#c: Lavender Brown

[elisedonut]

Bill/Fleur/Lavender

is this anything??

Lavender surviving the attack and not becoming a werewolf because that night was not a full moon but now not only is she scarred which she absolutely hates

but has to deal with all the extra emotional issues and weird changes to her body that she wasn't expecting

the random bouts of anger

the stronger sense of smell

whatever else that you think are fun side effects those are like the main two I've explored before

point is!

Everything sucks!

But while in the hospital Fleur ends up visiting her and getting attached because of the similar situation to Bill and ends up taking the poor girl under her wing and getting very very attached very fast

Like Bill looks at Fleur looking at Lavender once and is just knows what she's after and just gives in without question

like that very night is talking to Fleur like

"Alright what is the plan here?"

"We invite her to live with us at the cottage."

"And if she says no?"

"She won't"

And Bill doesn't believe that but also knows by know that he's not going to be able to talk her out of it.

And when Fleur does ask Lavender agrees with very little convincing and then it just escalates from there

the whole time Lavender is not even considering they Like her but falling for them regardless and suffering

While Fleur is already head over heels and acting it

And Bill's over here falling a lot more slowly through the similar situation

[theloverstomb]

‘Fragile Microbiomes’ by bio-artist Anna Dumitriu

1. SYPHILIS DRESS- This dress is embroidered with images of the corkscrew-shaped bacterium which causes the sexually transmitted disease syphilis. These embroideries are impregnated with the sterilised DNA of the Nichols strain of the bacterium - Treponema pallidum subsp. pallidum - which Dumitriu extracted with her collaborators.

2. MICROBE MOUTH- The tooth at the centre of this necklace was grown in the lab using an extremophile bacterium which is part of the species called Serratia (Serratia N14) that can produce hydroxyapatite, the same substance that tooth enamel is made from.

The handmade porcelain teeth that make up this necklace have been coated with glazes derived from various bacterial species that live in our mouths and cause tooth decay and gum disease, including Porphyromonas gingivalis, which can introduce an iron-containing light brown stain to the glaze.

3. TEETH MARKS: THE MOST PROFOUND MYSTERY- In his 1845 essay “On Artificial Teeth”, W.H. Mortimer described false teeth as “the most profound mystery” because they were never discussed. Instead, people would hide the stigma of bad teeth and foul breath using fans.

This altered antique fan is made from animal bone and has been mended with gold wire, both materials historically used to construct false teeth (which would also sometimes incorporate human teeth). The silk of the fan and ribbon has been grown and patterned with two species of oral pathogens: Prevotella intermedia and Porphyromonas gingivalis. These bacteria cause gum disease and bad breath, and the latter has also recently been linked to Alzheimer’s disease.

4. PLAGUE DRESS- This 1665-style 'Plague Dress' is made from raw silk, hand-dyed with walnut husks in reference to the famous herbalist of the era Nicholas Culpeper, who recommended walnuts as a treatment for plague. It has been appliquéd with original 17th-century embroideries, impregnated with the DNA of Yersinia pestis bacteria (plague). The artist extracted this from killed bacteria in the laboratory of the National Collection of Type Cultures at the UK Health Security Agency.

The dress is stuffed and surrounded by lavender, which people carried during the Great Plague of London to cover the stench of infection and to prevent the disease, which was believed to be caused by 'bad air' or 'miasmas'. The silk of the dress references the Silk Road, a key vector for the spread of plague.

5. BACTERIAL BAPTISM- based on a vintage christening gown which has been altered by the artist to tell the story of research into how the microbiomes of babies develop, with a focus on the bacterium Clostridioides difficile, originally discovered by Hall and O’Toole in 1935 and presented in their paper “Intestinal flora in new-born infants”. It was named Bacillus difficilis because it was difficult to grow, and in the 1970s it was recognised as causing conditions from mild antibiotic-associated diarrhoea to life-threatening intestinal inflammation. The embroidery silk is dyed using stains used in the study of the gut microbiome and the gown is decorated with hand-crocheted linen lace grown in lab with (sterilised) C. difficile biofilms. The piece also considers how new-borns become colonised by bacteria during birth in what has been described as ‘bacterial baptism’.

6. ZENEXTON- Around 1570, Swiss physician and alchemist Theophrastus Paracelsus coined the term ‘Zenexton’, meaning an amulet worn around the neck to protect from the plague. Until then, amulets had a more general purpose of warding off (unspecified) disease, rather like the difference today between ‘broad spectrum’ antibiotics and antibiotics informed by genomics approaches which target a specific organism.

Over the next century, several ideas were put forward as to what this amulet might contain: a paste made of powdered toads, sapphires that would turn black when they leeched the pestilence from the body, or menstrual blood. Bizarre improvements were later made: “of course, the toad should be finely powdered”; “the menstrual blood from a virgin”; “collected on a full moon”.

This very modern Zenexton has been 3D printed and offers the wearer something that genuinely protects: the recently developed vaccine against Yersinia pestis, the bacterium that causes plague.

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: Connie x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, mentions of drugs

Birthday girl

“Wassup mami.” Connie greeted, eyes trailing over your body, your curves on full display in your outfit. “You look good.” He licked his lips, eyes looking you up and down once more before enveloping you in a hug.

“Thank you, Connie.” You cheesed. His usual scent of weed, lavender, and sage fueling your senses.

“I didn't know you were gonna be here.” He leaned in close to speak over the loud music playing throughout the house.

“What do you mean? This is my celebration.” You giggled.

“Whatchu mean ‘your celebration’? Did I miss something?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“It is my birthday Con.”

“Oh shit. Happy Birthday, mami” He hugged you again. “Why you ain't tell me? I woulda got you something.” He scolded.

“I figured you knew already because of Sasha. Plus you don’t need to get me anything. Especially since you never let me pay for my shit.” You rolled your eyes, though you were extremely grateful.

“Whatever. Ima get you something regardless.'' He kissed his teeth. “Is this your house?” He motioned to the large modern house, its lights dim and filled with your closest friends, loud music, liquor, and weed.

“It's my family's vacay home. Wanna tour?”

“Yeah, for sho.” Next thing he knew your hands were entwined as you showed him around the house. As the tour continued upstairs, Connie could feel the blood rushing to his dick. The sight of your ass peeking from your skirt as you walked up the stairs had him ready to get on his knees, and truth be told he didn't know whether it was to bury his face in between your thighs or ask to marry you.

“And then this is my room.” Your words brought him out of his trance.

“It's very you.” He walked around the room analyzing everything, from the pictures on your wall to the strawberry vanilla candle that was recently burned.

“In a good way?”

“Of course mami, everything about you is good.” He stood behind you as you took pictures in front of your large full-length mirror, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he posed with you.

“These are cute, Con” You gushed, as you swiped through the pictures.

“We look good together.” He mumbled.

“We do.” Your eyes locked. The energy shift was so quick you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “Connie?…”

Connie had wanted you craved you since that night you asked him if he sold pre-rolls. He didn't, but you were just too pretty to say no to. Since then, he longed for something more than what you already had.

He had planned on asking you to be his numerous times. From the first time you sat in his passenger seat where you gushed about how much you loved his car to just two weeks ago on your usual late-night drives when neither of you could tell if the sexual tension was due to the sativa or the breaking point of all the intense eye contact and not so subtle touches you shared the past month. Neither of you acted on it but it no longer mattered anymore, he had the opportunity right now and he was going to take it.

“Lemme make you feel good.” He broke the silence. Large hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer.

“What?” You instinctively leaned into him, thoughts going fuzzy.

“I know you heard me.” He muttered into your neck, light pink lips littering kisses onto your neck.

“C-Con, what are you doing?” You bit back a moan as he sucked harshly on the spot that had your knees weak and panties soaked.

“Be truthful, ma. You thought about this before or nah?” He pulled away from his assault on your neck, admiring the faint mark forming on your brown skin before looking into your eyes.

“What about-”

“Just a yes or no mami.”

“...Yes”

“Do you want to do this?” His hands traveled to grip the soft flesh of your ass through your skirt

“Please.”

“Then let me take care of you. You're the birthday girl after all.” He whispered before his lips were on yours.

The kiss started slow and passionate, before his hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you off the ground like it was nothing. The kiss became needy and sloppy. Saliva mixing as his hands roamed the area of your ass before gently placing you on the edge of your bed.

“Connie” You panted.

“You're so beautiful” He groaned, kissing down your body, his tongue running over your exposed cleavage before he unbuttoned your top.

Immediately his mouth was back on the soft flesh sucking gently on your nipple while he pinched and rolled the other.

“Fuck, Con” You whined, looking down into his hazel eyes that were staring you down. Releasing your nipple with a pop he gave attention to the other, his tongue rapidly flicking over the nub.

When he was finally satisfied with your whimpers and whines he let up his assault on your breast, peppering a trail of kisses down your pudgy belly before completely undressing you.

“You're so damn pretty. You know that?” He kneeled in front of you before separating your thighs. “Fuck”

Connie swore he could feel himself get lightheaded by how fast the blood rushed to his dick. The sight of your pretty pussy having him on the verge of cumming in his pants. Your pretty brown lips glistened with your arousal, the prettiest pink he'd ever seen peeking out between your folds the wider he opened your legs.

“Con.” You whined, cool air breezing against your clit.

“I got you, ma.” He gently kissed your clit. It wasn't long before he needed more, fingers digging into your thighs as his tongue traced the outline of your clit before dipping inside your folds, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked on the bud.

“C-Connie shit.” Your hands traveled to his head, long acrylic nails running over his buzzcut to hold his head in place.

Letting one leg fall he replaced his lips with his thumb, rubbing tight circles on your clit, as his tongue teased your hole before diving deeper. Your walls immediately clenching onto his tongue.

“Fuck pa, oh my god.” You whined, hips bucking as you tried to push his head away though it was no use. He was pussy drunk, his tongue relentless as it slurped up your arousal before diving back into your spasming hole. “Fuck, Connie m’cumming.” Moans spilled from your lips at your release.

Despite your shaky legs and attempts to push his head away, Connie continued to lap at your pussy, slurping every last drop of cum before lifting his head.

“You taste like fucking heaven.” He groaned, kissing your inner thighs before standing. Not bothering to wipe his chin of your cum before taking his shirt off. His flexing muscles and ink-littered torso had you feening for more. “Fuck, turn around, ma.” He pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips before flipping you around.

Your back arched, head resting on your arms. Connie couldn't resist the way your ass looked, kneading the soft flesh before landing a slap to your right cheek, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“What's your safe word mama?”

“Red.” You looked back, the sight of him spreading his pre-cum that leaked from his angry pink tip making your mouth water. He was big, at least 8 inches, thick, and fuck, it looked so heavy.

“Shit, m’gonna fill you up mami.” He slid his tip in between your folds, gathering your slick before lining up with your entrance.

“S-shit.” Connie let out a shaky breath as he sunk into your tight walls. “Fuck, relax, ma.” He could barely get his tip in without you squeezing him tight. “Breathe mami. I got you.” He gripped your hips sliding deeper into your soaked pussy, tip kissing your cervix once he fully rested inside you.

“Con.” You moaned, nails gripping the sheets tightly.

“I know mama.” He rubbed slow circles into your hips as he started to feed you slow deep strokes “Doing so good for me, look.” He tilted your head to the mirror. Your ass ricocheting off his hips with each thrust he delivered, his pace increasing.

“Fuck, Connie, please.” You moaned over the loud sounds of your pussy sucking him in and the claps of your ass.

Your words encouraged him to go faster. His hand wrapped around your throat, the pressure he applied mirroring the way your walls tightened around him.

“Ugh- fuck keep doing that nd imma put a baby in you.” He groaned. He was so deep, stretching you to full capacity. The repeated kissing of your cervix, having you see stars.

“Con I'm so- mhmmp I'm so close.” Connie could feel his balls tighten at your words. You were so addicting.

“Yeah? Gon head nd nut, mami. Let it go.” His eyes focused on where your bodies connected, a white sticky ring forming around the base of his dick.

“Shiiit” You moaned into the mattress, your walls spasming around his dick as you came, your cum dripping onto the mattress.

“Fuck” He groaned, his release following right after yours. Thick ropes of cum being shot deep inside you. He continued to give you slow strokes to ride out your orgasms before pulling out. After taking the time to clean you up he got you settled in bed, the party long forgotten as he rubbed soothing shapes onto your hip, giving you soft sloppy kisses as you drifted off to sleep.

“Happy Birthday mami.”

pt.2

had to do something for my baby connie also ik fuck was used a lot im sorry lol buuuuttt i like to think I'm getting better at this but idk y'all tell me.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬!𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑯𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒆.

╰┈➤ ❝ prince!xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 16 (21…)

tags : long fic, pwp (with plot), porn with feelings (LOTS. OF. IT. because xavier), based off of the lightseeker myths but not lore-accurate, canon divergent borderlining on au, jeremiah as a side character, master/servant, prince/knight, forbidden love, secret relationship, devotion, angst (with a happy ending), sort of a fix-it, self-doubt (both), slight jealousy, miscommunication, arguing, teasing, sexual tension, needy xavier, making out, heavy petting, oral (both), vaginal sex, cum shot, slight somnophilia (you wake up to him eating you out), make-up sex, praise, use of “your highness” “my liege” “my prince” “my light” (from reader), use of “my queen” “my lady” “starlight” “angel” (from xavier). lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : ~9.7k

an : SO THIS IS LATE (i was supposed to have finished this on the 16th…) BUT… HAPPY (BELATED) BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED PRINCE !!! every time i revisit his lightseeker myth something in me dies <3 but despite the terrors i will continue to write xavier in soft and tender ways because i love him oh-so-very-much, and hopefully you can feel that through this. this is absolutely my beloved baby fic and probably one of the favorites i have ever written (up there with dlmly and ewflss), so i also hope that you’re able to love it as much as i do! (ALSO as usual the song adds to the feels so have fun w it i guess !! :D)

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

Of love and admiration that goes far beyond devotion.

Your body felt thick with sleep as you awoke. Limbs still a little heavy, only barely breaking through the last vestiges of your dream… You were barely aware of the rustle of sheets from below, a hand going up to shield your eyes from the sunlight. The curtains had been opened—something you were usually responsible for at the start of the day, whether or not you had slept in your own room.

Not that this was your room.

Soft, silken sheets of a far higher quality of your own; lavender-laced curtains… Dead give-aways.

This was the prince's room.

And last night, he was all over you.

In you.

The heat of his body was flush against yours, all his touches both intentional and needy, sultry movements of his hips to thrust himself deeper, and deeper, and deeper… Slowly the details began to flood back into your memory, effectively having your body heat up at just the thought of it. And then you heard it—you felt it. Nimble fingers trailing over your thigh, something wet, and slimy, a familiar feeling as he languidly licked a stripe up your core.

With a gasp, your hands reached down, finding purchase in those soft tufts of white-brown hair you loved so much.

“Xavier—?!” Still groggy with sleep, you could feel the haze in your own voice, but you blinked yourself awake at the sight below you.

Xavier’s eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief.

He had his hands prying you open, spread for him to see the very evidence of your arousal, and rested his cheek against your thigh. As if to make a point, his tongue darted out to give another lick—almost like a test. And you noticed that his face had already been covered with your slick.

“Good morning, angel,” he murmured with a smile. He had the audacity to nuzzle against your skin, quite obviously taking delight in the way your face flushed a bright red.

“H- how long have you… ah—”

You gasped as he pressed your thighs against your chest, spreading you more obviously open for him to enjoy. Again he leaned back down to lick at your folds, circling the tip of his tongue at your hole, and you jerked with the slight sting of sensitivity.

Sensitivity that couldn't have been there, unless…

“H-hey! Xavier… Wh— H-have you been doing this the whole morning?!”

He chuckled this time, hands moving to massage gentle circles at your thigh. You could see him run a thumb over the red mark he’d left on you just last night, and a shiver ran through your spine at the touch. “Should I… not do that?” he tilted his head. Slowly, his fingers began to move back closer and closer to your glistening heat. Your breath caught in his throat; he looked so innocent despite the way he would easily pull you into the palm of his hand.

“No, it’s not that, just… I-I didn’t think you’d wake me up like this…”

He smiled. “Mm.”

This time, he let your legs rest back upon his mattress, and he slid up your body, the familiar heat of his skin melding with yours.

“My lady…” he murmured. His eyelashes fluttered against your cheek lovingly, lips barely touching your skin, teasing a kiss before resting his forehead against yours. “Ahh… It’s just, I like staying between your legs. It’s nice. And… I like tasting you. And when you cum, I like watching the way you flutter…”

His voice was so soft. He spoke so genuinely, despite the mirth laced into his voice, despite the dirty words that fell from his lips. He could say it like it was normal.

He had come to be like this with you.

Not that being used to it by now made you feel any less embarrassed about it.

“My prince, please,” you huffed, feeling your face heat up. With a whine, you poked at his chest, effectively getting him to roll off of you and settle for pulling you into his arms.

You savored the moment.

His arms wound tightly around your shoulders, and despite the more indecent way he’d woken you up, there was comfort in being so close to him, comfort in waking up next to him. His presence, as always, exuded warmth in every possible way—you didn’t mind when his leg slid up and around you, pulling you closer, closer, locking you in his embrace.

Xavier was clingy.

And later today, he would be back in a meeting with his parents, not at the academy with you. And that was enough of a reason for him to be even more so.

“My liege…” you murmured into his chest, nuzzling against him to offer some form of comfort back—at least, as much as he always gave to you.

He shook his head.

“Not that,” he mumbled.

You smiled,

“My prince?”

Another shake. “Not that, either.”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, leaning in for a quick, feather-light kiss.

“Xavier,” you whispered.

And he smiled.

“Xavier,” you said again, with more conviction, feeling your heart flutter at the way his eyes seemed to shimmer. “Xavier.”

“Just Xavier,” he murmured. “When I’m with you… I’m just Xavier.”

Your eyes closed for a moment as he placed a loving kiss on the tip of your nose, and then you chuckled. “Okay, Xavier,” you emphasized his name to appease him, ignoring the frown that formed on his face when you pulled away. “You have your duties, and I have mine. We should get up, no?”

“It’s early,” he huffed.

“You need to be early.”

“But I want to stay with you…”

“And I want to lay in a bed of roses. We don’t always get what we want, Xavier. Not even the Prince of Philos.” You grinned this time, leaning back down to return his earlier kisses with a tap on his nose. “Up. You know we can spend some more time together when you’re free again. Besides… I, too, have those training sessions to get to…”

With a groan, he sat up with you, almost pretending to be sleepy by making a show of rubbing his eyes.

You scoffed. “Oh, come on. As if you hadn’t been clearly wide awake and working me up between my legs… You woke up earlier than me!”

“That's different,” he insisted. “That was relaxing for me. Just as last night, you’re always the most wonderful when you—”

You shoved him by the shoulder with a laugh, finally standing up from the bed and making to go and shower. You weren't surprised at the huff of indignance he let out, but you paid no attention to his sulking. The running water felt cool against the your skin—it was a nice contrast to the heat still coursing through your veins. Different from his touches, naturally, but welcome nonetheless, especially since he'd been quite busy with your pleasure mere moments ago.

Not that you hadn't enjoyed it.

Every brush against these marks on your skin had you tingling, flashing memories in your head of how his teeth would nip, how his tongue would glide over you… how he'd painted his release all over you, the sheer bliss at feeling such of the extent of the love the two of you shared.

You did enjoy it.

And if he had been craving it, you couldn't deny that the same was true for you.

With the shower tap closing and the curtain being drawn, you stepped out of the shower to gaze at your reflection in the mirror.

This was what it was like to be his.

You thought that you wouldn't trade it for the world.

There was a smile on your face as you stepped out, casually covered in one of the spare robes he kept neatly to the side for nights you would spend over with him. "Xavier, if you aren't up from your bed yet, you really should—"

Your gazes met.

For a moment, the air seemed still. His eyes raked over the shape of your body, almost so to have you loosening the grip that held his robe together.

"A shame… If only I could mark you where they could see…" You watched as he made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you in that same, familiar manner, and burying his head into your neck. “Mm, you’re just so beautiful."

And you couldn’t help it.

You leaned back into him, allowing his hands to trail back down over your body, loosening the robe, the pads of his fingertips grazing your skin to leave goosebumps in your wake. Again. Just as he had done that evening. Each careful caress all over you, pressing into your skin as if to leave another mark of his love—nothing visible this time, but rather felt, for though the bruises below your collarbone could have sufficed, he would always be keen on doing much more than that.

Now, his hand made it between your thighs, tracing over your folds and almost dipping inside—

Almost.

“Your Highness,” you whined at him, promptly snatching his hand away.

The puppy-like gaze he gave you could have made you melt—in any other circumstance.

“Your Highness,” you repeated, firmly. “Hands off, be a good boy.”

Something like a smirk graced his features. “Are you ordering me around?”

“Yes.”

“A knight to her prince?”

You scoffed. “A lady to her lover.”

And at that, his expression softened.

Those were not often words that you said out loud.

Lover—a word so sacred, a word so pure. To call yourself the prince's lover was near suicide; a knight such as you could never truly be befitting to stand beside him at the throne.

It was not something you did often.

Xavier knew this.

"If that's so," he said gently, "then I'd be inclined to yield."

You shook your head slightly, and then before he had the chance to speak—or do—anything else, you stepped away from him to sift through his closet for one of those suits he’d always worn on days like this. With a pointed look you held it out, and it was near comical how his eyes lit up with barely-contained joy.

“Will you be helping me dress, then, my lady?”

As with anything Xavier said, his words carried with it an air of earnest innocence. Yet even the simplest things had your heart rate spiking if only for a moment.

“You do not need my help to dress…”

“Mm, perhaps so… But I would like it.”

"An order?"

"No, but a request. From a gentleman to his lover."

He followed you only to lean in and nip at your earlobe, and it was one last means to tease before he stepped back from you only to take his turn to shower.

