#but not as long as the prior stuff. hopefully.

[orcelito]

need 2 reignite the mental illness for akechi. gotta pspspsp my brain. like "dont look over there! look over here!"*insert pic of Him*

[lacefuneral]

after color correcting a lot of OFMD footage, a very funny thing i've noticed is like. they've color-graded it to be. brown.

like, if you've ever seen a video on youtube where an old painting is restored, the conservationist always has to remove an old layer of varnish because it's yellowed over time, and this varnish casts a very noticeable sheen over an artwork

in season 1 this "antique" effect is used as a form of deliberate color grading, and it actually doesn't look too bad most of the time as a cinematic choice

but it IS still there. which means i have to scrape off some of that artificial patina

now. where it gets weird, though.... is season 2.

i've talked about it. i've posted videos about it. but season 2 does this thing where they attempt to go for this antique look again

which. first of all. feels very weird thematically. i'd argue that the purpose of this color grading in season 1 was to enhance the romanticism. this unrealistic idea stede has about piracy. it's very dream-like. season 2 is more like: this is reality. it's harsh. but i digress

so they slap this brown filter on. but they like. really crank up the opacity on that badboy. to the point where it drowns out the original color of the shots. that color information is completely destroyed.

and then, to make it worse, because season 2 is more Gritty, they then darkened all of the shots as well.

so you have a thick brown filter, you take away the lights... you've got sludge. you've got tar.

and this made me so sad that i literally taught myself new editing skills to get rid of it.

i never felt that way with season 1. even in areas that are very heavily color graded (like interior shots, due to candle light), because you can still fucking. see

regardless of however i feel about like. wardrobe. pacing. characterization. of this season. and if my feelings of those things will change over time

i will never. ever. forgive the person in charge who decided to do this to the color and lighting. it benefits precisely no one. your final product looks bad for casual viewers and you make it harder for those of us who make content promoting your show FOR FREE by making it so that we have extra hurdles to climb over every time we make a gif, post a screenshot, or make a video

hbo max i am in your walls.

[galacticlamps]

I'm going to uno reverse card you and say: for the fic guessing game, 'light'?

lol that's fair

apparently I talk about light a lot (go figure) so have this one that happens to be in the middle of its story's 'Oh' moment:

But perhaps, somewhere along the line, Jamie had slipped, and now . . . well now, standing on the balcony of a palace on another planet, with the Doctor dipping his head nearer just to hide his eyes from the light - nearer, and not farther, which would've been just as easy - no, now he had to admit something was different. When it had changed or whether it hadn't at all and he'd simply been too fool to realize it before he couldn't say, and it didn't matter anyway - he knew it now, and that scared him.

-

And just for kicks, under the cut I'm gonna put a longer excerpt from a totally different fic that came up while I was ctrl+f-ing 'light' in my wips - mainly because it happens to be part of a scene from a longish 'the Doctor & Jamie reunite with Zoe in 6b' story which is nowhere near completion, but feels relevant given the boxset Big Finish released last week (not that I've gotten a chance to listen to it yet, but still).

Zoe sat across from Jamie, her elbows on the table, her chin resting atop her hands - but she wasn't relaxed. She stared at him intently, and actually narrowed her eyes as he watched.

"What?" he asked, already defensive, and following through on an old self-conscious instinct, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With no mirror in sight, he looked to the Doctor to check if he'd somehow gotten something on his face already, but he looked just as baffled. Zoe hadn't broken her concentration yet.

"I'm trying to figure out if I'm older than you," she announced, still deep in thought.

"Ah--" the Doctor began, grinning wickedly, but whether he was going to answer her or merely tease they never found out, because Jamie shot an arm out lightning quick, as if to hold him back.

"No' so fast, you. Let the girl work it out."

He finished chewing and settled himself squarely in front of her for inspection. She continued to stare. "Y'know, I'm surprised you're having such trouble telling," he taunted. "After all, how old are you now?"

She opened her mouth at first to protest that she was under no obligation to announce her own age while he continued to keep his secret, but she still thought she might figure it out - and if she couldn't, she at least had the Doctor to rely on to make Jamie tell the truth.

So she shrugged. "I'm 41. But everyone here thinks I'm 39. I was born 39 years ago, of course, but counting chronologically from the time I left the Wheel with you in the Tardis, I aged two years before the Time Lords returned me to my own time. That was twenty-one years ago, now," she added, unable to judge if the faint waver of wistfulness in her voice was truly audible, or if it was just her own imagination. Thankfully, neither of them pressed her on it.

"Well, y'see, Zoe," Jamie began slowly, still chewing his last mouthful after she finished her explanation and sat waiting calmly for his reply. The Doctor leaned forward too, seemingly intrigued, though it must only have been to see what answer Jamie would try. "I was born in 1724," he paused and washed down his food with a swig from his glass, and for a moment Zoe had the grace to assume he was just working through his calculations, as she had done. "So I'm pretty sure I'm older than you," he finished, setting the glass back down on the table triumphantly.

All at once she felt a young girl again, a devilish light in her eyes. She wanted to jump across the table and tackle him - but that wasn't what Madam Presidents did. "Why, you--"

"They don't traditionally swear at their guests either, Ms. Heriot."

She turned on the Doctor, shocked. "You read my mind," she began, more impressed than accusatory, but he did at least have the decency to look sheepish.

He coughed politely. "Only to, ah, verify your math. And I'm sure you could feel my presence there, if you think about it."

"I could but I didn't know that's what it was. You've gotten so much better at it."

"Had to," he said simply, and shrugged, his eyes downcast.

Well, there was more to that, clearly, she thought, filing his deliberately nonchalant expression away for closer inspection later - but for now she was not about to be deterred. She snapped her eyes and her attention both back to Jamie.

"Still, we both know the Doctor obviously continues to value honesty and accuracy, so surely he'll tell me how old you are, even if you won't."

"Not if I ask him not to - right, Doctor?"

"Well . . . " he began, noncommittally drawing the word out so long that Zoe actually had time to wonder what his plan was for once he ran out of vowel. Jamie looked so genuinely horrified it was downright comical, and she had to force herself not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"We're married, Doctor," he reminded him, indignant.

"Oh, but it's Zoe," he complained, sounding every bit the petulant child she remembered he could be, all those years ago. "And as far as I can remember, none of the ceremonies we ever partook in had anything in the vows about obeying. Although I might be wrong . . ." he added under his breath, scratching his head.

"Charming," Jamie grumbled.

"Well, when we've had as many weddings as we have it can be quite a lot to keep straight in your head. You know, I sometimes wonder if we might qualify for some kind of an all-time record. If we hadn't the need to be covert about so many of them, of course."

"Stop that!" she snapped, and the Doctor turned back to her, the picture of confused innocence.

"Stop what?"

"You're trying to help him without helping him, just by distracting me. Naturally, I want to hear everything about all these weddings of yours, and I will see to it that you'll be having another one while you're here, like it or not--"

"Yes ma'am," Jamie quipped, mock-serious.

"--But first, I am going to find out how old you are, James Robert McCrimmon, and if you force me to use your husband to do it, then that decision is on you."

Jamie mopped his face with his napkin and came out of it smiling. He stretched and dropped an arm around the Doctor's shoulders, perfectly relaxed. Already, Zoe felt her heart sink, but she was careful to keep her composure.

"I'm only pullin' your leg. I'm 44."

"What, really? And you expect me to just believe that?" She raised an eyebrow in challenge but then glanced at the Doctor to confirm, and when he nodded she allowed her facade to crumble, rolling her eyes. Of course she had known when she'd first laid eyes on them that they'd be cutting it close, but Jamie still had quite a bit of that boyishness about him that had made it frustrating enough being his junior the first time around, and she really thought she might genuinely have enjoyed being just a hair older than him, for a change. After all, if you had to be ripped apart from your family and sent to separate timezones to live out your lives forever wishing for an improbable reunion, it might as well be good for something. But Jamie was far too smug looking now to be pretending, and Zoe knew it. "Oh, some people have all the luck," she groaned, dropping her arms and collapsing back dejectedly against her seat.

"Aye," Jamie said, leaning in over the table to follow her, "and some people live 22 years on Earth before they meet a time traveler, then spend 5 years with him before his people erase their memory and send them home to live another 5 before he's allowed to come pick them up again, and then force the pair of 'em to've spent 12 years so far working for them. Some people, eh?" he finished hotly, swiping his glass off the table again and raising it to his mouth in one fluid motion to take a long drink. But even so, his face was not so totally obscured from view that Zoe couldn't make out the amused curl at the corner of his lips, and when she caught his gaze again the glimmer in his eye was all fondness, just as it was with Doctor's and, she knew, her own.

Yes, no matter the circumstances, it was certainly good to see them again.

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) LOVE BELT.

𝜗𝜚 BLUE LOCK VARIOUS: MYOSOTIS (FORGET ME NOT).

a/n: [fem!reader] AHHHHH FIRST BLLK POST!!!!! LASTEST FIXTATION!!!! hopefully not too ooc huhu, hope pt1-ers find pt2~

— characters: isagi, kunigami, nagi, reo

part two ! ♡ chigiri, rin, bachira

isagi yoichi ; love belt - jonghyun, yunha

ties your shoes for you!!!!! doesn't care if it holds back the group or how long it makes them stop for. double knot, never too tight (the occasional times my guy friends tie my laces i swear i lose circulation in my feet 😔).

embodiment of a beabadoobee song! hes such a sweetheart (apart from on the field) n' kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips or on your eyelid, holds you a little higher than your hip and hugs you with his arms supporting your back from beneath.

your mama loves him more than you do, i fear (ᵕ—ᴗ—) bro fr pulled up to your house with a rose for your mama and a mug for your dad, because who is he to pull up to his girlfriend's house without gifts for your parents? (with intentions of getting to know what they're like so the wedding goes smooth) how can you expect your mama not to fall for him after he offers to help wash the dishes?

learns all the little things you like, has a note on his phone with your fruit tea and coffee order. knows what type of materials you like, especially to the girls who have sensory issues 🫡. he always has you in mind, buying hoodies and shirts that not only he likes, but you like

in conclusion, spectacular gimme 14 more of em'

kunigami rensuke ; no. 1 party anthem - arctic monkeys

ALWAYS THE FIRST TO INITIATE. always plans dates first. has anniversary ideas months prior. he has your order memorized and makes sure the date won't ruin your latest set of nails.

holds your leg when you bounce it ! very worried when you do. always looks around for a little. is it cold? are there weird guys?

he's so boyfriend i just wanna kiss him, tells you to wear whatever you want because he can fight (#needthat)! kunigami one of the most boyfriend in the show pre wildcard! ദ്ദി(•̀ ᴗ - ) ☆

do you guys know that trend when there's a girl then her boyfriend comes in and swoops her away (or is it just me HELP hopefully i don't sound crazy)?? but he does it so effortlessly omg. didn’t spend that long in the gym for nothing

mornings are the hardest because his diligence and discipline for the gym are out of the roof. but he’s not completely heartless! kunigami feels really bad as you sleep uncomfortably without him, tossing and turning just missing the grasp that once held you. worst bit is when you wake up the same time as him, but you’re a lot sleepier, resulting in you weakly catching his wrist. breaks his heart whenever he has to go and presses a chaste kiss to your temple >3<

holds your waist on public transport. smells like axe body spray /hj

nagi seishirou ; no one noticed - the marías

BLANKET HOG!!!!!! unfortunately, you're always cold because sometimes you can find yourself freezing your toes off in the middle of the night because this little sloth feeds off warmth. if not wrapping the entire blanket around himself, is practically on top of you with his nose nestled in the crook of your neck and his lips basically on your collarbone as you run your hands through white locks (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

fiddles with the hem of your shirt or loose drawstrings on your pants. his hand in the pocket nearest to your butt, fidgets with your rings and knows which ones go on which finger by heart.

very very very immersed when you paint your nails or get them done. but nagi takes a good 5 minutes to stare at them (especially if there's charms on them) and a girl would be confused. but in reality, he just really likes them (but, he'd prefer if they'd run through his hair instead).

doesn't get the stuff on tall shelves on purpose SUPER SENIOR ALERT WEE WOO WEEWOO!!!!!!! either because its "too much of a hassle" or because he wants to get a reaction out of you (cruel)

falls asleep in movies sooo quickly its adorable. 30 minutes into the movie his head is on your shoulder. scared, due to his tall nature that he'd get neck pain when he wakes up, you have to gently pat him awake (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ and he'll ask you to carry him (???)

reo mikage ; love maze - BTS

zip up your jackets, wraps your scarves. holds your hands when your cold and rubs them with his!!!!

reo's favourite place to kiss you is your hand. craves the intimacy of it all. as his princess what the hell are you doing without a kiss to your hand before every door you open? (you don't remember the last time you opened a door before you started dating reo)

apart from the soccer club, most likely plays in a band as well. occasional school-related gigs here and there and a few enjoyable get-togethers with his friends to just play whatever. watch his performances! (SOOO cheesy!!!! says "this is for you, [name]" before he starts his pasilyo cover.)

cooks' breakfast on hard weeks. when everything seems to be falling apart, your boyfriend will always be there to help you pick up the pieces, even if it's just the little things. when you're sick GYATT DAHH will you be feeling better in days!!!!! he'll keep distance but won't hesitate to move a strand of hair from your mouth as he spoon feeds you or place the back of his hand on your forehead. but also, doesn't mind being sick if it meant you were ok.

promise rings promise rings promise rings. did i mention promise rings? its either the crazy big, expensive diamond or a simple one in silver that has his initial on the inside <33

[sainns]

1:28PM ㅤ✶ㅤ umemiya hajime x gnreader.

note sawry if this is ooc i just want him so bad also this was definitely an excuse to write abt sakura too who i also want so bad

you don't hate a lot of things—sure, you dislike stuff, but not hate. it's a strong word and you don't find yourself applying it to anything you deem too insignificant.

one thing you do hate, though, is sakura's supposed romance radar. sure, it's funny to see him get flustered over something as little as a two middle schoolers who are crushing on each other. it's not funny when he starts acting like that around you and umemiya.

you don't even have to be doing anything for his face to turn an annoying shade of red causing the other first years to start teasing him, questioning him about jis flustered state.

it's going to ruin your life. you've gone this long without anyone knowing about your massive crush on the white-haired boy—well, besides higari, who had found out purely by accident months prior—but in just a few minutes of knowing you somehow sakura was able to figure it out.

maybe you do look at umemiya for too long to be normal and maybe your eyes hold a much bigger level of affection towards him than anybody else but for him to figure it out immediately? it's amazing, really.

"hey, why're you frowning?" you blink when you feel umemiya's finger press against the crease in between your eyebrows.

"oh..." you push his hand away, "i was just thinking,"

"about what?"

you narrow your eyes at the three boys eating at the table next to yours. sakura's face is red.

you internally groan, covering your face with your hand when you notice umemiya follow your gaze. he's definitely going to realize everything and that's it for you. you're absolutely done for.

"woahhh, sakura, your face is super red. what's got you embarrassed now?" he grins, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

the first year sputters, his face getting even redder much to your disbelief. suo smiles, speaking for his friend, "his radar went off," he glances at you briefly.

oh great. do all the first years know about your crush?

umemiya cocks his head to the side, "radar?"

"yeah! his ro—" nirei begins but never finishes, his face paling at the glare you're giving him, "it's... uh, it's his radar for really good food!"

"nice! kotoha does make good food, huh?" he nudges you, "right, yn?"

you smile, "yeah, she does,"

you silently thank whatever powerful being is out there that umemiya fell for nirei's lie, promising to devote your life to them. you also make sure to buy nirei some snacks as a thanks for his quick thinking.

and now hopefully umemiya will continue to believe his lie until you're ready to confess to him. you just have to make sure you're only around both him and sakura whenever food is near. that won't be too hard. you hope.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

“Excuse me sir! There must someone you’ve confused me for!”

Having Angel withdrawal again sorry guys :/ its time for some uhh… prologue stuff?? I think thats right. Anyway! As I mentioned in this lovely post, when sinners die the time it takes for them to wake up in hell and where they wake up depends on how they died. So for Angels case his body was formed in hell in a hospital bed cause thats where he died so theres like fibres and metal in his body from being formed around a hospital bed! This is also going to go into how regenerating and how injuries work so get ready! Basically whatever your body was originally formed and made out of regenerates eventually, you can have scars if theyre really big (uncommon since the injury usually kills you) but if you die again in hell they go away. Angel gets injured quite a lot and none of these injuries are permanent. That isn’t to say you can heal by killing yourself though! If you do die while injured there may actually be lasting complications since bodies in hell are typically made to regenerate while gravely wounded. Its kind of like a fucked up computer so if you have a broken leg and die by say snapping your neck the body may get confused and regenerate bones and such incorrectly. Or it may not! Its hell who knows! Ill likely figure out a more concrete plan and way that it works but at the moment I enjoy this aspect of hell to not have a random cheat code and instead include some body horror. Its hell so like some stuff is probably confusing right??

Back to Angel, later on around season 1 in the rewrite he also has throat surgery to remove his deformed inner fangs and those DO actually stay gone because certain hospitals in hell (usually expensive ones) have tools from sloth that have been permitted by Lucifer. Similar to how Stolas got that lust portal gem or whatever. Angels body wasn’t supposed to form like that and this is a common thing to happen with sinners that die “long-term” and that sounds confusing but it really just means sinners that die in comatose-esque ways like Angel. His body was dying over the course of months (December to March to be exact) so parts of his body formed over complicated or were underdeveloped like the aforementioned fangs (that were originally meant to form inside of his mouth and not his throat) that would randomly bare themselves and stab his own throat, paralyzing Angel temporarily. Other examples would be parts of his legs and smaller stomach.

This is the surgery Angel got by the way (expenses covered by Velvette but thats a whole other plot line)

On top of this I also wanted to draw Angel’s old markings (at least one of them). Prior to Valentino, Angel looked much similar marking-wise to his original comic designs where he was more purple and yellow with all the fun skulls and stripes. Though, with how contracts work in my rewrite, Angel loses the markings and they change into hearts after his contract and cannot return to normal after his contract is terminated. The same is true for Husker and Niffty. This whole piece is really just supposed to capture to horror of waking up after being comatose and you’re suddenly not yourself anymore and also not where you were for the past months and your entire anatomy is changed. Can you imagine waking up without bones??? In 1947??? Id have a breakdown personally!

I also wanted to use green for that sick gross feeling. Kind of the dread you feel before throwing up, but also to represent Angel’s later feelings of envy that I was unable to present in his design. I really like pink characters in green atmospheres if you can’t tell. If I think of more stuff to add to this post I will, but for now it’s just a lot of lore. Hopefully you all enjoy it!

[hhoneyhams]

I Despise You - Chilchuck/F!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Features: Jealous Chilchuck, Fighter class Reader, size differences, and workplace crushes.

Warnings: Entirely SFW with some slight language :^)

The reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and descriptors, wears a dress in the fic, is a tall-man, and fighter within the party. There are no real specifics for appearance other than that.

Songfic based on "Daft Pretty Boys" by Bad Suns

Author's Note: This is my first time writing fanfiction for others to lay their eyes on in a very, very long time. I've had a blast writing this for the last few days and I'm excited to write more for Chilchuck and Dungeon Meshi!

The dwindling embers of the camp’s fire lit the dungeon with a warm, orange glow. A sense of electric excitement had infected the late-night conversation amongst the party members, some chattering excitedly about their plans for the next few days on the surface and others silently planning their next moves. 

“Laios and Falin are planning on heading up to go take care of some business, but I think I’m ready for some pleasure!” you laugh out, taking the last swig of the drink in your glass. You set it down with an aggressive click, the sound jerking Chilchuck from his reverie beside you. The two of you had grown rather close over your shared drinking habits, often staying up into the wee hours drinking and chatting amongst yourselves. 

Chilchuck furrows his brow at you and scowls slightly.

“You can keep that to yourself,” he scoffs, turning back to the meager portion of food he had been chasing around his plate for a while. 

“Wellllll…you of all people should know there’s no greater pleasure than a cold drink and some hot, greasy, fried food,” you relent. Chilchuck’s stomach growls and he groans. “Other pleasures usually follow~”

“Like being chained to the toilet and dealing with your needy, drunk ass all night?” he questions, brushing off the last comment with a sense of disgust. Your nose wrinkles in response.

“Well, hopefully not at the same time!” This causes him to snort out a semblance of a dry laugh. 

“I’m hoping we’ll wind up at different taverns anyway, I need a break from all of you,” the rogue raises his gloved hand to gesture around the room. Just as you start to jokingly pout at him, he points straight at you. “Especially you.”

Despite the two of you growing close after drinking together, he’s become exponentially rude towards you. You find it a bit confusing and heartbreaking at times but understand that it’s not like him to get personal with party members. 

“Jeez, ‘Chuck, tell me how you really feel,”  

—

The party disbanded early that morning. You and Namari pair off together to explore the town as the Toudens take care of their prior engagements. The two of you regard Chilchuck warmly, but don’t bother to invite him along.

Instead, he went into town to a merchant to sell some of the odd treasures he had picked up in his travels in hopes of procuring a bit of extra copper to fund his big night on the surface…

He examined the money he had on him and sighed. It was more than enough for him, but he wanted the extra… ‘for what?’

‘Surely not for…?’ He’d put the thought to rest as soon as it crossed his mind. He stuffs the heavy bag of coins back into his satchel and heads back into the town’s square. 

—

“Oh Namari, this would look perfect on you!” you gush over an embroidered cotton tunic that you found hanging in the window of a storefront. “I think they even do alterations here if you really want it,”

Namari shrugs, brushing off the idea altogether. 

“I’ve got a clean set of casual clothes in my bag so I don’t really need to spend what I’ve got on that. We’ve still got to get a room, eat, and drink tonight,” she reminds you.

