t worth kissing togata, no matter how much you want it.
so you back away— treating mirio togata as if he really does have cooties, putting up a wall between you both.
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the fourth time you cross paths with mirio togata, you’re wet. 
and not because of him. 
the rain from an unexpected storm after work soaks you to the bone as you desperately call out to deku from your shared front porch— pleading and begging with the gods for him to be home since you’d forgotten your house keys back at your office on campus. 
neither of you had realised it at the time, but when you’d first met mirio on your move-in date— you’d made arrangements to bunk with your cousin, izuku, in the same gated community that mirio lived in. the one where he just so happened to be neighbours with the top hero too. 
the sunshine-like pro hero had spotted you shivering like a purse dog outside while home with a sickly little yoshi and despite the frosty awkwardness that built up between you both after the bake-sale, mirio knew it would be cruel of him to just leave you outside like that. “come inside,” he frowns, as if to scold you the same way you’d do with your students. “you’ll catch a cold like this if you don’t. and i’m not taking no for an answer, deku is on patrol, won’t be home until late.” 
you look defeated, like a kicked puppy as you trudge into the togata household, clothes heavy with water. “i’m sorry,” you pout, as cute as ever— stealing mirio’s heart right from where it beats in his chest. 
“don’t be, head upstairs and take the first right into my room. you can grab a change of clothes and stay here until your cousin comes home. i’ll fix you something to eat.” 
it has the man’s stomach in knots how easily you follow his command, how beautiful you look with raindrops clinging to your skin. you’re even more so when you come back down dressed in an old sir night-eye shirt of his, heading over to join a pleased yoshi on the couch who can’t stop talking about how how he hated missing school and being sick and how glad he is that you came to visit.
yoshi trusts you so much, and that’s more than enough to drive mirio insane…but seeing you in his shirt too? it’s icing on the cake. 
the rest of the evening is spent with you making funny shaped homemade pizzas with the younger togata and picking a book for him while his father and lemillion draws him a bubble bath. after washing up, you read yoshi the story until his eyes droop… and you can’t help but be a little jealous of how long his golden lashes are as they brush the freckles on his chubby cheeks. mirio spends that time avoiding eye contact, staring at your bottom when it peeks out from under his shirt and thinking of you in the most unholy ways.
when the time comes, you tuck the darling yoshi into his dinosaur and suneater themed sheets alongside his father before letting the elder togata guide you to the guest bedroom just one floor up and two doors down from his own. “sleep tight,” you murmur to the man, just a breath’s width apart in the doorway. “i-i’ll head back to midoriya’s in the morning. s-so thank you for tonight…”
he wants to say thank you back, for spending time with his son and teaching him so well, but lemillion’s words are lost on the way you look up at him with such bright doe eyes and a sleepy sweet smile. you chuckle breathlessly and slip away into the room, leaving mirio a flustered statue in place. 
neither of your nights end there, however.
crossing the lines of professionalism once more, surrounded by all of his scents— hazelnuts and burning wood…you’re overcome with desire, there’s a familiar twitch between your thighs and a throb at your clit that you have to soothe. every neuron in your brain screams at you to stop, though your fingers circle your nub from over the crotch of your panties and thoughts of mirio above you, inside of of you and all over you ebb at your moral judgement. 
it’s wrong, to moan mirio’s name into his sheets that smell like him…for you cunt to drool selfishly through your night clothes against the warm blanket he’d provided you with. the blonde hears you through the paper thin walls, cock swelling more and more with every mewl you let out. ones that are promised to him and him alone. 
mirio chokes on groans, fists his cock and spreads his precum all over his expensive bed linen, humping his duvet as he imagines your supple, heated flesh beneath him. you’re like the sun, pulling him into your orbit and incinerating him from the inside out. he calls your name like it’s a prayer, half hoping you can hear his wanton for you echo across the hall, too busy jacking off to burst into your room and pump you full. make you a mother to his second and third child. 
it’s far from appropriate, the pair of you getting off to one another in the middle of the night like this— but neither of you can think to stop, minds clouded by lust and orgasms that breach the horizon of the early morning… the tastes of each other’s names like sins on your tongues.