Cheeky.

That was one way to describe him.

Xavier just did things, and said things, and you had to wonder if all princes were every bit as lofty as he could be, but—truly, how could you say no to that?

You wrapped his robe back around you a little more tightly, mumbling under your breath about how unfair he was, before reaching for your own uniform.

Having been carefully kept aside with last night's activities, Xavier had taken to neatly folding them up by the bedside table.

It made you smile.

The Prince of Philos was ever kind.

And though dressing yourself meant putting to rest the last remnants of his touch, it brought you back to the reality of what you were. Just as you'd said just earlier—you had your duties, and he had his. No matter that you were His Highness's closest aid, the fact remained that the two of you lived different worlds. At times, it was difficult to comprehend just how you'd gotten this far… And yet, last night was more proof of it than you could ever hope for, more proof of it than you could ever dream of.

You carefully arranged your skirt, looking towards the mirror in the room to adjust the fit of your uniform.

This was what it looked like to be his.

The door to the bathroom opened.

With another turn, you padded the room to give him a little kiss on the lips, before making through with your promise—

His hand grabbed your wrist, and he smiled.

"Just one kiss?" he spoke, and his eyes danced with mirth. You could tell that he was teasing.

You rolled your eyes. "What would you prefer me do?"

"A little more. Please?"

Xavier was clingy.

You knew that he had every reason to be, and perhaps that was one of the reasons you indulged him so easily.

Or, perhaps, you had need for it just the same as he did.

His arms locked around your waist, drawing you close as the soft touch of his lips against yours made you melt.

He was gentle, this time—not quite the neediness he'd displayed earlier in the morning, but he kissed you with such tenderness, such love, that it took a while before you were able to separate and… process.

Cheeks flushed, you took a step back from him and turned back to his closet to gather his clothes.

From then on, there was silence.

Towel off as he slipped on his underwear, you were careful with your movements, his trained eyes watching you fit his shirt over his torso. You didn't dare meet his gaze, not like this—instead, you remained adamant on giving attention to dressing him, fingers nimbly fixing the cuffs of his sleeves, trailing up to the buttons…

Perhaps, it was the silence that made this feel more intimate than it should.

Perhaps, it was the obvious pull you had over one another, still quite unable to get over the night that you had shared.

There was proof of it, too—not only on your body, but on his. Small, red marks on his chest, littering around like specks of starlight on his pale skin… You couldn't help but reach out to touch them, running your fingers over him in a manner reminiscent of the way he'd done with you, and…

Ah, you thought—this was difficult.

He was neither saying anything nor doing anything, simply allowing your exploration of his body, yet you cleared his throat and deftly brought his shirt to a close. Your hands fixed the clasps and pins on his collar, and as you handed him his trousers, you reached over to gather his coat.

"You know… I am not to train with you today," he spoke, quietly. The first word he'd spoken since.

"…Mm." You slid the coat onto his arms, and watched as he rolled his shoulders back to adjust its fit. "I know that. They've called you to the palace."

"I may be gone, for, perhaps, the entire day…"

You buttoned up his suit, carefully beginning to place the little pins and tassels, and you couldn't help but wonder just how it was that he wore these without feeling an ounce of discomfort—or, at least, showing it.

"I know that, too."

"Starlight."

You looked at him.

"The brooch is on wrong."

You faltered.

"…I know that, too."

He smiled as he watched you fumble with such a simple, menial task, and while your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his hands met yours to help you with it.

"Let me. Before you prick yourself with it."

When you stepped back, you watched him turn to the mirror with any last-minute fixes, and reached towards the table to slip on his gloves.

Looking at him like this, you felt a lump form down in your throat.

It was different from seeing him in uniform—like this, he looked every bit the part of the crowned prince of the nation. Handsome, charming, gentle… Just like every prince should be.

And just as earlier, you felt your heart tear in uncertainty, the reality of his stature laid before your very eyes.

You spoke, and your voice was quiet.

"Your Highness."

He didn't reply. You could see a small frown on his face in the mirror.

"Your Highness." You tried again.

"No."

Ah.

"Xavier."

He looked at you, then.

As if he'd been sure of what you'd been thinking; as if, although he wouldn't speak of it, he would reassure you that you were his, and he was yours.

You let out a slow breath.

"Thank you."

Your head bowed the slightest, gaze averting to your feet.

"Even just to stand a half step behind you, protecting you… It would have been enough. Yet still I have the privilege to bask in your love. Enough, that… Even amidst all this secrecy, I—there's nothing I could want more."

You saw soft footsteps make their way towards you, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle.

He spoke in this way to comfort you.

"If your vow is to protect me," he murmured, "then mine is to protect you. If your vow is to love me… then, so, too, will my vow be to love you. You are not behind me. You're with me."

A finger placed under your chin nudged your gaze upwards, blue eyes once again latched onto yours.

"Whatever the meeting they've called me for, nothing will change. I'll be by your side, always. Believe me."

And believe him, you would. Because it was all that you've ever done. You didn't know how to do anything else.

—

"Waiting on His Highness?"

You turned as a figure hoisted himself over the stone balustrade you were sitting on, settling down beside you. Familiar brown curls and the same uniform that you were wearing, he was easily recognizeable. His gaze angled towards the front as he leaned back, legs stretched and hands supporting him in his seat. "Geez… It's not everyday you get to see students littered around at this hour, but I must admit. There's some pretty views out here!"

He swung his feet a little, a satisfied smile on his face as he observed the entrance of the academy bathed in the glow of the sunset.

But when you didn't say anything, he turned his head to look at you, blinking curiously. "No, but really. It's Xavier, right?"

This time, you smiled.

When you turned away from him, you, too, looked at the front, scanning the gate and listening for any of those telltale hooves of horses, or rhythmic footsteps of palace guards…

Anything to signal Xavier's return.

"He's been at a meeting," you shrugged. And you tried to keep it under wraps that this was much later than you'd expected him to be occupied, you tried to keep it under wraps that you'd been feeling a little disappointed that he wasn't back yet.

Keyword: tried.

Perhaps it was a curse that the Vice Captain was just as observant as the prince himself.

"Hmm, but you've been out here for a while…" You could feel his gaze on you, almost scrutinizing, if you'd believed Jeremiah to be like that.

But you knew him a fair amount. He'd been your training partner on multiple occasions, and he had quite the reputation for being on the friendlier side amongst the Starhunters. Despite his more dramatic ways of framing things, he'd always meant well—both for you, and for Xavier. And while he didn't know of the relationship the two of you shared, a little part of you was fond of him for all he's done to help the prince nonetheless. You'd felt as if, that way, he's helped you, too.

A pause, a little hesitation, before you sighed. "Mhm. Not quite sure when he'll be back, but, you know… It's a little bit expected for me to be out here when he does. I suppose."

Not that you minded. You'd want to wait up for him, too.

"Do you… fancy him?"

Jeremiah's question made you freeze.

"I'm sorry?"

"Prince Xavier. Do you fancy him?"

His tone was not one that was accusatory, but purely laced with curiosity. Again, though you didn't look back on him, you could feel his gaze steely on you.

"W- what makes you think…? I'm—I'm just his knight."

"Well, and his training partner."

"You've been my training partner, too."

"Not as much as he has, though… Haven't you shared the same teacher?"

You looked at him with a huff, and that smirk on his face almost made you regret that decision.

"Jeremiah—"

"Look. I'm not gonna pry, because if you do like him, then that's on you… and him, I guess. But I've seen the way you look at him. Maybe nearly everyone else seems to think you hate each other, but it's always seemed the opposite case from what I've observed."

"Why are you bringing this up, anyway?"

The light in his eyes seemed to flicker away, his mouth pressing into a thin line. "I heard rumors."

His answer was short.

Vague.

With how the conversation was going, you'd think those rumors to be speculations of your relationship, but it didn't add up—Jeremiah had just said it seemed you two had an unspoken rivalry.

In your head, you could thank Xavier's constant invitations to spar with him for that.

"What… rumors?"

"Well, the meeting. He's been summoned to the palace, right? There's been talks of an arranged marriage, and… Well, you know. I have my suspicions about the meeting being related to that."

Oh.

Something in his words stirred uncomfortably in your stomach, and your gaze moved from his face back down to your feet.

An arranged marriage.

Of course there was an arranged marriage.

"We both know Xavier's of Royal blood." Jeremiah continued, but his voice carried a softer tone, and he nudged at your arm in a means to somehow lighten the mood. "I mean, we all know that. And, you're an official knight, and everything, so I'm sure you know that really well. So, it's just… like that."

You let out a slow breath.

"…Yeah. It's just like that." You could mumble out the words, yet saying them out loud did little to soothe the discomfort—instead, it made them sound all the more real.

Whatever words he'd said to you this morning, whatever words he'd said to you the night before—sweet words, loving words… He meant them, you knew that he did. But that wasn't the issue. Because often times, even a prince had truly too little of power to act against the monarchy—and Xavier wasn't even on good terms with his family in the first place.

If a marriage had truly been arranged, he'd have had little say in the matter.

Neither did you know if he truly would sacrifice so much just for you.

"You okay?"

Jeremiah pulled you out of your thoughts, and only then did you realize the way you'd been carelessly wringing your hands in an effort—that clearly failed—to distract yourself.

You offered a sheepish smile, "Yeah."

And while he seemed doubtful, he no longer pushed.

Instead, he got up.

"Well, anyway. Just food for thought. Listen, I'm not going to stop you from liking him… But just be careful, okay? I'd advise you not to get too attached. For your own good. As your friend, I care about you, too, you know?" He gave you a reassuring pat on the back, and then he stretched.

There was a wistful smile on his face.

"Geez, I know how it feels, though. There's just something about being so close with a member of Royalty. When it dawns on you, you really realize that you're worlds apart…" he shook his head. "You know what they say. Perhaps the prince is like a star in the sky, meant to be adored from afar."

You placed your hands nearly on your lap, and watched him move back over the balustrade and onto the path of the corridor. "Leaving?"

"I'd stay and keep you company, but His Highness might get the wrong idea," he laughed, shaking his head.

And though he made to walk away at that moment, he paused.

With a little wink, he gestured to you—"Though, hey! Nice fighting today! Always a pleasure to train with you."

You rolled your eyes, but a smile peeked at the corners of your mouth. "Go flirt with your other girls, Jeremiah."

He grinned. "Flirt? No idea what you're talking about, milady!"

And in a few moments, he was gone.

You turned back to the gate, running over his words like a record.

Perhaps the prince is like a star in the sky, meant to be adored from afar.

And maybe, you realized, Jeremiah was exactly right.

But you wondered who would have been lonelier that way—the star at the top, or its gazer down below.

That night, you walked to your dorm alone.

—

The pattern repeated itself.

Several days had already passed, and night after night you would find yourself waiting at the front of the academy… to no avail.

You could go to the palace yourself.

It wouldn't be unwelcome; you were not forbidden, nor was it unusual.

Yet, something in your deepest instincts told you not to.

And the rest of the knights had nothing to say about his whereabouts.

"So you're still waiting."

You didn't need to turn around to see who was talking; this was a voice you'd come across much more often as the evening neared.

"As his knight, I would," you replied, plainly.

And again Jeremiah moved to sit beside you, would spent a couple of minutes out of his day to keep you company for a while.

You'd suspected this to be similar.

Yet—

"Not this time."

Instead of actually sitting down, he offered his hand for you to take, and only then did you look at him inquisitively.

"Huh?"

"Well, it almost looks as if you haven't done anything for yourself lately. I'm just looking out for you!"

"But, if the prince comes back and I'm not present to greet him—"

"He'd be back with palace guards with him—"

"But I promised I'd—"

"Miss, with all due respect, I don't think His Highness would have wanted you to wait on him like this everyday, either."

Your mouth shut.

Jeremiah had an eyebrow raised, a very pointed expression on his face that made you feel a little sheepish.

In some ways, he was right. You had been prioritizing awaiting his return, and as a result of that, your own personal joys had fallen a little bit neglected. These days, your trainings and classes were the only joys you could find—little sparks of conversations here and there, and occasional check-ins from Jeremiah himself, too, but…

You found that it was difficult to find all that much joy without him.

You knew it was stupid.

You knew it was dangerous.

If Jeremiah had been right, and Xavier had gotten caught up in the plannings of an arranged marriage, then, you—what was your place, but that of a knight?

A knight, whether close to His Highness or not, was not truly required to wait after hours simply for his return. Not that you were overstepping your boundaries, but it was not a duty that was needed. You had been doing this of your own accord; using duty as some feeble excuse both for yourself and for others.

Jeremiah had warned you not to get too attached.

You knew, deep within your heart, with all the love that you had for him…

It was already too late for that warning.

The least you could do, you supposed, was take it easy, just a little bit.

Slowly, you stood up, using his arm as leverage to stand, before dusting off the skirt of your uniform. Your expression softened. "Yeah. Right. A few moments… A few moments shouldn't hurt."

"Of course it shouldn't!" he scoffed. "Come, quickly. I've heard from Sarah that you haven't had any starbread for days now, and it's supposed to be your favorite. She's worried about you!"

The last time you'd spoken to Sarah had been yesterday. She had been your training partner that day—one of your other friends amongst the Starhunters, a headstrong individual you enjoyed spending time with.

And she'd been right.

Perhaps, you'd barely eaten much the past few days, but it had included your avoidance of the cafeteria's starbread your friends had known you to adore.

Unintentionally, of course.

But now that Jeremiah has mentioned it, you suddenly missed the fluffy taste that melted in your mouth, and a small smile formed on your face as you allowed the male to drag you towards the cafeteria.

It was past dinnertime.

It would be closing soon.

"Okay, stay put. Don't you dare think of going back there just to check on the gate again. I'll be quick and get you one!"

It was his own way of offering you comfort.

—

You saw him.

Jeremiah had gotten you your starbread as it began to rain, and while you were able to offer a thank-you in return for his kindness, he was off in the direction of his dorm area with a barely-discernible mumble of panic.

The raindrops were loud.

You watched his figure retreat before you looked out of the stone hallway, pattering drops making splashes onto the ground.

Uncomfortable.

Rain had never been your most favorite thing in the world.

The star-filled sky was less visible now, a gloomy mist seemingly covering the campus you'd grown so fond of…

You saw him.

Before a split-second decision to step out into the rain, an umbrella was placed over your head.

You saw him.

"…Xavier."

—

The walk was silent.

Everything was silent.

Nothing more had been spoken as you walked back to his room, nothing more had been spoken as he reached for a towel to dry off your hair.

The warmth of his touch.

The warmth of his presence.

You felt as if you could melt at it, your eyes tearing up at the mere scent of his cologne that you'd spent days—weeks—without it near you.

Without him near you.

But you didn't speak.

Not even as he tried to meet your eyes, not even as he set the towel aside to hand you his robe—his robe—the very same robe you'd used on the day that he'd left.

Instead, he was the one who spoke first.

"You should take a shower, since you've been in the rain. You'll get cold, and uncomfortable…"

Still, his voice was soft.

It was almost as if everything could go back to normal like this—like nothing had changed, and this was still… Xavier.

This was still Xavier.

He'd promised nothing would change.

You believed him, didn't you?

"I'll… boil up some tea for you in the meantime."

He was taking care of you.

He'd been in the rain, too.

He had barely dried his own hair.

He walked over to open the bathroom door for you, before moving to search for the tea you'd always particularly liked.

But you were supposed to be the one doting on him.

"A prince…" Your voice was soft, barely a whisper, as you looked down. The soft carpets of his room allowed you to sink into the flooring, taking comfort in the feeling. "A prince should not be doing so many favors for his servants."

There wasn't a reply.

He'd paused, though—the rustling had stopped. you could tell.

You didn't raise your head to look at him.

"…Angel?" he murmured.

Ah.

"Since when… did you think about things like that with me?"

And this time, you didn't reply.

—

Your mug.

He'd saved your mug.

And in it was, as he promised, tea well-prepared in your favorite flavor.

Yet, it was still quiet.

He'd been sitting on his bed, reading, once you'd come out fully changed—he, too, had prepared one of his sleepwear for you to use for the time being, and though you were practically swimming in it, it was comfortable.

It smelled like him.

Slowly, you padded your way across the room to sit beside him, your mug in your hands as if to warm you. The rain hadn't stopped, pelts of raindrops hitting the window with no signs of stopping anytime soon. The view outside was just as gloomy—you could hear the gale of the wind hitting the panel, and you were more than grateful to be inside a building.

He shifted. The book was placed down.

"How have you been?"

You felt an arm wrap around your waist, and—and you couldn't do this.

Not like this.

Nothing will change.

But not like this.

"Xavier…" your eyes closed, and your voice pleaded with him not to pretend.

"Xavier, please. Not like this."

Not like this.

He pulled away from you, but your chin tilted upwards—there they were.

Those blue, blue, crystal blue eyes.

"Starlight. Are you okay?"

"…No."

It took every ounce of your strength just to whisper.

"What is it? If you need—"

"You were gone."

He blinked, looking at you carefully as you spoke.

"How long?" Your gaze dropped back to the ground as he released you. "Do you know how long it's been? It's been weeks."

"Angel…"

"I waited. I waited. But I hadn't heard a single word about you from anyone, and I thought—I thought, maybe, you wouldn't be returning anymore—"

"No… no, that's not it, angel, I simply got caught up with the matters at hand…"

You knew it was true.

You knew you were likely being unreasonable.

Yet the frustration building in your chest did little to help you.

"But you could have let me know somehow!"

This time the cry you let out felt choked out; unnatural. As if you couldn't understand why so much of you hurt, when this could easily be resolved if you could talk about this normally, and yet—and yet—and yet—

"It feels… It feels like you've been avoiding me."

Xavier didn't reply, and you took the chance to look up at him.

"I haven’t seen you at all since then. Since your meeting. It’s almost as if you’ve been avoiding me, so just, tell me I'm wrong. I heard from Jeremiah that—"

It was Xavier's turn to frown.

"Jeremiah? Have you been spending a lot of time with him? I saw him with you when—"

"That's what you get from that?! Just the mention of his name?!" you cried. "It's not even—he’s been keeping me company, Xavier. You know, like a friend? Like someone who cares?"

"…He gave you the starbread."

You buried your face into your hands.

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you!"

"I just wanted to—"

"Xavier… Did you even want anything from that night?"

You heard him draw in a breath. The silence that followed was deafening, the air around you delicate—as if your question had torn through the thickness of all that tension, and now… Now, it could almost shatter.

"This… is that what this is about?" he whispered. "Do you regret it…?"

There was concern in his eyes when you looked at him. And it felt real.

Just as real as the memories from that night, just as real as the marks he'd littered all over your skin, just as real as the fullness of him that you'd felt deep, deep inside you.

The first time.

The first time you had ever dared to go so far.

…You didn't regret it. You shook your head, despite the way your lower lip trembled as you prepared to speak again.

"I could never."

Your voice was barely a whisper.

"I wanted it. Of course I wanted it, Xavier, but… But did you?"

Yet you were met with another silence, and the very fact that there was no immediate reply had your heart shattering to pieces.

His answer did nothing to repair it.

"I wanted it," he murmured. "I did. But… I don't know it it's something we should have done."

Your head shot back up to look at him again, and this time, the tears you'd worked so hard to hold back began to fall.

"I can't believe you."

With trembling hands, you stood up, mug almost haphazardly placed back on his nightstand.

"How could you… how could you be so unsure about it when you… When we… We had sex, Xavier, and you…"

"My lady, you know that's not what I mean. I told you… You can always stay with me. You mean everything to me, it's just… It is not so simple right now. Give me time to sort this out."

"But how does that help us now?! Do you think doubting everything right now takes away the fact that it happened?"

"Angel—"

"You can't call me that right now!"

"But we knew this would happen. We both knew it, these risks, the complications of being in this relationship. We're not supposed to be together."

We're not supposed to be together.

In every sense of the phrase, you knew he was right.

You could have waited until he was king.

You could have waited—you could have waited.

You could have waited until he could act without the bars of higher authority.

Neither of you did.

You knew as well as he did that a secret love carried with it the risk of being torn apart.

We're not supposed to be together.

No, but you loved him.

And it was selfish of you.

But you did.

And hearing those words from his mouth felt something akin to a sword being stabbed to your chest.

We're not supposed to be together.

A final straw.

We're not supposed to be together.

"…I see."

You turned around and walked away.

—

This time, it was your fault.

You'd keep your responses short, limit them to greetings whenever you could. Though you would stay by his side whenever necessary, you wouldn't tilt your head up to gaze at him, wouldn't step a little bit closer. It had been days since your argument, and you had been the one to avoid him—or, at the very least, avoid him as much as you could.

You were a knight in service to him.

It wasn't as if you never saw him after that, but you'd kept your distance.

Perhaps you just needed time.

Xavier had asked for it—he wasn't stopping you, wasn't trying to breach the distance, kept the air between you stale just as you had been doing.

Perhaps he needed time, too.

The reality of your relationship was heavy, both on you, and on him—but, you knew, most likely more on him than you in the first place. He wasn't sharing the burden with you, after all. You knew you'd acted too rashly on your frustration that night. But, in this situation… With this atmosphere… Things couldn't go back to normal with just a good night's sleep. They wouldn't. Perhaps the both of you knew that.

You approached him first. The clocktower—he often went there to be alone. It was quiet, and peaceful… and in the evening glow of the moon, a certain sense of melancholy settled over it. Xavier rarely had moments of rest, not as the prince of a nation… Yet, here, you could see little glimpses of the person he wished himself to be.

The clocktower was a little sliver of freedom for him.

"Xavier."

You called him out, voice soft and carried by the breeze. When he turned, the flowers gathered in his hands brought a skip to your heartbeat.

Ah, he…

"I… didn't know how to give them to you."

Blues and yellows. Not particularly a bouquet, but almost enough to be one—small flowers circled around in his hands, tied by a dainty little ribbon…

Forget-me-nots.