“Ah, yeah,” you respond, a little disappointed that you couldn’t go shopping for new clothes with Namari. She’s very practical as you’ve learned. “I still want to try to find something nice for tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

She agrees to go on and book a room while you go inside the store and shop around. As a fighter, your clothes have been torn up quite a bit from the countless dungeon brawls you’ve been in. Your pants are torn at the knee, armor rusted and dented in places, and anything white holds the telltale brown of blood. As your calloused hand snags against the soft sleeve of a light olive green dress, you find just the thing to wear.

You find yourself hoping you both chose the same bar.

—

Namari moans in relief face first into the down-y pillow. Her freshly washed red hair sticks to her forehead as she lifts her head up to turn towards the bathroom door as you walk out in a towel.

“What’s nicer, having a bed or a real bath for once?” you joke, flopping down on the bed situated opposite of hers.

“Both are pretty damn good, honestly,”

“I’ll drink to that,” 

There are the telltale signs of a band warming up downstairs and the unmistakable smell of food that wafts up. She peels herself up from the bed and makes the descent downstairs to scope out the festivities for the night as you take the time to get ready. 

Your body is still riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken skin, all of it superficial. Sometimes you just don’t have the tolerance to sit still and let someone heal you. The dress’s sleeves are long and off of your shoulders, and the skirt is long and flowing. There was nothing flashy about it, but it still made you feel confident and pretty. 

You haven’t felt that way in a long time.

—

It’s no surprise that Chilchuck found his way to the tavern, the promises of music and the inviting smell of the food from outside drew him in nearly immediately. There were loads of people, a clear view of a dance floor, and plenty of patrons lined up along the bar. He was ready for his good time, sauntering in with a cool and calm stride right up to the bar to secure his order for the night. 

His mind wanders to relaxation and the array of activities available to him tonight. With enough drink coursing through him, he’d take a shot at cutting up the dance floor. His eyes bounced between the locals and other adventurers that were passing through, not recognizing most. His eyes lay on a mess of red hair hunched over a table in the corner and he breathes a relieved sigh. 

…didn’t he need a break from his co-workers?

“Oi, Namari!” the half-foot calls out, showing off a full bottle of wine and a food ticket detailing his dinner order. Namari waves him over excitedly and kicks out an empty chair for him. “You’ve got the right idea, tonight!”

“Damn straight! Got a room here and everything,” the redhead gloats, finishing off the last little bit of ale in her own mug. As she smacks it down on the table, she jerks her head to the side to gesture towards the other end of the bar that was in eyesight. “Someone needs to let ‘miss priss’ know that I’m not third wheeling tonight, no matter how drunk this guy gets her!”

Chilchuck raises his eyebrow and glances towards the scene in question, almost expecting an entirely different outcome even though he knew that you and Namari were sharing a room tonight.

You were perched at the bar on a high stool, your new dress draped down to flutter around your crossed legs. Your toe tapped along to the music as you were locked in conversation with a fellow tall-man. The guy was above average in the looks department, giving off a clean-cut vibe that you normally would not go for at all. His copper got you drinks, and drinks got him a conversation.

…NOT companionship.

He sees the way that you smile at this guy and he immediately knows it's disingenuous. In the dungeon, the smile you have as you fight alongside him is cracking and goofy, but definitely not tight-lipped and wry. Anyone who knew you would know this was some act.

Laios would call it akin to a mating ritual. Chilchuck calls it bullshit.

Your nervous glances as the blond touches your arm are darting yet subtle enough to be mistaken as butterflies. Your skin was flushed because of the amount of drinks you’d already had, not because you were flattered by any of the drivel this guy spoke to you.

‘If he calls you ‘beautiful’ one more time, things might get…ugly?’

He couldn’t tell if he wanted to smack you or the pushy guy that’s taking all of your attention. Chilchuck would never participate in the active harm of a party member, his job is obviously to prevent it, but GODS did he want you to get a grip.

Was he…jealous?

“Well, that’s annoying,” he says, not only saying it in reference to you, but to the nagging feeling now bouncing around his thoughts. He didn’t get into the personal lives of his fellow party members, openly detesting the idea of interpersonal relationships taking place in the dungeon.

But, this isn’t the dungeon…and you’re not working…

He takes a loooonnng sip from the bottle. Namari chuckles and claps a hand down on his shoulder as she scoots past him to go get another refill.

“If looks could kill, huh?” she teases.

—

The mask was truly coming off as the night dragged on. Jaunty music played as the bar-goers swung each other around. Every time the music dipped to a slower song, you were clearly not having it.

The ‘it’ being anything else to do with this guy. Dinner came and went, a meal that would have been picked clean by now was left growing cold on the bar as you dizzily weaved through the dancers to get back to your spot. Quickly, you scooped the plate and utensils into your hands and tried to make a break for Namari’s table. A hand skirts along your lower back and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Need some help, beautiful?” Chilchuck sneers from your side, offering to expertly guide you through the crowd without much incident. You roll your eyes and glance down at the smaller man. 

“If I hear that word one more time, I’ll probably go insane,” you complain, glancing over your shoulder for the creep in question. “You know, he tried to read my pulse to see if I was nervous earlier…”

“He was probably checking to see how easy it would be to skin you alive later,” Chilchuck says dryly, wiggling his fingers in a mockingly menacing way. You groan in response and wipe the sweat from your brow. Your fingers pinch it slightly in frustration as you begin to recount the events of the night.

“Too bad you didn’t want me to spend time with you, I’d much rather have been with you instead of going through all that,” you say, flopping into the chair Namari left behind and kicking your feet up. You end up digging into your food voraciously, the temperature is tepid but not entirely cold and inedible. 

You get a bit of barbecue sauce on your chin, but not enough to where it would fall down onto your dress. 

Were you really that tipsy?

“You realize that was a joke, right?” He looks away from you and out towards the crowd, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink in embarrassment. Your confused look was too much, an innocent shock washing over you as if you thought it was the truth.

“Well, you’ve been real rude to me lately, I figured you ACTUALLY had a problem with me!” you argue between bites, your tone indignant like a child’s. He scoffs and bites back a laugh, actually trying to fuck with you on this one. 

“Yeah, I despise you!”

“I’m getting mixed signals here,”

“You’re a liar, you kick ass all the time in the dungeon and then try to act like a lady the second you step foot out of it. I’ve seen you covered in monster guts, and this is scarier to me,” He gestures to the outfit.

“Shit ‘Chuck, forgive me for wanting to wear something pretty for ya…”

“Well, you’ve already got my attention, you can drop the act now.”

You look at the way his face is completely flushed and it all begins to make sense. You distracted yourself from the half-foot’s hot and cold treatment, you curbed your expectations within your working relationship and completely ignored that even though he wasn’t one to share his feelings…he still had them.

“So, when I said that thing about ‘pleasure…’”

“I didn’t want to wind up watching someone else take you home…or to Namari’s room…or whatever! I wanted to hang out, to drink, and things to just stay the way they were,” he fusses, getting up from his chair and walking towards you. He tenderly grabs your chin and turns your face up towards him. Between him standing in front of you and where you sat at the table, you were nearly eye to eye…

Surely, this wasn’t…!

He takes the cloth napkin and wipes the sauce from your chin. 

“I care a lot about you…and I don’t like seeing you make stupid decisions,” he confesses, still holding your face in his gloved hand. You find yourself having a hard time keeping a straight face. “...What’s that dumbass look on your face for?! I like you, I swear!”

“I’m drunk and this is hilarious,”

“You could say it back!”

“I like you too, ‘Chuck…I swear,” you reply, placing your hand on top of his. Your face cracks into that goofy smile he likes so much and he can’t help but to sigh. 

…If only you weren’t in public.

The crowd at the bar had dwindled down to only a few remaining patrons, some at the bar were still engrossed in conversation with the bartender and others were finishing up their rousing and complicated game of cards. Namari was still nowhere to be found and Chilchuck shrugs as you look around the tavern for her again.

“She’s outside, surely,” he says, pushing his chair in. As you get up, you stumble slightly and grab onto the chair for support. “I’ll help you up. You’re still pretty tipsy, huh?”

“Yeah, but that’s what I get for trying to keep up with you,” you chuckle, reaching out to him for support. His arm supports your lower back, his hand is on your hip as he walks you towards the stairs. You were all legs and curves to him, but he didn’t mind as long as you didn’t fall on top of him…

…without his consent of course. 

The other key to the room was tucked haphazardly into your brassiere. How it hadn’t fallen out onto the dance floor at any point was so beyond you, but you were just happy you weren’t locked out after all.

“I’ve still got to find a place for tonight,” Chilchuck realizes, forgetting about it altogether in all of the excitement.

“Honestly, I could probably hide you under the covers,” you joke, albeit rooted in truth. “I’d really like it if you’d stay though…”

“And incur the wrath of Namari? I like you, but not that much,”

“Fair enough,”

—

The two of you spend the night chatting and sobering up in each other’s arms. You fall asleep first, Chilchuck shortly after. The oil lamp’s glow lights the room dimly, neither of you had made a move to turn it off. 

The door’s lock unlatches and Namari flings it open excitedly, a new longsword glinting proudly in her arms. “--oh you TOTALLY owe me now, but I got a great deal on the perfect longsword for-” 

Her voice trails off as she sees you stir and another body that follows suit…

End Notes: I hope you enjoyed the fic! I've got some ideas for a continuation in the future if folks are interested teehee

I'm still working on becoming a more confident writer, so I'm hoping y'all will stick around for my growth! Minor edits will be made if I find any mistakes and constructive criticism is always appreciated! (Just don’t be an ass about it 👀)

Credits: Dividers by @/cafekitsune, cover art from 'Daydream Hour' scans

🖤 Rules | Ask Box | Masterlist 🖤

[thirstydemisexual]

Blood path || Jason Todd x vampire!reader

Prologue

divider by: @sister-lucifer

PSA: the povs will switch from second to third person as convenient. also I'm writing this as I go so yeah the pacing between the parts hopefully will be coherent

warnings: 18+ content, mention of r4pe, blood, a p3do getting what the fuck he deserves, (and bad grammar)

I've made mistakes, Lord struck me down Caught in a landslide, lost underground I hear them gates, swing open loud Come close to midnight, hell fade me down - Used To The Darkness by Des Rocs

The night was young. As the last shades of orange had just dissipated in the sky, Gotham prepared itself as their usual over abundance of criminals took to the streets. Some of them tho, were busy browsing on the internet, unlucky them.

Phil, 38, child predator who escaped Arkham a couple weeks prior, sneaking away as the Bat and the other heroes took care of the bigger fishes, was browsing on the dark web, looking on his phone at his favorite source of inappropriate child videos with a fist down his pants.

The abandoned building in which he resided, which was once an apartment complex before a villain attack, was located in a rather well populated zone of Gotham. Only two streets down from The Wayne foundation preschool.

Unlucky for him, his connection wasn't the most secure. Even a high schooler with basic computer science knowledge would have been able to dox him.

The dumb fuck didn't even try locking the door, not like it had a functional lock to begin with. But non the less, she still wouldn't be stopped by a mere lock as that men's refuge wasn't his home, thus the threshold didn't bound her. She was able to sneak into the premises without as much as a sound.

She was hungry and her face was morphed into an inhuman shape.

He doesn't even have time to scream or fight as her fangs sinks in his neck, tearing his carotid artery. Long claws shredding up the skin on his forearms as he tries to reach to stop his attacker. He stops squirming in seconds as she feasts on his blood, draining him in mere moments.

After she's done she quickly leaves the building, ready to go home and wash her hands and mouth throughly as just the mere thought of having touched that individual, let alone feeding from him, in her post feeding shame(and because of than mans nature) made her regret her choice of feeding.

Although she would never regret ridding the world of scum like him.

It was a weirdly sunny day in Gotham, Jason Todd noticed as he turned off the engine of his motorcycle after parking in the Gotham University parking lot.

Last night patrol had took a tool on him, and he was more exhausted than normal. He threw his book bag on his shoulder before entering the building, toward his first class of the day.

Jason normally quite enjoyed his Modern Literature class, but today all he wanted to do was crush on his bed at his safe house and sleep away until patrol hour came.

He sat down in one of the last rows in the room and crossed his arms on the desk before laying his head down and closing his eyes, he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

"Slept bad?" a familiar voice came from his side. Jason lifted his head up, a little smile at the realization of who it was.

"You could say that" His eyes didn't leave you as you sat down next to him and started to get your stuff ready for class.

"You could have skipped class today Jay, you seem way too tired to be here"

"And miss the chance to have our daily banter, no way miss" he replied, smirk on his face. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Seriously Jay, you can't keep coming to class looking like a zombie"

well technically I am a living dead so its not that out of character for me, thought Jason but didn't voice it out to her.

"I'll take a nap between classes alright? Come on, don't act like you wouldn't miss me if I were to go back home"

"You're incorrigible Todd"

"I don't hear you denying my claim" he kept smirking at you, you shushed him as the professor started class.

"Just rest your eyes, I'll give you my notes later" he chuckled a bit as he put his head down on the desk again,

"You'd be a light saver sweetheart"

If you could blush, the nickname would have done it. You tried to stay concentrated but your gaze would often stray onto Jason's figure, slumped over the deck, neck slightly exposed.

Looking so appetizing

You mentally slap yourself as you divert your eyes. That is Jason, one of your only friends NOT a charcuterie board.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm down. You didn't know why but even after feeding the thought and sight of Jason Todd just riled you up, hunger rising through your undead body and plaguing your mind.

Hopefully you'll keep being able to control yourself around him.

You have to

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[vinylfoxbooks]

November 16 - Responsible | @stag-microfic | wc: 845

“We’re going out, Reg.” Sirius hums, finishing putting on his shoes and taking Remu’s helping hand to stand up. He throws his coat over his shoulders, “Don’t burn the house down or die.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, “I’m a responsible adult, Sirius.” He shakes his head, “I think I can take care of myself for a night.”

Sirius doesn’t otherwise respond, but Remus huffs a laugh, “See you later, Reg. I’ll let you know when we’re on the way back.” 

“Have a good night, Remus.” Regulus nods as the man shuts the door behind him and Sirius. 

He’s tactical about it, especially with the fact that Sirius tends to forget things and makes Remus turn around so he can go back to the flat for whatever random thing it is that Sirius has forgotten. So Regulus waits an hour before finally giving the go ahead text, getting a ‘5 mins’ in response and throwing his phone down on the couch next to him. 

True to their word, James is opening the door soon after and closing it behind them. Regulus stands up as he hears the click of the lock sliding back into place. When he makes it to them, James is taking off their shoes, their jacket already hanging on the peg on the coat rack that is explicitly for them. When they straighten, Sirius is quick to pull them into a fierce kiss, James making a noise in surprise before they wrap their arms around his waist and pull him as close as possible. 

“How long are they out?” James asks, pulling marginally away from his lips. 

Regulus hums, “Dunno. Several hours, but Remus is going to text me when they’re on the way back.” 

“And do we want to pretend that I came over not realising they were on a date or?”

“It’ll be late enough that I think we can hide you in my room. If I don’t respond to Remus’ text, they’ll probably assume that I’m asleep.”

James grins, “Works with me, we’ll just move my stuff to your room.” Regulus nods, but doesn’t say anything else in favour of pulling James down into another kiss. They smile into it just a bit, before beginning to corral Regulus towards his room, the younger going easily.

Regulus gets the text from Remus just as they’re finishing up, James having disappeared into the bathroom for a moment to start Regulus a bath. At the text, Regulus calls out to his partner, telling them the news. James emerges from the bathroom a moment later to help Regulus go into the bathroom, settling him down in the bath before going to grab the things that they brought over to hide them away in Regulus’ room. It’s not long before they’re slipping into the bathroom as well, joining Regulus.

They’ve been in the bath for mere minutes when the door to the flat opens and the loud voice of Sirius comes booming through the place, followed by Remus’ more whispered voice telling him to quiet down. And just like that, they’re going into their own room and hopefully just going to sleep. 

James leans down just so their lips are right next to Regulus’ ear, “Went smoother than I thought it would.”

“Mm, shut up.” Regulus hums, shivering at the breath against their neck. It only amplifies when James laughs gently, the sound making their chest rumble and their warm breath fan over his body, “I fucking hate you.”

“Not what you were saying twenty minutes ago,” James hums, and Regulus can feel the grin on their face. He pinches their thigh, making them make a sound that they have to muffle in his shoulder. 

“Rude.” 

“You love it.” And James doesn’t respond, just presses a trail of kisses along his neck and takes a wash rag to start cleaning Regulus up.

They migrate from the bathroom back to Regulus’ room only when the water has grown cold and they’re both nearly asleep, getting into comfortable clothes and quickly falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

The next morning, Regulus wakes up as James is putting on their clothes from the day prior and sneaking out of his room with their things and out into the rest of the flat. After a couple minutes, Regulus gets up and throws a blanket over his shoulders, slipping his feet into his slippers and heading out of his room. 

James is in the kitchen, making food with the kettle on. Regulus goes to make himself some tea, not in the mood for talking. James, however, leans over and quickly pecks his cheek, whispering, “Morning love,” before getting back to work on making breakfast. 

By the time that Regulus is settled on a stool at the kitchen island, Remus is coming out of his and Sirius’ room. He doesn’t seem shocked at James’ presence, as it’s normal for them to stop by the flat in the morning. Their morning run takes them right in front of the building and so they tend to just stop in to prepare some breakfast.

[tkwrites]

I can't belive you're here. - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: I can't believe you're here.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Captain kink unlocked, oral & fingering (f receiving), squirting, swearing, surprise visit, if I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

Word Count: 6,000

Comments:

Hoo boy. This is by far the most depraved thing I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you did enjoy it, please let me know! Your comments and questions inspire me to keep writing!

To the lovely anon who requested this: I hope it lives up to your expectations. I had so much fun writing it.

Anonymous asked: 'In some ways, he’d love to see his name across her back, but not at a game.' Ohhh, I'd love to see something about this in the future. Later on in their relationship, he's on a roadie and not seen Sarah for 4 weeks due to it and some study trip prior. He has just played either Brady or his brothers who noticed he's really down and missing her, they call Sarah and organise to fly her to his next destination to suprise him after the game. She's waiting in his hotel room, wearing nothing but his jersey to cheer him up after a loss 😉 Or a more wholesome storyline of her first WAG jacket or something aha Absolutely love all your pieces and can't wait to continue reading of their universe xx

I can't believe you're here.

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Fatigue and failure were deep in his bones as he walked into the hotel. 

Logically, Quinn knew winning streaks always come to an end. It was impossible to have a perfect 82 game season. No one had ever come close to that. 

It didn't matter how much he tried to reason, it still felt like shit to be on the receiving end of a shut out after two straight losses. 

The fact that they were still on the road didn’t help. The fourteen day trek away from home was always terrible, no matter when it fell in the season, but having it come right after Sarah had to be at a conference was torture. It meant he hadn’t seen her in over 12 days. 

It was terrible timing. The day after he got back from the six day Midwest road trip, she left for a seven day ocean conservation conference in Costa Rica. She got back two days after he had to leave again. 

It had been nineteen long days since he'd seen her for more than fifteen hours. 

They talked and sent messages and photos, but it wasn’t the same as talking face to face and kissing her and feeling her skin and smelling her perfume. 

He’d learned from the past and brought her pillowcase with him, but even that was beginning to smell less and less like her.

He only had to get through three more games and five and a half more days before he'd be back home and in her arms. 

One of the team assistants ran up to him in the lobby, “Hughes,” he said, a little breathless, “they changed your room.” 

“What?” he asked, trying to pull himself from his misery and back to the present.

“They had to change your room. Something about the heater being broken,” Sean said. 

“Okay. Petey still with me?” 

“No, they had to separate you,” Sean forced the key into his hand as they stepped on the elevator, “I already moved your bags.” 

He’d slept four quick hours in a room that felt perfectly fine before heading to the pre-game meeting and meal. He couldn’t remember if he’d left his stuff all over the bathroom counter. Hopefully, Sean didn’t have to go through too much trouble. Quinn definitely owed him dinner. 

The room was dark when he walked in. And it smelled like… it smelled like Sarah’s smoky vanilla perfume. 

Fuck. He missed her so much, his mind was playing tricks on him. 

At least he would have a room to himself, and could call her in peace without the threat of Petey listening in. They could probably even get some phone sex in, which hadn’t happened for far too long. 

Then, he would get a full night's sleep before their flight to Chicago. That, in itself, was a rare luxury he was outrageously thankful for. 

When he flipped on the light, the first thing he noticed was the king size bed. The bedspread was mussed, as if someone had been lying on it. Strange for any hotel, but especially one this nice. Rooms he came into often looked so pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot in them before. 

He pushed the worry out of his mind and started toward the bathroom. 

“Hey.” 

Great, now he was hallucinating. It sounded like Sarah was right behind him. He must be more tired than he thought. 

“Quinn?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, backpack nearly slipping to the floor. If he turned and she wasn’t here, he didn’t know what he’d do. 

A touch grazed his shoulder, and a strong whiff of her perfume made his knees shake. “Sarah?” he asked, hoping against hope. Why would she be here? 

“Yeah,” she said. 

He turned and felt a strange, strangled sort of gasp escape his throat. 

Sarah was in his hotel room. She was here. She was in Boston. How was she here? 

When his brain finally reconciled the fact that she was actually in front of him, he noticed she was wearing his flying skate jersey. 

“I - how?” 

She smiled softly, set his backpack aside and wrapped her arms around him.  

His body caught on before his brain did, hugging her against him fiercely.

Coming home from her conference in Costa Rica, which had been lovely but incredibly socially exhausting, all Sarah had wanted was to fall into bed with Quinn. When she came home to a dark and empty house, it had been a rude reminder he was on the longest road trip of the year. The apartment felt too big without him in it, especially for so long. 