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the filth and final time you encounter mirio togata like this, you’re like a lamb being sent to the slaughter.
pretty prey walking into the lion’s den.
you learn from yoshi during pick-up time that his father had fallen sick with the winter’s cold…explaining why you hadn’t seen him much between the special encounters after your night of sin. suneater— or mister amajiki, a close friend of the togatas, picks up yoshi under the guise of a play date while mirio recovers from a particularly serious cold and flu he caught on patrol. 
“you should go see daddy!” yoshi babbles before bounding down to his uncle’s car. “he calls out for you a lot!” the cluelessness yet enthusiasm of a child will never cease to amaze you, and you have to control your stutter when hesitantly agreeing with your student. you know why mirio calls your name so much, that night hadn’t been the only time you’d gotten off to one another, nor would it be the last. you’d even walked in on the pro hero fisting his cock with your name wet on his tongue but neither of you had said a word at the time. 
once all of your students have been sent off with their parents and carers, you make sure to swing by the closest mart to make somewhat of a care package for mister togata. some cough drops, cold medicine, heating pads for his hands and several tins of soup— all with the hope of helping him feel better. 
you’re not nearly prepared for the sight you’re given when knocking on mirio’s door later on.
he says your name as soon as he opens up, hoarse and almost sultry,, and the man is half naked too— golden skin radiating with heat, coruscating with sweat and a slight flush from the fever. “fuck, pretty girl. you’ve come t’take care of me, hm?” mirio slurs in a slow and sexy way, swaying on his feet and collapsing onto you right on the front porch. “wha’d’are ya doin’ here gorgeous?” 
embarrassment floods your veins, tangling with the heat burning from mirio against you. “l-lets get you inside, you’re sick.” 
“lovesick, baby, been missin’ you all week.” 
his words shouldn’t send your brain into a flurry as you push the pro hero back into his house but they do. you struggle with avoiding how he slobbers all over you like a horny dog, how he smirks cockily  while you push him to sit against the livingroom couch. “we need to bring down this fever,” dismissing the blonde, you rush to his kitchen for a tall glass of water and boil the kettle to make him one of those medicated hot drinks. “you’ll be better soon, mister togata.”
blinking over at you with reddened lined eyes, lemillion keeps a predatory gaze on you despite how ill he is. “using formalities with me, sunshine?” he coos in response, distracted when you return by attempting to tug off more of his clothes…or his pants, rather. “that’s not what you were calling me the other night when you phoned to let me watch you shove your tiny fingers into that tight…pretty pussy…moaning my name—“ 
“mirio!” 
“just like that gorgeous… fuck, say it again, baby.” you know that the man is delirious with his flu, but the low voice he drops deep, dripping with honey, filling you with that familiar lust you got off on whenever the two of you met up in secret. “‘mirio, m-mirio…oh fuck! mirio!’ you get so cute when you whine for me like that.” he’s playing you for a fool and you’re falling for it— like an easy game of cat and mouse, mirio coyly flirting with you as you desperately try to keep his sweatpants on. bundling him up in blankets and filling him up with cold water to calm down his fever. 
you’re about to check his temperature again while pressing the back of your hand to his forehead when large and calloused hands grip the fat at your hips— tugging you straight into mirio’s lap like a lion dragging around its prey before the kill. “d-doesn’t look like you’re hot anymore…” you squeak, quivering in his grip and feeling every ripple of his thighs and abs beneath your fingertips as you steady yourself against him. 
“fever went down ages ago baby,”  he grins, all toothy and pearly white— pinching your waist, slender fingers cupping the curve of your ass to pull you back and forth over the growing bulge in his lap. “you’re just so fucking cute, dotin’ all over me, sunshine.” biting your lip, you fall apart easily— bearing witness to tousled golden locks and a smirk that sets a fire alight in your lower belly. “you wanna kiss me, don’t you?” 
then you’re nodding your head, any logical thought cleared from your mind ( even the ones about not spreading germs that you usually tell to your students )— you want to know what the sun tastes like, if it’s as warm or as hot as science makes it seem. a heavy hand cups your throat without squeezing and brings you down for a passionate lip lock, your own finding the thick tresses of light and fiery hair as mirio’s tongue glides over the seam of your lips after pressing against yours. you moan at the sweet taste of honey and ginger on his lips, whimper in the form of begging for the man to let you in and consume you whole until you’re nothing but stardust.
neither of you part, lungs burning for oxygen like you’re lost in space with no air to breathe— grinding and kissing like your lives depend on it. everything is sloppy, spit-slicked and full of the admissions of feelings— you like each other. need each other like the earth needs its light and the sun needs something to shine down on. mirio sucks on your bottom lip, takes it between his teeth and slowly pulls away from you, but you follow him, chasing your own personal ecstasy. 