The representatives of the planet of Philos.

Fidelity. Faithfulness. Love.

A promise.

"I'm sorry."

Those were the words he spoke as you approached to take the flowers in your own hands.

"No… I'm sorry."

You sat down on the brick-lined surface, him taking the spot beside you, and—you couldn't help it. Eyes closing, you leaned against his shoulder, nuzzling into the soft warmth you had come to love so much. His response was immediate. Fingers reaching up to run through your hair, loving strokes and a kiss against your forehead…

You missed this.

"Do you think…" you whispered, peeking upwards as you settled into him, eyes moving over the stars in the sky.

It was a quiet, clear night. The stars were plentiful.

Perhaps the prince is like a star in the sky, meant to be adored from afar.

Your hand reached out towards the stars, and your fist closed—you could imagine flicker of light in your hand, but you knew it wouldn't have been a star itself.

"Do you think… The stars are our of reach?"

Xavier held you close, nuzzling into your hair.

He didn't speak.

"You only ever see them when it's dark. When the sky is clear. It feels… fleeting, even for something we see every night. Temporary. As if they could sift through your fingers, if you could ever think to hold them…"

Your gaze moved from the sky and back to him, shifting to see him more clearly.

You didn't stop him when he dipped his head into your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses over you skin.

"Xavier," you said again, quietly. "Do you… think about me that way? About us?"

He let out a slow breath. It brought goosebumps to your skin, and you had half a mind that he'd intended to leave a mark on you right there—but he pulled away.

Brilliant blue eyes back on yours, and something like a wistful smile gracing his features.

"To be honest… I do."

It was an answer you expected.

He pulled you back to lean against his chest, and then, too, did his eyes drift upwards towards the sky.

"Because of how things are, it's very easy to end up losing someone you care about. I could make one wrong move and lose you. But… above everything else… there's no sense to the meaning of living if you aren't here with me."

You closed your eyes. The steady thrum of his heartbeat allowed you to hang onto his words, lulling you into the security you felt in your arms.

"If the stars are fleeting, my starlight… Then, I'd do my best to follow wherever you go. I'd want to." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

He said it again.

Something in your heart told you that his next words would be difficult to digest.

"You were right. I was avoiding you a little… but only because I didn't know what to do. I know there have been rumors. If you've heard them, then… you're hearing from me now that they are true."

"…Your engagement."

"An arranged one. I have yet to offer my acceptance of it."

A wry smile made its way to your lips.

So Jeremiah was right.

Yet as it stood—none of this had ever been anything he'd wanted.

The first time you met, you'd spent several years into your formal trainings without him.

The first time you met, you had your destiny laid out before you.

The first time you met, you pledged wholeheartedly, deep into your heart, that this was the man you would vow to protect.

But the first time you met, Xavier hadn't smiled at all.

He was the prince of Philos.

Rumored to ascend the throne, rumored to lead the country—he was, and always had been, held in such high, prestigious regard…

But the first time you met, Xavier hadn't smiled at all.

He'd never wanted any of this.

He didn't choose which family to be born into; he didn't choose the path that he now walked upon with chains around his ankles.

He didn't choose to be betrothed to someone else.

"I still choose you."

He chose you.

And yet the pain in his voice could only tell you that it wasn't an easy choice—

He chose you.

Because he would willingly chase after something so fleeting.

Perhaps, it was in a similar way that you had chosen him.

He let out another sigh, and his face buried into your hair. "I have little say in the matter, even if my heart had already made its choice long ago. I no longer know what to do. It's frustrating… and I'd distanced myself because of it."

This time, you shook your head.

"The truth is," you laughed a little bit, more at yourself, more out of pity, "I'd been selfish on my part as well. I know… I know that we'd started this together. I know that we've known from the very start that things might not go the way that we want it to… but…"

This time, it was you who sighed. "But still, I, too, choose you. I want you. And… I've always wanted you to know, that—this love, I have, for you… It's more than this situation calls for, and enough for me to believe that things will work out."

"Angel…"

"I think, maybe it's because I feel so strongly that I'd gotten so frustrated. Because sometimes… Sometimes, it feels as if you don't believe I could love you so much… that it would be easier for you to let me go now than to force me to go through all of the turmoil of seeing this through, when—when it is already too late for that."

Slowly, your turned your eyes back to look at him.

"My prince… it's too late for that."

His hand moved to silently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the intensity of his gaze nearly causing you to falter, but you didn't.

You couldn't.

You—

You had chosen him.

"Xavier, I love you. I choose to love you, and I choose you, and I choose everything else that comes with this choice, and… I know, I know that you love me back. I have never doubted it. But… Your Highness, believe me. I can love you the same way… I can love you just as much. Trust me to do so, and don't keep me in the dark about it. Please. Your Highness, believe me."

His forehead rest upon yours, and you knew that it was not easy for him to agree with you.

Xavier—always so willing to give you all of his love… yet when it came to him, he didn't know how to accept it.

And instead of words, his lips pressed back onto yours, hand gliding upwards to pull you into this love he had that he could only show you this way otherwise.

Your eyes closed, and he whispered:

"Please, my lady… Could you stay with me again?"

—

Warm water ran over your skin, a lull of comfort.

You weren't used to this—the way his arms, wet from the shower, wrapped around your torso, lavishing soap onto your arms, your chest… He was so gentle. The way he rubbed into your skin was soothing, already enough to make you melt.

And though the air around you stayed silent save for the rushing sound of water, you've never felt so… relaxed.

Xavier had insisted.

He'd claimed that you had spoiled him far too many times for him to count, and the least he could do was return the favor somehow.

But you didn't believe him, not really. You thought he always spoiled you. Even a glance your way was enough to fill you with joy—he just didn't know that. Despite all that you'd said at the clocktower a few moments ago, it was difficult to explain to him how much you loved him.

You leaned back, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving your lips. As the motion put you back under the spray of the shower, your eyes closed, and he promptly reached out to lower the pressure.

This time, his hands were in your hair, gently easing your head back, rubbing his fingers into your scalp. It took a moment for him to reach for the shampoo, before he was spreading the bubbles over the top of your head.

Cherries.

The scent made you smile.

It was his shampoo he was using on you, and you found that you didn't mind at all—this was his scent.

This was what it… felt, to be his.

Careful touches massaged the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into the hair, precise with the pressure and precise with his movements. He was dedicated, and delicate—just right, just perfect.

In the end, he truly knew you just that well.

And his hands slipped down from under your hair, rubbing in circular motions. The pressure of the showerhead had been turned back up again, and while one hand took to shielding your eyes from the rinse of your shampoo, his other slid down to caress you.

To feel you.

Something told you he was holding back a little, both at his own expense and at yours—yet his hands stroked over your body under the pretense of rinsing, motions becoming a little more sensual with every second that passed. His thumb rubbed your hipbone, up and down, up and down….

And then his hand made it between your legs.

Soft caresses on your inner thighs, an occasional squeeze here and there…

By now he'd finished rinsing your hair, and rinsing the soap off of your body, and his chin rest on your shoulder.

He had both hands free.

One running over the side of your body—your arms, your waist, before moving up to cup your breasts… while the other edged tantalizingly close to your core, the heat of his touch almost making you want to press your thighs together.

Almost.

He pulled away.

That smile on his face was familiar—satisfied, and knowing, and just a little bit proud of himself. And up close like this, you could see every spark of joy in the depths of his eyes, every inch of skin you wanted to kiss. His hair stuck to his forehead, eyelashes wet with little droplets.

When your eyes met, he chuckled. It was a sound that echoed beautifully in his little shower space, warmth spreading through your chest almost immediately.

It was a blur from there. You'd hardly remembered it.

Shower aside, you'd found yourself straddling his hips, his body splayed out beneath you. Familiar silken sheets that adorned his bed rustled in disarray, and with a groan, his hips bucked up into you.

The gaze that he held was unique, only to you.

One of love—of want—of need.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "My starlight… you are beautiful."

Though his breathing was shallow, he reached up, cupping your cheek.

And you smiled.

"So are you, my prince." A slight, almost testing grind against his throbbing cock had his breath hitching, and his hand falls back down to grip the sheets.

Your eyes softened.

"Xavier…" you murmured. "Are we sure of this? For you, right now… is it worth it? Do you think so?"

He pulled you down for your lips to touch, an ever so slight peck—one to reassure—and he smiled back.

Soft.

Knowing.

This time, certain.

"It's worth it," he spoke. His voice rang true. "You're always worth it, angel." His hips rolled up against yours, and you could see the way he cherished the gasp you let out. "You always have been… you always will be. You are worth every pain and every struggle I might have to bear. So much so that if I am to die by your hands, then so be it. It would be an honor."

A slow breath fell from your lips, and you hadn't realized until that moment how much you'd been holding in. You shook your head, despite the giddy smile that had since formed on your features.

"Silly," you let out an airy laugh. "My liege, such devotion from a prince shouldn't be directed at his servant…" when he frowned, you reached over to ease the furrow of his brows, "…but rather his servant towards him."

This time you gathered his hands to pin back against his pillows, rolling your hips once more, sliding your folds over his cock—and you let out a shaky sigh.

"I'd say it back," you whispered. "You are worth every pain and every struggle I might have to bear… I would lay my life for you, my prince. My heart, and my body, and my soul… are all yours. And it is an honor."

You smiled, "Your Highness, believe me."

This time, he does.

You could see it in his eyes, in the way the tension in his body had melted away.

And when he smiled, you nuzzled against him—

And you slid down his body, taking his erection into your hands.

"A-ah, angel, what are— oh—"

You watched the tips of his ears flush bright red as you kissed at his thighs, grazing your thumb over the tip of his cock. The pre-cum that had oozed out had you spreading it over his shaft, coating him with wetness—and you took your time. Every movement was slow, and careful. You enjoyed his reactions, every little sound he had no choice but to let slip through.

"Angel—angel, please—"

A soft chuckle.

"An order?" you murmured.

He groaned as you leaned in to place tiny little butterfly kisses around his tip, and your eyes crinkled with delight.

His hips jerked—"N-no, just… a req—a request—" A gasp. "From… F-from a gentleman t-to his— his lo—ov—ahh—"

You could laugh with glee at how responsive he was, and, almost as if rewarding him for it, you opened your mouth, molding your lips around him and slowly sliding him into your throat.

The moan that he let out was beautiful.

Continued slow movements, you began to move your head up and down, up and down.

It didn't take long.

Perhaps it was the tease; perhaps it was how much he'd been holding back all this time—his hips lifted up slightly, pushing himself deeper into your throat, and your eyes shut.

"A-angel!" he cried. "Oh, my— my lady, oh— mnh, s-so good—"

Your hands ran delicately over his thighs as you sucked, bringing your head up to the tip and circling your tongue around it before taking his cock back into your throat.

His groans grew more frantic, his hips stuttered.

And then before you could think, and just as your fingers had wrapped back around his cock, every intention to stroke his length, his hand was firmly placed on the back of your head. He began pushing you—you'd take him deeper, as deep as you could, his hips rutting up into your mouth in a desperate frenzy.

You moaned around his length as your eyes closed, and you could feel the way he was throbbing.

"Ple— please— please, angel, starlight, I want— want to be inside you—" His voice was becoming hoarse. Less coherent.

He was losing himself in the pleasure, just as you'd wanted.

"Hnng— angel, please, I mis— m-miss you so bad, miss how warm, I— haah— ahh—!"

He cried out your name, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

And you pulled away.

"W-wait…!"

You wiped the slick off of your mouth and cherished the protest he'd only barely choked out. "You asked," you panted. "You asked me… You…"

You didn't finish your sentence.

He had spoiled you enough—you would comply with his every requests, and spoil him.

In an instant your warm, wet walls sank down onto his length with a lewd squelch, greedily taking all of him. You leaned forward, moaning—"Xavier. Xavier… Xavier…"

He choked on his moans as you began to bounce over his cock, desperation just as well matching the way he fucked up into you.

Not enough.

Not enough.

Your movements were frantic, a messy chase of your highs—

But your legs could give in.

Not enough. Not enough.

"X-Xavier…" you whimper helplessly, voice shaky, distorted with the movements of your hips. "Mnnh… Xavie… Please—please, Y-Your Highness— my light, my everything, my— my prince, make me cum—!"

His actions were quick.

You sank into the mattress as his figure caged you between his arms, hovering over you, panting, panting—you squealed as he began to slam his hips into you, and this… This was enough.

Despite every rough slam of his cock deep into you, he leaned in to whine into your ear, occasionally turning his head to pepper your face with kisses.

Gentle enough—desperate enough—loving enough.

"Xavier!"

With a final cry of his name, you crashed, trembling around him and clasping his arm so tight that you were sure your nails had dug into his skin to leave a mark.

"Xavier… Xavier…"

Your chest heaved, and your hand fell limp back to your side as he kissed you.

He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you—his hips losing their pace, before he—

"M'gonna—gonna— nnh—! Ah!"

He released all over your stomach, shooting his cum out onto you, leaving a sticky mess on your body as he hung his head.

Arms on either side of your body, he desperately tried to catch his breath before he could look at you.

"Ah… ahh… haah… Th-that… Y-you were so…"

You smiled, reaching up to run your hands through his hair. "Very good," you murmured, all praise. "You made me feel so, so good."

He sat up, looking at you as his expression contorted into one of pure, unabashed adoration.

You almost rolled your eyes—"We have to shower again…" you sighed, though the smile never left your face.

He shook his head.

He took a few moments before he'd come back with a wet towel to wipe you clean, and then—as if having spent every ounce of his energy—fell on top of you like a weighted blanket.

"Xavier—!"

"Mmn. Let's cuddle first…"

He spun you over to have you back on top of him, and cradled your figure close. Your head rest upon his chest.

"My Queen."

Your eyes widened.

"My Queen."

He repeated it, firmly—surely.

His head buried into your hair, and you heard it again.

"I believe you. I do, and I will, and you—you will be my Queen. I will make sure of it. Beside me, with me."

A slow, shaky breath—

"Your Highness, believe me."

an : have you figured out yet that i love phrase repetition

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @rafayelsgf @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafslvr @keioxo @theanbitchless

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic no. 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a scent, an item of clothing and a weather forecast (a number, letter, + creature), and write/request to your heart’s content my dears!

𓂃 ࣪˖ a smell

꒰ 1 ꒱ rich, incensed perfume

꒰ 2 ꒱ burnt coffee

꒰ 3 ꒱ resinous pine needles

꒰ 4 ꒱ steadily-baking bread

꒰ 5 ꒱ inescapably strong disinfectant

꒰ 6 ꒱ expensive, pungent red wine

꒰ 7 ꒱ cheap cologne

꒰ 8 ꒱ salty air rolling off of crashing sea waves

꒰ 9 ꒱ mouth-watering home cooking

꒰ 10 ꒱ a too-strong vanilla candle

꒰ 11 ꒱ fresh-cut, perfectly ripe stone fruits

꒰ 12 ꒱ overpowering tiger balm

꒰ 13 ꒱ smoke unfurling from a wood fire

꒰ 14 ꒱ spiced incense

꒰ 15 ꒱ all-too familiar coconut shampoo

꒰ 16 ꒱ strong herbal lavender

꒰ 17 ꒱ newly turned earth

꒰ 18 ꒱ motor oil

꒰ 19 ꒱ just-washed bedsheets

꒰ 20 ꒱ petrichor after a rainshower

𓂃 ࣪˖ a piece of clothing

꒰ A ꒱ a wrinkled black tie

꒰ B ꒱ mismatched socks

꒰ C ꒱ faded blue jeans

꒰ D ꒱ a hotel bathroom

꒰ E ꒱ a stolen hoodie

꒰ F ꒱ a crisp white button-down

꒰ G ꒱ an expensive, lush fur coat

꒰ H ꒱ a pair of beaten-up combat boots

꒰ I ꒱ plaid pajama pants

꒰ J ꒱ loose-fitting boxer shorts

꒰ K ꒱ a yellow football jersey

꒰ L ꒱ a papery hospital gown

꒰ M ꒱ a blue, lacy thong

꒰ N ꒱ a brown belt with a gold buckle

꒰ O ꒱ cheap swimming garb

꒰ P ꒱ six-inch high heels

꒰ Q ꒱ a dark-red evening gown

꒰ R ꒱ a thick knitted sweater

꒰ S ꒱ a chef’s white coat

꒰ T ꒱ a flimsily-made tourist t-shirt

𓂃 ࣪˖ a weather advisory

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ hammering, unrelenting rain

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ warm, golden sunshine

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ hair-raising rolls of thunder

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ thick, looming fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a clear, chilly evening

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ blazing heat

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ a nighttime lightning storm

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ a grey sky laden with rainclouds

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ cold, drizzly mist

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ an unexpected snowstorm

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ bone-chilling sleet

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ breathless humidity

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ blustery winds

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ rain-induced floods

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ spitting showers of hailstones

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a freezing, sudden drop in temperatures

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ a hurricane warning

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ a tropical storm

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ a warm, temperate breeze

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ road-closing landslides

[rebelliousmuse]

Reassurance – C. S.

Warnings: cute at first, smut at the end; insecurities, "cheating", unprotected p in v (don’t do that), oral.

---------------------------------------------------------------

A sudden shake went through the mattress. Chris muttered something incoherent. The room was silent except for the rhythmic hum of the air conditioner and the sharp gasps escaping his lips. In the dim light filtering through the blinds, you could see him twist and turn, his brow furrowed in distress. He must be having a horrific nightmare. With a soft sigh, you reached out and gently ran your fingers through his long hair, whispering soothing words you hoped would reach him in the depths of his sleep.

Chris nightmare:

The familiar warmth of their living room bathed in the soft glow of the nightlight. Chris's heart skipped a beat as he saw you sitting on the couch, a radiant smile illuminating your face. But his joy dissolved faster than mist as he saw who you were talking to. Matt. He lounged comfortably across from you; his arm casually draped over the back of the couch. The air crackled with intimacy that made Chris clench his fists.

Memories flickered through Chris's mind like a slideshow. The way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you genuinely laughed at his jokes, not the way they did now at a throwaway comment from Matt. The warmth of your hand slipping into his as you watched movies on this very couch. A wave of nausea washed over him as he saw you lean in, your eyes sparkling with a happiness that used to be reserved for him.

Chris tried to call out to you, a desperate plea stuck in his throat. He was a ghost in his own home, unseen and unheard. The scent of your lavender shampoo, a scent that used to fill him with comfort, now felt like a cruel mockery. The sound of your laughter, a sound that once filled their house with joy, now scraped against his raw nerves. As Matt closed the distance and your lips met, a sob escaped Chris's lips. The pain was so intense it felt real, a physical ache in his chest.

Chris woke with a gasp that ripped through the quiet room. His eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing, as he stared at the wall opposite the bed. His body trembled slightly, and he threw the covers off in a single, jerky motion. Fragments of the nightmare flickered through his mind - the kiss, the way you looked at Matt, the feeling of being invisible. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. "Not again," he thought, his throat constricting. "Why do I always come second to Matt?" Remembering the times he was used by other girls just to get his brother. Just then, a gentle hand began to caress his back, a soft movement that slowly brought him back to the present. “y/n?" he whispered; his voice raspy. You leaned closer, your voice laced with concern as you asked, “What's wrong, Chris?”

Chris shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flitting away from yours. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again with a sigh. A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face, quickly masked by a strained smile. "It was just a bad dream," he finally mumbled, the words barely audible.

You watched him closely. "I can tell," you said softly, with empathy. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. The thought of revealing his nightmare, of you even considering Matt in that way, was unbearable. He couldn't bear the thought of you questioning his worth, of even entertaining the idea of Matt. "No," he said definitively, his voice a touch sharper than he intended.

You squeezed his hand gently, acknowledging his distress. "Okay," you murmured, leaning against his shoulder. With a soft sigh, Chris allowed himself to be pulled back into bed. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as if sheltering him from the storm raging inside. Your fingers began to thread through his long, brown hair.

The dream's images flickered behind his eyelids, the sting of Matt's imagined presence still fresh. He winced at the thought of voicing his insecurities. Were they even valid concerns, or just the echoes of the past? A fierce protectiveness for this newfound happiness welled up within him. He couldn't risk putting it in danger with insecurities. He loved you too much, the thought of losing you was too terrifying.

The internal fight had finally drained him. With a shaky breath, Chris blurted out, "You kissed Matt… you loved him." His voice was barely a whisper.

You cupped his face in your hands, making him look at you. "Oh Chris, no," you whispered, brushing a tear from his cheek with your thumb. "That will never happen. It was just a horrible nightmare, but it’s not real, never. I love you, Chris. You, with your infectious laugh. You, with your thoughtful nature. You, with those captivating blue eyes that seem to hold a whole summer sky within them."

With each declaration, you leaned in and placed kisses on him. A soft kiss landed on his forehead for his laugh, another one on his cheek for his thoughtfulness, and a final, passionate kiss on his lips for his eyes.

As your love washed over him, you felt him relax in your embrace. His shaky breaths calmed, replaced by a slow, steady rhythm. A smile, genuine and relieved, spread across his face. His captivating blue eyes, no longer filled with worry, locked onto yours with a depth of love that mirrored your own.

You stayed tangled in bed, the warmth of your bodies chasing away the chill of the nightmare. A low rumble from his stomach made you both chuckle.

"Sounds like someone's ready for breakfast," you teased, brushing a kiss against his temple.

Chris cracked a tired smile. "Maybe," he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"Pancakes sound good?" you suggested.

He finally opened his eyes, a spark of gratitude flickering within them. "Perfect," he rasped, his voice thick with sleep.

As you spent the day together, you marveled at the way the sunlight danced in his captivating blue eyes, a silent compliment that brought a blush to his cheeks. Later, during a playful game of mini-golf, you cheered him on, genuinely impressed by his unexpected trick shot. "You're such a natural!" you exclaimed, squeezing his hand. With each compliment, each touch, you felt a wall crumble within him, replacing the insecurity with the reassurance of your love.