“I missed you so much,” she said into his neck. 

“How did you do this?” he finally asked.

He’d known other players' wives and girlfriends occasionally showed up on road trips, but generally, their partners always knew, and it was usually because they were close by one of their hometowns. 

“Brady called me. He said you were so sad and not yourself on Wednesday, he wanted to do something. So he bought me a ticket and called Brock to get the schedule.” 

He sniffed and she pulled back.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said upon seeing the tears pooled in his eyes.

“I’m just…” The shock of seeing her brought all his emotion up to the surface.

“I know,” she said, pulling him into her again, feeling a few tears slip down her own cheeks. It felt so good to hold him.  

His mouth landed on her neck. It was a comforting thing to taste her skin as they embraced. He mumbled something against her. 

“Sorry?” she asked, trying to pull away so she could see his face. 

He didn’t want to let her go, not even for a second. Instead, he lifted his lips just enough so he could repeat, “I missed you so much.” 

“I know Quinny,” she said, running her fingers into his hair. “I missed you, too, but I’m here now, and we have all night.” 

His mouth was still on her neck, though he’d started moving with more intent, licking and kissing. The shock to his system was giving way to relief and desire. 

Finally fed up with his teasing, Sarah took his jaw in her hands and forced his head up so she could kiss him. 

He sighed into it, and found some way to pull her tighter against him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was wearing his jersey, but the shock of her in his hotel room, seeing her face and her blue eyes and her lips - god her lips, he couldn't get enough of them - stole all of his brain power. Now, as his hands splayed across her back, feeling the numbers patched and stitched there, the reality of it hit him. 

Forcing himself to break away so he could look at her, his knees threatened to buckle when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything else - not that he could see anyway. The fabric hit her upper thigh, leaving much of her legs bare.

“I -” he tried to say something, but lost the words. 

The idea of wearing his jersey came from Emma. Sarah thought it was cheesy, but Emma assured her he’d love it. She’d surprised Brady at the end of a roadtrip like that, and “I swear his brain, like, short-circuited or something. He just stood there, staring at me for like 30 seconds before he went wild.” 

It didn’t surprise her Quinn didn’t have the same immediate reaction. He was so much quieter than Brady, and from what she could tell, they had a much more subdued relationship than the Tkachuks. 

The way he was looking at her now, though - like she was the thing he'd been anxiously waiting for on Christmas morning - made it all worthwhile.  

“I borrowed it, I hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. 

When they were apart, the mechanics of an orgasm could be there, but it just wasn't as good. It could never be. She missed feeling him: his skin, his breath, the rigid length of him inside her.

It wasn’t that she’d been hoping he’d ravish her right away (okay, maybe she had been, but she knew Quinn, and knew he would never react that way), but all this looking without any touching was getting out of hand. Impatience was pulling tight through her stomach. The prospect of finally feeling fulfilled was driving her crazy.

She needed to give him a little nudge. 

Leaning in, she let her lips graze his ear, down to his jaw and then back. He made a soft, breathy noise, and she knew she almost had him.

Just one more push. 

“How do you want me?” she asked, following it up with a slow, open mouthed kiss to the soft spot under his ear. 

Blood rushed from his head so fast he felt dizzy. 

“I want you to ride me in this,” he managed to say, fingering the stripes on the sleeve. 

It was a fantasy he'd harbored since middle school, but had yet to experience. He'd asked his college girlfriend once, and she had scoffed, telling him it would get too hot, which he thought was a strange argument considering a jersey was designed to do the exact opposite. 

Sarah didn’t acknowledge his request other than to start popping open the buttons of his shirt, one after the other. That set him into motion, tugging at his clothing. He couldn’t get it off fast enough. 

Through a jumble of arms and hands, tangling in their effort to get him naked, they found themselves on the bed. Quinn flat on his back, breath heavy with anticipation, and Sarah astride him, trying to game plan her next move. She had on lingerie he’d never seen before and didn’t want it to go to waste, but he wanted her in the jersey, and she couldn’t take anything off without spoiling the surprise. 

He grew impatient as she debated, shifting his hips up, trying to entice her onto him already. “Sarah,” he whined. 

Finally, she decided to just move it to the side, and sink onto him. The stretch after so long was a pleasant burn. 

His eyes rolled back, and his hips jumped, wanting to fill her more. 

“How are you so wet?” he asked. They hadn’t kissed for that long. Usually, it took a little more to get her this soaked. 

A wicked smile spread over her face, “I may have gotten myself off while I was waiting, thinking about finally seeing you again.”

“Fuck.” 

She was a vision. Riding him after so long? Wearing his jersey? Confessing to touching herself in this bed thinking of and waiting for him? He was the luckiest man on the planet. 

She pitched forward to get the right angle, and moaned, loud and earnest. Good thing they moved him two floors up from the team. 

He tried to brace himself, but the fantasy of it, of her being here and wearing his jersey - the golden C winking at him, reminding him of all the work he'd done to get here - knowing his name was on her back made him groan out loud. His restraint stretched until it was paper thin. 

His hands explored under the jersey only to feel something smooth tied at her hip and lace at her ribcage. 

He coughed, “are you wearing lingerie?” 

“Just for you,” she said, meeting his heated gaze with a coy smile. 

He didn’t think this could get any better. Now, his mind was wild with possibilities. 

“Come for me and I'll show you.”

Holy shit. 

The little control he had snapped and he flooded her with a loud groan of her name.

Sarah's hands traced his arms, entwining their fingers before guiding them to rest on either side of his head as she leaned forward to kiss him. 

His chest pressed into hers, catching the scratchy logo on his jersey as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself off of him to go to the bathroom. She needed to clean up and readjust before the next part of her plan could move forward.

He lay there and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It was almost too fast for him to remember the way he wanted. The bathroom door opened, and he looked over.

“Alright, captain,” she said, leaning on the door frame. She felt incredibly silly, but relished the way his eyes widened at the nickname, “are you ready to see what I have for you?” 

Oh God. 

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he could possibly be prepared for what was coming. 

“Do you want to, or should I?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of his jersey, exposing the little heart tattooed on her thigh. 

“You can.” His voice squeaked a little as he said it, and he blushed. 

Being sexy wasn’t really in her forte, but Sarah tried her best. Lifting the jersey over her head, she thought briefly about tossing it in his face. Deciding that was a step too far, she let it fall to the floor. 

Quinn gaped. 

Most of the time, Sarah wore cotton briefs - occasionally she switched them for lace or a thong, but this was something totally different than what he was used to seeing her in.

For one, the matching set was so sheer, he could see her nipples through the swirling pattern of the black lace. Then, there was the fact that it was obviously made to be removed. The bra tied in front and her underwear tied at the hips, each with a silky black ribbon, like she was a gift for him to unwrap. 

His mind ran away with the thought of tugging the bow on her bra undone with his teeth. 

When she did a little twirl so he could see the back, the breath knocked out of his lungs. She looked so damn good, she might just kill him. His heart might just explode. 

“What do you think?” she asked, walking closer. She could already see how much he liked it in his wide eyes and panting mouth, but she wanted to hear him say it. 

“I -” He didn't know it was possible to get hard so soon after coming. 

“Do you like it, Captain?” 

His breathing hitched. He never thought he'd have a captain kink, but hearing the title come out of her mouth while she was wearing that? He might just develop one. 

Adjusting the bows at her hips so they sat more naturally, Sarah looked at him and repeated, “do you like it, Quinn?” 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yes. I love it.” 

She smiled and climbed onto the bed then straddled him. His hands went to her waist of their own volition.

Her hips ground down. 

“You can’t do that,” he said, teeth gritted as he forced the words over a moan. The soft texture of the lace against his cock was incredible. 

“What?” 

“You can’t ride me again. I won’t last and you haven’t come yet.” 

She leaned down so her mouth was inches from his, her breath making him hyper aware of his own mouth and how much he wanted it on her. 

“And what are you going to do about that, Captain Hughes?” 

He topped her so fast that Sarah grunted and let out a little giggle when her back slammed into the mattress. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, only half meaning it as he planted a wet kiss at the base of her throat. He moved down her chest, following the outline of her bra with his mouth. He almost made good on his fantasy of biting it open, but held off. He wanted to watch her fall apart with it on. 

“What were you thinking about when you were getting yourself off?” he asked, kissing over her tattoo. 

“You,” she panted. 

“And what were you imagining me doing?” 

She whined. 

“What was I doing, Sarah?” he asked, lifting his mouth from where he’d just kissed down to the band of her panties. 

“You were eating me out,” she confessed, a blush rising high on her cheeks. 

Sometimes, he wished she would have told him how much she fantasized about and enjoyed oral sex before the first time he’d done it. There were four solid months he could have been pleasing her he would never get back. 

He smirked a little, “is that what you want now?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asked, tracing his fingers up and down her thighs. 

“Yes, Quinn.” 

He tutted, “Yes, what?” he asked as his lips went to her inner thigh. 

The bolt of electricity that fractured up her spine tipped her voice into a high, breathy whimper.

When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question again, ghosting his fingers against the lace of her panties. 

Her hips jumped. “Yes, Captain.” 

Oh, it was definitely a kink now. He couldn’t get over the sound of it coming out of her mouth. 

He made a satisfied noise and hooked two fingers under the lace gusset, pulling it away from her experimentally. The ties pulled taught, but didn't seem to want to slide over her hips. He tugged again, a little harder. 

Flinging a hand down, Sarah grasped the band, “you're going to rip them.”

“I'll buy you more,” he said, almost off handedly, still pulling. 

“Quinn, that's not the point. Please don't.”

The pulling stopped, and he pulled back to look into her face. “Okay. I'm sorry.”

Her face melted into a smile, “thank you.” She reached down to ease the ties over her hips. 

“No,” he breathed. 

Her eyes snapped to his, questioning.

Before she could ask what he wanted instead, he was knocking her hand away and licking one of the ribbons at her left hip into his mouth.

He pulled it away from her with his teeth, eyes growing darker when the bow unraveled and the pieces fell apart. 

Taking his time to kiss and lick his way to the other tie, he repeated the action, and groaned when it also untied so easily. 

He pulled on the whole thing and flung the garment away. It sailed somewhere across the room, ties flailing. 

Sarah bought this set because it was cute and sort of reminiscent of her black bikini he liked so much. She didn't realize what a fetish he would have for the bows. 

Settling back between her legs, she whined as he parted her lips and blew on her hot core. Shivers ran up her spine and down to all her fingers and toes.

“What were you thinking about?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When you were touching yourself, what were you thinking about me doing?” 

“You were eating me out,” she repeated, confused. 

His laugh chuffed a burst of hot air against her that had her squirming.

“I mean how. What exactly was I doing? 

“You want me to describe it to you?”

“I want to do it for you,” he confessed, voice gravelly. 

She made a little squeaking noise that told him how much that idea excited her.

“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he said before he leaned in to press his tongue against her, just to feel her twitch. 

Something inside her broke. Even though she felt depraved at the very thought of telling him this, it was too late to go back. The possibility of feeling it had taken over her body and wouldn’t let it go. 

“You had your fingers on my g-spot,” she breathed. 

“How many?” 

She squirmed again.

“How many, Sarah?” he repeated, circling her entrance, enthralled at the way she flexed.  

“Two.” Her mind made her continue and she squeaked, “then three.” 

His eyes widened and shot to hers. “Will they fit?” 

She nodded. “If you get me off first, they should.” 

His eyes were blown dark and full of mischief when he glanced down then back up to meet hers again. “And how was I using my mouth?” 

She moaned out loud just thinking about it. “You were doing that suck and flick thing with your tongue.” 

He had no idea what she meant.

He'd done it before: the night they'd been eliminated from the finals last season, but she couldn't very well bring that up. I want you to eat me out the way you did when you'd had one of the worst nights of your career? There was no way. Maybe if she demonstrated...

“I can show you,” she said, grasping one of his shoulders, “I need a part of you.” 

He toyed for a moment with the idea of presenting her his dick, but if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stop feeling her mouth, which defeated the whole purpose of this. Instead, he crawled over her and tipped his head to expose the column of his throat. 

His eyes rolled back as her open mouth connected with his hypersensitive skin. She ran her tongue over his pulse, following it with her bottom lip, before ending with suction, and a flick with the tip of her tongue.

Moaning, he ground against her hot center when she did it again and again.

He wrenched himself away before he could follow through with his desires to sheath himself and take her any way she would let him. 

Settling back onto his stomach, he shook his head to get back into the right frame of mind before leveling his gaze with her perfect, pretty pearl again. 

He tried to follow the movement of her mouth, and her hips jumped at the feeling. 

“Quinn,” she whined as he eased two fingers into her, curling them against that sensitive spot. “Oh my god.”

He continued on. She could feel the movement of his chin, up and down and in and out with each pass of his tongue. 

“Harder,” she begged. 

He dug his fingers into her soft spot even more. 

Throwing her head back, she moaned loudly. “Oh my god, Quinn. Just like that. Don't stop. Please don't stop.” 

Like he would ever stop when she was at his mercy like this. Grinding into the mattress, he continued on, moaning at the way her body undulated as she moved with him. 

She let out a gasping noise as if someone had forced all the air out of her in one swift hit. Her core began to pulse around his fingers, trying to suck them deeper inside her. 

Tipping her chin back, Sarah sighed as wave after soft wave of pleasure crashed over her.

When she stopped contracting so tightly, he waited until one of her aftershocks passed to work another finger into her. 

Her voice echoed around the hotel room as she cried out. 

He said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had the wherewithal to separate them from the team. There was no way he wanted anyone, let alone someone who knew them, to overhear this.

“So good, Quinn,” she croaked out. “Feels so full.”

He continued kissing her bundle of nerves the way she wanted, pausing every few passes to suck a little more intensely. 

A surge of pleasure coiled low in her belly, winding tighter and tighter until every breath ended in a moan. She felt so full and stretched open. So… Alive. All other thoughts fell out of her brain except Quinn and his silver tongue and wicked fingers. 

Feeling as if she might just shatter to pieces if she didn't get some relief, Sarah moaned and panted and begged, “please, Quinn. Please.”

She had no idea what she was asking for, but the waves of pleasure kept coming and coming until it was winding up her spine and pulling so tight, she thought it might just wrench every vertebrae apart and fill each gap with the soft promise of her impending release. 

He could feel her high building and kept urging her up the slope. Anxious for her summit, he sealed his mouth to her, milking her clit like her orgasm might just satiate his hunger.

“Quinn,” she gasped, spine arching as her hands abandoned her nipples and rummaged for some way to ground herself. One ended up in his hair, and the other fisted into the bedspread. “Oh my god. I think I'm gonna…” 

Her voice dissolved into a noise he'd never heard her make as her muscles locked around his fingers. He forced them to continue, working through her orgasm. 

Quite suddenly, as pleasure whirled through her veins, a feeling, intense and ferocious, swelled within her.  

As a tsunami of white-hot ecstasy crashed over her, he unlocked a space deep within her she didn't even know existed.

“Oh, fuck! Quinn!”

Something molten erupted in her belly like a long dormant volcano. 

Vaguely, she heard him groan as if every fantasy he'd ever had was being fulfilled. 

Though he knew women could, he’d never seen it in person, never even imagined what feeling her release gush over his hand would be like.

Sometime last season, Beauvillier had gone on and on about making his girl squirt, and Quinn remembered wishing he would keep it to himself. He didn't want to think about that every time he saw them together. 

Now, having experienced it first hand, he understood why Tito wanted to tell everyone he knew. 

Pleasure continued to ripple through her. No high had ever gone on this long. It eased away the tension that had knotted up in her body, until all at once, sensitivity and overstimulation set in.

“Too much, too much,” she croaked, trying to squirm away from his touch. 

He’d been so mesmerized watching her face, he hadn't realized his fingers were still moving. They uncoiled and stilled, and she melted into the mattress as a sigh melted from her lips. 

Her chest rose and fell steeply, the tie of her bra pulling taught with every heavy inhale, making the cups ride up the swell of her breasts. God, she was so beautiful.

It took quite a while for her to come down. He gently eased his fingers out only after she stopped pulsing. 

A whine escaped her throat at the sudden emptiness. 

Slowly coming back to herself, Sarah registered something wet underneath her. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did I -” her eyes darted to his as her face flushed with the reality of what had just happened, “did you make me squirt?” 

“Yeah," he said, crawling over her again, "and it was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life.”

The embarrassment she felt at making such a mess ebbed away with his confession. 

“No one's ever done that to me before. I haven't even been able to.” 

A look of immense pride took over his face. “Did you like it? I mean, it seemed like you liked it.” 

She nodded, “I've never felt anything like it.” 

He brought his lips to hers, and the taste of herself on his tongue made her passion throb to life again. 

“Well, Captain,” she said a little while later, smiling at the way his jaw slackened and eyelids grew heavy at the title. “I think I've got one more round in me. What do you want?” 

He twitched against her. 

“I just want you,” he brought his mouth to her neck. “Want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmured into her skin.

“I think we can arrange for that,” she said, fingers winding into his hair. 

Bracing up on his elbows, his gaze fell to her bra. 

Instead of using his mouth, he twirled one of the ribbons around his finger and pulled gently to ease the bow undone. It fell apart, revealing a knot in the middle. 

“It kept coming undone,” Sarah confessed, hands coming up to help him with the knot, which had pulled incredibly tight amidst her heavy breathing and writhing around.

“I think it's stuck. I can't get it out while it's on me, anyway,” she said, raising her arms above her head. “Here.”

At least he'd been able to remove her bottoms the way he wanted. He eased the lace over the swell of her breasts and helped her lift it off. 

He made love to her the way he did whenever he got home from a long time away - earnestly and full of wonder, compliments falling from his lips like raindrops, as if they didn’t cost a thing.  

“Fuck, Sarah, you feel so good.” 

“I can't believe you're mine.” 

“You're so pretty. I can't stop looking at you.”

“God, I'm so lucky.”  

They didn’t cost him anything, but they made Sarah feel like she was worth a million dollars.

“I love that sound,” he murmured when she gasped in pleasure and followed it with a low moan.  

As he drove into her again and again, he shuttered and moaned, feeling like she was going to shatter him into a million little pieces

He'd been hot all night. A sheen of sweat had spread over his skin as soon as she'd climbed on top of him in his jersey. The prospect of a fantasy being fulfilled sending his body into a frenzy. Working her up to that intense high hadn't been a walk in the park either. He'd been on edge and so focused. Now, he felt like his body was on fire.

She felt and sounded and looked so good. He couldn't think of anything but her.

When she tipped her face to the side with a loud moan, he attacked her jaw and neck with his lips, desperate to taste her again. 

She was here. She was in Boston. She was here, in his hotel, in Boston. He just made her squirt, and he didn't have to be down to the bus until 10 the next morning. He must have been doing something right.  

When he felt her fall apart around his cock, he breathed through it and hung on for dear life, twitching with the bliss of it.

Coming down from her high, Sarah was mesmerized by him. The defined set of his jaw, the sweaty sheen to his skin, how his curls fell over his forehead.

“You're so handsome, Quinn.”

She knew he was holding on, hoping to urge another high from her, but she didn't have one to give him. It was time to send him over the edge. 

Propping up on her elbows, she traced her mouth along his jaw up to his ear. He let out a panicked little whimper. 

“Want to feel you,” she whispered. "Want you to fill me up."

His hips stuttered.

“Come for me, Captain.” 

White spots blipped in his vision and he had no choice but to obey. 

Her name fell from his mouth like a prayer as she pulled him over the edge. 

When they walked back in the room after showering, Sarah realized just how much of a mess she'd made of the bed. There was no way they could sleep in it as it was. 

“Oh no.” 

“What?” Quinn asked, lowering the towel he was running over his hair. 

“We need new sheets and housekeeping is going to know exactly what we've been doing.”

“No they won't.”

She pointed to the bed, “you want to tell me they're not going to know we weren't just having sex?”

He laughed, “fine. So they might know. What does it matter? It's not like we know any of them.”

“It's so embarrassing.”

“What is? That your boyfriend made you come so hard you squirted?”

“No,” she was blushing though, “I mean…no. That was amazing.”

“So what's the worry?”

“I just…I don't want anyone else to see.”

He laughed, “that's fair. I can just ask them to bring some extra bedding. No one has to come into the room.”

She nodded, “okay.”

He called the desk, and despite his insistence he would prefer to make the bed himself, the hotel sent someone up anyway. 

Sarah folded the comforter before hiding in the bathroom. 

Quinn noticed the housekeeper's eyes lingering in one corner of the room. When he glanced over, he saw Sarah’s panties from where he'd thrown them, ties scrawled over the carpet like calligraphy strokes. So much for being discreet.

After giving the woman a tip, he tucked them in Sarah's suitcase before letting her know the coast was clear. 

As they settled into bed, Quinn relished holding her close.

Before sleep could overtake her completely, Sarah needed to set something straight. 

“I hope you know that Captain thing is only for special occasions. There is no way I'm calling you Captain all the time.”

“That’s fine,” he said, laughing. “Makes it more special when you do.”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to like it so much,” she said. 

She’d called him Captain as a kind of joke, and half expected him to tell her not to do it again. Quinn didn’t even like pet names. She vividly remembered the way he grimaced the first (and last) time she called him baby.

He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “I don’t know that I would have either. I’ve never had that happen before. You said it, and it went straight to my dick. I think your lingerie had something to do with that.” 

She propped herself up on an elbow. “You liked the lingerie?” she teased, full well knowing the answer. 

He scoffed, “I'm going to dream about it for the rest of this damn road trip.” 

Giggling, she leaned down to kiss him. “Maybe I'll have it on when you get home,” she said against his mouth. 