“so needy, sunshine,” mirio coos, a certain deep rasp caught in the ridges of his throat. “so pretty like this too, so cute, all small in my lap. with my hands around your darlin’ little neck.” cobalt eyes, as luminous as the skies on a clear day flicker up to meet yours, swimming with tears of desperation— a craving for more of mirio togata carved into each fleck, drowning your dilated pupils. “do you want me to fuck you?” 
you nod again, the world around you spinning and your thoughts intoxicated with the golden boy hero beneath your thighs that tremble with each compliment he feeds to you. “yes— god, please.” 
“please, what?” togata asks you, voice stern as he works on pulling you out of the layers of your clothes— blouse and bra gone before you can even register it. 
pouting, you whisper a needy. “m-mirio?” 
shaking his head as if chastising a child, the man tuts and mocks your pout all while working on plucking off your skirt next, leaving you in nothing but your innocent cotton panties. “that’s daddy when i’m with you,” he tells you like it’s a promise with his fingers once again fumbling between your bodies and underwear to toy with the pearl between your puffy pussy lips, dragging the newfound wetness over your clit. clear strings of your arousal seep through your panties and leave a dark spot on his sweats. “daddy, when i have you like this, you got that?”
“y-yes,” you mewl eagerly, shifting on your knees so you’re better spread over mirio’s lap— giving him better access to prep your sweet hole as it flutters around his thick digits, earning a breathless chuckle from his wet lips. “yes, daddy.” 
“good fucking girl,” he says proudly, gaze fixated on between your pretty thighs— watching you quiver from the praise before mirio relents, easing two fingers past your soaked entrance and scissoring them immediately. stretching you wide to take his girthy cock. “oh fuck, my little sunshine’s so warm, so wet for me.” he groans, drawing his name against your silken walls, thumb painting wide sloppy circles into your clit.
your face feels hot with tears, something that mirio enjoys seeing, especially when they clump in your eyelashes. “please…i want more,” i want you. is what you mean, nails lightly cutting into mirio’s shirtless shoulders as you ride the digits pumping in and out of your slick cunt, squeezing tight around them as you gush into the seat of his palm. “d-daddy!” 
“shhh, i know little sunshine, daddy knows,” he hums softly after pressing down on your g-spot, carefully pulling his fingers out of you to push you onto your back on the couch. “be good f’me and don’t cum yet, kay? want you to hold onto that until i’ve got you on my cock. yeah?” mirio’s words are tender, though domineering, while he shifts to hover over you, hot tongue burning against your skin as he licks a trail from the hem of your panties, between your arching back, bare breasts and budding nipples until he meets your lips— drooling into your eager open mouth as you pant out for more. “so fucking perfect, sunshine.” 
cool air rushes over your pulsating, glistening pussy— mirio having pulled your underwear aside, only causing you to cry out from the lack of stimulation. “don’t cry, pretty baby,” you manage to hear him over the blood pulsing through your ears, body tingling all over at the feeling of mirio’s girthy cock pressing against your inner thigh through layers of fabric. “‘m gonna fuck you now, don’t worry. daddy’s gotcha.” 
he hikes a thigh of yours up over his hip, shoving down his boxers and sweats just enough to let his mushroomed and seedy cockhead press into the heat of your pussy. you dig your nails into mirio’s sweaty scalp, mouth hanging open and hips rising from the sticky leather of the couch covered in your juices. the man above you is the centre of your universe, you think. though your relationship may be somewhat taboo, you feel the care and affection he has for you in every single one of his touches. calloused hands moulding your body into the perfect shape to fuck, to make love to and makes you feel like jello as his fat, veiny dick pushes deeper into you— big for the slickness of your pussy to resist him. 