At night, laughter still lingered in the air from shared stories over a delicious dinner you'd prepared together. With full bellies and empty plates, you decided to set the mood for a night of cozy intimacy. You browsed through a playlist on your phone, familiar tunes filled the air as you sang and danced with your boyfriend. Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love" started playing, Chris smiled, he knew how much you liked old songs.

Chris cleared his throat, a nervous flutter in his eyes that instantly melted your heart. He hesitantly extended a hand towards you. A smile bloomed on your face as you slipped your hand into his. He pulled you close, swaying gently to the rhythm.

Lost in the world of Elvis's melody, you swayed gently, your foreheads joined. Your eyes were locked. A universe of emotions swirled within – gratitude, love, a newfound sense of security.

The final notes of "Can't Help Falling in Love" faded into silence, replaced by the unmistakable sound of a Lil Skies song. You blinked, pulled back slightly, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your hand.

Chris's gaze followed yours, a playful glint in his eyes. "Should we watch a movie?" he suggested, his voice a husky murmur. Though the mood had shifted slightly, there was an unspoken tenderness that hung in the air.

Nestled comfortably on the bed, you scrolled through movie options with a playful smile. "How about this one?" Chris suggested, pointing at a sci-fi thriller.

"Hmm," you hummed, reading the synopsis. "Not sure I'm in the mood for aliens tonight."

"Okay, how about this action one?"

You snorted, shaking your head. "We watched that one last month, remember?"

The laughter lines crinkled around Chris's eyes as he continued browsing. Finally, he landed on a film you both recognized – a comedy you'd both enjoyed in trailers. "This one?"

"Perfect!" you exclaimed, snuggling closer to him as he pressed play.

You curled up against him, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. As the movie unfolded, a comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the occasional laugh. At some point, you felt his eyes on you. You turned your head, meeting Chris's eyes. His gaze held an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. There was a depth of emotion in them, a look that spoke volumes about his feelings.

A smile spread across his face, warm and genuine. He leaned in, and you met him halfway. The kiss was soft, filled with a tenderness that sent a wave of warmth through you. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "You're incredible," he murmured.

With a contented sigh, you snuggled back into his embrace, the glow of the movie screen painting a warm light on your faces. The movie continued, but your focus had shifted.

The movie became a mere backdrop, the sound muffled by the growing hum of desire within you. You stole a glance at Chris, his profile bathed in the soft light of the screen. You bit your lower lip as your gaze lingered on the curve of his jaw, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. Unconsciously, you traced a finger along his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you.

Suddenly, a loud laugh erupted from Chris. The scene on the screen displayed a character in a hilarious situation, but you barely registered it. Your attention was solely on him, on the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the joy radiating from his smile.

He turned to you, expecting you to share his amusement. But your serious expression made his playful glint falter. "What's wrong?" he started to ask, but the question died on his lips.

Before he could finish, you captured his lips in a kiss. It was a hungry kiss, fuelled by a yearning that had been building throughout the night. Chris melted into your touch, a surprised gasp escaping his lips before he responded with equal fervour. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your bodies pressed together in a silent plea for more.

Suddenly, you feel his playful smile against your lips as your fingers gently tugged the hem of his shirt. Chris understood instantly. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he lifted himself slightly from the bed, allowing you better access.

His shirt slipped away easily, breaking the kiss, revealing the expanse of his torso bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window. You started kissing again, your hands moved with a newfound confidence, tracing the defined lines of his muscles. Your fingertips lingered on the smooth skin of his chest, sending a sigh escaping his lips as you explored every delicious inch.

He stopped kissing you to take your shirt off as well, revealing no bra on you, letting him see your tits as he bit his lower lip, bringing his hands up to grab your right boob, playing with your nipple. Meanwhile, his lips trailed a path of fire down your neck, lingering on the sensitive skin just behind your ear. A gasp escaped your lips, half a moan, half a laugh. His hands, cool against your heated skin, skimmed down your arms, sending shivers chasing each other. They reached the edge of your shorts, gently grazing the exposed skin before dipping teasingly beneath the fabric.

A surge of heat shot through him as he shifted, taking control and positioning himself above you. With practiced ease, one hand went to take your shots and underwear off, slowly teasing it downwards, revealing a glimpse of creamy skin before discarding it entirely. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the curve of your hip, a flicker of possessiveness crossing his features before settling into a smug smirk. His own breath hitched in his throat, mirroring the quickening pace of yours. He licked his lips, a slow, sensual sweep of his tongue.

A smile spread across his face as his gaze drifted down your figure. "Fuck, babe," he murmured, his voice a low and raspy, "you are perfect." His eyes devoured you.

The words were barely out before you were yanking him in for another kiss. It was urgent, a collision of lips fuelled by a desperation that left you breathless. Tongues tangled fiercely, a battle for dominance that left you both lightheaded.

With a low groan, you surged forward, instinctively throwing yourself on top of him. His playful facade faltered for a moment, replaced by surprise that quickly morphed into amusement as he raised an eyebrow playfully.

Dipping your head, your lips brushed the sensitive skin of his neck, sending a shiver through him. A playful bite, the sharp press of your teeth, drew a gasp from his lips, the sound swallowed by a moan that vibrated against your ear.

His hand shot up, tangled in your hair, anchoring you to him as you continued your descent. Each kiss was a spark, a deliberate exploration down his torso, his muscles hardening beneath your touch. You lingered on the sharp angles of his hip bones, feeling the heat radiating through your fingertips and lips. A choked moan escaped his lips, his voice husky when he finally spoke.

"Don't tease," he pleaded, his eyes meeting yours, a mixture of desperation and amusement. With agonizing slowness, you moved a fraction closer, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

You took his dick in your mouth, tracing circles with your tongue, feeling the heat on his skin. His head tilted back, exposing his throat. His eyes fluttered shut, then squeezed tight, lines crinkling at the corners. A low groan rumbled from his chest, growing deeper and more urgent with each stroke. As you shifted your movements, a gasp escaped his lips, his breathing heavy. "I-I'm about to..." he stammered, his voice thick with desire. You could feel his muscles tense beneath you, a response to the increasing intensity. You welcomed his release in your mouth, swallowing his cum, and started leaving a trail of wet kisses, you moved upwards, your tongue lingering on the taut skin of his torso.

Your voice dipped low, a husky whisper against his ear. "You taste so sweet, baby," you said with desire. Your hand trailed down his spine, fingers digging lightly into the heated muscles beneath. He met your gaze, a flicker of hunger danced there before he leaned in, his lips brushing yours tentatively at first. Then, as if a dam had broken, the kiss deepened, his mouth hot and demanding against yours.

With a groan, Chris shifted, his weight settling possessively on top of me. Your breath hitched, a choked plea escaping your lips. "I need you, please," You whispered, your body arching up instinctively. He met your gaze, a dark fire burning in his eyes. "My needy girl, don't you want me to..." he began, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. You cut him off, your voice trembling with urgency. "No, please Chris, I really really need you, please." His smirk widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Begging for me? Damn baby, you know what it does to me," he said, his voice a low rumble. He moved with deliberate slowness, positioning himself between your legs, drawing out the anticipation before finally claiming what you both craved.

Chris began to move slowly, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Faster, Chris, please," you gasped, the words tumbling out in a desperate plea. His response was immediate. He surged forward, his jaw clenching tight, a low growl escaping his throat. Your nails dug into his back, carving lines that you knew would turn red later. He didn't flinch, his grip on your thighs sending a delicious shiver down your spine as he thrusted deep and fast into you. "God, you're doing so good for me, babe," he rasped into your ear, his voice thick with desire “So fucking good”.

A wildfire appeared in your stomach as Chris's dick grazed your g spot, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His voice, usually deep and steady, was now a husky rasp that sent goosebumps erupting over your skin. "Damn, love," he breathed, pulling you impossibly closer. "You're so tight," he finished in a strangled whisper, his body tensing on top of yours.

"C-Chris," You stammered, your voice barely above a whimper. "I'm g-gonna…" The words caught in your throat as the feeling intensified. A smirk played on his lips, his eyes burning with desire.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," he commanded in a husky growl. The world dissolved around you in a wave of pure pleasure, sending you soaring to your peak, wetting the bedsheets.

A shudder racked Chris's body as he released, followed by a sigh of contentment. He rolled onto his side, pulling you close so you could feel the warmth of his skin against you. Drowsily, you traced lazy circles on his chest.

"You were incredible, my love," You mumbled, your voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. A sleepy smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at you.

"I love you, honey," he murmured, his voice husky but tender.

"I love you too," You whispered back, snuggling closer, content to simply exist in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 3: A Study in Death

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.2k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ you begin to settle into your new position in the kingdom and forge tentative friendships.

It was disorienting, waking up in another bed. You had been shown to your room by Helaeana before she went off to sleep herself and it had taken hours for your mind to calm down enough to sleep. Your room was at ground level and made from the same combination of roots and black stone as the rest of the castle. It was larger than your entire home combined. There was a main living space with the most comfortable furniture you had ever sat in. It was all nature-oriented, with hues of green being the preferred choice of colour for decoration. 

The living space was separated by a rise in the floor by a few steps, where your bed was placed horizontally next to a wide set of windows. A desk was placed in front of the windows, along with a bookshelf next to it. There were few books, but you knew with the items you packed it would fill up a good portion of space. Your view was of the palace gardens, where plants and flowers of all types bloomed even under the dark cover of the elder trees. 

Your bed was four posters made of dark oak, all intricately carved in forest imagery. Sheer white fabric draped down on all ends, cocooning you in. Your sleep came slowly as you had tossed and turned for hours the night before. You were in a strange land, surrounded by strange people, with a king who clearly did not like you and had a penchant for killing those he disliked. Naturally, calm had not come to you. 

You had been in a state of being between sleep and awake when soft rapping sounded on your door. Your eyes shot open and you looked around your room. You scrambled out of the silken sheets of your bed and stood in the room, unsure of what to do. You were in a nightrobe that had been given to you, its gentle caress of fabric brushed against your skin. 

“C-come in.” You called out. The door opened and two elves walked in. One who stood on the right was dressed in a light powder pink dress of fine silk with sheer fabric on top that complimented her brown skin with cool undertones. The pink gown had gold embellishments that matched the jewelry draped from her ears and neck. The pink jewel that rested between her collarbones reflected the low lights of your room. Her hair was pin straight and decorated with gold ornaments in waterfall braids that formed a low crown on her head. 

Her companion was dressed in lavender, which happened to be the same style as the pink one. Her pale skin was littered with light and dark freckles that looked like the shimmering fireflies that occupied the grounds outside. Her hair was not done up like her friend's but was curly and a deep amber like the honey you would buy from the market back home. 

You knew there was no getting used to the awe-inspiring looks of the elves. A year here or not, each time meeting one would come with a moment of shock you were sure not to get used to. 

The red-haired one stepped forward, “Good morrow. I’m Amara and this is Liriel,” She gestured to her companion, “We’re to be your handmaids for the time you are here.” 

“Handmaids?” You questioned. You did not think, other than the lodgings you were given, that any other kindness would be extended your way. 

The other elleth pitched in, “We are here to fetch things you need, get you ready in the mornings, and provide company.” That was the nail in the coffin for you. They would provide company for you, a kinder way of saying that everything you did and said was being watched and would be reported to the king. This was Aemond’s way of exerting even more control over you. It was not surprising in the least, but it still made you uncomfortable. 

Another servant stepped through with a silver tray of food; breads, fruits, and cheeses. Your stomach made a slight noise and you became painfully aware of how long it had been since you last ate. The tray was placed down on the table and next to a clear glass pitcher full of water and some matching glass chalices. You moved to inspect the food while Amara and Liriel sat down on one of the couches. They gestured for you to join them and you did, choosing a spot on a chair positioned across from them. 

“Once you’re finished eating, we can get you ready for the day,” Liriel spoke. She shifted her gaze to the large dark oak wardrobe resting against the wall behind you. You had opened it last night to see dozens of fine dresses in a variety of colours and sizes, obviously planned to try and fit the needs of any random guest. However, you doubted the word guest could accurately describe your situation - a prisoner with special privileges felt more like it. 

“Oh! I cannot wait to style your hair. I’ve never done a human’s before.” Amara smiled as she reached out to pluck a cherry from the tray. You were resigned to eating in silence while the two elves chatted away, talking about what it is like to live in the castle. You paid attention but were also focused on the underlying message in your conversation with them. While you had yet to meet many elves, there was always a secret unspoken point when they spoke to you. 

The aspect of your humanness was treated like an oddity. It was something rare and unique to gawk at for a moment before one would become bored and disregard it. You believed yourself to be nothing more than an object displayed on a shelf; meant for entertainment and nothing more. 

You plopped a piece of cheese in your mouth and despite it being delicious, your thoughts bittered the taste.

It had taken an hour for Amara and Liriel to get you ready for the day. Each of them fretted over different aspects of your style, conversing with one another on colours, hues, styles, and jewelry. You had spoken to them many times that you cared little for your own presentation and that you were here on one mission alone; find a cure for the taint. There was no time to fuss over what complimented your undertones or how one particular fabric pattern suited you more than the other. However, you knew putting up a fight and resisting would be pointless and resigned yourself to becoming a doll they could dress up. 

Their intentions were good, but you regretted it the moment you left your room and began to be escorted down the hall. Other elves passed, all servants or members of the court, and they gawked at you. The elvish clothing on you felt wrong and you occasionally tugged on the ends of your sleeves with nervousness. You felt inadequate in any way and just wished to go back to your work, for that was what you could do well. 

You happen upon a set of two doors, not as large as the ones at the grand hall, but still detailed enough that you appreciated the craftmanship. The two guards that had walked you from your room each grabbed a handle and opened it. Inside you could see a large study. Shelves were lined with countless vials, boxes, and chests filled with more ingredients than you knew existed. It was the most exquisite laboratory you had ever seen.  

A door on one of the far ends opened and an elf walked in. He had short silver hair that hung down just past the bottoms of his ears in whisps. He was dressed in dark trousers with high boots. His doublet was made of an emerald-coloured fabric with metal embellishments. His stature was thin but built, and he appeared to be just a few inches taller than you. Surprisingly so, he looked to be a young elf.

“Ah, I’ve been expecting you,” He spoke. The elf waved off the guards, “You can stay posted outside, I can take her from here.” 

He placed down a box he brought in on one of the many tables. His gaze swept over some brewing vials and adjusted some of the fires below them. 

“I am Daeron, the head healer and potions master. I must admit, my sister Helaena did not tell me much about your research, other than the fact that you have been studying the taint.” His eyes, the same shade of blue as Helaena and Aemond, caught yours. He subtly smiled to reassure you, as you had stayed rooted in your spot with your arms wrapped around your stomach. 

“Yes, your grace. I have experience studying the taint’s effects on the land. I am also a healer.” You stepped forward and lowered your hold, letting your arms hang at your sides. 

“That’s good,” Daeron stopped his work and straightened his back, “I’ll take you on a tour and fill you in on what we know.” He gestured for you to follow him and the two of you walked side by side to one of the two doors at the back of the laboratory. Daeron opened it for you and let you walk in first. 

While the grand hall with the throne impressed you, this room far exceeded it. It could not truly be called a room, for it was a vast tower that went up as far as you could see. The walls were covered in bookshelves overflowing with texts. In the centre of the tower was a large open fireplace with a low flame. Around it were a bunch of tables with chairs. 

“This is the library, well, one of them at least. This one concerns all the information we would need regarding medicine, plants, and magic,” Daeron began as he walked around the space, his footsteps echoed off the cold stone floor, “You will find all kinds of languages here, but we have translators should you need them.” He moved back towards the door to walk back to the laboratory, but you hung back for a moment, eyes still scanning the vast array of scrolls and tomes. 

You turned back around to follow Daeron. He led you through the other door that opened up to a grand hall full of elves in sick beds. Other healers were moving about between the patients, offering medicine and comfort. The sounds of murmurs and coughing flooded the room. 

“This place was an old feasting hall, but we converted it to house the influx of sick patients. While we have a decent understanding of the taint’s effects on plant life, the effects on the body are… different to all previous knowledge we have.” Daeron walked down the centre aisle at the foot of all the beds and you followed. 

“I know it spreads through cuts and other openings of the body,” You added while glancing at all the sick people as you pass by, “Truly my expertise remains with the taint's effect on nature, not the body. I have only met a few people who were afflicted by it and only for a moment.” 

Daeron nodded and stood in front of a long white sheet that sectioned off a part of the hall, “Then I must warn you about what you are about to see, it is not pleasant.” He opened the curtain and walked in, holding it so you could pass through. On the other side were more patients, however, they did not look like the ones you passed. The ones you passed were sick with a common fever, coughing and sweaty, but the ones here had visual effects on their body. 

Wounded elves lay in their beds, most asleep, while the ones who were awake acted caught in a perpetual hell. Their skin looked like glass, shiny under thick covers of sweat but had marked cracks as though it was the bed of a dried lake. There was a dark purple, almost black tint on different areas of each person’s body with their veins protruding to the surface. Some were coughing up blood onto rags as their body convulsed. The sight was grim and you had to suck in a breath to refrain from displaying any signs of discomfort. 

“It burns through the body quickly in some cases, eventually rendering them immobile in some limbs. It occurs at different rates as well. No remedies for pain or other ailments even aid in pain relief.” Daeron turned to you and leaned in, lowering his voice so the others could not hear, “The people in this section have no more than a day or two before they pass. At this stage, all they can do is wait.” 

You looked around at the elves, despair rolling over you in waves. It was one thing to hear of the taint killing but to see it was something else entirely. It was an incredibly sad sight, to watch the life be horribly drained from people that did not deserve it. You and Daeron continued on as he began to name patients and how they got infected. Most were injured while inspecting the taint, others approached because they did not know what it was and suffered the consequences of curiosity. 

“Have you tried moonweed? I’ve seen it make surprising effects on the taint I experiment on back home.” You proposed. Daeron turned to you and thought for a moment. 

“Moonweed is a poison,” Daeron stated. 

You nodded, “Yes, but it is known that some poisons can be used to counteract others. I tried it in an experiment once. Tainted flowers began to grow alive again, but it did not last.” You were solemn by your failed experiment just the day prior. You truly believed it had worked, but when the life faded away and the taint took over again you felt a part of yourself go with it. 

Daeron walked closer to you, awe in his eyes as his hands went up to rest on your shoulders, “Are you being truthful? It really receded?” 

“Well, yes, but only for a moment,” You undermined your work, still reeling from the colossal failure. 

“Genius!” Daeron began. He started to walk away from you towards the exit of this area of the sick ward, “None of our healers have yet to accomplish that. You must go over it with me in the laboratory. What a feat!” His steps had renewed vigour at your words. You got the sense that this was an elf with an intense passion for his study, bordering on obsession by his reaction to your words. 

“Genius for a human, right?” You did not mean to say that as loudly as you did, but it had been feelings simmering under the surface the whole time you had been in the elven kingdom. Whenever people talked to you, their compliments always felt backhanded; as though a human was unworthy of such praise but received it otherwise. 

Daeron looked at you with an eyebrow raised, confused that you would ask such a question, “No. Just genius.” As he walked away, you paused for a moment. Your heart swelled at the compliment and you knew that hopefully, you would be making another friend in this place; anything that could make your stay here better. 

You sped up your walking to catch up with Daeron and walked with him to the laboratory, where the two of you spent the following hours swapping notes and other bits of information. The two of you had to catch up on what the other knew, as being on the same page was crucial. 

The time between you and Daeron passed swiftly. Despite the topic being grim, it felt nice to share information with someone just as deeply invested in the same study as you. His passion for healing was much like yours, though his talent for potion-making far exceeded your skills. The two of you spent hours in the laboratory, bouncing ideas back and forth and scanning through books. 

Over that time, your conversation had managed to move into topics that were not strictly work-related. You had gotten to know Daeron beyond that of the role of head healer. He had an interest in horse breeding and animal care. He had a plethora of pets, including some cats, dogs, an owl, and two ferrets. You had instantly seen a resemblance between him and Helaena, as she had an interest in collecting insects. Your thoughts drifted to Aemond and if he collected anything like his siblings. 

Your feet pattered against the stone hallway as two guards walked in front of you. It was as if your thoughts summoned Aemond himself, for at the end of the hallway he turned down to walk by you. His shoulders swayed with the movement of his gait. His lithe figure was tall and lean. He wore a similar outfit to the one you saw yesterday, all dark leather. His longsword was strapped to his waist and moved back and forth with his steps. His hair was done in the same style of half up and half down. 

The elf king was the most exquisite being you had ever seen, but his reputation threw you off entirely. With the stories you had heard, he was like a spawn from the greatest evils deep under the earth’s surface. Another elf walked beside him, with sunkissed skin and dark hair. Thick stubble covered the bottom portion of his face and you realized that he was the first elf you saw that possessed a beard. He was clad in silver armour and conversed with Aemond. While Aemond did not so much as spare you a glance as he passed by, the man to his side was looking at you with an intensity of hate you had yet to receive from anyone. Even the scornful look you had received from the king the other day was not as odious as this. 

The elf stopped glaring at you to give attention to his king. You nodded with respect as you passed, but you doubted it was noticed. The guards in front of you marched at a steady pace while you maintained a step behind them. After Aemond passed, you released a breath of relief. You hoped that he would continue to ignore your presence for the year you were there, for you did not wish to see what would happen if you were to get on his bad side. 

A burning feeling at the back of your head hit you and you knew someone was staring at you. It felt exactly like the stare Aemond gave you when leaving the throne room the other day. You knew the king was watching you as you moved down the hallway. It was with great relief that it faded once you made a right turn and got out of his sight. 

There was a part of you that wondered why he had been looking, but logically you hoped it was nothing but your nerves tricking you. 