He groaned, “don't joke about that.” 

“Why not? Wouldn't it give you something to look forward to?” 

“I always look forward to coming home to you.” 

She looked down at him for a long time, memorizing the love in his eyes. “I love you, Captain Hughes,” she said before lowering her mouth to his to tell him that way too. 

“Tease,” he chided when she pulled away. 

She smiled and settled back, laying her head on his chest. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair before they fell asleep. “I can't believe you're here.”

The next morning, Sarah put his jersey back on and put his morning hard on to good use - slower this time so he could remember it properly.

After room service breakfast and a very steamy shower, he walked her down to the lobby to catch her car to the airport. 

“I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you for coming.” 

“You're welcome. You should really be thanking Brady, though.”

He watched her pull away before heading back to his room to pack his bag. 

On the elevator ride, Quinn did just as Sarah suggested. 

Love you man. I owe you big time. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[dailycass-cain]

So you want to preorder the NEW Batgirl #1 coming to a comic shop near you on November 6?

Well, hopefully, this can help you attain that preorder. So you're doing your part to make sure this series lasts.

The first step is to find your local comic shop. Use a search engine for that most heavenly of place that has comics.

Or if you already know search them online (they might have an online shop), an app, call the store, or visit it in person.

Now I'm using my experience from the shops I visit in the midwestern area. So this could be different in the region you're in the US (or Canada). I have no idea on the best way to attain this book outside the country save Canada. So anyone who can answer that pls chim in here.

I mean, possibly, you could buy it on their website (or their eBay shop) and MAYBE they have international shipping. Then again, if you have a US friend maybe they can do this all for you?

Preorders will begin next month. If you go in person you could put your order in. If you know those who work at the LCS they might think of you and put that in your pull list.

I know one LCS in my area, he is thoughtful enough to sometimes keep a variant that has Cass for me knowing that Wed I pull up I'll nab it. Cause he knows my weakness. That, and Rian Gonzales variants.

Likewise, the other LCS I went too. There was a clerk there who'd put stuff in my pull that she knew I'd like.

But there's always that chance they might not do any of this. So it's best to just do this person next month to guarantee your preorder.

Now let's talk about variants. Some shops if they sense there's "blood in the water" when preordering will order more comics. More comics mean more chances to get the variants (i.e. the Artgerm or Jeff Dekal ones).

There are only two variants that might be problematic to attain that I can foresee.

The holo variant from Artgerm one. Unless there's a comic convention near you that same weekend there's a good chance these might sell pretty fast. It is Artgerm after all.

Unless, your LCS is part of a "larger" chain. So one of my LCSs is a Graham Crackers which is a HUGE midwestern comic shop. So there's a really good chance I'll be able to attain all my variants.

HOWEVER....

The other LCS I go to, while they are my primary pull list really don't dabble much too much in variant covers.

This is because they're trying to make a profit and they don't see being able to make one. At least that's what I was told back when I had Batgirls on my pull.

If they do. It would be two or three copies. Like the last AAPI Batgirls variant. Said my shop owner did secure me a copy even without me asking them because they knew of my interest in Cass.

I've noticed since they "enacted" that policy they do order more of the "hotter" comics. Like I noticed a few Birds of Prey, Batman, and X-Men variants in one visit not too long ago.

Still, I know attaining the 1:25 Skylar Patridge will be next to impossible from them. They don't order 25 copies of a comic (unless it's Batman or Spider-Man).

For that, I'd recommend a larger comic shop chain (or if you know your LCS. They might order enough and you can reserve said copy via them next month).

If not...

Again, I'd recommend a larger chain with their web shop or if they have one via eBay. I've nabbed all the variants I want because Graham Crackers is HUGE in the Midwest.

If you know your shop will have more than 25 copies of Batgirl #1 please preorder the 1:25 by Patridge next month if possible.

Or wait until their website opens orders (usually a week prior to release on a Thursday.

If not... There's always a chance if there's a comic around that period (or a bit after) they might have it to purchase. However, you so won't be paying the original cost of it. 😬

Now here's my overall impression of the release. DC itself doesn't think this comic might sell. I mean they're only doing a 1:25 only for this series. That's it.

That already is 🚨 because we aren't getting a 1:50 like we did with Batgirls #1.

That is why I HIGHLY stress PLEASE PREORDER THIS COMIC! DO NOT WAIT UNTIL NOVEMBER 6th! Show your love for this character by preordering the heck out of it! Add this to your pull list!

Please do your part!

That said, please go crazy and nab these covers and variants. They ain't kidding when the last Cass solo was over 14 years ago (I'm counting Batgirl Vo1. 2). You've voiced your want. DC heard it. This is you honoring that want.

Cause if not...

Well, I can't say cause in all honesty? The old DC regime is gone. They ain't side scheming or pushing something else behind the scenes. Just this might be it for Cass when it comes to an ongoing solo.

Why I say please do your part. Hopefully, this helps and if not someone better than me can advise you better (and they reply via this post). But this is me doing my best with the knowledge I know.

[theyluvlyss]

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡�� 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭...

...you'll be able to find each ghost boy (under their respective section, ofc lol) in the master list all with the same title :). I decided to just do them all one at a time to keep from having you wait any longer/forcing myself to pump them all out in one go/one long ass post lmao.

plus, to hopefully make it easier, I'll just tag you each time as the requester so you know, if that's okay lol♡.

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

while it's always fun to imagine (haha, get it💀) what it'd be like for him to be your best friend or your boyfriend, there's times when you yearn for that tension. that something in between that's more than a platonic relationship, but just short of being a lover. and I'm here to revive that feeling of what it'd be like for robin arellano to have a crush on you...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x robin arellano - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

70s-80s - the grabber doesn't exist

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

cursing - robin lowkey being a menace💀 - him also liking you tho - mentions of fighting/violence - manhandling,,, kind of?? (idk I personally wouldn't call it that, but- 😭✋🏽) - me focusing a little too much on the jealousy stuff lol whoops🧍🏽‍♀️...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

I feel like he doesn't really "crush" on ppl. He finds people attractive and that's about as far as that's gonna go lmfao. If anything, he finds it fun to recognize/point out the difference between when people are conventionally/deemed by society's standards "attractive" vs when HE actually finds somebody to be a good looker to HIM (he wanna be different so bad🙄✋🏽).

But like I said, him finding someone hot doesn't really go anywhere. He doesn't do/say anything about, nor go out of his way to force things, especially when there's no prior connection/feelings there.

On that note, I feel like for him to have a crush on you (reader), two things would need to be an order; You'd have to attract him one way or another. Like, there's gotta be something about you that makes him have that, "Oh, she's fine as hell, I gotta talk to her." mindset towards you, even if he'd have yet to act on it. And, there's gotta be, like I said, a prior connection.

Or, you could get lucky, and a very specific set of circumstances could spark something up between y'all. He's not opposed to a meet-cute😻.

If y'all were already friends/close, he'd deny👏🏽deny👏🏽deny👏🏽 having feelings for so long. Not towards you, but towards himself. He would deadass be lying to himself about liking you romantically, even a little a bit, but unfortunately, it'd be one of those things that sneaks up on him one day and then just all comes crashing down into one existential crisis.

But even after accepting them, he'd STILL not bother to do anything about it - not bc he doesn't think he has a chance (well, maybe a little bit, but see if he'd tell anyone that), but also bc he doesn't want to ruin the friendship between y'all.

He'd hate to lose you just because he woke up "...on some bullshit, bro, I can't believe I like her..." one day, so he's more than likely to keep quiet about it.

Although, he can say that's what he's doing all he wants, his actions kind of prove otherwise; he might accidentally drop a subtle hint or two, and the stuff that he normally does that held the air of friendship and loyalty suddenly becomes a bit more,,, ✨️🧡💫💋, ykwim?

If he's walking with you, maybe crossing the street or something, he could care less about how far you are behind him if it meant getting to the nearest idk Burger King or whatever faster💀✋🏽. Or at school - sure, he might be on the look out for you if he's bored, or should he hear anyone tarnishing your name without you there to defend yourself on your own, shoot them a dirty look. And even just hanging out at the drive-in; it's viewed as more of a casual hangout than anything.

But let a crush develop some,,, let him become a little infatuated with you... Now, all of the sudden, crossing the street is a whole ordeal; checking for cars is routine now, and whether you like it or not, he's got a hand wrapped around your wrist and is tugging you along gently with an alertness that both amused and perplexed you. And at school, he's now taking any free time he may have to actually go looking for you instead of your paths crossing due to natural coincidence, just to act as though he had no time at all to waste with you, and would pester you at your locker whenever he did spot you.

And, as much as he hated the way his hands would clam up and how his heart would beat out of his chest and how he practically had to force himself not to look for your reaction to every single scene of the movie he picked, he was insistent on having a specific schedule for going out to the movies now. And no, he'd never, ever let you pay, even when you really should've and definitely could've.

But...

Say if he hadn't known you beforehand tho, and y'all met through some sort of meet-cute or whatever,,, him starting to like you would be a little easier of a process for him.

Something he wouldn't be so against because there's "nothing" to ruin or fuck up besides his chances with you, so now he can pretty much just focus on not screwing that up.

He's way quicker to drop hints (not saying he's any smoother with it, but that's not gonna stop him from doing it lmfao cuz who finna check him😗😹).

It's things like really obvious (almost bad) flirting, and teasing that isn't in the same way as he might do with his regular friends. If anything, he might use it as an excuse to always be touching you in some way - OMG TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE A CHRONIC "You got something on your shirt..." JUST TO FLICK YOUR FACE TYPE OF PERSON LMFAO!!

You'd hate it and look at him like, "😐" and he'd just get a kick out of it, looking at you and laughing every single time like he's comedy fckn central💀.

Or if he's telling you a story - probably about the last time he beat someone up - he's using you as "the other guy", gently tapping you with ghost punches and moving you about by the shoulders when need be lmao. And even just in general, when he's not storytelling,,, give him ONE good reason to try and be physical, and he'll take it and SPRINT.

And if you notice that fact (there's no way you possibly couldn't), all he'll do is smirk at you and go, "It's fine, you like it😌."

Bro just slaps on an obnoxious and obscene amount of confidence and calls it a day, basically. Fake it 'til you make it type of thing, and it most definitely works (you wouldn't be reading this if it didn't🤭🤷🏽‍♀️). But of course, let it be known he'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I just imagine he's rather cocky in his abilities to woo someone if he really, really wanted it, and well... it's you, so...

He really, really wants you LMFAO😭. Anyways, back on track...

I feel like he's definitely the jealous type, but he won't do anything about it/won't get outta pocket unless your well-being is at stake. Like, if you were clearly uncomfy in a situation, or you specifically came to him on some, "This guy's bothering me..." type shit, oh, it's 0-100 rq. He's absolutely beating the shit out of that person (more so than when he's just in a regular fight).

Because of that, he'll definitely be scary dog privilege, like, I'm sorry, but,,, I feel like he's the type to - once he decides he's gunning for you - that's it. Not in a possessive way, just in the sense that he's totally made up his mind and, as much as he likes to maybe slap on a chill and nonchalant-type persona, he actually cares very deeply about things and people that have an affect on him.

He's also a go-getter, so with all of that in mind, it makes sense that even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, he'd STILL make it known that he don't play about you lmfao. But even so, jealousy is also one of those things he just deny-deny-denies, will totally brush it off if you bring it up, even if you tease him for it.

But, he is a dork at the end of the day lmao tease him long enough and he'll eventually fold and just be like, "Nah it's just cuz I treasure you and I like you, like... would you rather I didn't care or just ignored it whenever a guy looked at you crazy? Exactly, hush, you love me😌✨️🧡." Once again, it's that seemingly blind confidence that definitely has you shaking your head a lot with a giggles escaping you, but YOU ALSO DON'T SAY NO/TELL HIM OTHERWSIE, SOOO😆🤭...!!

Honestly, with Robin being jealous, I feel like it's one of those things you dk/even realize he's feeling until it's "too late" - he's stalking towards someone you've complained about making you uncomfortable or he's already done what he needs to do, he's coming back to you, and after a short conversation with you pressing him about why and whatnot, it just hits you, and you're like, "Oh...Oh my god, you're jealous🤭..." and he's all "nO😡....."

"You lyin'?😆"

"...yeah😔..."

Although, jealously for you surprisingly isn't often. Like sure, girls dk how to back off, but not only are you both pretty secure, but he's also very reassuring. Both in speaking directly to you, telling you he doesn't really have eyes for them, AND towards the other people. He breaks hearts left and right, and it's highkey not even on purpose...

Bro just doesn't know how to let folks down easy - so much so that sometimes even YOU feel bad😭. Sometimes...

"You didn't have to say it to her like that...!"

"Wha-? But it's true! Should I have lied? Like..."

"No, but I'm just-! ... You need to learn to be more sensitive about these things😭..."

"Fym, I'm the most sensitive guy I know😙."

"...The kid whose nose you broke a month ago would say otherwise, but okay🙃."

But otherwise, if and when you're not scolding him, he finds your envy to be very endearing and validating. It lets him know that you are actually thinking about him in the romantic sense like he is you, and he just likes seeing you get all worked up lmfao. Something about your brows being furrowed and the heated look in your eyes reminds him of, well, himself! And he takes a little bit of pride in that, if he's being honest with himself, especially if it's a rare occurrence.

If you're normally this little sweetheart, and you're not exactly on the violent and/or temperamental side, in those moments where you might snap a little bit, he's DEFINITELY paying the most attnetion and he's DEFINITELY standing there like, 'Omgomgthat'shot-...' 💀😭.

If anything, I feel like these strong emotions from either one of you two could for sure be the gateway into him finding out/realizing you like him back...

Like, you'd definitely slip up one time, say something you weren't supposed to, or he'd reassure you way too much and let something slip, SOMETHING LIKE THAT, and either way, he finds out and he's like "Ohp🫢...AAAAH😃🫵🏽⁉️....YOU LIKE MEEEEE I KNEWWW ITTT🤪😘🫵🏽!!!"

He'd probably be too busy celebrating the fact he "...always knew and I'm always right about these things, blahblahblah..." while you stand there like, "🙄😒..." to remember there's actually supposed to be something following up after a whole ass love confession💀.

But, because you do, in fact, love him, I'm sure you'd be the one to fill in that gap, and short after, a very chaotic yet loving/meaningful relationship would ensue.

THAT BOY LOVESSS YOU, OKAAAY💋🧡✨️‼️‼️‼️

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐥...

...as I was writing this one (well, adding onto what had already been written), the app glitched, and the whole thing deleted itself...

shit pmo so bad, I just didn't touch it again for like a whole month😭✋🏽. it's also part of the reason why it's shorter than I actually intended, so I apologize, but I hope all enjoy it regardless🙏🏽♡.

next up is vance, tho !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

@in3rci4

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,830 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

[1d1195]

Dolcezza IV

Read Dolcezza here

A little fluffy, a little angsty; hope you like it! :)

~8.6k words

“Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Yes Mom, I know. I understand,” she listened to her mother at the other end of her phone. She piled her stuff in the back of her car and rubbed her forehead. Slamming the door shut, she continued listening to her mom ramble on and on. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half,” she assured her rolling her neck from side to side. A day off was rarely a day off for her. The peacefulness of her personal day was over. It was onto the chaotic portion which would no doubt leave her feeling unrested and anxious.

Thinking about her book, she heard her mom’s continued chatter. Her complaints of how no one helped her around the house and “did I tell you about who I ran into at the grocery store?”

“Mom! I have to go!” She longed for the book she was reading only an hour prior. Thought about the deep breathing from the online yoga class she followed from YouTube only two hours prior. Ending the call, she sighed heavily again, squared her shoulders, and fell into the driver’s seat.

With a frown, she looked at the empty restaurant, lights off, closed sign hanging in the window. She didn’t even get to see Harry before she left, and she really wanted to. Since Harry took care of her, she ached to see Harry more frequently but was trying to keep her distance so as not to overwhelm him. The last place she would ever want to see her stalker was at work (not to mention it would be worse since she mostly worked from home). For anyone, it was uncomfortable when someone was flirty and there was no escape (because it was their job to be there).

She should have just texted him. That’s what Harry gave her his number for right? To be friends?

To flirt, hopefully. She thought to herself.

But since he had given her number, she hadn’t been the first one to text. Call her ridiculous or playing hard to get. Part of her couldn’t believe someone as handsome and wonderful as Harry wanted to chat with her. She never wanted to bother him, and she imagined that if she started talking, she would never want to stop. Harry would need space and...

Well, it spiraled pretty quickly.

So, all their conversations over text had been through Harry sending the first message.

Since she helped that busy night a few months back, she made her way to the kitchen at least once a week. Antonio enjoyed her help and found her adorable and helpful in a way that he couldn’t find in many employees. “Don’t get me wrong tesorino, I love my employees. They’re family. But they’re also in high school and college and they don’t care nearly as much as I do about this place.” She overheard him tell Niall, “It’s nice to depend on her as a tenant, someone I can trust Leo with, and someone that cares for the restaurant like she’s worked here her whole life.”

It made her feel warm, and she loved helping. It had been nearly routine; working from home, going to the gym, running errands, eating eggplant and spaghetti, and smiling at Harry through the kitchen window. It was so nice to relax and be around people who liked her company. People who didn’t make her feel crazy like her family.

It was nice to relax and not worry about being followed for the first time in a really long time.

I could send a simple, “good morning, have a good day” text. She thought. It was harmless. She could do that.

Right?

Sighing, she decided against it. Maybe he was sleeping in. She tried to remember what day he had off that week but was coming up short. Maybe she would come say hello at the end of her long day if she wasn’t too exhausted. But it was unlikely that would be the case at the end of what would be a long, long day. There was always tomorrow.

Plus, if Harry ended up texting her back, she would probably crash her car to answer him. Shoving the key in the ignition, she was trying to be positive, but it was hard to do so when she was not going to see Harry and she was not looking forward to the rest of her day off.

The feeling was only amplified as her engine did not turn over. She groaned. “No, no, no…” she whined. She knew very little about cars. Every year she asked her parents to renew her AAA membership for her birthday. She was ever practical, and it was a huge joke among her extended family. It was something she hated paying for herself but wouldn’t be caught dead without.

Right when the car didn’t start, she should have just called AAA. But instead—maybe because she was already frustrated and anxious about dealing with her family—she got out of her car to look at the mechanical engineering, as if she even knew what she was doing. With her phone’s flashlight, she peered under the hood, like she would suddenly know what she was looking for. She readjusted the strap of her purse to keep it from falling into the greasy, mechanical things and getting disgusting. Always one to take the time to learn a new skill, her dad showed her how to change a battery, check her oil, and replace various things in her car once she got her license. She was praying the battery was somehow disconnected. Because even if she had called AAA right then and there, it would ruin her whole schedule. Her whole day. She would let her family down and that would...well that would be really bad for her psyche.

But at the heart of it, it really made no sense for her to look under the hood. The thought of seeing her family tended to wreak havoc on her mind and make her do things like this.

A gust of wind made it’s way down the road. It blew her hair in her face and as she tried to blow it back out of her mouth, she heard the thunk of her car door closing. She bounced at the sound because it scared her. Making her hit her head on the open hood. “FUCK!” She hissed, rubbing the sore spot. She hurried to look at the door that had betrayed her. “No, no, no,” she whined reaching for the handle, but her gut already told her it was too late.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she groaned rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. After thirty seconds of silence and utter disbelief, she began smacking the window with the open palms of her hands repeatedly. She made grunting and grumpy noises and kicked the tire for good measure. “You stupid piece—!” She hissed and continued to beat up the inanimate object.

Harry saw her from his own car when he pulled into the parking space nearby. Niall looked up from the passenger seat while Harry checked to make sure he was safely and adequately in the spot.

“Oof, that doesn’t look too good,” Niall murmured, just as she began attacking her car.

Harry hurried to throw the car in park and get out of his vehicle.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushed seemingly from nowhere. He quickly raced to her, pulling her by the hips swiftly so there was small distance from her vehicle to keep her from hitting it and preventing her from self-injury. “Principessa,” his voice was so soothing. Even though she was livid and frustrated, she couldn’t help but feel like he was speaking directly into her soul, his voice warm and perfect.

The few times she ended up in Dolcezza’s kitchen, Harry was somehow kinder to her than when they were interacting elsewhere. His voice was gentle as he walked past her with a hot tray. “Behind y’principessa,” or “watch y’hands, kitten, this one’s hot.” Something of that nature. Even when it was busy as could be, he would gently place a hand on her lower back and walk by her making her stomach flutter.

Harry touching her and physically pulling her away from her vehicle, on top of that soothing warm voice, almost made her feel remorse for attacking her car. “The car is gonna win, every time, kitten.” His hands now gripped the top of her arms holding her in place even though she strained ever so slightly against his hold to return to her frustrated movements. Niall was close behind. He tried all her doors to see if they were unlocked. But no dice.

Her face crumpled and Harry thought he would cry if she did. “This is the worst day off in the history of days off,” she moaned.

Harry released the top of her arms, skimmed down the length of them and rotated her hands for injury. All the while she explained the awfulness of the last ten minutes, all the things she had to do and why she was upset that this was the time her car had chosen to break down. Niall frowned at her story, no doubt feeling bad for her, but Harry could see the delight in his eyes. “Well, tesorino, don’t count today out just yet. Harry also has the day off. I’m sure he would be happy to drive you to your mum’s,” he clapped Harry on the back of his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on your car. Make sure they get your keys safely in my hands and your car to the dealership.”

Harry smirked awkwardly and coughed as Niall volunteered him. Of course, he would do it, but he knew that she would be upset.

It was evident by the way her skin pinked with the suggestion. The thought of Harry doing something kind for her without any return on his time investment? “No way,” she snorted almost bitterly. “This is an all-day expedition,” she shook her head. “I can’t ask you to give up your day off for me.”