“relax for daddy, sweetheart, let me in…c’mon, fuck. open up f’me,” mirio simpers, rolling his hips slow and sensual until your walls tremble around him— welcoming his dick home, bathing him in all of your arousal. he throbs inside you, finally sheathed in all your warmth as if you’re the core of his earth. “that’s it…my good girl, oh fuck. fuck, you feel better than i ever imagined. so fucking tight baby, gonna let daddy fuck you right, huh?” you can tell that he’s losing himself within you, now forcing your knees into your shoulders to put you into a mating press and wasting no more time setting a rough, feverish pace to his hips and pounding into your sweet cunt. 
you cry and squeal and claw at togata, the world spinning on its axis around you while the blonde fucks you into a stupor— his tip smearing copious amounts of thick precum along your velveteen insides until there’s a white ring of your mixed arousals cuffed around the base of his blue veined cock. “d-daddy…s’good. so fuckin’ good,” your own juices splash up against the pro hero’s stomach and and every time his hips slam down against your own— wet skin slapping on skin in a rhythmic and sensual tune. 
galaxies twinkle in your pretty eyes, your teeth sinking into mirio’s golden and broad shoulders while you scratch at his back. the sound of sex clinging to the air in the room is primal, animalistic as lemillion cups your throat again— tilting your head so that he can mark his claim into your sweat tainted flesh. the fabric of your panties pushed to the side rubs deliciously at his soaked, creamy shaft and the waistband of his pants rub your clit raw, the effect the clothing has on you both leading you to believe that neither of you will last much longer like this.
“‘m makin’ you see fuckin’ stars, aren’t i sunshine?” he asks you, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust—cum-loaded balls tapping against your ass, the sound mixing with your squeals to make a lustful song. “want this pretty pussy to cum for me. can you do that, my good girl?” mirio moans heartily above the couch squeaking beneath your bodies that dance together in rough and passionate movements.
he smiles again, nice and bright when you nod and start to circle your hips upwards as best as you can into his. “‘m close, can cum for daddy. wanna cum for daddy. please don’t stop, please—!”
“alright baby, i gotcha…look at you. so cute and needy for your daddy. for me.” mirio gunts back into your mouth, falling apart at the sight of your lovesick and teary face, crumbling at the way your cunt clamps down on him— refusing to let him pull out in an attempt to milk him for all his worth. you’re tight around him, practically choking mirio’s cock as his fat milky tip bullies your insides and harshly bares down on your g-spot— sending you headfirst into your orgasm. “that’s it…fuck look at that, pretty lil pussy cummin’ around daddy’s fat cock. s-shit.”
soft praises are expelled into the buzzing air between you both, with you gasping for breath and squirting on the blonde’s dick so hard that he’s forced out of your pulsing walls before he cums in hot waves over your raw mound— painting your ravaged pussy lips white with his hot and thick seed. 
you’re both left panting and sticky messes on the couch as you come down from your highs— your mind running a mile a minute when you realise what’s just happened, what you’ve done with the father of your student. no less.
“m-mister togata, i-i’m—“ you start to apologise, coming too, heart rate spiking in your chest. 
but mirio is quick to stop you, forehead and sweaty blonde locks pressed to your own with a dreamy and satisfied look on your face. “before you say anything more. i want you to know that this wasn’t just a hook up for me. nor were the times before that.” he explains,blinking up at you with unadulterated affection, perhaps even love. “i like you, a-and i like how you look out for my son. and i know our relationship has been far from appropriate, i’d like to take you out for a proper date— do things right instead of sleeping with you to work up my courage to ask you out.” 
“mirio…” you smile, brushing back his hair. “i’d love that, a lot actually.”
“yeah?” he asks, timid for a man who just fucked you to the high heavens and back before linking your fingers. “say you mean it, or you’ll be breakin’ both mine and yoshi's hearts.” 
“yeah…” you murmur through a laugh, leaning up for a sweet kiss to seal the deal. 
the fifth time you encounter mirio togata, you walk into the lions den, but come out with him hand in hand— your hearts belonging to one another.
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