Chapter 4: A Night of Song and Dance Preview

“What about,” You lowered your voice slightly, “The Great War?” It had ended centuries ago, but the scars from such gratuitous violence still cut and the blood still stained the minds and hearts of everyone. Daeron’s eyes darkened for a moment as if recalling it himself. You knew he would have been alive during that period and it once again hit you how odd it was to be among elves. They live so long, and everyone in this room was guaranteed to be many centuries, possibly even a millennium, older than you. 

“All that my brother did was to defend our lands, that is all. What about your people? Are you telling me they did not do terrible things to protect themselves?”

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(NEW!) Lavender Roses ~ (Kyoya Ootori x F!Reader)

pairing ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

In which a rational head hides a generous heart, but you have always known how to see past his walls and help him bloom into the gorgeous rose he is. Enjoy a slow burn between an honor student and our beloved glasses character!

-> summary: Frowning, Kyoya flipped onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow and draping the covers over his head. He can take anger from anyone else, even his parents. Even Tamaki, who always found that Kyoya had been right, in the end.  But you. You were mad at him.

-> word count: 20.7k

legend:

(n/l) - native language

(j/c) - jewelry color

if you would like to be added to the taglist -> comment here! or else you won't be added :(

see masterlist! masterlist

A Day In The Life Of The Fujioka Family!

The sound of your breath entering your lungs has never been more deafening. But you force yourself to focus on it, ignoring the frantic rhythm of your heart or the sweat on your brow. The rush of a deep breath in, deep breath out is all you need to hear as you surge forward, your fist echoing as it impacts with leather. 

“Again.” 

(E/c) eyes flicking up to brown ones, you plead. “But–”

“Again.” 

Jaw clenching, you force yourself to refocus. A grunt pushes against your throat as you jab again, but the bag barely moves. 

“You’re hesitating.” Black hair peaks from behind the hanging punching bag, and Mori’s mouth shifts into a serious line. “Follow through with your shoulder.”

“I am.” You huff, throwing your hands up in an exasperated movement. “I’m just not strong enough to push it back.” 

Mori levels you with his glance and you roll your eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t say dumb shit.” He retorts, and you twist your mouth. You’ve never heard Morinosuka cuss before until you started training with him. It seems that he likes to let loose a little when he is working out.

“I thought you had to be respectful in a dojo.” Squaring your shoulders, you bring your fists back to your sides, falling into a natural stance. You direct your attention back to the bag that hangs from the serene, wooden ceilings. “Isn’t there a rule where you can’t cuss?”

“I own the dojo, (Y/n).” Mori readjusts behind the bag, bracing it. “Go again.”

Sucking air through your teeth, you hold it as you jab again, this time leaning your entire body into the punch. You let the breath out as you connect with the bag, but instead of backing away instantly, you let your fist sink into the leather. It makes a smacking sound, and the bag is pushed slightly backward on its chain. 

Throwing up your bruised fists, you cheer, the sound echoing off the Hinoki walls. Your chest huffs, your shoulders are pulsating, but you feel so powerful. It was freeing. 

An appreciative hum resonates from the leather bag, and Mori shifts away from it again. “That’s better.”

“That was so good, (N/n)-chan!” 

You bring your gaze to the mat on your right, Honey-senpai sparring a man that looked to be thrice his size. Muscles bulged from under his gi, veins rising from under his pale skin. Both fighters were huffing, but Honey managed to throw you a thumbs up before facing his opponent once more. 

Honey crouched down slightly, dirty-blonde bangs covering his milk chocolate eyes, but his smile only grew. The man in front of the third-year winced, and you scoffed at his expression.

“You know,” You whisper to Mori as tension fills the space. “I’ve never seen a man with that kind of physique be so close to shitting his pants.” 

The stoic nodded his head, chuckling like he knew exactly what you meant. He passed over your water bottle, and you both took a break to watch the battle of strength. 

The match was over before you could even undo the cap. 

Honey surged forward, pushing off the balls of his feet to get behind the man who had barely taken his first step. The boy-lolita swung a kick into the man’s lower back, making the Hulk arch his spine. With that arch, Honey grabbed the man’s hand that had come around to support the area that was injured and flipped him over his shoulder, taking the shape of curved brush of paint on a canvas. 

The Hulk landed flat onto his back with a gasp, lungs being forced to lose his breath as he wheezes. 

Previously a menacing silhouette, Honey raises his head, unceremoniously shaking his bangs from his face. A bright smile contradicts his opponent's grimace, and he thrusts his hand out for the man to grasp. The Hulk is brought to his feet, huffing and wincing, and Honey looks at him with gleaming eyes. 

“Thank you so much.” He says with a bow, cute and short. “You were a worthy opponent, Botan-senpai.” 

The Hulk-, you mean Botan, just nods. There isn’t remorse on his face when he shakes hands with the young martial arts master, however. Just respect and wonder dancing in his irises. He steps off the mat, limping from the power of being thrown around like a rag doll. You give him a sympathetic look before your gaze is being caught by Honey’s and he reaches his hand out. 

“You ready, (N/n)-chan?”

Oh. Shit.

“I don’t think–” Before you can find an excuse to keep yourself off of that mat of death, Mori is pushing you forward by the small of your back. 

“You won’t get better if you don’t practice.” The stoic reminds you, and you just scoff. 

“Yeah, but I can’t get better if I die right here.”

Honey-senpai just smiles, bright and ignorant, as if he doesn’t know the amount of fear he can instill into those who oppose him. “Don’t worry, (N/n)-chan, I’ll go easy on you.”

A worried chuckle bursts from your lips. “See, what do you mean by easy? Because my understanding of ‘easy’ could be very different from yours.”

“Ready?” You hear Mori’s voice begin to countdown the match, and Honey hunches forward again, giving you a proud smirk. Okay, maybe he does realize how menacing he can be. 

Your feet sink into the padding of the mat. “Wait, wait, can I at least get a head start? Give me a minute to get comfortable with the moves.”

“No time. Set…” Mori says, and you can hear him trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. 

The world around you begins to blur. “Oh god. If I die, tell Tama that he can have my hoodies. And tell those twins to stay out of my wardrobe! I don’t want them pulling off my outfits better than I can.” You scramble yourself into a fighting stance, as if that would give you a chance. 

“Go!” Mori’s voice rings throughout the dojo, and you tense as a blur of white gold and honey sweeps you off your feet. Grunting, your back hits the mat with a smack, your face frozen in amazement and shock.

But you’re still breathing, and your heart continues to beat with the adrenaline of facing Honey-senpai. 

“I’m alive.” It comes out as a surprised whisper, but then you shoot your fists in the air. “Ha, I’m alive!”

Honey and Mori come to stand over you, a smile full of teeth from the boy-lolita while Mori just shakes his head. 

“Of course you’re alive, silly!” Honey cheers as Mori helps you back onto your feet. “I don’t hurt my friends.”

“Awe, I know, Senpai.” You smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “You’re still terrifying when you want to be.”

He hugs you around your waist, his chin resting on your hip as he looks up at you. “But not too scary, right?”

You just laugh, returning the hug. “Not at all.” 

Feeling a large hand clap the back of your shoulder, you turn in your hug to see the tall host with the corners of his mouth lifted. “You did well.”

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “Um, no. I’m pretty sure I just got knocked onto my ass.”

“But you tried to protect yourself, (N/n)-chan!” Honey compliments from closer to the ground. “Before we started, you brought your fists up to protect your face, like this!” With a determined smile, he demonstrates a defensive stance, eyes wide and glowing. “You’re learning!”

“But I didn’t even mean to do that.”

“Good.” Mori says, and the three of you walk to the cubbies lined along one of the intricate walls. “That means it’s instinct.”

“A really good instinct! The first thing about learning how to fight, (N/n)-chan, is learning how to protect yourself first.” The martial arts master put his hands on his hips, looking up at you with all the pride and love in the world. 

“Protecting myself first, huh?” Moving to your own cubby, you reached into your workout bag, pulling out a towel to dry the sweat off your face. 

It’s been a while since you’ve felt this good. Wrapping the cloth around the back of your neck, you realize that you’re smiling even as you huff out breaths. Your heart is drumming in your chest not because of anxiety, not because of a boy, but because of your own progress and work. It felt rewarding. 

Of course, you missed the different kind of way your heart would skip a beat at the smallest of touches from your director, or the warmth you felt when he gave you praise. The comfort of working so well with someone, or being okay and understanding with anything you do. 

Except, Kyoya wasn’t okay with anything you did. Or understanding. Not at the end. 

Sighing, you brought the towel around the back of your neck. It was…interesting now, between the two of you. Since you both agreed to be civil, you were back to working together smoothly. Late night study sessions weren’t as frequent, but at least they were constant. And that was okay.

It was okay because you realized that you shouldn’t have to push someone to be that warmth for you, that comfort. Kyoya wanted to be that for someone else, and while it hurt, it was just something you were going to have to accept. Your families were still important to each other, and you both were still incredibly devoted to the host club, so you didn’t have to worry about not being in each other’s lives. But you were grateful, in the end. 

Why did he have to be that source for you, of all people? Why couldn’t you find that somewhere else? Or maybe even be that for yourself? That’s why you were doing this. Training with Mori and Honey, going to coffee with Arai, focusing on your school work. If the people around you didn’t want to support you in those certain aspects, then you would do it yourself. Like you always have. 

Even if he was a dick about it, he gave you a chance to recapture your independence with fervor. And it gave you a new mission. 

Picking up your phone, you ignore a text from Arai telling you about a club he was going to tonight and reply to an unread message from Haruhi. 

Loml <3: Hey, is there anything specific you want for tonight? My dad wants to know which tea you like so he can make it before he leaves for work. 

Smiling, you type away, picturing Haruhi’s dad, Ranka, flailing around with worry over the many bags of tea in his cabinet. 

You: hey! just got finished at the dojo. i’m pretty easy, whatever you choose! Tell Ranka anything is fine!

Loml <3: Cool, no rush. Just let me know when you’re on your way. I’ll meet you outside. 

You: will do. :)

“Alright, boys.” Clicking your phone off, you lug your bag onto your shoulder. “I have to go. Thanks for kicking me into shape.”

“Where are you going, (N/n)-chan?” Honey looks up, frowning slightly. “You don’t want to stay for cake?”

Chuckling, you ruffle his hair again. “Not this time. I’ll share one with you after this weekend is over.” 

Immediately, his frown flipped into a smile. “Okay! Thanks for training with us today!”

You hum, appreciative and warm. “Thank you for finally getting me out of bed.”

“It was hard.” Mori grumbles, which morphs your hum into another laugh. Mori barely moves when you playfully punch him in the shoulder, only lifting his lips in a smirk.

“That’s going to hurt one day, I promise you.”

“Not if you don’t follow through.”

“Yeah, yeah, so wise.” Taking a deep breath, they walk you to the door way. “Seriously, though. It was nice to get rid of some pent up energy. Thanks.”

Mori just nods while Honey clasps his hands together, beaming up at you. “Of course, (N/n)-chan. You know you’re always welcome here.”

A warm beam of emotion rushes from his smile into your bloodstream, and you sigh. “I do know that.” Waving a hand, you turn and make your way to your driver parked outside. “I’ll see you both here next week!”

After a salute from Mori and an excited motion from Honey, you step into your car. The Lexus drives away from the warmth of your family and to the emptiness of that house. But that was fine. This weekend, at least, you wouldn’t have to deal with it. 

Day turned into night, the sky creating a canvas above your vast house. Packing your overnight bag reignited your nerves about tonight, but taking a shower calmed them. Sitting in your car once more, you sunk into the leather seats as you watched the scenery blur into a series of blues and greens. 

When Haruhi suggested a sleepover, you had to swallow the anxiety in your stomach. You knew that she was trying to make up for lost time, and she – ever the instigator – came up with the idea that the two of you should have a good, old fashioned slumber party. It was a bit extroverted for Haruhi, which surprised you, but it sounded like she had spent plenty of time trying to build up her confidence to ask you, so there was no way you could say no. 

Placing your head into your hand and leaning up against the railing, you realize that you didn’t want to say no. Haruhi has become your closest friend in the past couple of months, and you kick yourself for shutting her out at your time of need. Of course she sensed you were distressed, this is Haruhi. The most observant, blunt, humble woman you knew. Not only is she a thoughtful friend, but her maternal instincts for the people close to her are unparalleled and will not be defeated by a little bit of drama. 

But with that maternal instinct came questions. Questions you knew were going to be asked tonight. Questions you weren’t sure how to answer. 

“No, no.” You shook your head, sighing and leaning farther into your seat. “This is the perfect time to tell her. Tell her I saw them together, and then tell her it’s fine. She can have him.”

With every syllable, your gut twisted, but your mind stayed vigilant. “They want each other, and Haruhi deserves that, right?” You whispered to yourself. “She deserves to get what she wants, after everything she does for us.”

Your heart still pounded at any image of Kyoya and Haruhi together, but your mind intervened once more, bolting hard steel walls on the inside of your chest to deafen the sound. 

“He doesn’t want you, he wants her. She can have him.” Another shuttering breath. “Not like I’m letting her have him, of course, she is her own woman and can get what she needs without anyone's help. It’s fine.”

Biting your lip, you suck on the skin for a moment before letting it go, trying to push away the bad habit. “So, when she asks, it’ll be fine. Because they’re good for each other, and they’ll be happy. That’s what you want, right?” Clenching your jaw, your throat tightens before releasing. “I want them to be happy.”

“Miss (L/n)?”

Shocking out of your trance, you meet the eyes of your driver in the rearview mirror. Stuttering, you put yourself back into a normal person state of mind, adjusting your posture. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?” Your driver’s eyes are inviting, green sinking into (e/c).

Clearing your throat, you give her a smile. “I am. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? Because your phone has been ringing for the past minute.” She says, and her eyes dart to your right. 

Eyebrows creasing, you manage to finally process the sound of your phone ringing and vibrating on the seat next to you. Laughing meekly, you apologize to your driver before rolling up the divider, taking a note that if you ever want to talk to yourself like a crazy person again, maybe do it in private.

“Hello?” In your hurry to pick it up, you fail to check the caller ID. 

But even if it was easy to ignore the contact picture and the name in your state of embarrassment, you couldn’t dismiss the club music banging against the speaker. 

“(L/n)! You finally picked up!”

Wincing at the volume of the electronic music, you pull the phone away from your ear to see who the hell is calling you from a club this early in the evening. Your confusion only grows when you see a crooked smile beaming back at you.

“Arai?” Why the hell was Arai calling you from a club at 20:00.

“(L/n)? Can you hear me?” The bass suddenly picked up tempo, and you could hear Arai trying to raise his voice over the noise.

“Barely.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Where are you?”

“I’m at The Black Rose! The new nightclub that just opened up!” He laughs on the other end at something his friend said. “It’s definitely…more active than we had anticipated. What are you doing?”

“I’m just in the car.”

“Really? Great! Then you’re already a step ahead of me!”

Meeting the confused look of your driver again, you give her a thumbs up as the car zooms by on the open road. “What do you mean?”

“Get over here!” He pauses, and you hear a clunk and a gulp from his end. “I’m only down two shots, and my friends really want to meet you!”

“Arai.” Your tone is gentle, a soft giggle coming from your lips. “I can’t. I have plans tonight.”

“Oh, no, really?” He nearly whines, his crackly voice like peppermint bark. “Is it with that jackass of a partner? You never told me his name, so I’m just gonna call him jackass.”

This earns Arai a full on laugh. “No, no. It’s a sleepover with my best friend.” It felt nice to call her that again. 

“Are you sure I can’t convince you?” Arai nearly pleads, and it seems the music dimmed, now a thundering echo in the background. 

“You can’t.” You smile when he halfheartedly curses. “She really deserves time with me right now.”

“Okay, well tell me what to do to get in line for your time, because I need to make an arrangement for us to come to this awesome club together.” There’s a stuttering breath, then a gasp. “Oh, wait, unless you don’t like clubs? Do you not like the club scene? That would make total sense, of course, I know you prefer calmer atmospheres– or unless you don’t and I read it all wrong?”

“No, no, Arai. You’re fine.” Honestly, you had been waiting for him to stutter or something. It seemed like alcohol boosted his confidence a bit. “You can totally jump to the front of the line, of course.”

“Woo!” His voice lessened as he pulled the speaker away from his mouth to shout across the club. “Did you guys hear that? I got a fast pass!”

You hear some muffled, dismissive hums from his friends before Arai focuses back into the call. 

“They’re not as excited as they should be. You’re a busy woman who is hard to get a hold of. Who may or may not like clubs? I never got an answer to that.” You could almost picture him scratching the back of his head. 

“I enjoy them when I can prepare myself for them.” You agree, crossing a leg over the other. “Plus, I’m sure my mother would be glad to hear us hanging out again outside of business meetings.”

Arai makes an agreeable hum. “Right, yeah, your mother. I mean, my dad would also be happy to hear it, so….is that a yes?”

“Sure.” You can’t help the smile on your teeth at his eagerness. “Sounds fun. Some other time, though.” 

“I’ll be waiting!” His friends began calling his name, and his attention was completely snatched once again. 

“Be safe, though, Arai! Make sure to–”

“Yeah, bye (L/n)!”

The line goes dead. Shaking your head, your driver pulls your gaze to her questioning one and you just shrug, looking out the window with a smirk on your face. It was fun, creating a comfort of your own. 

Dark, silk sheets wrap over Kyoya’s bare torso, a deep sleep blanketing his form. His breaths are long and heavy as his face stays relaxed. A rare look for the fourth child, but third in line.  

Something warm slinks across his chest, something that made him hum in gratitude. Ever the deep sleeper, Kyoya barely feels a sort of pressure come from that something, pressing him against another warmth. In his sleep, the Ootori son relaxes, peacefulness cocooning him as a feeling of contentedness washes over his body like the satin against his skin. 

That is until, in the darkness, Kyoya feels that same warm touch on his neck, his creamy skin becoming alight with each press. 

Lips. Lips kiss up the column of his throat, and he bends his head slightly to allow those lips more room. Slowly, they make a trail to the shell of his ear, as if time did not exist within the confine of his bedroom walls, and this pair of lips had all the seconds in the world. A needy breath crawls up his throat then, and in his sleepy daze, the megane slowly rolls over, seeking more of that warmth. 

His stormy eyes can only open a crack, the fuzz of night and sleep blurring his reality. But he sees a shoulder, and a soft visage in the corner of his eye, those lips still pressing achingly slow into his pulse. And his body just knows.

Kyoya thinks his lips part, a rumbly, graveled voice sounding from his chest. “Mm…(Y/n)?”

(H/c) strands fall onto the sheets around him, but he still can’t get a full image of you, your form always tied to his peripheral. But your voice, your voice is clear as crystal against his ear. 

“Catch me, Kyo.”

He blinks, the lips are gone. No more warmth around his chest and stomach where your arm had pulled him into you, and no shadows calling to him in the night. Kyoya takes a stuttering breath and shoots up in his bed, dark sheets billowing to his waist as low foggy clouds become thunderstorms in his eyes. 

His pupils dilate and he immediately winces at the sunlight bathing into his room, and he shields his eyes. Groaning, Kyoya fists his sheets within his grasp, swallowing a yell at the loss of his sleep-like peace. The dream he had wanted to sink into. 

The ravenette gingerly lays back into his bed, heaving a breath to stave away a budding headache from being woken up so early, so suddenly. His arm drapes over his naked eyes, a swallow melting down his throat that was still tingling.

This wasn’t the first dream he’d had where the ghost of his want had haunted him. But it was the first time you had spoke. 

Catch me, he thought. What the hell does that mean?

Kyoya was never one to look into the meaning of dreams. That would be illogical. Absurd. No, the only reason your teasing line replayed in his head so many times was because it had sounded so…enticing. Like an invitation he would never refuse. 

But you were mad at him, so he would never get the chance. 

You were mad at him. The thought had almost made him laugh when you had admitted that to him because of course. Of course you found some way to flip it all on him so that you wouldn’t have to take accountability for your actions, even though you had already apologized to the rest of the host club. Everyone except for him got a proper apology, and you left him alone in the dark. 

But you were mad at him.

You were mad at him?

Kyoya didn’t care what anybody thought. Ever. Especially if they felt he had wronged them in some way with his blunt honesty and piercing ambition. Most of the time, those people were rich, greedy, annoying little pests in the world of business and management, already begging to be knocked down a few pegs by his intelligence and sharp observation. Or, let’s be honest, they weren’t going to get that far in life anyway, who was he to sugarcoat things?

But you had never been any of those people. No, even through his anger and betrayal, Kyoya could accept that you were smart. That you were creative, strong-willed and strong-minded, and full of potential. He knew you were going to do great things. But you did it with kindness. With a grace that he, dare he admit, admired. 

Frowning, Kyoya flipped onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow and draping the covers over his head. He can take anger from anyone else, even his parents. Even Tamaki, who always found that Kyoya had been right, in the end. 

But you. You were mad at him. 

Why? What had he done? You had seen him throw business after business underground and cut expenses and salaries like they were butter but you had never bat an eye. You both had stopped speaking for that uncomfortable week under Renge’s influence, but you had come at him with your typical fire and spark, and all was well. Unfortunately, he realizes you have gotten used to him using the silent treatment as a way to get what he wants. To let people stew in their own anxiety that they end up apologizing to him in the end. 

Now, though, you have taken a backseat. He reaches out to you more than you return the favor, embarrassingly, and there seemed to be no motivation to fix whatever awkward space you two were in now. Why were you becoming so distant instead of confronting him head on? Why were you running away?

Catch me, Kyo.

Turning his head, he squints both at the onslaught of sunlight from his window and the determination blossoming within. 

Kyoya would do whatever he could to unearth the truth, to learn. He deserved to know, and the third Ootori son always worked hard for the things he deserved. 