This was great for Harry on fifty different levels, minimum. He would get to see her in her element, talk to her about a ton of stuff, meet her family, and see her hometown. There wasn’t a better day off to be had. Except she looked infuriated, and Harry wasn’t sure he was exempt from her frustration. She texted rapidly on her phone. “Could y’go another day, kitten?” Harry asked softly. She shook her head. Tears were definitely filling her eyes at the mere thought. “Okay, so let’s go,” Harry shrugged and walked toward his car. She frowned.

“You really... don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Harry,” she whispered so quietly, and he turned around as he held the passenger door open. Her heart nearly stopped. She forgot why she was so mad. She wasn’t sure anyone had held a door open for her like that. Ever. “It’s... a lot,” she told him.

He smiled looking back over his shoulder. “Then we better get moving.”

She stayed put and felt so utterly awful, but Harry was waiting. It felt wrong to keep him waiting. Especially when she could only imagine what the day would bring without him really knowing.

“Did you desperately need anything in your car?” Niall asked, trying the handle once more.

“Yeah, like all that baking stuff,” she rubbed her forehead not having any kind of backup plan for that scenario. Harry frowned and closed the door to the car and started for the restaurant. At least Harry could come up with a backup plan for her.

“Why are you bringing baking stuff?” Niall peered into the backseat to see a bag of groceries and three cupcake pans, ignoring Harry’s path to Dolcezza’s front door.

“Uhh…” she swallowed hard. Obviously, whatever the reason was not something she felt like sharing. At least not right then. Harry frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, Principessa, don’t worry. Ni, can y’help grab some stuff,” he said opening the door to the restaurant. In a matter of minutes, she had replaced the groceries and metal pans that she had brought from her apartment.

“Niall, can you give them to Antonio when you get the car open?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together in worry.

He nodded. “Course, tesorino,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I would wait and ask Antonio for his key, get my spare car key, everything...but—”

“Principessa,” Harry said pressing a hand on her lower back making her feel like she might pass out. It took every ounce of restraint to not let the shiver threatening to roll through her body viciously for him and Niall to see her completely lose her mind over Harry’s touch. “S’okay. He’ll understand. Let’s go,” he smiled opening his car door again for her to sit in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Harry rolled down the window as he started his car.

“It’s what friends are for, tesorino,” Niall winked at her. She was only a half hour behind schedule. An easy comeback.

She nodded. Other than Eleanor and Louis, she wasn’t sure she knew what that was like. “Well, still,” she said softly. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

Niall smiled gently at her and caught Harry’s gaze very briefly before he pulled away from the curb.

*

Once on the highway, she made a call to her sister, and explained the problem. At the same time, Harry called Niall and gave specific instructions not to let her keys out of his sight. Overcome, once more by the worry of someone stealing her keys and finding her apartment upstairs. Throwing that thought out of his mind, he told Niall that he had to pass the car one off to the tow truck driver and hold her other ones until they got back. He also left him in charge of making sure her car was properly taken care of, and he was to text Harry if there was an issue. She spent the first hour of the drive near silence. Instead, texting and scrolling on her phone. It didn’t upset Harry, but it did worry him. “Do y’need anything kitten? Wanna stop for coffee or...?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later,” she answered.

He nodded. “Alright.”

It very much seemed like she didn’t want to talk. But right as the GPS alerted her that they would arrive in half an hour she started to squirm ever so slightly.

“Y’okay, Principessa?”

She sighed and put her head in her hands. “My family is a lot,” she told him. “Like just chaotic and a little crazy; it’s embarrassing.”

He frowned. “Okay, I’m... I’m sorry that y’feel embarrassed. But... every family has something, y’know?” His voice was gentle and quiet. Encouraging. “M’not going t’like... say anything.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she looked at her lap, inspecting her fingertips.

“Plus, if... if you came from them... they’re already the most wonderful people I’ll ever meet,” he shrugged as if that wasn’t the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard. He didn’t get a good look because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the road, but he hoped her cheeks were that pretty pink color.

“They’re good people...but...” she sighed.

“Kitten,” he reached over and put his hand on her squirming fingers. He gave them a reassuring squeeze. “S’okay. I promise,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath and looked out the window. Harry glanced at her briefly. It was the safest he had ever driven in his life—and he was already a safe driver. But even though he was desperate to hold her hand the way he was right now; he couldn’t help but feel bad about removing his hand from the two-position. She was the most precious thing he had ever had in his car and wanted to keep her safe no matter what—even if he really wanted to keep holding her hand and assure her it would be alright.

She looked at Harry in her peripheral. “My sister is going to fall in love with you.”

He smirked. “M’a bit older than her, yeah?”

“She’s eighteen,” she sighed. “But we think she was born as a thirteen-year-old.”

“S’a bit young for me,” he winked. She squeezed his hand as she smiled softly. Harry wondered if she knew she did that but didn’t want to bring it to her attention.

“Also,” she took another deep breath. “They don’t... I’ve never told them about the person following me,” she mumbled. Harry very nearly stopped the car.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh?”

“They would...” she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t y’brother a dispatcher? Does he want t’be a police officer?”

“Yeah...but...” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Please don’t mention it, not that I think you would but—”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “S’a pretty big thing t’hide from your family.”

“Well,” she was skimming her thumb along the back of Harry’s hand, and he had never enjoyed hand holding so much in his whole life. “It would just worry them,” her voice was quiet. Like she wanted to tell them. Maybe she wanted them to worry about her. “I don’t... they don’t need to worry about me,” she mumbled. “It’s not a big deal, really. You know?”

It was. Every time Harry saw her, there was the smallest part of his brain thinking about how someone was so obsessed with her that he watched her every movement for over a year. So much so that she had to move. It wasn’t a way to live, and she didn’t see it as a problem. Didn’t see it as something that people who cared about her should worry about. Harry wanted to cry about how sweet she was. She deserved... everything.

“I won’t say anything, Principessa,” he squeezed her hand. She smiled.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me... someone that isn’t Eleanor or Louis,” she explained.

“Eleanor...” he followed the GPS’s directions to get off the highway. It wasn’t quite a city, but not a small town either. There were lots of stores and restaurants right off the exit and Harry stopped at the red light. “El mentioned y’had an ex-boyfriend—”

“Course she did,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry ignored her comment. “—he must’ve... helped.”

She shrugged. “Yeah... but...” she looked at how her hands were holding Harry’s. It was so warm and somehow more intimate than every kiss she had with her ex. It felt like holding Harry’s hand was holding a piece of his heart and she didn’t necessarily think it was as simple as that... but she really liked it. “He... he complained a lot,” she mumbled. “I told you my family is a lot, and they are. But... they’re good people and I love them so it’s...” she sighed. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have dated him for as long as I did. Eleanor was probably right to not like him. By the end of it... it was like we lived two separate lives. I just did what I wanted and he...” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“You deserved more,” he finished.

“Well...I don’t know about—”

“No, Principessa,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “S’not a negotiation. You deserved more,” he promised squeezing her hand. They turned off the main road. Harry let her contemplate his statement in silence and continued following the GPS.

Her neighborhood was quaint and looked like a great place to grow up. It was the type of neighborhood little ones probably loved to Trick or Treat in. The kind where you could go to a neighbor’s house and ask for a cup of sugar and chat for so long you forgot to finish baking. Harry wondered if people sang Christmas carols or had block parties. But her grip had stiffened around Harry’s hand, and he could see her physically steeling herself. Her shoulders stiffened, everything about her seemed to be almost defensive. “If it’s too much for you,” she said getting out of the car and grabbing the baking items out of the back seat, “you can leave... there’s a cute mall with shops and restaurants back toward the highway if you need time to get away. I wouldn’t... I won’t blame you,” she turned her attention to the house she grew up in and looked at the Christmas lights still hanging from the gutter, draped on the shrubs.

It was February, now. Her heart felt heavy.

Harry had gotten screamed at during culinary school four and a half out of five days of the week. She was the kindest sweetest soul on the planet. There was no way her family could be so bad that he would feel the need to leave. “Thank you, kitten. M’going t’be fine,” he winked at her taking the bag of supplies and the pans from her, so she had free hands to open the front door. With a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

It was loud. That was the first thing Harry noticed. There was yelling from one room to the other. In her defense, it wasn’t angry. It was as if they didn’t want to leave their rooms. The smoke detector was going off and a clang of pans coming from the kitchen. “She’s here!” A voice shouted from somewhere upstairs. Harry glanced around quickly catching pictures of when she was younger. He hoped he had a chance to look at them again later.

Harry watched her as she took in the scene. The living room and dining room were a bit cluttered. But it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. She hoped after she told them a friend was driving because of her car situation that they would clean up a bit. Maybe they did, or maybe her sister finally found better lighting in her room to do her makeup and skincare routine each morning instead of the living room. She pulled the items from Harry’s hands so he could take his coat off. He did so silently, and quickly took the items back from her so she could do the same.

Obviously, the smoke detector and kitchen were her first stop. “Mom,” she said evenly as she walked into the kitchen. Harry followed behind. It was a little more cluttered. Especially considering they knew she was coming over to bake cupcakes.

“Hey sweetie!” The woman turned. Harry could see his future. The sweet girl would grow up to be a pretty mom just like the woman in front of him. “Oh hello; I thought Eleanor was driving you.”

Harry saw her entire body flinch then, somehow, stiffen more. “Eleanor moved, Mom. I told you that.” The smoke detector was still going off and it somehow wasn’t fazing any of them and Harry found that rather funny and cute. But he was surprised that her mom didn’t remember her best friend had moved.

“Silly me, must have forgot,” she laughed and shrugged. She turned and took Harry’s items once more and set them on the little space left on the kitchen island.

“This is Harry,” she gestured to him.

Harry held his hand out. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

She grinned and Harry could see every facial feature of the sweet girl had come directly from her mother. It was almost uncanny. “Thank you, Harry. Thanks for driving her,” she smiled. “Emma, honey! what are we doing with the smoke detector?”

“Nothing? Why?” The female voice responded.

Harry watched the girl’s face drop with exhaustion. The poor thing. They hadn’t been there longer than two minutes. Her mom rolled her eyes. “Can you turn it off?”

“I don’t know how!”

“I got it!” A male voice answered.

There was a clatter and a thud, but the alarm stopped. She felt the ringing of it still in her ears. “Honey, your daughter is here,” her mom sang.

After a moment, her father stepped into the kitchen joining them. “Hey sweetie,” he smiled. He nodded at Harry and gave his daughter a hug. She returned the hug, the light in her eyes seemed dead making her look stoic and tired. “No Eleanor?”

She nodded. “No Eleanor,” she sighed.

“Eleanor moved,” her mom answered pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. It smelled delicious.

“Really?” her dad said in surprise.

“M’Harry,” he said holding his hand out again for him to shake next. She was watching her mother with her casserole dish, she quickly moved things off the counter, so she had room to set it down. It wasn’t the most unusual thing, but it was very obvious that she was used to anticipating her family’s every movement. Maybe that’s why it was so nice to work with her in the kitchen at Dolcezza.

“What brings you here?” He asked.

“Emma’s bake sale,” she answered and began throwing used cooking utensils in the sink. She peeked into the dishwasher and noticed it was full. “Is this clean or dirty?” She asked.

“It’s clean. I asked Emma to empty it.”

“When?” she muttered under her breath looking at the stack of plates and dishes in the sink piling high enough that she thought she would have to run two loads while she was here. Harry was taking it all in, looking at the pictures on the fridge. “What’s she doing?”

“Who knows,” her mom smirked with an eyeroll. “Our princess is something else,” she explained to Harry with a smile.

Harry returned the smile but didn’t think Emma could be a princess. Not if she didn’t unload the dishwasher when she was asked. Nor if she knew how to handle a smoke detector. Harry got the sense that she was perhaps a bit spoiled—not through any fault of her own but ten years younger than her oldest sibling, she had to be waited on throughout her childhood.

Not to mention the only Prinicipessa in Harry’s life was the sweet girl he had spent an hour and a half with in the car. “Emma!” Her dad called.

“Coming!” She shouted and Harry heard a flutter of footfalls on the stairs coming from around the corner.

Her jaw dropped when she entered the kitchen. “You’re not Eleanor,” she said in surprise. Harry smirked. The poor girl looked ready to cry right there. Not one of them remembered. He wished he had her brother’s phone number just so he could warn him in advance. If he said Eleanor later Harry would lose it. He found it so unbearably sad, he thought she was going to cry. She flexed her jaw.

“Eleanor moved,” her dad explained.

“Huh,” she shrugged.

“M’Harry,” he said for the third time and held his hand out.

It seemed the genes she got from her mom were extremely strong. The three of them could have been mistaken for triplets. Her sister stared at him in surprise and nodded. “Emma,” she mumbled in surprise.

“Emma, can you empty the dishwasher since we have to make cupcakes and need space?” She asked.

Her sister rolled her eyes and Harry turned his attention again to the pictures on the fridge. Harry had his fair share of arguments with Gemma growing up. But he knew two sisters who argued could be on another level. “Did Mom ask you to ask me?”

Their mom opened her mouth, but she spoke before her mom uttered a syllable. “No Emma, but it’s courtesy to do what mom asks you to do, you know?”

“I was going to get to it after I finished my makeup.”

“Right because the dishes need you to be looking your best to get in the cabinet. Forget it. I’ll do it,” she sighed rubbing a hand on her forehead. “Why are the Christmas lights still up? I thought you were taking them down last week while James was home?” She wondered.

“James didn’t want to,” Emma shrugged. “Who cares? It’s pretty in the snow.”

She shared a look with her mom who once more looked so much like Harry’s sweet Principessa. She looked exhausted.

Oh.

Her mother’s genes were really strong. The exhaustion wasn’t something that just happened to her, it had been happening for longer than she had been alive.

“Alright,” she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I will...manage that too.”

“Sweetie, you don’t need to do everything,” her dad said.

She turned to him briefly with an irritated expression. One that said, by all means, you do whatever you want. But it stopped as quickly as it started. After her expression returned to neutral, she began to unload the dishwasher. Harry wanted to keep a mental list of things to mention to her while he was here. The first being the look she gave her dad.

“Why are you making cupcakes?” Her mom asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she sighed in frustration. “The winter carnival is expecting them or something...” she rolled her eyes. To her sister’s defense, she used to always make them when she was in high school. A “secret” recipe of hers (even if it was by all accounts a pretty standard cupcake recipe). But it had been talked about since she graduated. She made them for her brother and every year someone’s sibling of someone she knew from high school knew her and would ask.

Unlike her sister, everyone else had the courtesy to ask months in advance. Not a week like Emma. “I thought you knew!” She had exclaimed when she told her about it. “You always make them!”

“You didn’t ask!”

“I didn’t know I had to!” Emma was nearly hyperventilating on the phone thinking that she wasn’t going to make them because she had waited too long. But that was too much to explain to her mom. It was expected of her, and she should have known that she needed to make cupcakes. How could she not?

Harry was chatting with her father. Inquiring about how they had met and so forth. If Harry was into sports or if he liked fishing. She hoped Harry wouldn’t let it slip why she moved. “We haven’t seen her new place,” her dad admitted.

“S’nice. Y’should come by. We’ll make y’a delicious dinner too at the restaurant,” Harry promised.

She continued glancing over while the dishes were put in the correct cabinet, and she reloaded items from the sink to the machine. “Why don’t you make her do things, Mom?” She asked tiredly. Emma was inserting herself into the conversation with Harry and her dad. Her mom helped by clearing off the counters as quickly as possible.

She shrugged. “You know how Emma is,” she said.

“Kick her out,” she knew it was dramatic, but maybe even a threat would be helpful.

“Sweetie,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know that’s not how I operate. I could never kick out the three of you.” Plus, if she did kick her out, she would end up right at her doorstep. Right outside Dolcezza. “Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Once the kitchen was mostly cleared, she was certain her dad loved Harry. To be fair, it was pretty easy to fall in love with him. She had done it about a thousand times. Emma was starstruck. She eyed his tattoos and his muscular arms. Harry had the best smile and the nicest eyes. Emma was going to be a giggly mess.

“Alright, I made shepherd’s pie for when you finish baking and before you go see James. What did he say he needed that you had to come?” Her mom asked.

Harry turned his attention back, wondering as well. She hadn’t said anything about the reason for her brother and added it to the list in his mind for when they headed to his off-campus apartment. “Just haven’t seen him in a while,” she shrugged.

“Probably needs money,” Emma snorted.

Her mom looked at her. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare give your brother money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Better me than you,” she mumbled.

Harry was starting to understand why this was going to be a long day.

*

Everyone left the kitchen and she got to work getting bowls, preheating the oven and all the other things she needed in a flurry of activity.

“M’not much of a baker, kitten. S’gonna have t’be all you. But m’really good at taking direction,” he promised with a smile. “Jus’ tell me what t’do.”

It was the cutest thing ever to see her put an apron on that was decorated with flowers on the print. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and twisted her hair back out of her face. She was adorable. “You’re sure?” She asked.

“S’all you, Principessa.”

“Okay, I just work really quick because I have to do other things so—”

“Okay,” he interrupted with a nod and a deeper smile. One that made the dimple in his cheek poke through. It poked right through her heart. “S’fine. I can do that,” he assured her with a head nod.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said gratefully.

“Course, kitten. M’happy t’help you. You’ve been helping so much in the kitchen. S’least I can do,” he squeezed her upper arm as he gazed at her hoping she would just see how much Harry liked her. They worked quickly, stirring all kinds of batter. They were making three different cupcakes: chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet. Her recipe was easy to follow. He liked her extra touches that made it her own and he thought that he would have to tell Antonio to hire her full time just to make cupcakes. “How come y’not a baker?” Harry was pulling the cupcakes out of the tins so he could place more paper cupcake holders to dole out more batter. He lined the cupcakes on every available surface. He insisted on this job since as he kept telling her, his fingertips were immune to the hot temperatures of the cupcakes right out of the oven.

“It’s a nice little hobby,” she smiled. “I don’t think I have enough good stuff just to open a little shop and sell cupcakes.”

“Would y’want to?” He wondered.

She shook her head. “No...I like my job. I’m good at it.”

“M’sure you are jus’ good at everything y’do, kitten,” he chuckled.

She smiled and put her hand on Harry’s arm as she walked behind him. In between rounds of trays going in and out of the oven, she was working on the pile of dishes and the dishwasher. It was almost done, and he was impressed (but not surprised) by how efficiently she worked. They chatted more about her job—she was a finance manager for a big company in the city near Dolcezza. She enjoyed it; her coworkers were nice, and people valued her skill. Not that that surprised Harry in the slightest. She found it nice to work from home as long as she maintained specific working hours.

“That was the hardest adjustment about working at home. I was worried I would just work all the time.” He nodded understandingly enjoying the passion she had for everything she did. “I think maybe if I wasn’t doing this, I would want to teach people about finance,” she shrugged.

“Y’would teach bratty teenagers?” Harry asked in surprise with a smile.

“I’m pretty good with them,” she winked and jutted her chin toward the empty hallway coming off the kitchen indicating Emma, of course. Harry laughed and shook his head at her.

After more chit chat, there were about 130 cupcakes cooling and waiting to be frosted after a while. “Do you mind helping with the lights?” She asked quietly. The last batch of cupcakes just went in, and all the cleaning was almost done.

Harry turned to see her pink cheeks. It was hard for her to ask for help, Harry could see that. But it was really exciting for him to hear her ask. It was a huge step. Even if it was already implied that he would help her with whatever. “Course, Principessa,” he smiled. “M’happy to.”

“This has to be the worst day off in the history of the world for you.”

“I don’t know. Cupcakes and a pretty girl?” She dropped her gaze to the sink and Harry smiled at her shyness. “S’better than me jus’ sleeping the day away,” he smiled.

“Don’t you have... a date or something?” She wondered, looking as far away from Harry’s face as possible. She didn’t want to catch his expression in her peripheral. “It’s Friday. I imagine you only get a Friday off once in a while.”

He smirked with a shake of his head. She was oblivious.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it because of who she was. Harry adored her and that probably scared some part of her, even he could recognize that. “It rotates,” he agreed. “But... no. M’not really interested in dating anyone,” he told her.

“No?” She frowned before she could stop herself. Immediately, she regretted saying it. But was desperate to know the answer.

His heart sped. He wondered if the strong, rhythmic beating would break one of his ribs. Closing the oven, he turned to see her still working on the dishes. But after a near silent moment, he stopped her movements, grabbed her by the wrists and turned her around from the sink. Her hands dripped water on the floor, and he shifted her so that her back was to the counter. His hands pressed on either side of her hips against it, and he put a breath of space between them. “I’d make an exception for you,” he promised and scanned her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed hard.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

“Always, Principessa,” he murmured and dropped his gaze to her lips.

Her brain got the better of her again, making her mouth speak before she could comprehend what she was about to say. Her breath was airy, her mind spinning with the scent of vanilla cupcakes and Harry’s shampoo filling her nose as he leaned toward her. “You’re really going to kiss me in my parents’ house? When it’s crazy, and I’m crazy, and they’re—”

Harry chuckled, bringing a hand to the side of her face, and brushing his thumb against her cheek. As hard as his heart was beating, it felt so suddenly slow. Like this was normal and what he was supposed to do. It didn’t need a crazy heartbeat. It was simply what he was supposed to do. He glanced briefly around to see if her family was nearby—he wouldn’t want to intentionally embarrass her. “Yeah, kitten. Guess I am,” he shrugged and leaned the final distance to press his lips solidly between hers.