But, even ambitious shadow lords need their beauty rest. His eyelids slipped shut, a part of him still wishing to return to that dream space. Instead, though, his dark eyelashes flutter open again to the sound of his phone ringing on his nightstand. 

“Absolutely not.” He grumbles to himself, digging himself deeper into the top of his mattress. If he hadn’t already been awake, he would’ve slept through that ringtone that he knew too goddamn well. Anyone who knows him realizes that on weekends, Kyoya Ootori does not wake up before noon. 

There’s one person, however, that just doesn’t care. 

His phone stops jumping on the bedside table and Kyoya braces for the next few calls. It’s a pattern that has been repeated over and over. Three calls, three voicemails, six text messages. Then he can fall back into the silence of his bedroom without interruption.

But after the third call, it rings again. And again. And again until Kyoya is harshly sitting up, gripping his expensive cell phone with a tight grip while answering it with a vengeance. 

“Kyoya!” Tamaki’s voice flows through the speaker, but before he can say anything else, the Ootori son is spitting venom through his microphone. 

“What in God’s name makes you think you can ring my phone incessantly without any disregard for the time? Any disregard for my sleep?” He growled, teeth baring over his receiver. “I’ll have you know, you idiot, that I was awake until four in the morning working on your club’s finances, and if I don’t get the rest I need, I will be more than in favor of completely destroying the entire Host Club and running that business into the ground.”

There’s a small pause, and Kyoya imagines Tamaki blinking owlishly on the other end. The ravenet sighs, a headache already starting to form from how low his blood sugar had dropped from rising out of his bed so suddenly. 

“Come on, Kyoya! The day is new. Plus, I just had the most terrible dream.” His best friend gasps, and Kyoya doesn’t restrict his eye roll. 

“And I’d like to get back to mine.” His words are short and sharp. “Goodnight.”

“Wait, please. I need your help! Haruhi is living in poverty!”

Even though the Ootori son had brought his phone away from his ear, he still heard the whine that Tamaki voiced over the speaker, and Kyoya’s infamous curiosity overpowered his will for sleep. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I woke up in such a frenzy this morning, it was a disaster! I was so rattled that I forgot it was even a weekend. My lovely maid, Shima–”

“I know who Shima is, Tamaki.” 

“Right, well she had to stop me from running outside of the house in my pajamas. My pajamas! I had never been so unpresentable in my life.”

That headache was getting worse. “Can you get to the point?”

“Oh, Kyoya, I had a dream where Haruhi was…” Tamaki’s voice lowered significantly, whispering the forbidden word into the phone. “...poor. And that she was dirty, and so sad. We need to help her! What if she is living with a disease? Or famine?” Another gasp burst from the prince’s lips. “What if she is living without a skin care routine?!”

“Haruhi’s conditions are perfectly suitable for her desired life-style, I can assure you.” 

“How do you know for sure? We’ve never seen where she lives, or how she is living. She could need me, and I would never know!” Another whine pierces the phone line, and Kyoya really, actually considers hanging up on him. 

Gritting his teeth, Kyoya takes his finger away from the ‘end call’ button. “If you would like to visit her so dreadfully, then go. No one is stopping you.”

There’s another pause, and the Ootori son hopes that Tamaki has finally come to his senses. But, of course, that was wishful thinking. 

“Please don’t make me go alone! Please, Kyoya, you’ve read about commoner living, right? It would be so nice to have you there with me.” 

“Tamaki, I cannot just abandon all of my plans today because you-”

“Please. I’ll do anything you want.” Tamaki was practically on his hands and knees at this point, but Kyoya still let out a huff. 

“I am a very busy man, Tamaki. My sleep is the only time where I might find some solace within the disarray you call a host club. If you insist on company, I suggest calling (Y/n)-”

“You know just as well as I do that (Y/n) will not be awake at this time.”

Shadows bleed from the bags under Kyoya’s eyes. “How fortunate for her.”

“Please, Kyo? For me?” And in his tired mind, the megane imagines Tamaki’s purple eyes batting at him, big and wide and hopeful. 

A low sigh releases from Kyoya’s lips at the nickname, one he has heard less of recently. Letting his face fall into his unoccupied palm, the Ootori has to force his tongue to form his next sentence. “When do we leave?”

Haruhi prances down the sidewalk of her neighborhood, grocery bags swinging left and right on her arms. Her lips are quirked into a calm grin, the peace of the spring air weaving through her brunette locks. 

That was some sale! There’s no better time to hit the supermarket like a Sunday morning. She thinks, tucking into one of the pockets of her pink dress to grab a notepad and flip it open. Smart eyes glaze over the to-do list written there as her tennis shoes clack against the sidewalk. Now, all I have to do when I get home is wake up (Y/n) and see what she wants to do!.

At the thought of you, Haruhi shakes her head fondly. You two had such a great night. Even if you had seemed too chipper, it was better than the distance you had put between them the past few days. Because it was Haruhi’s first sleepover, the honor student studied up on how to throw the best one she could. Ingredients for your favorite cookies were bought, plenty of movies were stacked up on a shelf, and the brunette had found nail polish on sale. Buy one, get two free! How serendipitous was that?

Everything was put to use, and then some. While the cookies baked, you sensed what Haruhi was up to. 

“Haru, did you study up on sleepovers?” You had asked, chuckling a little bit while leaning against her kitchen counter. 

A small blush had come across her cheeks while she scratched the back of her head. “Yeah. Is that weird?”

“No, not at all!” You were quick to make her feel less awkward. “It’s just sweet. This is my first sleepover too, so you’re probably wasting all your efforts. The bar is set very low for me.” 

Haruhi laughed then, rolling her eyes. “Right, that makes me feel so much better.” 

“Oh, stop.” You say. Picking up a glass, you walk over to fill it with lemonade that Haruhi had prepared. “You know, I think I might know another classic sleepover activity.”

Always eager to learn, Haruhi perks her ears. “Really? What is it?”

You quirk an eyebrow over your glass. “Talking about boys.”

The honor student hums, her eyes rolling playfully. “You just want an excuse to talk about Kyoya-Senpai.”

You forced a laugh out of your throat. “No, no. I want to talk about the boys you like. If Kyoya just happens to come up, that will be your doing.”

This time, Haruhi’s eye find you with a serious tone. “Me? I don’t like any boys.”

A scoff blows past your lips. “Haru, you’re an attractive girl surrounded by the most attractive men in our school who would do almost anything for you. You haven’t fallen for one of them by now?”

Her dark eyebrows furrow, and the timer on the oven dings, signaling the cookies were fully baked. Slipping on hot pads, Haruhi bends to grab the cookie pan from the oven, letting the heat and the smell of sweets wash over her. 

“No, no. Honestly, I haven’t thought about any of that. My studies are the most important thing right now, and I have so much to do at home. I…don’t have time for things like that.”

But you watch as a thoughtful look glazes over her features, setting the tray of cookies down in deep thought. 

“But…there might be someone, yeah?” You ask softly. 

You imagine a flash of black hair coming into her vision, when in reality, blonde locks are what come to the front of her mind before she shakes it away. 

A sympathetic look comes to your face. Placing your hand hers that rests on the counter, you get her attention. 

“I guess I just want you to know that if you did like someone, you can talk to me about it. I think I’d be so excited, I’d try to, like, push you two together at any possible second.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Her lips quirk up as she laughs. “I’ll let you know.” Then her eyebrows wriggle a little bit as she waves the steam from the desserts, encouraging them to cool. “But we can still talk about Kyoya-senpai.”

Teasingly, she looks up, expecting you to be rolling your eyes and blushing. But when your shoulders deflate and your eyes shine with something she can’t place, she realizes that maybe that wasn’t the best thing to bring up. 

“I know you guys are still rocky, but you and him-”

“Things between us are over.”

“What?” Haruhi clears her throat. “Over one little fight?”

“It wasn’t very little.” You reply sheepishly, shrugging and playing with your lemonade. 

“Well, what did he say when you apologized to him?” 

Your eyes shot to hers then, your head in your hand. (E/c) eyes darkened a little before you pulled your lip between your teeth. “I, uh, didn’t get the chance too.”

“What? Why not?”

Your gaze became unfocused, distant words pressing past your teeth. “I guess I realized that he wanted something different. Something that wasn’t me.”

“That’s not true. He-”

“No, it is.” Just like that, the faraway look snaps back into reality, and you pull your lips into an assuring grin. “But it’s fine.”

“It is? You’re fine?”

“More than fine.” You take another sip from your drink. “It’ll be better this way. For all of us.”

After the cookies were done, you both sat down on your mats, which were laid in her T.V. room. Her room was too small to fit both of you, so Ranka said you two could sleep out there, near the windows that overlooked the city. 

“Sorry my place is a little cramped.” Haruhi said, folding her feet underneath her. 

Shaking your head, you lay a blanket across your lap. “It’s really not. It’s so homey and warm. I would’ve offered my place, but it’s kind of the opposite.”

“I still think it would’ve been better than here. Are you sure you’re not bored?” Haruhi realizes. 

“Of course I’m not bored.” You assure her. “But, when we do this again, you can come over to mine, if you really want to. My parents won’t be home, so we can do whatever we want.”

“Whatever we want?”

“Mhmm.” You start to list areas of your house on your fingers. “We have the movie theater, the pool, the tennis courts, the gardens. Oh, and there are secret doors next to the library that I could show you.”

Haruhi’s eyes glisten a little in the light of her home. “You have a library?”

Laughter rang out from you, then, and you had both gone to sleep that night, crashing on the sweetness of sugar and friendship. 

When morning came, though, you were dead to the world. You had mentioned that you needed a very competent, persistent alarm of some kind to wake up in the mornings, otherwise you’d sleep past noon on the weekends. Even though you had asked Haruhi not to let you sleep in and waste the day away, the natural-type couldn’t bring herself to interrupt that relaxed look on your face. 

So, she had gotten up, and the early riser left to get a head start on her morning chores, making sure her schedule was cleared to spend some time with you. 

Too bad her efforts were in vain. 

As Haruhi approached her apartment complex, a glint of sunlight caught her eye. Shielding her eyes, Haruhi found the source to be a sparkling surface of polish and pristine. Something she didn’t see much of around here. Squinting, she noticed it was a car. A fancy car. 

No, like, it was a really fancy car. 

She was even more perplexed when she saw another one right beside it, and a limo stretched next to her sidewalk. No one in her building was this well off. 

Oh no, was the Yakuza here? Had they heard about the amazing prices at the supermarket and wanted to take advantage of the great sale like she did? 

Calming herself down, she took a breath. That’s ridiculous, she thought, the Yakuza wouldn’t be out shopping for themselves. 

No, they’d get someone to do it for them.

With a courage that should be awarded, Haruhi continued her path to her home, waiting to see minions of the Japanese Mafia as one of the doors to the limo swung open. 

But when blonde locks bounced off the morning’s sunlight, Haruhi paused for an entirely different reason. A very strong urge to sprint in the other direction. 

Tamaki rose out of his limo, a casual outfit wrapped around his frame. A set of sunglasses is perched on his nose before he pushes them up into his hair, little wisps sticking out the sides. Each car then opens to reveal the rest of the host club, their own everyday street wear warming in the sun. 

Haruhi groans, leaning onto a pole and dropping her groceries in offense. 

Kyoya bends out of his seat, a dark vest wrapped over a red tank top, his hair free of any gel or product. His mouth sits in a calm line, quietly scanning the apartment complex in front of him. Folding his arms, they feel slightly naked without his black book in his grasp. 

“So this is where Haruhi lives?” Kaoru asks, pulling on his white shirt and red vest. 

“It’s pretty big, huh? Bigger than I thought it would be.” Hikaru adds, rolling up the sleeves of his red hoodie. Necklaces and jewelry adorned both of the twins. They wouldn’t be caught dead without the appropriate accessorizing. 

A gasp sounds on their right as Honey and Mori saddle up next to them, a gleam in the former’s eye. “Yeah, wow! Look at all the rooms!” 

“Actually,” Kyoya reminds, “This is what you might call an aggregate commoner dwelling. Haruhi’s home is just one of the many units in this building.”

As Kyoya fixes the glasses onto his face, he feels hands clamp onto his shoulders, Tamaki trembling with nerves. “Kyoya, why? Why did you bring these idiots with us?! Especially those two doppelgangers?!”

But the megane just levels his tired gaze to his best friend, and he tilts his head just so, the sun creating a barrier between his eyes and Tamaki’s. “Well, I knew you didn’t have the courage to come here on your own. So, I thought it would be best if everyone came along.”

Casually brushing off Tamaki’s grip, Kyoya just shrugs, sighing as he leads the twins back into their cars. “Alright, let’s go home. I guess I underestimated our great leader.”

Hikaru knocks him off, pulling Kaoru into his side. “What? We aren’t going home!”

“Wait, wait!” Tamaki rushes to Kyoya, clinging to his long back. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave.” His voice drops into a whine, and the Ootori son rolls his eyes internally. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“That’s what I suspected.” Kyoya sighs, and turns in Tamaki’s grip. Many years ago, that touch on his shoulder would’ve lit a fire in his spirit, but it dulled into more of a prismatic ray as Kyoya realized that Tamaki’s passions were elsewhere. 

As were his own. He just hadn’t gotten that far yet. Not like it mattered anymore. 

But, with this blonde, an annoyingly deep bond was formed anyway, so Kyoya let it stay. 

“Alright men, gather round.” The touch on Kyoya’s shoulder grew firm, and he was launched into a huddle with the rest of his friends. 

“Don’t forget!” Tamaki was a born leader, his commanding voice drawing even more attention from the citizens of this commoner dwelling. “We must be polite, this is simply a casual ‘we-just-happened-to-be-in-the-neighborhood’ kind of visit. We are absolutely not here to judge the Fujioka family’s lifestyle. The words ‘shabby’, ‘cramped’, and ‘rundown’ are absolutely forbidden!” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyoya perceived a pink dress in a diagonal line, leaning against a telephone pole. “Tamaki, if I may-” He starts, trying to point out the figure. 

“Don’t say anything that might offend Haruhi or her father.” The pink line shuddered and straightened before moving closer to their group huddle. “We can’t have them asking us to leave!” 

That pink dress solidified into a younger honor student, and Kyoya felt his help in drawing attention to her was no longer needed when she growled in the host’s direction. 

“Well, it’s too late for that!”

Jumping out of his skin, Tamaki spun around, purple eyes growing into saucers. 

 “Haruhi-”

“Go away!” Again, Haruhi’s forehead irked, a wild look in her eye. But Tamaki didn’t register her anger as those lilac plates rolled down her dress, a small blush coming to the apples of his cheeks. 

“Wow, Haruhi…” Tamaki breathed, and he and the twins suddenly gave a thumbs up. Together, they were a love-sick pack of pups. “That pink dress is pretty cute!”

But Haruhi bared her teeth. “Shut up! Get the hell out of here!”

Kyoya’s eyelids grew half a centimeter. He had never heard Haruhi cuss before. 

Tamaki stumbled back, a horrified gasp sucking through his mouth. “Haruhi’s so mad, she actually cursed at us!” Tears formed in his eyes as he whirled on the twins, beginning to accuse them of being a bad influence on the honor student, which Kyoya couldn’t disagree with. 

A lady cautiously walks over to Haruhi, and Kyoya can see the small stains on the hems of her dress. Someone who might live in this building, he supposed. 

“Excuse me, Haruhi, but is everything alright?”

Irritated beyond belief, Haruhi sighs, looking over to the woman with a blank expression. “Hi, Ms. Landlady.”

Oh, so this is the woman the Fujioka’s pay rent to. Her eyes shift from Haruhi to the boys, then back. “Those boys are driving such fancy, foreign cars. They aren’t Yakuza, are they?”

“No, they’re not.” But by the tone of her voice, Kyoya thinks that Haruhi may have preferred the Japanese mafia to their chaos. 

“I mean, do you want me to call the police for you…?” Her question trails off as Tamaki reaches around Haruhi, practically pushing the shorter host to the side as he grabs the older woman's hand. 

Sparkles come to his eyes, spilling into his lashes and sprinkling around his entire face, completely enchanting the woman in front of him in seconds. That’s what practice can do for a professional. 

“Pleased to meet you, Madam. My name’s Suoh, I’m one of Haruhi’s friends.” The landlady is already gushing as Haruhi watches with amazement. 

“Really?” The landlady’s hand tightens in his grip. “Well, aren’t you just adorable?”

“And, he’s got her.” Kyoya hears Haruhi mumble. 

A pale hand runs through golden straw as Tamaki flicks those sparkles into the air, captivating the woman further. “We were just stopping by, we didn’t mean to cause a scene. I’m sorry.” Utter sincerity rushes through Tamaki’s tone, and the pure talent the french boy possess nearly raises envy into Kyoya’s blood. 

But of course, it doesn’t. 

The tinkling of the old woman’s laughter filled the space. “Oh, it’s no problem!” She pulls Haruhi back to her side, the honor student having no choice but to follow. “I’ll be back with some snacks later for your friends. See ya later!”

As the Host Club watches the woman leave, Haruhi grumbles, coming back to Tamaki’s side. “Alright, well, thank you for coming.” Kyoya didn’t believe she was actually grateful. “But, I have a lot of work today, and even some company-”

“Boys, to the Fujioka Residence!” 

Long legs dressed in over priced cloth begin to climb the staircase of her apartment complex, bustling energies rising with every step. 

“I can’t wait to see where Haru-chan lives! I bet it’s cute, right Takashi?” Honey pipes, his blue and white, sailor inspired outfit swishing in his rush. 

His cousin just strides, taking the stairs two at a time while nodding. “Yeah.”

“Wait!” Haruhi’s call falls on deaf ears as she rushes to follow the host club. “You guys don’t even know where I-”

“Kyoya?” Tamaki looks around in a rush, seemingly millions of doors stretching into his view. 

“Second door on the left.” 

“Thank you.” 

An irk appears on Haruhi’s forehead. “How do you know where I live? That’s stalking, Kyoya-senpai!”

But the Host Club appears in front of a door. A door that was already emanating warmth and comfort, which made Tamaki a little calmer. Surely a home with this kind of energy wouldn’t be too bad, right?

“Haruhi! Let us in.” The prince boldly states. 

“Tamaki, you can’t just barge into my house.”

He turns over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. “Which is why I am asking you to let us in, okay?”

Haruhi sighs, shifting her feet. “You aren’t going to leave unless I let you see it, huh.” It wasn’t really a question, but more of an acceptance of fate. 

“Nope.” Kaoru states, canines shining. 

“Not even close.” Hikaru confirms. 

“Right.” Another sigh, and Haruhi is making her way through the crowd of her Host Club. She wanted to call you, but she knew you wouldn’t pick up. The time hadn’t even hit the double digits. She could bang on the door, tell you to get up before your friends could interrupt your sleep, but there was already a crowd outside and she didn’t want to draw more attention. 

“What’s taking so long?” Tamaki asks, a wild look in his eye.

“It’s just, there’s-” But Tamaki grabbed her by the shoulders. His eyes were desperate, purple churning into a royal violet. 

“Haruhi, I promise, whatever is behind that door, we won’t judge you. We could never judge you. Just open the door, okay?”

The twins laughed. “Speak for yourself.”

The honor student’s lips parted. “But-” 

“Open the door!” Kyoya quirks an eyebrow as Tamaki collects himself. Gently, he pushes a stunned Haruhi to the door, who grumbles under her breath, shoving the key into the hole. 

“Here’s the deal.” She states, her keys jangling. “I’m only giving you guys a quick peek, I have a day planned. Three seconds, and then you all go home, got it?”

“Plans? You have plans?” Hikaru asks, crossing his arms in front of him. 

“Yes.” Haruhi sighs out her answer. “I have a friend over.”

The door swings open, and before the Hosts can process that Haruhi lives in a very stable, normal apartment, the mattress in the center of the floor rustles. 

All of their gazes drop as a strip of sunlight from the doorway stretches over your sleeping form. A mint green, lovingly woven blanket comforts you as you shift, softly waking up from your deep sleep, and Haruhi sighs. 

“We had a sleepover. She stayed the night.” She whispers. 

Kyoya swallows. He hadn’t expected to see you here. You hadn’t answered Tamaki’s calls, Hikaru’s texts, or his own voicemails, so everyone just assumed you were still asleep and would join them later. Which was partly true. 

But here you were. Vulnerable, peaceful, and here. 

Then, your eyes fluttered open, that sun drifting over one of your eyelids. Squinting, you hummed a displeased tone, rising from the mat. Your hair was matted to your head, lips chapped and eyes swollen from your sleep, and your voice was gravelly as you spoke.

(N/l) flew over your lips in a grumble, and Tamaki and the twins gave you blank stares. The other, more linguistic hosts, held their breath.

“What did she say?” Hikaru whispered in his brother’s ear. Kaoru just shrugged, sneaking a picture of your decrepit form. 

Honey looked at Hikaru with big eyes. “She said-”

A hand covered his mouth. “Don’t repeat it, Mitsukuni.” 

“Hey, (Y/n).” Haruhi said weakly. “I’m sorry, they just barged in here.”

Everyone could tell you were still trying to find your bearings, your gaze loose as it flitted over every club member. Kyoya saw the moment when you realized the situation you were in. (E/c) met his gray, and in your drowsy state, he saw your gaze soften like it used to. 

The world melted, golden hues playing in your irises. You seemed warm, comfortable, and the megane straightened his spine. You were the only one that could look at him like that. Like he was perfect, no matter where he was in his life. 

It was jarring. 

Kyoya broke eye contact when the defenses finished their change of guard. Walls were built, cages were raised, and any affection was sealed away. The warmth disappeared, the atmosphere solidifying around you when you dropped out of your dreamy state into reality. 

The reality that all of your friends were standing in the doorway while you hadn’t even taken a shower yet. 

Groaning, you held your head in your hands, careful of the crusting face mask you had slept with. “Oh my god.”

Hikaru and Kaoru also let out a displeased noise, rolling their shoulders. “We really didn’t think we’d have to do this today.”