The moment his lips touched her, she felt her knees soften. Like she was going to fall over. All the blood in her body rushed from her extremities to her heart. It made her feel weak all over. His lips were so soft, like little down pillows. They weren’t chapped at all like she thought they’d be. Her whole body felt a rush of warmth, like the oven was open and brushing hot air over her. Her lashes fluttered, making her eyes close and she wished she dried her hands because she wanted to hold onto him, but didn’t want to get his shirt wet when he had nothing else to wear.

She sighed deeply. It was so sweet. It made his chest ache with want; he wanted to be closer. Wanted to kiss her longer. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and never ever let her go. Harry had never kissed anyone that had sighed so softly like that while kissing him. It was so very her and it made him feel like he was going to melt into the floor. Her lips tasted like chocolate from when she tested the batter. His hand kept hold of the side of her face while he nipped and pecked at her lips. The other pressed against the counter, the length of his body pressed to hers, the only two things keeping him upright and not bringing them down to the kitchen floor.

He released her lips after a moment causing a beautiful breathy sigh to leave her lips. His gaze was so intense she felt it in her stomach. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five seconds of kissing, but he would have taken an hour, and it wouldn’t have been enough. She wiped a hand on her apron and then brought it to her mouth to touch her tingly lips.

Harry’s breath was a little shallow and she was grateful he sounded a little worse for wear only because she was worried, she was going to pass out right in the middle of the kitchen. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He chuckled, shaking his head. That was very much a her thing to say at a time like this. It made his stomach flutter with excitement. “Pleasure was all mine, Principessa,” he mumbled pressing a kiss to her forehead and gently squeezing the side of her face as he held her cheek.

They stood for a moment staring at each other like they had never seen each other before. As awful as her day was, and as frustrated as her family could make her feel, this was infinitely better than what she thought it would be.

“We should... take care of the lights,” she whispered. Not that she wanted to, but kissing Harry with three quarters of her family one room away did not seem ideal.

He nodded. “Okay,” he released her cheek making her regret her choice because she felt utterly cold. She shivered and Harry sighed as he stepped away from her. Right as she turned back for the sink, the water still running, Harry caught her wrist again and pulled her so quickly to him her heart skipped a beat. “One more,” he mumbled and brought their mouths back together just as quick as he pulled her toward him, she hardly had time to react. His tongue gently tracing the length of her lip making her sigh again and he thought he would surely explode from how much he liked her.

*

“Where are the boxes?” She asked as she put her coat on. Harry pulled her hair from getting trapped and smoothed it softly on the back of her jacket. He found about a hundred excuses to touch her in the last half hour while they waited for the cupcakes to finish and for her to finish cleaning. The kitchen looked better now that she had been in there.

“In the attic,” her sister said looking up from her phone briefly. She sighed, frustrated that her siblings hadn’t even gotten the boxes down last week. Harry followed her upstairs. In the little hall between all the doors leading to what he assumed were bedrooms and at least one bathroom, was the ceiling door for the attic.

She pulled the cord to bring down the ladder, the hinges of the door groaning.

“Sweetie, wait!” Her mom shouted suddenly. Harry yanked her so hard around her waist as the door opened widely. He pulled her back toward the empty half of the hallway, causing them to fall in a heap right as the ladder half fell, dangling, unhinged to half of the frame of the opening. She would have gotten a serious smack to the face had Harry not pulled her out of the way. She felt so warm in his arms. Even if her falling on top of him with her full weight could not have felt good. She could feel her face burning in embarrassment.

“Emma, are you fucking serious?!” She screamed. She scrambled to get to her feet. She helped Harry back to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously, her eyes looking him over quickly and her mom had reached the top of the steps. Her eyebrows pinched together. She looked so emotionally hurt. The poor thing.

Harry shook his head looking at the ladder and then at her, still worried she hurt herself. He definitely yanked her really hard, and he did his best to take the brunt of the fall, but that couldn’t have felt good. “M’fine, Principessa, are you alri—”

“How is that my fault?!” Emma shouted.

“You knew it was broken and didn’t tell me?!” She hurried down half the steps to yell at her sister.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” her mother said.

“It’s okay. We’re alri—”

“Is that why you two didn’t do the decorations?” She was seething. From the top of the steps Harry could see her shoulders heaving with each breath. “Are you serious?”

“What?!”

“The ladder almost hit Harry and I!”

“Kitten,” he started down the couple steps and he touched her shoulder gently.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her mom asked.

“I was going to fix it tomorrow,” her dad called from another room.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry smiled gently at her mother wondering how she could be ignoring the screaming match.

“Why are you even dealing with the decorations, you came to bake cupcakes!”

“Emma you’re being a selfish brat, not once did you say thank you—”

“Principessa,” Harry’s voice was low, and he moved his hand to her lower back.

“You always make cupcakes!”

“—you do nothing but make messes that Mom has to clean up you could have at least put the decorations away!”

The screaming was reaching levels Harry hadn’t heard before. Especially not from his sweet, pretty angel. He worried about how her throat would feel from yelling so loud and of course the anger that was rippling through her made him worry she would shake so much she would fall down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said pushing past Harry very gently. “It’s okay—”

“Mom, it’s not okay. She is a lazy, spoiled brat and you don’t—”

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to come over and act like you run everything! You act so high and mighty! We’ve been fine without you living here and bossing all of us around. Can’t you just relax for two seconds and stop being a bitch?!” Emma did not once get up to look at her sister during this conversation.

She finally stopped. Her breathing no longer heaving, she stopped shaking. She flexed her jaw. “The cupcakes need to cool. We’re going to see James and I’ll be back to frost them when we get back,” she snapped and headed down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said softly.

“Dad,” she called stiffly.

Harry followed as quickly as he could.

“Yeah?” His voice was quiet.

“Can you bring the ladder inside that will reach the attic while I’m gone?” She asked.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he promised.

She walked right out the door and closed it behind her.

“I am so sorry, Harry,” her mom whispered.

“It’s alright. M’gonna make sure she’s alright. I have a sister,” he said encouragingly with a gentle smile. “I get it,” he shrugged. “We’ll be back,” he promised following after her.

*

They drove in silence to her brother’s apartment. Harry reached over and placed his hand on the top of her thigh, but she didn’t hold it the way she had when he drove earlier. She stared out the window the whole time. There wasn’t a word of discussion. Harry didn’t speak, he didn’t play music, just gently moved his index finger back and forth, trying to soothe her as much as possible from the small movement.

James was a half hour away from their house and when there was only ten minutes left of the drive, Harry cleared his throat. “That wasn’t nice of your sister,” he whispered.

“Can we do this later?” She answered.

He frowned. “Principessa.”

“Look, it was really bad and I’m so embarrassed that you saw that and heard that. I’m sad you gave up your day off to deal with my insane family. I feel bad you’re stuck with me for the remainder of the day so I would rather just have you tell me to leave you alone when we’re on the way home—”

Shaking his head quickly, Harry thought about pulling over because surely they had entered an alternate dimension. “Kitten, what on earth are y’talking about?”

“I don’t want to do this, Harry. I’m so close to crying, it’s not even funny.”

He was quiet for a full minute. “Y’don’t have t’be embarrassed around me, Principessa. M’not going anywhere. The only reason I wish we were on our way home is so I could walk y’upstairs and kiss y’outside your door for a lot longer than we did,” he squeezed her thigh gently.

Another silent minute. They were five minutes from James’ place. “Really?” She whispered.

He glanced at her. He could see her teary gaze. The one that broke his heart when she wasn’t feeling well. It broke his heart all over again. “Really, kitten,” he promised. “We can talk ‘bout it later. But y’family doesn’t make me like y’any less. Other than worrying ‘bout you, m’having a lot of fun,” he promised. “Got a new cupcake recipe, got to see cute baby pictures of you, and got to kiss you. So...this is pretty much the best day off I’ve had in years.”

Her heart felt splintered and broken by her sister’s mean words. She was certain Harry would hate her and wouldn’t want anything to do with her. “You still want to kiss me?” She asked.

“Always, Principessa,” he nodded. “I’d ‘ve kissed you the whole way here if it were possible,” he assured her.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I’d like that,” she admitted.

He chuckled, smiling happier than he felt the last twenty-eight minutes worrying about her. “I really, like you Principessa,” she turned that pretty pink that Harry liked so much. He could see it in his peripheral. “I don’t think you’re bossy or mean. I think you are the kindest, most caring person ‘ve ever met,” he put his car in park outside the apartment building the GPS directed him to. He cupped her face again and kissed her forehead. It felt perfect. Like Harry had kissed her a hundred times before. He peered into her eyes with the same look he had right before he kissed her in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I think... we have to wait,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat. She felt dizzy with his breath filling her senses. He frowned.

“Don’t want to kiss?” he asked worried she was still going to push him away.

“No... no...” she shook her head her breath uneven. “I do. I very much do. But I won’t...” she sighed nodding quickly. “I won’t want to stop. And I—”

Harry chuckled dropping his lips to press a line of kisses from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose. “S’okay, kitten. I’ve waited nearly nine months t’kiss you. Can wait a few more hours,” he promised.

--

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If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.52)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Jimin and Jungkook might not be the /best/ at giving you aftercare, but what they lack in execution they make up for in sheer determination. Sometimes, love is the best medicine.

Tags: Sub drop, Angst, Self-deprecating thoughts, Self-esteem issues, Hurt, comfort, Tears, sex scene Negotiations, vibrators, voyeurism, pleasure-dom jimin, pillow princess m/c, discussions of past sexual and physical abuse (nothing that i don’t believe hasn’t been touched on prior), mentions of death, medical stuff, 

W/c: 8.6k

A/n: Ah, this is a chapter, am i the most proud of it? no. but thats okay! i hope people will like the hurt/comfort! i think i needed to write something like this for bily. i know bily is long but! this is probably one of the most intimate chapters i’ve written so i like it for that fact, and all the subtext in it! 

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Yoongi’s not waiting in the house for you when you get back from the gym. He’s not even waiting on the porch. No- he’s on the street, eyes frantic and flannel misbuttoned like he’s been listening for the grumble screech of Jimin’s car. Like he started walking down the street the second he heard it.

He hardly even wants to wait for it to thud to a halt. The smell of metal and gasoline gunks up your stuffy nose, keeping you from scenting him. His hands are so soft on you when he makes to pull you out of the car and Jungkook’s lap although the omega clings to you. A half-affronted noise leaves his throat. bereft as you’re transferred from one packmate to another.

But Jungkook would never deny Yoongi this.

Your mates’ hands shake, trembling when they cup the back of your neck. “Oh- my little sweetheart- I’ve got you- I’ve got you-”

Truer words have never been spoken. He effortlessly lifts you out of the car and into his arms. You’re little more than a puppet, a doll underneath your mates’ hands as you reach for him and are rewarded.

Your nose feels rubbed raw either from the scents of everyone at the gym or your own sobs that tear through your throat. The sound is as rough as sandpaper and as quiet as the pea gravel that clinks against their sneakers as they ferry you into the house. But the soothing smell of chocolate feels like pure relief when he tucks your face into his throat.

Jimin leaves his car parked cockeyed in favor of shooting out of it to usher you and Yoongi inside, hand on your back. Jungkook’s close behind. Big hand closing around the tips of your fingers.

There has never been a prettier safer house than your and Yoongi’s home. Finally- you can smell your packmates, and it’s that alone that starts your comedown. You finally feel a little bit safe. Here where evidence of the people who live and love you clings to the floorboards and the strawberry-patterned tea cloths. and push away dangerous ideas that hover on the edge of your consciousness like vultures. 

Here you go, making a big deal out of nothing again. Here you go making them love you less. You should accept your alphas criticism without all this fanfair- what kind of omega can’t handle such a simple correction? Geumjae would have hit you harder and you wouldn’t have been nearly as upset. You should punish yourself more to make up for it-

You barely remember the moments you spent leaving the gym; Memories strung together like mismatched socks on a close line.

A face you don’t know well enough to recognize yet- Wonho maybe. “I told you to make sure she didn’t hurt herself kook” “It’s not that kind of hurt hyung.”

Jimin’s barely leashed growl as he came too close. Too threatening and forghein to Jimin's grating senses. There is nothing more dangerous to an alpha than a strange not-packmate coming close to a distressed omega.

He was ready to flatten Wonho, But luckily he didn't have to. Hopefully the other omega won’t hold it against you later.

You remember Jungkook getting you into the back of the car. Wrapping his arms around your back when you curled up as tight as possible. You remember Jungkook telling Jimin to drive fast. His cheek laid over your shoulder, already trying to cuddle the sadness away.

You remember lurching into motion before Jimin could even touch the gas pedal. Frantic, shaking your head. Begging him not to. Shaking so hard you could hardly see.

He’d kept you at a reasonable speed even though his whole body was trembling too. Eyes more on the rearview mirror and you and Jungkook in the back seat than on the road. 

You’re still shaking. It doesn’t stop when Yoongi puts you into Jin and Jungkook’s nest. Jungkook immediately begins to fluff the covers. Pulling items closer to you that the other omega deems of particular comfort; Namjoon’s favorite pillow. Hobi’s sweatshirt. Jin’s favorite yellow blanket; the mustard yellow companion to your thick blue duvet that's in the other room. 

Even as Yoongi gets you situated, whipping away your tears with his sleeve and clutching you close. Like if he just keeps your head tucked below his chin then nothing bad can happen to you.

Jimin pulls back the covers so that you and Yoongi can get in and when you do-

The fluff of it is safe, blissfully so. 

A safe little cavern of warmth and softness and pack that your mate places you into. You’re still crying, still curled up as tight as you can. But the reverence with which they treat your curled form is almost enough for the bleak nameless awfulness to leak out and warmth to take its place. Jungkook tugs himself along your spine and Yoongi teeters, one knee in the nest. Jimin darts out the door, clearly having something else in mind.

Jungkook looks up at Yoongi. “She needs-“ 

“Chocolate,” your mate says. Every Dom is well acquainted with the tiny bundles of serotonin found in gold foil, as holy and easily given as communion. Subs always get chocolate after a scene. It's one of Yoongi's rules. It even applies to Jungkook. Even when it might trigger a seizure. The pack has learned that certain things are worth the compromise.

A drop is something that they’ve all felt at one point- Dom drop too although that predicament is substantially less common. But Jungkook has never witnessed anyone drop quite this bad. (You’re still crying so hard. Hard enough that there’s a knot building in Jungkook’s own chest). He's never been in the position to take charge and take care of them the way the others might. 

Now- he wants to do more than that. He wants to be the first one you turn to for comfort, the one in control of getting you back to normal. 

“And water-“ 

Jungkook’s fluffy hair flops as he shakes his head, “not water-“

“Lemonade?” Jungkook nods, pout disappearing as Yoongi is properly ordered about.  

The basket that Jimin carries is nearly as tall as his torso and twice as wide, packed several inches higher with mismatched blankets and soft things. Filled to the brim with every last nesting blanket that the pack keeps in the hallway closet. He places it on the edge of the bed softly so as to not startle you and then-

Promptly dumps it out on top of you.

Light filters down past cotton and soft down feathers, obscuring Jimin and the sound of his voice, muffled by the layers and layers of fabric. “I put the big one in the drier, it should be warm in a few minutes.” Jungkook behind you fidgets happily, the small murrr he lets out ascent and praise enough as he begins to fuss and build a nest around you. The walls higher, safer. 

Jungkook, Jimin, and Yoongi operate as a perfectly oiled machine. Yoongi goes to get you food and Jimin replaces him. As pitiful as you might be, as pathetic as you might look (sniffling, face all blotchy and hot feeling underneath their touch) You have never been in better hands as Jimin settles you.

An alpha, omega, and beta a piece- it’s almost as good as your whole pack.

Jungkook falls into a purring nesting fury as you sniffle. Fluffing the nesting things around you until you resemble some sort of cozy flower. Each of the blankets is a careful petal placed just so, keeping you safe and snug inside until you're ready to bloom.

Jimin shucks off his sweatshirt, his arms are warm and fuzzy underneath your nose as he holds himself close but not too close.

Alphas. You’re sensitive to them- are you not? Can your fractious brain recognize that Jimin’s not a threat? Worry gnaws at his wrists. Nests are meant to be the safest place for omega’s. While this one isn’t yours technically, still-

Jimin will understand if he’s not the person you want to comfort you through this.

You’ve never seen Jimin this timid as he sets one hand on your head, rubbing through, a comforting growl tugging from his chest- keeping a little bit of a distance between you in case you’re not ready for it and-

And you don’t want it. You don’t want a single inch between you.

You want him wrapped around you so tight that you can’t tell where your body begins and his ends. You want him to want to hold you like he needs you. You want him to hold you like you could never do anything wrong because you know how far from the truth that is.

Everytime this happens you wonder if this is the time they decide that you're too much to handle. If this is the meltdown that will estrange them from you.

What request could it be that might tip the scale out of your favor? What is too much love when compared to not enough? Don't both leave a sour taste in your mouth? Namjoon and Hobi last night is only part of it- they're only part of what you’re guilty of.

But Jimin, hovering over you, is the one person who might share your fate.

The sheer terror that the truth will poison the ones you love. the idea that everything you have is only one truth away from disappearing. He at least- can understand what this particular kind of regret and fear feels like.

But It’s okay. It’s okay because Jimin probably doesn’t want to hug you anyways. You don’t want affection if it’s forced. The best you can do is hope not to be a burden, Jimin is probably at the end of his rope with you- always trailing after him and Tae.

You quake beneath his sky touches; petting down your hair and cupping your wet cheek to wipe away the fresh wetness. Your lower lip trembling, face crumbling again. He's being painfully gentle, not hard and anchoring like you want him to be.

Jimin’s shaking with the effort of holding himself back. Jimin has always been able to subvert his needs for his packmates just like you. But his leash on himself is tightly pulled right now. 

Luckily Jungkook notices the reason for your shaking. A keen builds in your throat. Your omega reacting to Jimin’s presence without your say so. You're two seconds away from letting out an embarrassingly needy chirp when He pokes his head up out of the blanket, glaring at Jimin-

“Minnie- I swear to god if you don’t hug her right fucking now-“

No sooner has the order been given than Jimin is crushing you. All the hard and pretty edges of him cradling you into being. Your knees pressed to his knees, the rumble of his growl pressed to the top of your head and the feeling of him inhaling pressing to your chest. Strong arms around your shoulders. 

Jungkook pulls his body back along your back, your behind nestled in the cradle of his hips. Until you're completely covered by the both of them, any spare inch not cuddled and touched and loved is protected by the blankets too.

Your breath still isn’t coming right and you’re still crying so hard that your ears hurt. So hard that it feels like the skin of your face is hot underneath the tears, you know it must be the most unattractive thing in the universe. And yet-

And yet Jimin nuzzles into the side of your face. Fingers tickling your collarbones, “Breathe in for me.”  A simple command. You follow it, chest inhaling, pushing against Jimin’s palm. “Again.”

It’s easy to breathe because he wants you to. And only because Jimin wants it. You’re good aren’t you good.

“Good pup” You sag against him, and he soothes you with more of that, endless grumble growls of “good puppy, such a good omega for us, doing so well.” Falling from his lips.

“Jesus” Yoongi says when he comes into the room and finds the nest a mess, the pile of blankets arranged on top of the three of you. Nothing more than air holes and misplaced limbs that let him know the configuration of your bodies. It’s hard for him to muscle his way in, but he plucks a pillow from the side and is rewarded by Jungkook’s face and the top of your head ruffled from Jimin’s copious scent as he drags his cheek up and down.  Jungkook whines petulantly at being discovered.

“Alright, up. I know you want to smother her but she needs chocolate and shit.”

Yoongi would be worried, more insistent that he be wrapped around you too- but your scent is slowly mellowing. The tense tugging down his mating bond doesn’t feel quite so taught. (At least not like it did earlier when he was finishing the drawer knobs upstairs. Your dropping felt like someone dragging their nails down the nape of his neck. Like the drop in temperature before a storm or a plunge on a rollercoaster. The lurch when your feet misplace a step).

He’d known before Jungkook called.

Despite all the love you can’t seem to stop crying. At least it’s gentler now. Jimin kisses your wet cheeks. Your tears living and dying on his mouth as he kisses each one away diligently. And then the feeling of his warm tongue, darting out kittenish as he cleans your face free of the memory of sadness with soft small licks.

It’s a little wet and a little gross, but Jimin’s hair tickles your forehead, nose nudging yours as he works. It's not exactly grooming per say but close enough. The soothing rumble growl of his chest sends you down and down. Turning your sobs to sniffles.

“Open up sweetheart” Eyelashes fluttering, Your chin gets nudged up by Yoongi’s hands. His fingers gently pinch your cheeks and guide your mouth to fall open obediently. Yoongi places a small piece of chocolate on your tongue, the inch squares broken in half then half again. A big cup and straw with icy lemonade soothes your hot throat. Jimin’s soft licks continue when your mouth is occupied, licks that grow into hungry kisses when he finds a bit of chocolate on the corner of your mouth and licks there.

Jungkook looks as stern as you’ve ever seen him, holding the lemonade cup threateningly. “You’re going to stay right here, you’re going to let us love you until you don’t feel so shitty, and only then- will we let you out of the nest, okay? Pack's orders.”

Yoongi jostles Jimin and the alpha pulls himself a little more on top of you to give him an inch edgewise. Feilding complaints of “you know I get supreme cuddle priority where this is concerned.” He grumbles, but lets your mate manhandle you until you’re placed gently on top of his chest. (If this is what babying by three separate packmates is like- you can’t imagine what it would feel like from all seven.)

You try to duck back below of the edge of the covers but Jungkook doesn’t let you, making a soft noise and bending over to kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Why does Minnie get to lick all the chocolate-“

“Oh, be quiet kookie” Yoongi’s finger hooks into his mouth- shoving a bigger piece that he crunches on through his laughs.