“What’re you talking about?” Haruhi asked. The twins moved through the crowd of their host club, coming up to either side of the honor student. 

“We’ve had too many late nights with (Y/n), so we know…”

“...Waking her up takes a certain process.”

With more grace than they’ve ever had, the twins sneak across the mats of Haruhi’s floor, taking their shoes off at the door. Kaoru kneeled down in front of you while Hikaru moved behind you, massaging your shoulders. 

“Alright, (Y/n), you with us?” Kaoru asks, bringing your face into his hands. His touch was gentle, hands thoroughly moisturized with expensive lotions and soaps.

“Yeah, you back with the living?” Hikaru teases, his thumbs breaking up the knots at the base of your neck. 

Haruhi watches their gentleness with confusion. “Who are these people? What have they done with my classmates?”

But you melted into the brothers’ touch slightly, confirming that you were not, in fact, responsive yet. Humming appreciatively, you arched your back as Hikaru’s hands worked your spines. Kaoru saw the grin on your face and rolled his eyes. The brothers just shook their heads before meeting eyes over your form, their gentle smiles sharpening a little. 

Kyoya hummed apprehensively. “It seems we are about to see their true intentions.”

Your eyes shot open as the muscles on your cheeks stretched. Kaoru pulled at your face before smashing it back the other way, distorting your features. Then Hikrau’s grip turned rigid, and the whine that was let out of your mouth turned broken as he shook your torso. Their voices weren’t soft anymore, and their teeth glinted as they smirked. 

“Wakey wakey, (Y/n)!”

“Time to get up!”

“Stop it! Mon ami is just tired!” Tamaki cried, flying into the apartment to rip you from their grasp. Suddenly, he’s twirling you, your tired form limply flailing in his arms. “You’re so cute when you’re tired (Y/n)! Come here, let me cuddle you! So, so cute!”

“Tamaki-senpai, stop!” Haruhi says, worried at the shade of green your face was turning. The prince pulls you away and when he sees the stars in your eyes, sets you on the ground. 

“I’m sorry, mon ami, are you okay?”

Nodding, you sway on your feet, but Haruhi steadies you. “You okay, (Y/n)?”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. After the world stops spinning, your eyes open sharply in a glare, (e/c) eyes sliding to your ginger-haired nightmares. 

An aura surrounds you, and Tamaki and Haruhi take a small step back. Slowly, your feet pad over to the twins, but they just fold their arms.

“You wouldn’t wake up…” Kaoru says, shrugging his left shoulder.

“...So we had to take appropriate measures.” Hikaru finishes, casually lifting his right.

You walk too calmly, and from behind his glasses, Kyoya peers at the way your jaw clenches, or how your fists ball at your sides. The twins, despite their efforts to look unbothered, huddle a little closer together. 

“Is this where we die?” They ask together, seeing the rage in your eyes.

Pointing a finger at them, Kaoru’s handprint still burns your cheek as you get in their faces. The words you speak are foreign to them, but it’s growling and sinister as venom rushes past your teeth. (N/l) has never sounded so sharp, and they are bewildered as you shove them out of your way to enter Haruhi’s bathroom, sliding the door behind you. 

The hosts hear a shower running before the twins turn back to their friends. Kaoru’s eyes are wide as he looks at his brother. “I feel like a curse was just put on me.”

Honey beamed, taking a deep breath. “She said-!”

“No, Mitsukuni.” 

Haruhi just sighs, turning towards her prince as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Alright, you guys saw my place. Can you leave now?”

The boy-lolita pouts, and Honey raises a box of desserts that Haruhi hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “Oh, but look! I brought you a gift, Haru-chan! I know how much you love cake, so I brought chocolate and strawberry! Isn’t that great?”

The martial arts master just looked so excited, and there was nothing Haruhi could do against his puppy dog eyes. Relenting, she gripes. “Fine. I’ll clean this stuff up and make us some tea.”

Both futons were easy to pack up and put away, and as Haruhi rolled up the blankets and sheets, the boys were able to take in her living space. 

Tamaki runs his hands along the modest counter tops in the kitchen. “At least it’s better than my dream.” He mumbles. 

“What a hovel.” 

“Shut up!” The prince squeals, covering Hikaru’s mouth with his palms while double checking that Haruhi didn’t hear him. 

Kyoya roamed the space, scanning the architecture on the sliding doors. “A wood-built two bedroom unit. That is pretty normal for a commoner family of two.”

Kaoru nodded next to him, looking at the humble lighting hanging from the ceiling. Very different from his massive chandeliers back home. “And Haruhi’s such a pipsqueak, at least we know she won’t hit her head on the low ceilings.”

“Well, I think it’s a cute little room!” Honey says, spreading his arms out and twirling, nearly hitting Mori in the gut. 

“You don’t have to struggle to compliment it.” Haruhi drones, stuffing the rest of the bedding into the linen closet. 

The boys soon migrate to Haruhi’s T.V. room, jostling around in the tight space. 

“Oh, wow, talk about small.” Hikaru says as he squeezes by Kyoya, barely missing the T.V. set up in the corner of the room. Mori walks straight through the doors, and before the megane can stop him, accidentally knocks his head on the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. 

“Ow.”

“Be careful!” Karou says, pointing at the light feature. “I should’ve said something earlier.”

Tamaki just huffs, setting himself down on the far right side of the room and curling in on himself. “This place is quite unpleasant, but I think we may have underestimated commoner housing!” His voice is strained as he compacts himself into a ball, and the other hosts follow suit. 

“I know it’s a tight fit in here, men, but just pull your knees in and sit gym style.” The blonde’s voice mimics intelligence as he educates his friends. “Commoners have specially developed this position to conserve space.”

Kyoya fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

Hands on her hips, their favorite brunette appears in the doorway. By the way her mouth quirked over her teeth, she was probably motivating herself to just get through this visit. “I’ll go make us some tea.” Her pink dress swishes as she turns, but Hikaru stops her. 

“Hey, why don’t you make this?” A pale, manicured hand offers her an orange bag of loose leaf tea. “It’s black tea that our father brought us as a souvenir from Africa. Try it.”

A thoughtful look replaces the annoyed one as Haruhi grasps the bag, turning it in her hand. “Sure, no problem.”

“It’s best served as milk tea.” Kaoru offers. “Do you have any milk?”

Still reading the directions, Haruhi nods. “I think so.” Then a finger comes to her chin. “When was the last time I bought some milk?”

A blur of blonde hair rushes to the tufts of orange as Tamaki pulls them into an urgent huddle. “Stop trying to embarrass her by asking for that tea!” The president of the Host Club tries to whisper quietly, but Kyoya can hear him clearly as he gives them hushed warnings. “She has no idea how to prepare it!”

Pale skin tones turn sickly as the twins fall into worry, Tamaki’s panic becoming contagious. “She doesn’t even have a tea pot!”

“She’s too embarrassed to tell us that she doesn’t!” Too ashamed to stand, Kaoru crawls forward towards Haruhi as she stands in the kitchen. He reaches out a trembling hand. “I’m sorry, Haruhi, you don’t have to go through all that trouble. We’d be fine with a glass of water.”

“What are you doing?”

The host club turns to find you leaning against the doorway, hair damp and face cleaned. You still weren’t wearing any make-up and you weren’t in your fanciest attire, but you seemed casual and fresh. Definitely happier than how you welcomed them a few minutes ago. 

On the floor, Kyoya is slightly thrown off for the second time today. Seeing you out of uniform wasn’t rare, as he saw you in costumes all the time, or dressed up for parties that your parents might throw as a business gathering. But these were clothes that were utterly you, clothes that you felt free in. A natural glow surrounded you as you leaned against the doorway, still getting used to being awake, and this natural look became another aspect of your life that Kyoya was introduced to. 

He couldn’t say that he minded. 

Feeling his gaze on you, you give him a small, closed-lip smile before turning back to the twins in front of you. 

“These idiots asked Haruhi to make expensive tea!” Tamaki wailed. “How is she going to–”

You raised a tired eyebrow at Tamaki before looking over Haruhi’s shoulder from your position. “What are you talking about? She’s fine.”

“And it’s no trouble.” Haruhi insists, giving the hosts a quizzical look of her own. She turns, holding a tray of eight tea cups, filled with steam. “Besides, I’ve already made it.”

As people begin to settle into Haruhi’s home, the minions and the Boss settle back into their huddle. 

“Man, that was a close one.” Hikaru breathes. 

Tamaki solemnly nods. “We’ve been rescued by commoner’s wisdom.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Kaoru asks.

The prince’s voice gets low, serious as he watches Haruhi distribute the cups. “Nothing we know to be true in our world holds here! We have to be careful how we react. One little off-handed comment could break Haruhi’s heart!” 

The Idiotic Trio gasps, already horrified at the thought. “That means, in this fight, the first person to embarrass Haruhi loses!” 

Kyoya just sighs at their behavior, perusing the bookshelf flush against one of the apartment walls. He’s focused on the titles until he feels a presence at his side. 

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

Kyoya watches as you clear your throat, shifting your feet before reaching out. “Do you mind if I reach past you? I left my jewelry on this shelf last night.”

Quirking an eyebrow and looking towards the dark wood of the bookshelf, Kyoya finds a couple of simple bracelets and a necklace draped across the surface. He goes to move out of the way. “Oh, of course-”

You had shifted your body the same way, and chuckled at the mistake. “Sorry, let me just-” 

He goes to move to the other side, but you follow him. “(Y/n), you need to–”

“No, I know, but you need to move that–”

With a few more dance moves, Kyoya huffs. His pale hand reaches out, stopping your movements with a touch on your shoulder and clears his throat. “I will get them for you.” Finally, Kyoya drops the jewelry into your awaiting hand. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, working the (j/c) chain onto your neck. There’s a moment of silence before you are noticing the determined look in the Idiotic Trio’s eyes. 

“I don’t know why they feel the need to turn everything into a contest.” You groan, rolling your stare over the different titles in Haruhi’s library. 

“Their antics can be amusing, however.” The megane counteracts, pulling a book out with his index finger. “Especially when things get competitive.”

A small laugh rolls past your lips, and Kyoya’s smirk grows. “Yeah, you’re right. I just hope they don’t ruin Haruhi’s day.”

“I’m sure they will.” And then a silence falls in between the bustling of hosts as your friends chat, and the Ootori son hates it. What happened to the comfortable silence you two used to share? Could it be saved, or was that too dropped off a cliff’s edge?

He was surprised when he found himself breaking the awkwardness. “I was surprised to see you here this morning.”

Leaning your head against the bookshelf, a hum sounds at the back of your throat. “Yeah, I slept over last night.”

“And how was that?”

Kyoya watches as a smile forms on your tired lips. “Great, actually. It was nice to reconnect.”

“Reconnect?” Lazily, the Ootori son flipped through a couple pages of a law book. “I wasn’t aware you two were estranged.”

Shrugging, you turn away from him. “Not estranged, just…things were tense, for a while. It was my fault.”

“I see.” 

Humming, you nod. “But Haruhi is such a forgiving person, so she welcomed me back with open arms.”

“Are you hinting that I should forgive you whole-heartedly for risking your life?” Kyoya suggests with a blank tone, gray eyes sliding over to you. 

Shaking your head, some of the sleepiness is dislodged from your psyche. “Not at all. I’m over all that.” Your eyes lock with his, and there’s a hint of something there that he hasn’t seen before. “I’m just amazed at how good of a person she is sometimes. Don’t you think so?”

Dark lashes flick to the honor student that is sweat-dropping at a pair of twins who are studying their tea with suspicious glares, wondering if it was made correctly, and if it wasn’t, whether they should drink it anyway. 

“I think she excels where most people of her category do not.” Kyoya nods.

“That’s basically a stellar compliment coming from you.” You laugh, your voice lower in the mornings than during school hours. “But I’m saying that not only is she smart and kind, but she is also ambitious and gorgeous, right?”

Kyoya closes the book in his hand, giving you a searching stare. “I suppose.”

“She’s kind of like the perfect woman, then.” He watches your throat tighten slightly. 

“(Y/n), you’re rambling like a love-sick imbecile. If you’re in love with Haruhi, you can just say it out loud–”

Scoffing, you flip your wet hair over your shoulder. “What? No. I mean, I do love her, but not like that– not that it would be wrong to– I think everyone might be a little in love with Haru– no, but I don’t, personally, but if someone else did, then that would be cool, that would be fine, I’d be okay with that, so. Yeah.” A redness comes to your cheeks, your eyes landing in all directions but his. 

This causes even more confusion to reach Kyoya’s chest. Why was everyone babbling utter nonsense today? “I’m not following.”

Taking a deep breath, you wave him off, moving towards the others. “Whatever, forget about it.”

The Ootori son’s eyelids narrowed. You’re mad at him, then come over to him in a private corner to talk about Haruhi? What was going on with you?

Haruhi looks up to greet you both, her wavering patience clear in her features. “Good for you two to join us.” She gestures to the tea cups set around the table, an empty spot next to her and another by Honey. “Sorry not all the cups match, but it’s all that was clean.”

You smile at her. “Thanks, Haru.” You fold one leg behind the other, getting ready to sit on the honor student’s right side, before you apparently think better of it. Quickly, you straighten and sit yourself next to the boy-lolita. 

Stiffly, Kyoya reverently sits next to Haruhi, watching you across the table with a careful eye. Something was going on, and you wouldn’t be able to hide it for forever. 

On your right, Honey-senpai excitedly sets the cake box down onto the table, opening it to reveal chocolate and strawberry cakes with fluffy sponges. Whipped cream and sprinkle dazzle the tops, and Honey’s eyes just shine with anticipation. But he shakes the stars out of his eyes and looks at Haruhi.

“C’mon Haru-chan! You can choose your cake first!”

“Are you sure, Honey-senpai?” But the martial arts master just nods, bouncing a little in his seat.

Hikaru nods encouragingly. “Yeah, go ahead! We’re rich so we eat this stuff all the time.” A too wide grin stretches his face before it’s knocked off by Tamaki and Kaoru elbowing his sides. 

“What?” He whines, bringing his voice down. “I was trying to be considerate!”

The honor student thinks a little more before choosing one of the strawberry cakes, to Honey’s delight. The trio to Kyoya’s right basks in her cuteness, the small blush on her cheeks as she revels in the rich dessert. Sighing, the megane’s shoulders drop as they begin to tremble slightly, Haruhi’s apparent ‘cuteness’ excelling at new heights. Excited yet sad whispers bounced around the three, and he wished for his black book. 

“Awe, I wish I could tell her how cute she is. But there is no telling what might offend her!” Tamaki pouts. 

In his worry, Honey turns to you, a questioning look in his iris. “(N/n)-chan? Which one do you want?”

Smiling, you pat his head. “Yeah, I’ll get the strawberry one too.” 

The twins practically melt at your kind simper, and the giggly smile that Haruhi produces. Their minds begin to freak, each nerve focused on not embarrassing the honor student. They're in a whole other environment, getting used to the rules of the commoner’s biome. 

A determined nod shakes Honey-senpai’s shoulders, and the boy-lolita scoops two cakes and plops them in front of you and your friend. “Okay! You, me, Takashi and Haru-chan can all have the strawberry ones!”

After the cakes are distributed, a small smile rests on your face as you dig in. Soon after, a plump strawberry is set onto your plate. 

Looking up, you see Mori giving you a kind, gentle smile. “You like strawberries, right? Here, you can have mine.” He pushed the fruit with his fork so that it’s resting near the body of your cake. 

“Thank you, Mori-senpai.” You grin. 

Mori then bends slightly, whispering something between you that has you laughing and rolling your eyes playfully. Kyoya’s mouth twists. 

The director’s own chocolate cake looks rich and dense, and it makes his stomach turn. His family used to try to get him to eat sweets so that he could balance out his blood pressure, but they forced it so much that he became adverse to the fake sugar taste. And somehow, it looks even more repulsing with the glazed strawberry sitting on top of it. 

Looking to his right, Kyoya finds that Haruhi has already begun to devour her plate, the cake quickly disappearing. Her brown eyes shift subtly towards his whole dessert, then back. Swiftly, she steals another wanting look, and Kyoya extends some peace to her suffering want. 

“If you want this dessert, Haruhi, you simply have to ask.” Long fingers push his plate across the table, into the honor student’s space. “I’m certainly not going to eat it.”

Her brown eyes quickly shoot to his cool ones. “Oh, no, Senpai, that’s yours. I don’t want to-”

“Take it.” He insists. “You’d be doing me a favor.” 

Cautiously, Haruhi raises her chopsticks, stabbing the strawberry with a gentle force. A delighted facade plays onto her features as she eats it whole, and Kyoya shakes his head. Oh, the simplest pleasures in life. 

Looking across from him, he accidentally meets your eye, which had been already watching him and Haruhi, he realizes. Quickly, your gaze darts away, but he continues to watch as you push your cake around, your mouth morphin into something of distaste. 

Which was peculiar, considering how much you loved Honey-senpai’s desserts. 

Were you watching him? And then he did something that made you feel worse, and you looked away. His gray eyes darted back to Haruhi. 

Was it that he shared his dessert with her?

“Haruhi…” Kyoya said, testing a hypothesis. The brown-haired student met his eyes once more, her mouth still full with strawberry. “Let me cut that for you.”

Pale fingers work the cake into equal parts with the utensils, despite Haruhi’s protests. Eventually, she lets him do what he wants. “Uh…thank you, Senpai. That’s nice of you, I guess.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your eyes flicking up and watching him. More specifically, watching him and Haruhi, and the act of service he performs for her. 

Interesting. 

“Ah, why didn’t I think of that?” Hikaru whines as Kyoya pushes Haruhi’s plate back to her, the red head seeing the suspicious but grateful look on the honor student’s face. 

Kyoya sighs when he sees Tamaki bend over and start slamming the ground with his fist. “I should’ve been sharing my cake with her!”

Kaoru holds his own cheeks in his hands. “Why’d we let him trick us?!”

While that side of the table freaked out over virtually nothing, the other side sat back, satisfied looks on their faces as their desserts settled in their stomachs. 

Honey-senpai patted his belly, his cheeks scattered with crumbs. “Ah, eating all the cake really wet my appetite.” He takes a second to burp, the high pitched sound echoing through Haruhi’s small living area. 

That gives Hikaru an idea. “Yeah, isn’t it lunchtime right about now?”

Kyoya does note the empty feeling in his stomach, and he watches as the Idiotic Trio put on sickening smiling faces, facing Haruhi with a weird kindness. 

They speak in unison. “Yeah, what’s for lunch, Haruhi?”

You roll your eyes, your dessert still only half eaten. “Aren’t you trying not to put pressure on her? How does that help?”

“And would you quit being so happy-go-lucky all the time?” Haruhi asks, her brow twitching. 

But Kyoya couldn’t look away from your plate, the cake like a half moon in the sky. On any other day, that dessert would’ve been gone, but not today. 

“Hmm.” The ravenet hums aloud before standing, a routine smirk gracing his lips. “We’ll take care of it, Haruhi. We did drop by unexpectedly.” He fixes the frames on his nose. “Why don’t you order from your favorite sushi place?” 

At the edge of his glasses, you set your fork down, the unfinished cake abandoned on your plate. 

Haruhi shakes her head, sending him an unimpressed glance. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She holds her hands up in a surrendering manner. “I know that I let you guys pay, I’ll only regret it later.”

At that, Kyoya’s smirk grows, and his hands reach into one of his vest pockets. “Oh, don’t worry Haruhi.” Whipping out a credit card, his pale fingers present it to the Natural Type, watching the gold color glisten in the sun. “We’ll just pay for it using the profits from the photos of you we auctioned off.”

A sarcastic laugh wheezed out of the honor student. “So I’m really paying for it after all.”

Getting up from the table, she dusts off the skirt of her dress. “Well, if that is what you want, I do have a friend who runs a nice little sushi shop nearby so I can give him a call. Their stuff is pretty high quality.”

Haruhi takes the card from Kyoya as the rest of the Ouran students rise from the table, getting ready to head to the sushi place. Suddenly, you step to Kyoya, and he feels your elbow jostle into his side. Usually, the gesture was gentle, but he felt it dig into his ribs a little harder than the times before. 

“Do you really trust her to choose the place where we order lunch?” You ask lowly around the bustle of your friends. “I love the girl, but she doesn’t have the most refined taste.”

“Another instance in which you admit your love for Haruhi. As I’ve said, if you’re falling head over heels for our newest host, just say so.”

He catches the roll of your eyes. “I’m not.” You respond, and a meaningful beat passes as Kyoya catches Tamaki beginning to furiously write something on a piece of paper. The blonde then army crawls across the mats, and not-so-secretly hands it to Haruhi, who reads it over with a confused glance. Tamaki has once again underestimated her because she is a commoner, suggesting that she doesn’t know the difference between cheap and fancy tuna. 

She chews him out for it, bringing a humored grin to both of your lips. 

“But she would be an easy girl to fall in love with.” Voicing your thoughts, you fold your arms across your chest. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you tend to send mixed signals?”

A small laugh poured out of your mouth. “I’m just saying.” A lone hair is tucked away. “I wonder how she has stayed single for this long.”

Kyoya shrugs, and without the comfortable distraction of his black book, indulges in your gossip. “Haruhi seems like the girl to have a specific set of standards for who she might be involved with romantically.”

“You think you might have an idea of who she wants to be with?” He feels you turn your head to look at him, the warmth of your gaze caressing his features, but he doesn’t look back. 

He decides to keep his answer vague. “I’m sure I could make an educated guess.” His own spectacled eye falls to the blonde man who is currently being disciplined with his own note, rolled up in Haruhi’s hand. But he lets you make your own assumption on what he means. 

His face turns colder. You’ve looked away. “I’m sure you could.” You try to keep your tone light. 

Being the Cool-Type, he shoves a hand into the pocket of his pants. “Why the sudden interest in Haruhi’s love life?”