Another square. Another sip. They don’t make you talk, but soon all you want is another kiss. Jimin’s lips work on your throat nudging pleasant pheromones from your scent gland and cleaning you of the grainy film of sadness. While Jungkook and Yoongi trade your mouth between the two of them. 

Jungkook’s tongue tastes like chocolate, just like Yoongi’s. It’s dizzying and slowly gets hotter as your bodies warm up the nest. Jimin's hands slide up your ribcage, holding you in place as he laps at your throat. Leaving your scent gland pink and sensitive and utterly normal smelling under his mouth.

Every chocolate square earns you another kiss until you’ve almost eaten the whole bar. “You’re going to make my lips chapped.” Jungkook hums through another kiss but recognizes that it’s a wet confession. You’re still sniffling.  

“Too bad. It's what you deserve.” He says matter of factly, swallowing your protest with another kiss. Yoongi makes a sound in agreement. do I though? Do I really? Isn’t this all just- not allowed? Not for me? Am I really worth all this. “I can hear you doubting us you know-” Jungkook pushes. 

Yoongi’s fingers massage down your tense neck and you tuck your face into his shoulder. Your mate sighs, and you thank god or whatever force above that Yoongi's never been one to challenge you the way that Jungkook does.

“Can we just go back to kissing if you’re going to psychoanalyze me?”

Jungkook doesn't let you hide, turning your cheeks up at him “You deserve every bit of this, and every bit of babying the others are going to give you when they come home-“ you gulp, but try and twist your face out of his hands.

"Kookie-" your mate eases.

But they won't just let you stew, content to kiss away your sadness. If that was ever a thing might happen their mouths could do it. Jungkook’s with his cute little mole. Jimin’s that are so plush you half expect each kiss to come with a squeaky toy noise. And your mate's kisses, slow and lingering working you over until your scent goes sweet and heavy.

 You hardly have enough time to breathe between one mouth and the next.

Your breathless "fuck" gets swallowed between Jungkook's huff and Jimin's insistent growl. he’s so grumbly when he kisses, each press of his lips earning another possessive rumble. Comforting kisses and hot kisses and every type of kiss in between. Unhurried in their intent of taking you apart and putting you back together.

You don't know how long they spend kissing you but it feels like hours.

The need between your thighs builds with every kiss. The hunger sensitivity hotness of arousal carefully cultivated by their mouths and nothing else. you’ve never been someone who had a particular weakness for kisses but maybe it’s just getting passed around that has you riled up so fast. the smell of buttery baked slick eventually nudges your nose. They’re so close, so hot pressed around you. You can feel Jungkook’s rapid heartbeat against your back.

Yoongi's hand massages closer and closer to the nape of your neck not a scruff, but not not a scruff either. Jimin is not content to wait while you kiss, Jungkook delicately licks into your mouth, almost lapping at the seam of your lips. it’s messy and primal and you feel yourself clench around nothing when he sucks on your lip. Just in time with Jimin dragging his lips up and down your scent gland, hot and clean under his touch. 

Sometimes- sometimes soft sex is the best sort of aftercare. Especially after the doms are particularly rough. From what Yoongi knows of your scene last night (Namjoon and Jin gave him a rundown) neither you nor Hobi got to cum last night.

Maybe that's what you need. Like this. So soft and gentle that you hardly have to lift a finger.

Jungkook settles for man-handling your lower half, tangling your legs, and nesting his between yours. Squirming close enough for the apex of your legs to touch his thigh. Dragging along the thickness. not exactly sexual given you're both clothed and yet-

Yoongi catches his hands. Sensing your discontent before you shift, not entirely uninterested but-

You have three packmates in front of you and you'd have a hard time even pleasing one of them right now with how tired you feel.

jimins hands start to linger along the hem of your shirt but you catch them and pull back, Fingers pressing gently, tentatively giving your bodies some space. Eyes darting away from him, unable to meet his eyes.

“I think- I’m still a little sore from-” from Tae’s knotting, almost four days ago now. Your body still hasn’t healed itself completely. The skin deep ache is still there when you move. Not to mention the tenderness on your backside from Namjoon. There's still evidence of her, barely there bruises from her mouth poking up over your hip where your shirt has gotten rucked up from Jungkook's fingers gentle and explorative.

Don’t make me say no to you right now. Please don’t make me disappoint you.  I don’t think I’d be able to say no right now if I wanted to. I don’t think I’m able to not to give you every inch of me. 

Your memory fractures, hurtling you into another moment, another lifetime.

In the backseat of a fancy car after a dinner during which you hadn’t been able to keep from crying. You couldn’t help it, it just hurt so bad sitting after the night before. You were so sore then- not sore just- in pain just sitting there.

It was one of the first nights he’d ever been overly rough with you. Rough enough that you’d found yourself too hurt for any more. But Geumjae hadn't wanted to hear it. You remember Geumjae cupping the back of your head just as gently, urging you down toward his crotch. The chauffeur in the front seat put up the partition.

“There is one way you can make it up to me. I know you’re upset that you made me angry. But you have to remember if I’m happy you’re happy right?” 

Right?

Jungkook and Yoongi take your answer for what it is. The kisses get slower, more pecks. But Jimin- Jimin is still eyeing you precariously. He notes the darkness in your eyes, the place you go to that's small and dark and scary.

"If you’re saying that because you think this has to involve a knot- then you’re wrong. It doesn’t. I was just going to-” he trails off, waiting and watching. You shift backing up right into Jungkook who promptly loops his arms around your middle.

“Doesn’t it?” You ask carefully. Still very unsure and very worried. “You can’t exactly like- fuck the sad out of me any other way. Can you?”

You don’t mean it to sound like a challenge but it’s clear something in Jimin takes it like that by the way he bristles. something in Jungkook too. His hands are still on you, still on your stomach. Stroking gentle circles that go hard with your words.

“Not at all."

"Do you think we have all those sex toys for decoration?"

You shrink, and Jungkook nuzzle sweetly. Yoongi cautions, unsure. "Guys-"

But Jimin is never one to back down. Pressuring you is the last thing he wants to do but he just wants to understand why. When he can so clearly smell that you're interested- why are you refusing?

There's something about seeing you so sad, so small and unsure like you just were that makes him itch.

He nudges the side of his face with his nose. “If you don’t want to cum then you don’t, that’s all I was implying. Nothing reciprocal- this isn’t about making us happy.”

Happy

You toy with the front of his shirt, something in your stomach lurching. You don't know if you can believe what Jimin says but- Jimin is honest. When you pull back to search his eyes there’s nothing there that betrays the truth. 

“I don’t want to just like- get off while you guys watch, that hardly seems fair- that hardly seems- right.”

Don’t let me take more from you- because I will take too much from you if you let me. I don’t want to feel selfish on top of feeling like I’m not enough. I should be offering the same to you for fucking up your afternoon.

Jimin darts forward, pressing his mouth to yours, in a brief hot way, speaking with his body when his words just won't align. When he pulls back he doesn't leave you entirely, keeping his forehead pressed to yours.

“Say no. Say no and we’ll drop it and I promise we’ll just cuddle but- do you trust me?”

“Yes” you answer, because you do- you think you might always trust Jimin. Despite what happened before you knew Yoongi and the whole pack. Despite everything that’s happened since. Jimin has always proven himself with his love, a selfless love.

He was the first one after Yoongi who bandaged your cuts and kissed your burns and bruises, all those months ago. Back when you had nothing to offer him, not even your words. You can trust the medicine he prescribes. There was nothing in it for him then, no reason that he had to care for you.

“You promise you won’t like- get angry if it's just me? If I don't want to reciprocate?” You tentatively trail off, you don't want to be too articulate with it but you have to know. 

Jimin’s eyes darken ever so slightly, but you don’t find any of that anger in his answer. None of it- directed at you. “Of course, I won’t. I’d never do that. None of us would ever get angry at you for that.”

You watch Jimin for one more moment, hiccuping and Sniffly. You duck jimin’s intense gaze shyly. "You don't have to," you say weakly, giving them one last chance to change their minds, interest stirring anew as Jungkook sucks down the column of your throat. Your scent spiking again- comforted and consenting.

"Just shut up and let us take care of you" Jungkook gets a nip for that one.

Yoongi leaves the nest at Jimin’s urging to choose something you might like from the boxes in the closet. “Oh! Get the pink one with the-” Jungkook orders. but Yoongi pauses in the doorway to look back and watch you. You’ve gone back to exchanging soft kisses. 

The Yoongi of many months ago would have intervened before Jimin could even ask the question before he could even press you. But now- something in him feels nearly settled while he watches you snuggled down between the two of them. 

In another world; where you and Jimin and Jungkook and Tae had met before Yoongi and the rest had. He thinks you'd have done well together. That you’d have fallen in love or into something- regardless of him. The idea of it is both comforting and scary. 

Yoongi comes back, and you barely catch the flash of pink as you recline against Jungkook’s chest. As Jimin slides your pants down your hips, pulling back the blanket so he can slide them off your feet.

The kisses keep coming, and you don’t know where to put your hands, they end up hovering in front of you awkwardly- unknowing if you should touch Jimin or if that would be too much.

Jimin holds his hand out expectantly for it, and Yoongi hands it over with a quiet huff. Alphas and their possessiveness. Trust Jimin to be possessive of your pleasure.

The head of the vibrator is already warm. Jimin is considerate that way and warms it up between the palms of his hands before he begins. Your mate keeps trading you for kisses, pressing the occasional peck to jungkook’s forehead or cheek. both of them keep you distracted, and prevent you from getting anxious as jimin intently bunches your panties to the side (the fabric damp enough that it wets jimin’s fingers). But Jimin is too focused to kiss you too, too insistent that he be the one to hold the vibrator.

You don't even have to lift a finger. Is this what he meant when he said he wanted to turn you into a pillow princess all those weeks ago?

It’s gentle, you’re too distracted with kissing them as Jimin presses it to your clit. He does it softly but even so, the gentle first touch of it buzzing against you has you jerking.

Yoongi lets out a soft noise, hands going to your hips as you squeak, keeping you still underneath the covers. Everything is warm and hidden and gentle. The only disturbance is your breathing getting heavier, and Jungkook asking Yoongi for a little bit of chocolate. 

It's so casual you would hardly assume from their behavior that there was anything lewd happening under the covers. Jimin starts on the lowest setting, slowly cranking it up as the minutes go on. Hooking your thigh to the side so that the folds of your pussy can better part around the head of it. Watching you intently, pulling it away to watch your clit twitch. 

Fuck, he thinks, tae wasn’t lying when she said you were cute. It’s been long enough from the time in Jimin’s car that he’d almost forgotten how wet you get and yet. The head of the vibrator glistens, and he licks his lips when he realizes the wet patch you’re leaving on Jungkook’s thigh. 

Jungkook watches you as he eats the chocolate, smiling down at you when your eyelashes flutter. He hopes it feels good, you feeling good is something he wants all the time. He keeps the chocolate on his tongue, letting it get melty and gooey before he kisses you again.

Jungkook doesn’t stop kissing you, working your mouth with his, letting the chocolate melt into the seam of your mouth keeping you occupied while Jimin takes you apart. Both of Yoongi's hands cup your hips, urging you into a gentle grind. He's doing all the work really, nudging your hips in the direction of Jimin’s hands. Holding you still when you start to twitch.

You're so worked up from your kisses, from the spanking last night where you never got to cum, and the fact that the last time you did was with Tae and Yoongi almost 5 days ago now- that it comes quicker than you thought it would.

Your orgasm is such a gentle thing, further urged on by Jungkook’s hot mouth running down the column of your throat and Yoongi’s pleased grumble. Quiet moans that become stilted as your toes curl, stretching. 

"There you go sweetheart, just like that-" Jimin growls, pressing the head of the vibrator to you with slightly more force. Making your tummy clench up under his hand where he presses. keeping you pinned exactly where he wants you.

Jimin keeps the vibrator pressed to your clit just long enough before you’re squirming away. Jungkook- the little fucker- actually has the audacity to laugh, looking down at the bottom of the nest, where it’s been disturbed by your moving.

“You know- I never noticed it before, but you kind of stretch your toes like noodle does- you know when he’s stretching in the sun, toes all splayed- when you cum.”

Your mate actually laughs at that, so does Jimin- his chest shaking under your cheek as you hide.  “It’s kind of stupidly cute.”

“Shut up” you hiss, but there's no heat behind it as Jimin detangles the vibrator from the nest and hands it over to your mate. Yoongi promptly shoves it into the bedside drawer, out of sight and out of mind.

Jimin sets your thigh back down easily, placing your your panties back in place with a soft tap that has you jerking again. Your soft whimper is soothed by him and Yoongi as your body goes boneless and your mind goes quiet. jungkook re-tucks the nest around you but you don't think you could move from it if you tried, every ounce of energy worn out of it from crying and cumming.

Coming down is so easy, it’s like nothing happened at all only that you're utterly boneless now, with no tenseness left in your tired body. Sex and intimacy and these moments tangled together just like this nest. They don't smell angry at all if anything Jimin's scent fluffs out thicker and more satisfied than before.

Vanilla, chocolate, and honey. All satisfied and sweet thick. The three of them smell so nice together. It has your own scent spiking wildly. You sleepily drag your cheek up Jimin’s throat, hoping it means you'll smell like him later. You hope Jin doesn't mind, that Hobi doesn't mind- the nest is probably going to smell like you for days.  

You're willing to admit that you do feel more clear headed now, although the need to be close re-surges. The need for reassurance spiking and unlike last night Jimin is right there. Yoongi is too. Jungkook- yawning and shriveling his nose cutely.  Everyone has it in their mind for a nap and yet-

Yoongi’s hands comb through your hair, tucking it away from your face, playing with the little baby hairs you have at your temples. The same ones he always tugs, that he loves. Even though he’s never verbally said that he likes them.

“Do you know why you dropped sweetheart? Do you have any idea why? so that we can try and not do it next time?”

“No” you sink lower below the covers. But even they sense that it’s a lie. “Namjoon’s not going to be angry at me? For dropping? When he gets home? Right?”

“Of course not, I know he’s not even angry at you for last night either” You tuck yourself lower almost face to face with Yoongi’s tummy.

“But-“

Jimin straightens, searching the nest for his phone “We can call him right now,” a look at the clock makes him curse though; he’s probably not even out of surgery yet. “Wait okay, we can call him in exactly one hour- here, I’ll even set my timer.”

Jungkook noses along your shoulder. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s what you’re upset about-“

They wait, and with their hands on you, it’s easier not to feel the threat of your words. How is it that being loved is such a medicine to make you unafraid? There was a time when you felt fear more than safety, when not feeling it felt as foreign to you as being loved. You look down at Yoongi's hands and realize how much has changed in the last few months. Your heart feels heavy with it.

“Hobi got punished because of me.���

Your mate stiffens and Jungkook's hand is still hard around your waist, unwilling to let you get more than a centimeter or two away from him. It’s Jimin who snorts, pulling back the covers so that he can really see your face.

He raises his eyebrows, “Do you know how many times my bad ideas have gotten us both a punishment?”

“Or mine” Jungkook adds, wincing. He rubs away his grin on the back of his hand. Now is not the time to get sentimental over happy memories. “There’s a reason why we’re the pups- collectively the pups. We've all fucked up before. Hobi gets that.”

“You mean- it wasn’t- he’s not gonna hate me for it? Again?” Yoongi and Jimin go quiet, but Jungkook leans forward to nuzzle into the nape of your neck.

“I’m going to say something, and I’m going to need you not to freak out over it. Alright?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. Giving Jungkook permission to continue.

He leans forward cupping your cheek and turning your face to his and even with your hands on Yoongi’s chest, blanketed by them- His words still feel like they yank the floor out from underneath you.

Jungkook laces his other hand with yours. thumb skimming down your cheek. “This isn’t like this before. Hobi and you. You’re not like before anymore. But I think you  know that already. I think that’s the real reason why you’re so scared of making him upset."

You can't look at Yoongi, can't meet his eyes with how intensely he's watching your face for your reaction. "When we say you didn’t fuck it up, we say it because we know what things really push Hobi away when he loves us-“  your inhale of breath is so jagged but Jungkook continues anyways “-and it’s not going along with his ideas.”

Jimin hums behind you, agreeing “Hobi likes to pretend that because he’s more submissive than us in bed it means he can’t act like an alpha. But he still likes to be the one in control sometimes. He does it in different ways. He likes to be listened to, to be followed. He likes to look after you when he likes you. He’s probably worried you’re the one mad at him pup.”

You think about all of it. The times that Hobi's taken you to get food, "Can you make it the way I like it?" "Of course, I can." him reaching over to tug at your seatbelt and making sure you're buckled in last night. You think of him taking your sea glass and keeping it safe in his pocket. All of it. He's always looked after you in his own, special, shy way.

Especially last night, when he safeworded for you.

You blush, and immediately re-hide hide your face in the front of Jimin’s shirt. The fact that they know this much, that they've thought on it strikes you as concerning. You wonder if they've been talking about your relationship. You know Jungkook and Tae definitely have- the gossips that they are.

If they knew about the kiss, if Hobi tells them- you wonder what they'll think. You know he hasn’t said a single word about it to anyone yet and you doubt he ever will. You only talk about things you like. You only gush about kisses given that you wanted right? And Hobi pulled away from you so quickly- he can't have wanted it. It had to have been a mistake.

And if that's true, then you have to doubt what Jungkook and Jimin say.

Yoongi's hand carding through your hair feels as familiar as your own. He knows you're not convinced yet. “I promise Hobi’s not mad at you darling.”

Hobi scoffs from the doorway, “Of course I’m not fucking mad at you.”

He has this vaguely ruffled look about him, vaguely off-kilter like he’s spent the last few hours of work bouncing on his heels after he got the text from Yoongi to the group chat. Got the text that Jin wasn’t able to step away quite yet too- and knew the radio silence coming from Namjoon meant you'd be without them. 

Hobi doesn't know why he was so worried, one look at the four of you curled up in the nest, and he knows you've been well taken care of.

You shoot up, nervous, worried about what he might have heard, and painfully aware that you don’t look your best. Your face is probably still all splotchy, tear tracks and messy hair and even messier clothes. You hadn’t even showered after the boxing class and you're not even fucking wearing pants-

Hobi carefully shucks off his slightly muddy sweatshirt. “You’re not?” you ask.

“Why would I be?” he challenges, and even you have to admit you don’t have a good reason for doubting it. Yoongi next to you is so still you think he might have stopped breathing, eyes darting from you to Hoseok. Jungkook inhales a little breath, making an ah- noise that you carefully ignore.  

You only have Hobi, coming close to the nest, lingering. Waiting for something.

He looks okay, okay in a way that you didn’t look this morning, nothing dark or broken in his eyes, nothing at all that supports the fear still itching through you. Taking its nails to everything soft. Hobi's eyes are soft, dark, and still like tide pools, gentle the way the ocean is at low tide.

You sit there, staring at him for a second.

“Can you get in the nest Hobi? Please.” You ask quietly. His eyes go all scared, all fragile for a second before he nods.

An omega asking an alpha to get into a nest can only mean one thing. But you both ignore the subtext of it as he gets on the edge because honestly- the nest is already a little crowded. But Yoongi moves over quick and Jimin sighs, rolling his eyes. You feel like you've missed something important. Something that's hidden in Jungkook's mouth- smiling like that cat that’s just eaten a canary. 

He’s only a body away from you but if you’re being honest- it’s Hobi’s presence in the nest, safe, getting soft touches from the others that lets you banish the last of the sub drop for good.

You watch them as you start to get sleepier and sleepier, trying to keep your eyes open as you watch the others say hello. Yoongi’s hand runs over the hairs at the nape of Hobi's neck. Jimin growls and nudges his shoulder with his forehead in hello. And Jungkook’s happy squeak.

Hobi looks fine, he smells fine when you drag your nose up his hand, dozing in all the pheromones. He lies back. “You alright? Better?” he asks, getting his head on your pillow- when a brief reprieve is offered by Yoongi slinking off to get more lemonade.

(Maybe it’s a little gross that the four of you were sharing one glass of it- but then again Jungkook and Yoongi have both literally tasted your slick before so you think you won’t ever exactly get grossed out by things like this).

Hobi hadn’t known what he would come home to. If you’d been nonverbal like you were at the beginning or if you’d be in omega space. He'd prepared himself for both possibilities and the most likely and most heartbreaking one; that you'd just want to deal with it alone or with just Yoongi.

It eases something tense in his chest that you've clearly been on the receiving even of very thorough aftercare by the look of it. The smell of sadness is distantly sharp on the air. Long soothed, a bad memory.

Hobi doesn’t know why he doubted that Jimin and Yoongi and Jungkook would do a good job. Why he thought for a second today that you might not be alright without him. It’s so stupid, Hobi feels stupid for thinking that. You have your freaking mate right here.

“Yeah,” you say, better, now that you’re home. Better- now that I can see you’re okay. “I’m sorry for making such a big deal over nothing, I’m-“

Hobi shushes you, “Don’t, that’s not- this isn’t a big deal. It’s not- really.” He stresses.

“Okay.” You say, “Okay” you repeat again because now that he’s here you have no idea what to fucking do about it.

You’re feeling so much lighter as the nest gets cracked open, the careful wings widened to accommodate more bodies and shoulders. It gets harder and harder to stay awake especially once Jimin retrieves your blue blanket from the drier and the warm edge gets bundled around you, soft and fluffier than the rest. Soft giggles ferry your tired body as you doze, and cat videos and tictoks get traded until Yoongi shushes them, and tells them to let you sleep.

One by one your packmates come home. You wake for each of them.

First Tae- who comes in a rush much like Hobi, her shoulder-length hair coming loose from her claw clip that she tosses on the bedside table. the clatter of it waking you up. She bundles up close to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you how good you’re being. Tae is in her pretty lavender-colored blouse but her pants are a bit too scratchy until she changes into softer peach-patterned pajama pants.

She presses her nose to your shoulder, inhaling deep, pulling back with her lips parted, she must have worn a lip stain today because the edge of her cute mouth is all ruddy. "You smell like Minnie" You nudge her nose with yours.

"He took care of me." In the doorway, Jimin tries his best not to blush.

Jin comes home like a whirlwind, gone is his suit jacket and his tie, and his pants aren’t long for this world. You regret the nature of the world each time one of your loves can’t be in pajamas (Really- it’s fucking sucky that they don’t just get to traipse around in nesting clothes all the time). The soft squishy omegan part of your brain feels more and more comfortable stretching out its curious fingers and tugging at them in displeasure.

He's feeling needy too; you wake to Jin’s long fingers running through your hair and down your spine and then going up again checking your body to make sure you're okay. Now that the pack omegas got you, he won’t easily let you go.

Being loved isn’t always harsh touches and harsh kisses. Sometimes being loved looks like being softly herded into the kitchen because someone has to cook and none of you feel like being more than a few feet apart right now. Being loved feels like your big blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders bundled in Yoongi's lap while Jin makes soup. Because soup heals all kinds of ailments- even the bad days like this.

You’re persuaded into a shower to wash off the scent of all the sadness with Jungkook and Jin. Although Jungkook spends more time playing with the bubble bath than really helping wash you or groom you. Usually, he doesn't miss a chance like this.

Your sleepy bodies are pressed flush in the warm water, hungry for nothing but closeness. Jungkook’s wet hair tickles your collarbones when you sit in his lap. His small cock squished against your thigh and your chest pressed to his, nothing sexual but everything intimate about your position.

Kisses pressed to soap-slicked skin that go nowhere let me wash your sadness from you. let me do it with my mouth and make you clean with love. Let me love you in the way that makes you feel the lightest, the most cared for. The purest. let me give you that back. let me make you new. 

One love makes you clean, one love makes you dirty. One makes you big and another small.

After the bath, the two of you sit side by side and let Jin blow-dry your hair. Jin even drags out floor cushions to do just this (especially for your poor bottom, still tender from the spanking last night but not quite red, a reminder that Namjoon had in fact been gentle).

The pack would ordinarily never consider Jungkook to be an obedient pup, but he is a model of perfect behavior for you. Sitting pretty and obedient (but still fidgeting slightly from side to side) while Jin does his hair and then yours. When you start to squirm he drags you sideways into his lap. After you're dry, Jin runs your hair through with a sweet citrusy smelling serum that Jungkook says he likes. You find yourself sniffing his hair to see if you like it too.

After a shower- and a fresh scent mark by the pack omega- you’re right as rain. It surprises no one when you almost fall asleep at the dinner table, fed mouthfuls of sweet strawberry spoon cake (Tae might have picked it up on her way home). A warm belly full of soup and food. Kept in your chair only by Jimin's arm around your middle.

You tried to wait up, but Namjoon doesn’t come home when he’s supposed to. He doesn’t even send a text.

The night drags on- the hours growing longer and longer and then smaller until jin ushers all of you into bed. No matter how much you whine and tug at Jin’s sleeve and say that you're more than capable of staying awake for him. You watch Yoongi and Jin share a distressed look. Namjoon still hasn’t answered any of his texts. How long was his surgery supposed to take again? 12 hours or 15?

That’s a long time for anyone to be awake, let alone for someone to be standing. He’s bound to be tired when he comes home- he’s bound to need the 7 of you.

You want to stay awake, but you’re too worn out from crying and from the boxing class today. Struggling to fight sleep until Jimin makes the move to scruff you, a gentle thing when he sets his teeth against the nape of your neck and tugs. Ushering you gently off to sleep with a small whine.

When you wake next it’s well into the night and Yoongi and Jin are not in the nest.

It takes you a few seconds to detangle yourself from between Tae and Jungkook. Before you even recognize what scent- or more precisely whose- Is tugging you into motion before you’re really awake.

Your alpha- his coffee and liquor scent- is angry and upset. It fills the house, pushing out the scent of you and everyone else. Namjoon never smells this potent, so musky. 

There’s something wrong. 

The first thing you see when you walk into the living room is Namjoon's blood-soaked shoes. The sensible ones he wears during surgery, soaked through from the inside out. You can tell he tried to clean them before he left but the white parts of them are still pink. Like there was so much of it that he couldn't get it all out in one wash. 

 He left them outside. He can't have been home for long because the door is still open, letting in the cold nighttime air. He’s pressed along Jin’s front, Namjoon only ever looks small when he’s pressed to Jin. Even as he pulls back there's something limp in him something worn away. 

You're still not awake enough to piece together his words. “-One second they were fine- stable and then- they just started bleeding and the general surgeon-“ Namjoon only ever talks about the terrible and heartbreaking part of his job with Jin and Yoongi. Not the rest of the pack and not you. Not ever. 

He only ever tells you when his surgeries go well. Not when they go bad, not like this. 

Maybe that’s the reason why he goes silent when he sees you in the doorway, rubbing at your eyes. Namjoon looks more tired than you’ve ever seen him. His silver hair all pushed up at the back like he’d been pulling at it.

You press yourself into his front, letting out a small shattered sound. “I’m okay pup.” but his voice is rough, his eyes wet. “I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you today- I wish I'd-“ He lets out a shaky breath, and you wrap your arms around his waist. 

 “s’okay joonie, just happy you’re home, got the nest all nice and warm for you- come” you try to tug him but it’s like trying to move a lead weight.

You're so short you only barely come up to the middle of his chest, Jin nuzzles into his cheek, and Namjoon's scent gets impossibly thicker- deeper. It makes you want to roll around in it. 

 It actually makes you weak in the knees. And that's how you know something’s actually wrong. Something must be really wrong for Namjoon to be so sad and still smell so thick and musky. You don't know if he washed the blockers off before he left the hospital or if they just stopped working- or

 You must make a noise- because Namjoon’s looking down at you, your mate pulls at your shoulders trying to shush you- to urge you back to the nest but you’re too sleepy to make sense of it. Can't leave alpha, need to stay by alpha, a small instinctual voice answers in your mind. 

You finally unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, breathing in Namjoon’s scent deep and- You go so weak at the knees you almost fall over. 

"What’s wrong- what's going on? Why-“

“Joonie’s going to be fine little love- he’s just-” Your mate flushes, unable to say it.

“It started halfway through, I was scalpel deep in the patient's spine and I couldn’t stop.” Namjoon scrubs a hand down his face, trying to clear himself of the sadness but it only makes him smell stronger. Even Jin straightens his back at that. “-I wanted to rush home the second I got your text too but I couldn’t. I noticed after I got it that I was kind of going crazy and-” 

Jin cups your cheek trying to move you away and give Namjoon some space but Namjoon can’t stop his growl, loud and echoic in the quiet house. threatened by you just stepping away. His hands tighten on you possessively. 

You freeze at the threatening sound but Jin just sighs rolling his eyes. “Oh you big baby- i’m not taking her away from you.”

Namjoon seems on edge as he stares down at you. Eyes flashing in the darkness. Jin sets his hands on his hips, but he knows better than to argue with his alpha when he’s in this condition. 

“Joonie’s going to be fine darling, He’s just touchy because he’s in pre-rut.”

~-~

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[socksorstockingz]

I don’t really post much on here, but as someone who’s been in the Nevermore fandom for a while (following some tags on tumblr and being on the discord, though my activity there has significantly dwindled after it became bigger), but in light of the drama that’s gone on I feel like I’d like to give my opinion, if only for my own peace on the matter.

As a response to the whole situation and in context with other stuff I have heard of going down on the discord, I think Red’s long post was kind of a necessity, as only addressing the current biggest drama (that related to Crimson) would likely stir up people into saying in bad faith that she’s ignoring other issues that have gone on in the discord, and you can tell from Red’s standpoint that all of this has kind of been an accumulation of months and months of shit, on a scale she, Flynn and the mods have admitted to not being entirely prepared for, as their prior experience in discord moderation was on the Shiloh discord, which is significantly smaller, and thus more tight-knit. I’ve seen some people claiming that 95% of the post is calling out others rather than apologizing, but, having read most of the post thoroughly, Red seems quite apologetic and guilty throughout, thought their frustration is also noticeable. I understand why some people are unhappy with the fact that she namedropped some people she believed were involved in particularly toxic situations within the discord — which, I might add, was likely used as better context for her thought process and decision making throughout this whole mess, rather than her intentionally trying to throw in non-sequitors and victim blame, as I’ve seen thrown around. Admittedly, showing the discord/tumblr names of users — some of whom are apparently minors — is somewhat immature, as it could risk them being targeted by harassment (though Red did state in post not to pursue these people, and, in context, was likely airing out the names to ensure people didn’t throw around accusations and assumptions at random users). In that area, I believe Red could’ve been more careful.

As an apology for what she and the mods have been accused of recently, I think the post worked well, with her kind of structuring the piece like an apology sandwich: providing an upfront apology to a group she unintentionally harmed in her initial discord response, stating the full context of the situation, then reiterating her apology at the end. Some may call it tactless or manipulative, but, in my personal opinion, the long “filling” of the apology sandwich was necessary to provide an explanation, but not an excuse for her mistakes. You can tell a lot of this has been boiling in the background for a long time, and, though this extra information has provided more fuel to the Red-hate-train fire, it also helps inform people who may have been on the outskirts of the situation of some of her observations while moderating, which ultimately led to the mistakes made in the most recent situation.

Do I think Red made mistakes? Yes, absolutely. Do I think Red could have worded things better or tried to tackle the situation differently? Yes, as well. But, despite its flaws, I think what Red has done to address this situation and try to atone for/improve from it demonstrates greater humility than a lot of other creators I have heard of and known. When she said she and Flynn would step back from the community and find new mods to hopefully rebuild the community’s trust in both them and eachother, she Meant it, as, if you look on the discord, Red and Flynn have tags under their profiles indicating that they have banned themselves from the space. Some may see this as them running away from the mess, but, as I see it, they have said their piece here, and are, as Red has stated, trying to focus on themselves and the development of Nevermore, rather than digging themselves deeper into the trenches of everything that has gone down, which I find quite admirable, even if some of their actions during this whole debacle were questionable. I’m not saying there is no criticism to be had, but I think the sheer dogpiling that has gone on in the past few days (even before Red had posted either of her responses) is utterly baffling. I get wanting to hold creators accountable, but you’ve gotta remember they’re humans too, and immediately spouting some of the most heinous shit about them isn’t going to help them improve, you improve, or help the victims find peace in the situation. And, based on some of the posts I’ve seen, it seems like some people were holding onto a lot of information until after the first big post about the drama hit tumblr, then suddenly started unloading that onto their blogs to continue stirring the pot and adding to the dog pile. It kind of feels parasocial, and like they were just Waiting for this opportunity to drag the creators down. Maybe I’m misinterpreting the posts, and maybe more things are coming out now that people feel more validated in their opinion by having other peoples’ anger on their side, but it just feels kind of… disturbing.

I’ve heard of this happening in other communities before, and I guess, considering its size, something like this was bound to happen to the Nevermore community at some point. Maybe I was just naive to think that we could avoid shit like this, but it’s happened, and people are hurting, and things are confusing and scary. But, if there’s any advice I’d give to people who have been doomscrolling through this (like I have lmao :’) ), it’s important to take a step back from this situation, and take a step back from your keyboards, and just collect your thoughts for a second. Because, after a while, it’s just hurting yourself over and over because you feel betrayed that something like this could happen in a community surrounding a piece of media you love. Perhaps I’m being hypocritical in saying this, but… I really think it’s important to distance yourself if you need to, and take some time to yourself to process everything.

[boobearymuch]

Sweeter Than Coffee

Summary: He was his own worst enemy, he knew this. His friends knew this. And as annoying as it might seem, he promised them to try. Leon could at least have the decency to pretend to be interested in this date. That’s when he heard it. His name. At first a question, then a statement loud enough to finally grab his attention. And – oh wow, are you his date? Tags: Leon S. Kennedy/gn!reader, fluff, light angst, mentions of anxiety and insomnia, first date fluff, blind date Word Count: 2k Read on AO3

Notes: Another upload from ao3!! Writing some new stuff though, maybe sneak peek soon ? (it's a plagas!Leon fic hehe)

Fuck.

Just one night. Was just one night of sleep too much to ask for? Surely of all days his fucked up sleep schedule decided to wreak havoc, it just had to be this one, didn’t it? So much for a fresh beginning, Leon thought darkly. Well, if the agent were being honest with himself he knew he’d fuck this up; to think he ever thought otherwise is a total joke. And – speaking of jokes – Leon swore he heard his love life die out in a pathetic gurgle as the coffee shop came into view. Jesus, he hoped it was the right one. When he left his apartment he initially took off in the wrong direction, muscle memory taking him in the direction of work instead of the date he promised his meddlesome coworkers he would go on. At this point, it would probably be less humiliating to say he never showed up than admit he arrived so late his date thought he never showed up. But it was too late. The door handle was right there, and after working up a sweat running to this place, he damn well deserved a coffee. 

Like most coffee places did, this one smelled heavenly. It has admittedly been a while since he last visited his usual one – the shop a few blocks from his apartment that also served Cuban sandwiches – and the smell of coffee beans was almost enough to make Leon forget how irritated he was. Almost. His expression dropped into its usual frown now as he allowed himself to catch his breath and survey the room. He couldn’t help but look predatory as his frosty gaze lingered at the counter, then to the many small tables dotted around the room. Was this a waste of his time? Were you even here? His coworker seemed to think he’d get along with you, for whatever reason, but looking for you now had him second guessing. It’s been a while since he’d been on a date. A long, long while. And assuming he didn’t fuck this up and you were still here, he might end up talking himself out of it anyway. I mean, maybe it wasn’t too late. Leon could spin on his heel right now and leave, maybe walk to the park with a sandwich…

He was his own worst enemy, he knew this. His friends knew this. And as annoying as it might seem, he promised them to try. Leon could at least have the decency to pretend to be interested in this date. That’s when he heard it. His name. At first a question, then a statement loud enough to finally grab his attention. And – oh wow, are you his date? 

Leon only caught a glimpse of you prior to the meeting thanks to a grainy photo on his coworker’s flip phone. But nothing could have prepared him for the vision waving at him shyly, an uncertain smile reaching your lips. “Hi,” He said, unable to take his eyes off you, “I’m Leon.” He didn’t even know when he moved close enough to grab the chair opposite you. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Your excitement reached your eyes, and a sudden wave of guilt overcame Leon for his idea about leaving just moments ago. God – you look nice. Like, really nice. Should he have tried harder than a t-shirt and jeans? He prayed to god his shirt wasn’t inside out, but hopefully the bomber jacket covered that negligence. Hopefully. Shit, did he wash it? It takes him a moment to realize you’re talking again, snapping himself free of thoughts of dirty laundry and instead on the cup you pushed toward him. Like some sort of angel, you’ve already bought his coffee. “It’s got cream and sugar, I hope that’s okay. I wasn’t sure how you took yours…” 

Usually, Leon drank his coffee black. Not necessarily because he liked it, but rather out of convenience more than anything. Sometimes it’s all they have on missions, and when you’re pulling all-nighters in freezing temperatures, hot (albeit bitter) coffee is a blessing. He remembers his manners long enough to thank you, before taking a gentle sip. It’s sweet, and he’s not used to it, but he drinks it gratefully after the night he’s had. Which reminds Leon of his predicament. “I’m sorry for being late.” He began sincerely and lowered his gaze to watch your hands wrap around the paper coffee cup, “It’s kind of…lame, but I slept in by accident.” The bouts of insomnia haven’t gone away since returning from Spain. 

But you don’t seem to mind, and only let out a small, “Mm, it’s alright. I was late too, so it worked out.” A blush reached your face – embarrassed – and Leon felt an invisible weight lift off his achy shoulders. You could have chosen to keep that to yourself, Leon would be none the wiser, but you didn’t. Perhaps his confidence was finally returning to him, but he had to know. 

“Oh, really? What’s your excuse?” 

The way you peered down at your coffee to avoid his teasing made him want to reach over and direct your warm gaze back at him. “You’re gonna think it’s ridiculous, but…” You tell him. It was a damn hummingbird. Walking over, perfectly on time, you were distracted by a hummingbird going crazy in a flowering bush. You even stopped to take pictures on your small flip phone. And Leon can’t help it, he laughs. To think he jogged down the street – haggard and unkempt – while you stopped to admire a bird. 

You smiled too, but feigned offense to his reaction. “I never see them in this part of the city.” You defended, and Leon shook his head, shoulders still shaking with a silent laugh, “What? They’re good luck, you know.”

“Mm, really?”

“Yes, actually.” You insisted while he bit back a goofy smile and took another sip of his sweet coffee, “I mean, maybe. I’ll have to see how this coffee pans out first.” You seem shy again, as if it suddenly dawned on you this was a date. Fuck, he’s so glad he came. How could Leon have gone about the rest of his day without hearing about your lucky hummingbird? And then you asked, “So – what do you do?”

Ah. He wished you had asked him about anything else. Leon’s gaze suddenly dropped to his coffee, and he thumbed it as flashes of his latest work trip came to mind. Spain, Las Plagas, Ashley. “Um, I do work for the government.” He cleared his throat, unable to focus on your reaction – on anything – when he thinks about Spain. “It’s…a lot.” It wasn’t fair. You were making each other smile just moments ago until his damn anxiety reared its ugly head again. Spain, Las Plagas, Ashley, Luis.

“The government? I can’t imagine how overworked they have you.” You sympathized, and god bless you for trying to make him lighten up. The truth is, he’s developed some odd habits since returning. Sometimes he feels his veins twitch like they remember the parasite that nearly consumed him. And if he’s wearing sleeves, he fervently pushes them up about two or three times in the same hour to check for veins. But his insomnia…that fucked with him worse. When Leon lies down to rest, he’ll be dozing off and swear he hears Ashley’s voice in the distance. It just sounds so vivid, he can’t help but get up – each and every time – to check each room, make sure they’re empty. If it happens multiple times in one night, he’ll grab his gun and do a perimeter check outside the apartment. It’s a miracle his neighbors haven’t called the police on the crazed man in pajama pants who circled the property twice a night. And when his body finally tired out from being on alert, sleep was no respite. If he dreams, he’s running through castles and empty police stations. Footsteps squelch with rainwater and blood. 

But he doesn’t tell you any of this. Spain, Las Plagas, Ashley, Luis, Krauser.

Fuck, he’s been quiet for too long. His friends warned him about being curt. “Yeah, I have to travel a lot. It’s exhausting.”

You nodded in understanding, but Leon couldn’t bring himself to look at you anymore. You probably thought he was such an asshole for switching up on you. But if you did, you didn’t show it. “Really? Traveling sounds nice. Where do they send you?” Your refusal to let him stew in his emotions tugs at his heartstrings, but he wished you’d change the subject now.

Leon laughs without humor. “Recently, Spain.” 

“Ah, not a fan of Spain then?” Your voice is softer now, the tone of your voice akin to someone approaching a wounded animal. 

  “No,” He confessed somberly, “Not really.” 

“Yeah, fuck Spain.” Your cussing caught him off guard, and he finally looks up to watch you flush with warmth as you feign hatred for the topic. “And their late night dinners. And…and paellas.”

Leon is amused by your declaration, clearly trying hard to make him smile and god he loves you for that. And, fuck, it works. “Actually,” The corners of his lips rise, “Paellas are pretty good.”

“You’re right, they really are.” You admit, which makes him huff with a laugh. 

God, he needs to get it together. Ask you something, at least. Leon was never spectacular at small talk – he quipped here and there – but holding a conversation that wasn’t about work? Hell, he was struggling to even do that. “Listen, can I ask you something?” The words leave his mouth before he can second guess himself. You tilt your head curiously, but your eyes communicate an invitation to continue. And your gaze makes him feel so nervous and warm, how can a stranger’s eyes feel this safe? He wanted to tell you everything, but not just yet. “How did you feel about coming to meet me today?” Apprehension oozed from his bones, down to his hands and the poor sleeve on his coffee cup that his blunt nails picked at. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to hear, but he knew he liked you – really liked you. Leon knew he wanted a second date the moment you mentioned the hummingbird. God, he sincerely hoped he didn’t screw this up. Was he too moody? Were you only here as a favor to your mutual friend? Did his coworker beg you to go on a date with Leon – some broken guy who can barely see the point of going to sleep anymore? 

There was no predicting what you’d tell him, but he never imagined you’d tell him, “I was nervous, of course.” You began stroking the side of your coffee with a steady thumb, “But excited? I don’t normally do this sort of thing — go on dates with strangers. But I had a good feeling about you.” Leon could melt. “I’ll admit I almost said no, but…we shouldn’t let our pasts get in the way of a new beginning, right?”

It seems he isn’t the only one worried about baggage. “Yeah, that’s right.” For the second time that day relief washed over him, dropping his shoulders at least by an inch after hearing your sweet response. “I would have had a really shitty morning otherwise.” A beat, and then he’s opening up like a flower in May. “I’m glad I’m spending it with you.” With you, this angel who can somehow read him like an open book and say things like fuck paellas and emotional baggage. And you’re smiling so warmly at him how could he not want more mornings like this with you. 

But it ends all too soon, and you’re hugging him goodbye, and he hopes your scent lingers, and you’re trading numbers, and you poke fun at his beat up phone, but yours is worse. You part ways, and he can’t help but look back over his shoulder to watch you walk away. For the last several moments with you, it’s like Leon forgot the ache in his heavy chest was because of Spain, Las Plagas, Ashley, Luis, Krauser –

It was peaceful in your arms – for just a moment – nothing plagued his mind. And it was all because of you, you, you.