Kyoya sees the stutter before it manifests on your tongue, the sound tensing your shoulders and wringing your hands. “What? I’m not suddenly interested.” You protest. “She’s my best friend, I’m always looking out for stuff like that.”

“Then why not discuss it with her? Or someone else more versed in that sort of thing?” Finally, he glides his gray eyes over to you. “Why ask me?”

You scoff. “It’s not like I’ve been seeking you out personally.” 

“Twice now, you’ve commented on Haruhi’s love life to me.” Kyoya is careful to keep his tone casual, unaccusing. “And you know I’m not one for gossip.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” Your mouth quirks up a bit. “You love the information you can get from mere rumors.”

Smirking, he pushes his frames up and turns to face you fully. “I’m not in favor of gossip about romantic relationships. Or secrecy in general. If one was to develop, especially in our nosy Host Club, I’m sure they’d be found out eventually. People might as well be open about them.”

Slowly, you turn to him, giving him a careful once over. “Really? You don’t think there should be an effort to hide it?” 

“Why try? When it comes to any of us, Tamaki is already over-protective. The twins have their ear open for any information that could pose as blackmail. Mori and Honey-senpai are already more observant than we give them any credit for.” 

He shrugs, turning to the group that is currently trying to pull an angry Haruhi off a crying prince. “There wouldn’t be any point in trying to keep it a secret.”

You take a sharp intake of breath. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

He gives you a questioning glance. “Why not?”

His eyes drop to the way you bite your lip, a tell-tale sign your tongue has turned to knots. Your eyes dart to the chaos, and you decide to step in the fray. “Nevermind.” A nervous laugh resonates against Haruhi’s living room. “I should probably help them before they actually hurt anyone. Or themselves.”

Kyoya just nods, observing how you throw yourself into the mayhem and finally pry the note away from Haruhi’s hand, holding her in a gentle headlock. 

It didn’t make sense for him to support the openness of romantic relationships in the Host Club.

What was confusing about it? 

Was it the fact that any information about the Hosts being in a relationship would deteriorate revenue for the club, or initiate jealous outbursts within their clientele? Or was it because it didn’t make sense for him, Kyoya Ootori, demon robot lord disconnected from all emotion. 

He felt like he was getting closer to why you were angry with him but also asking these intrusive questions, honing the variables in an equation that was beyond his skill level. But things were still convoluted, and he needed more information. He needed more time. 

“Actually,” Honey speaks above all the noise. “I’d really love it if you made us something for lunch, Haru-chan.” 

Perfect. 

The twins gasp. “No Honey-senpai! How could you ask that of her?!”

Tamaki hisses, icing a bump on his forehead. “Don’t upset her, Senpai! Try to restrain yourself!”

There’s a pause in the bustle as plans change, Haruhi nodding as an idea pops into her mind. “I guess I could whip up something for lunch.”

“We can wait!” Honey says with a bright grin.

The Idiotic Trio develops stars in their eyes, gasping as they relish in a world where they get to try Haruhi’s cooking. 

You give them a questioning stare. “I think something might be wrong with you three.”

Another pondering hum comes from Haruhi. “I would have to go back to the supermarket.”

The twins shoot up, on their feet in seconds. “We’re coming with you!” Hikaru announces, while Karou exclaims, “We want to see a commoner’s supermarket!”

“Me too!” Honey agrees, pulling Mori along with him.

Kyoya steps to Haurhi’s side, genuinely intrigued when he says, “This could be a learning experience.” 

Suddenly, you’re stepping between them, shrugging as they move farther away from each other. “Well, if everyone is going…” You say, giving Haruhi a thumbs up. The honor student seems nervous to have all of her upper class friends following her to a general store. 

But you’re pulled off by your armpits as the twins drag you out of the apartment, throwing your shoes at you while they chant, “Commoner’s supermarket, commoner’s supermarket!” 

Honey skips out, still holding Mori’s hand, singing along with them. 

But Kyoya stays behind for a moment, turning to catch the honor student as she grabs her purse. “(Y/n) mentioned that she had fun at your slumber party.”

Haruhi’s eyebrows shot straight up for a second before registering that Kyoya was actually talking to her about a sleepover, before shoving the rest of her stuff into her bag. “Yeah? Well, it’s good to hear you guys are talking to each other again.”

“Mm. We are.” The Ootori son clears his throat. “But, lately, she has been bringing up some, might I say, interesting points of conversation.”

Haruhi was still giving him that look. The look that told him to get to the point. “Okay?”

“Excuse me if I’m overstepping, but has (Y/n) brought up your love life at all?” He asks, and he fights the uncomfortable feeling he gets about intruding on Haruhi’s romantic life. He would not be interested at all if he wasn’t trying to solve his own problem. 

“Mine?” Haruhi laughs. “Like, who I have a crush on?”

“Exactly.” Kyoya skirts around the awkwardness. “Unfortunately, she has been talking quite a bit about who you are interested in, and I’d like to find out why.” 

“I guess it is weird that she’s suddenly focused on that.” She says, still chuckling. But the humor dies down, and to Kyoya’s satisfaction, she nods her head in confirmation. “Actually, she did bring it up last night. We were just making cookies, and she was asking if I liked anyone.”

“Really?” The megane leans against her kitchen counter. 

“Yeah, now that you mention it, it was a little sudden. Like she had been waiting to ask me the whole day.” She packs away a chapstick. 

“What did she say?”

Her mouth twists distastefully. “That’s private, Senpai.”

Gray eyes squint behind his glasses. Reaching into his vest pocket, he reveals a glinting blue credit card, contrasting from the gold one he presented earlier. “What if I pay for your groceries, and anything else you may need from this commoner’s supermarket?”

She gapes a little at the sheer elegance the credit card exhibits before sighing. “I’m only telling you because you two are close, or at least you used to be. And, I’m a little curious too, if I’m honest.”

Kyoya nodded, even though she hadn’t denied his offer. 

Haruhi throws her bag onto her shoulder. “She was just saying things like, ‘oh, if you did like anybody, I’d be excited and try to push you two together’! But she did not look excited at all.”

“Huh.” He hums, his fingers framing his chin. 

“She told me you guys got in a fight, though.”

Those fingers move up his face to rub his forehead. “We did. It’s been resolved.”

“Has it?” There’s a glint in her irises, and Kyoya adds her to the list of over-observant people in the Host Club. 

Before he can reply, she’s pushing him out the door. “Let me know what’s going on with her, and I’ll let you know what she tells me. We can tag team it.”

“As much as I despise that term, I agree with your partnership.” He says, holding down the railing as he walks into the cool spring air. “I have a plan.”

“Of course you do.” Haruhi then turns back into the apartment, noticing something inside and leaves the door open to investigate. Kyoya looks at the small group of impatient hosts who are still avoiding the obvious gawks from other common people, and sees Tamaki is missing. Must be who Haruhi saw inside. 

When he finally makes it to the bottom of the stairs, he sees you and the twins huddled together, talking in hushed voices. He strains his ears, but he can barely make out any of the words that you’re saying. But it seems secretive and suspicious. Terms that have been describing you as of late. 

The twins’ faces were blanched, shaking their heads as it looks like you are trying to convince them of something, your stature smart and confident. The Ootori son inches closer. 

“But why would he want that?” Hikaru whispers, grimacing. “I can’t see it.”

“No, no. It’s true. I can’t tell you how I know, but I know.” You say, pulling them in closer. “And it’s up to us to make it happen.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Kaoru asks, ginger eyebrows tying together. 

“Do you guys want in or not?” You ask, exasperated. 

The twins look at each other and shrug. “Guess it couldn’t hurt. We’re bored, anyways.”

Suddenly, a thud is heard back at Haruhi’s apartment, and Kyoya realizes that the pair of president and honor-student never returned down the steps. 

You meet his eyes, breaking from your huddle and walking towards him. “Did Haruhi come down with you?”

“No.” He shakes his head, and the rest of the Host Club briskly walks up the rest of the stairs. “But she did idiotically leave her door open. Anyone could’ve walked in.”

The twins are hurrying up the steps, and even Kyoya feels his confusion fuel into his thighs, pressing urgency into each stair as they rush to the top. 

But when Hikaru and Kaoru make it to the doorway of Haruhi’s apartment, their worried faces morph into confused expressions. 

“Hey boss, what in the world is taking you so long?”

And when Kyoya finally rounds the edge of the entrance into the honor student’s living space, he sees a red-haired individual picking up Haruhi off the floor, their president smashed face first into the mats on the floor. 

The Hitachiian brothers snicker, and Kaoru’s smile grows a little bigger. “Woah, check it out. This person is Haruhi’s father.”

Tamaki growls at the boys while Kyoya tries to put together how he had gotten beat up in the first place. By Haruhi’s father, no less. 

“Hikaru, Kaoru!” Tamaki whines. “Help me out here!”

The gingered devils ignore him, most likely remembering their mission to not embarrass Haruhi. They walk over Tamaki, holding out their hands like perfect gentlemen. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Haruhi's dad. We’re good friends of your daughter���s, the Hitachiian brothers!”

“So you cross dress, do you?” Hikaru asks.

“You’re the first man we’ve seen to wear women’s clothes and actually pull it off!” Kaoru compliments, ignoring the fact that they just dressed up like women a week prior. 

And just when Kyoya connects the dots on the Tamaki-shaped hole in the wall, a blushing Haruhi, and an angry father, both brother’s turn to the prince under their feet. “You finally put the moves on Haruhi, didn’t you boss?”

Annoyed, they turn their bright smiles back to Haruhi’s dad. “Sorry about him, he’s a ladies man, if you know what I mean.”

“He’s a pheromone machine. In fact, he’s fooled around with more ladies than you can count!” 

Kyoya hears you chuckle next to him, putting your face in your hands to hide your smile. 

“He likes to fool around, huh?” Haruhi’s dad stands to his full height. His body type was lean, and his red wig looks real as it flows around his shoulders. His simple outfit of a skirt, shirt, and a shall wraps around his body as he frowns at the boy still getting stomped by the twins. 

But the blonde pushes them off, desperate to clear his name. “No! I’m not a ladies man! I’m a nice guy! I care about her!”

You and the ravenet meet eyes when he sees Haruhi’s shoulders tense. You lean over, and he sees you watching him carefully. “Is he confessing his love for her?”

Tamaki drops to his knees, bowing respectfully to his elder. “I’m being completely honest here. I care about Haruhi like she is my own daughter.”

The Host Club deflates, rolling their eyes and grumbling under their breaths. Kyoya shrugged, giving you a side glance. “I suppose we aren’t at that part in the storyline.” 

But the older man just hums, meeting the eyes of each host club member. “I get it. You must be the host club I’ve heard so much about.” Then a twinkle shines in his eye. “You certainly are a fine group of men.” He winks at you. “And women.”

A smile comes to your lips, and you shake your head.

“Why don’t we all sit down and get to know each other, hm?” Haruhi’s dad suggests, a sickly sweet smile presenting on his face. He gestures back to the table, cake crumbs still scattered across it. “My home is your home.”

Kyoya bows slightly, putting on his ‘perfect son’ routine. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” 

You walk over to the man, giving his make-up a once over. “See? I told you the purple eyeshadow would work, Ranka.”

“Ranka?” Honey-senpai questions as the hosts make their way to the table. 

“Oh, yes.” As everyone settles into their spots, Kyoya sits straight on Ranka’s left, while you take a seat to his right. “That is the professional name that I use at the bar that I work at.”

“Like a stage name?” Honey-senpai asks, big brown eyes looking at him from across the table’s surface. 

“Exactly like that, Mitsukuni.”

Kyoya simpers proudly while the martial arts master cocks his head. “Hold on. How do you know my name, sir?”

Ranka simply smiles. “You two are third years Mitsukuni Haninosuka and Takashi Morinozuka.” He states, gesturing to the kendo legends. 

Then he begins to move down the line. “And the two of you are first-years in the same class as Haruhi, you’re the Hitachiian twins! But, I’m not sure which one is which.” He admits. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Hikaru and Kaoru light up. “Wait, so Haruhi told you about us?”

Ranka holds his hands up in surrender. “No, no. Kyoya told me all about all of you over the phone!” 

The ravenet smiles, and he presses his palms against Ranka’s. “You really are a beautiful person, Ranka.”

Haruhi’s dad blushes. “You’re too kind. And too handsome!” To Kyoya’s only slight surprise, Ranka then turns to you. 

“And your updates, (Y/n), are also incredibly helpful.” Then the red-haired man leans towards you. “Although, you did fail to tell me how much of an idiot your president was.”

The Idiotic Trio blanches blanches, and you knowingly pat Ranka on the shoulder. “He is an acquired taste.” 

Then, you lean around Ranka to get a better look at the club’s director. “You know Ranka?” You ask.

Kyoya picks up his tea, pristinely placing the porcelain in his palm. “We’ve been entrusted with the care of his precious daughter. It is only natural that we introduce ourselves and give him periodic reports.”

“Say what?!” The club exclaims. 

“Kyoya!” His best friend whines, and a hand grips his shoulder. 

But he just sips his tea, sighing into the steam. “Ordinarily, that would be your job, wouldn’t it?” The pale hand recoils as Tamaki sinks back into his sob corner. Mushrooms begin to sprout on Haruhi’s walls. 

Speaking of the honor student. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting calls from Kyoya-senpai, Dad? You never mentioned this to me.” She shouts. 

“Awe, what am I supposed to do, Haruhi? You rarely tell me anything about school! I have to get it from these two, or else I get nothing at all!”

“So that makes it okay to talk behind my back?” Irritated, the honor student turns to Tamaki, plucking fungus out of the walls. “C’mon, Senpai, would you please stop growing mushrooms in other people’s closets?”

But she is swept up by her adoring father, who coos at her irked mood. “But Haruhi, you’re cute even when you’re angry!”

With Ranka up and away from the group, he meets your eye. 

“You know, Haruhi’s dad has always reminded me of someone.” You say, watching as Haruhi tries to pry her dad off of her. 

Kyoya nods in agreement, and he could nearly laugh at the longing look on Tamaki’s face. “It explains why she handles our prince so well.”

Finally, Haruhi is able to push her dad off. She huffs, adjusting the strap on her bag and putting her short brown hair back into alignment. With an angry grunt, she spins towards the door, to her father’s dismay. 

“Wait, Haruhi!” He calls. “Where are you going?”

“To the supermarket, alright?” Haruhi’s voice is short. “I have to go shopping so that I can make lunch for you all.”

The host club stands, and you part from the boys. “Do you want someone to go with you?”

Haruhi’s brown eyes scan meaningfully along the line up of her friends, and she rolls her eyes. “Fine. Only (Y/n) can come.”

You stutter. “Are you sure you want me? I was thinking maybe Tamaki, or even Kyoya could–”

“(Y/n), either you come with me, or I go alone.” Haruhi had already made up her mind. 

“No, no. I’m going, I’m going.” You say, and skip past the host club. 

“What?!” Kaoru shrieks as you make your way across the living room, giving them a smug smile, and Kyoya folds his arms. 

“Wait!” Hikaru calls. “We want to go see the commoner’s supermarket.” But you and Haruhi were already out the door. 

Ranka deflates next to him. “I wouldn’t push it. Once she’s made up her mind, she’ll never change it. When she decided she wanted to go to Ouran Academy, she did all the enrollment paperwork herself.”

He sighs, and Kyoya watches as he rakes red hair back behind his ear. “‘While I respect her independent spirit, I wish she’d be a little more dependent on me sometimes.”

Around Kyoya, the hosts look up to Ranka with stars in their eyes, the ravenet with a more respectful stare. The man pulling off a women’s jacket begins to tell a story of Haruhi’s independence that leaves a proud shine within the Host Club, one where she neglected to tell her dad about Career Day at her school, just so he could have a day off. 

He sighs again, his voice a little higher pitched than most men. “I just hope you boys know how grateful I am. Since she has found you all and (Y/n), she seems to be happier. She is enjoying herself, wouldn’t you agree, Tamaki Suoh?”

Tamaki plucks his head out of the mushroom closet. “You know who I am?”

Ranka rolls his eyes. “Of course I do. Haruhi has told me a thing or two about you. You’re the host club’s bumbling president, aren’t you?”

Kyoya’s best friend sobs happily, and the ravenet takes another sip of tea. Ranka follows his example. 

“Come to think of it,” Haruhi’s dad continues. “You’re the one who didn’t realize that Haruhi was a girl until the very last moment. You’re clueless, aren’t you? Pretty pathetic.”

Kyoya resists from sputtering a laugh into his tea when Tamaki slinks back into his depression, you being out of range to comfort him in his state of despair.  

Ranka’s tea cup clinks back onto the table. “Now that we’ve gotten all the introductions out of the way, how would you boys like to have a little fun?”

By fun, the last thing Kyoya expected from a man who works in a bar so flamboyant was to be following his daughter and her best friend to the supermarket. 

But here he was, barely even trying to be secretive as they ducked behind a streetlight, a bored sigh blowing out of his lips. The sun reflected off his glasses and his black locks, the muscles in his jaw working to hide his disinterest. People around them were still gawking at them, and while Kyoya was used to being in the spotlight, it wasn’t the most ideal situation.

He was trying to concentrate, after all. 

He cursed himself for not being able to read lips as well as his brothers, another aspect in which he was inferior to them. If he hadn’t focused so much on his academics when he was younger, he would know what you and Haruhi were talking about, and he could put this all to rest. 

It was obvious you were talking about Haruhi’s love life again. The slight blush on her cheeks and the way she grimaced as you playfully prodded her side with your elbow gave that away. And he supposed it wasn’t too out of the ordinary. You two were very close, even more so after what had happened on the beach. Naturally, he was sure romantic relationships would come up eventually. 

But clearly, it was making Haruhi more than a little uncomfortable. Haruhi was a patient person, due to the extravagant person she was raised by, but you were starting to get to the edge of her patience, it seemed. Kyoya regarded the honor student putting her hand on your shoulder, stopping you mid-sentence, and most likely telling you, in the calmest way possible, to change the topic. 

Your shoulders dropped as you realized you had pushed a boundary, and a sheepish smile quirked your lips. He could make out your apology, at least, and then he lost his intrigue as you both probably moved on to something that wouldn’t benefit him. 

“Who’re you looking at? Hm?” Kyoya heard two voices on either side of his shoulders, and he suppressed a groan. 

“What’re you two talking about?” The ravenet grumbled. 

Hikaru snickered. “You seem pretty absorbed in our two girls over there.”

“But which one were you spying on?” Kaoru teased.

Rolling his eyes, Kyoya kept a neutral demeanor. “Are we not supposed to be spying on these two? I am only following Ranka’s direction.”

“I don’t know…” Kaoru’s voice carries a sing-song-like mockery.

Hikaru laughed, grabbing onto his shoulder. “There’s definitely something different about the way you’re doin’ it. Like you’re looking for something.”

Kyoya shrugs him off. “I’m not looking for anything. Don’t act like idiots in front of our elders.” Luckily, the rest of the group was far enough ahead to where Kyoya didn’t have to worry about accidentally embarrassing himself. 

“It’s Haruhi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you like her, right?”

As they walked, Kyoya narrowly avoided stumbling over the uneven concrete. “I’m sorry?”

The twins sigh. “We wouldn’t blame you. Just know that we would kill you if you did anything to hurt her.”

“And the Boss might just completely eradicate you from existence for touching his little girl. But, you know, nothing to worry about.” 

“My god.” Kyoya’s throat is dry from the surprise, his mouth contorting in distaste. “You two truly need to find another game to play. This one is just distasteful.”

Their confident smirks begin to falter. “Oh, come on, Shadow King, you can tell us.”

“Yeah, we won’t say a word.”

The megane keeps his voice level, sighing himself back to a point of equilibrium. “I am not an instrument for your entertainment.”

Before they can say anything else, you and Haruhi turn a corner, motivating their group of spies to change positions. Ranka waves everyone over as they cross the street, crowding the boys behind a separate street light. Kyoya makes sure to plant himself near Tamaki and Haruhi’s father, pushing the twins to the back. 

They still manage to make themselves heard, to his aggravation. 

“So,” Hikaru calls. “We’re just going to follow her to the supermarket?” 

Kyoya hums, leaning against the wall framing the sidewalk. “This is what you meant by fun?”

Ranka nods happily. “I call it the stalking game.” 

A few more people pass them on the other side of the street, their eyes basically turning into stars as they bask in the beauty of the host club. One woman turns to her friend, her voice hushed and giddy. 

“What an attractive group of young men!”

Her friend is just as amazed. “Do you think they’re T.V. stars?”

Hearing their conversation, Ranka basks in the attention. “In all honesty,” He starts, a wistful breath blowing into the spring air. “I have a completely selfish reason for bringing you all out with me.”

Ranka pries his sunglasses off in a dramatic fashion. Very Tamaki-esque. “I want to be seen with a bunch of cute boys!”

Haurhi’s dad has the same gleam in his eye that Tamaki equips nearly every morning when the Host Club door opens, and Kyoya can’t help but think that these two are definitely cut from the same cloth. 

You and Haruhi then make another turn, causing the group to shift their places again. Huffing, Kyoya crosses with them, but he is surprised when Ranka falls back to walk with him. 

“Ranka.” Kyoya greets, placing a polite smile on his lips. There is a glint in the man’s eyes that Kyoya doesn’t appreciate, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“I just wanted to thank you, again, for keeping me in the loop with my daughter.” Ranka says. “It has really kept me from going crazy with worry.” 

The club’s director hums. “It’s no problem at all. Anything the Host Club can do to keep your peace of mind.” Kyoya chuckles. “If only I’d known (Y/n) was doing something similar, I wouldn’t have bothered you as often.” 

But Ranka shoos his worries away. “Don’t apologize. It’s good to see that Haruhi has two people looking out for her. That (Y/n) is truly great for my little girl. I can see why you speak about her so highly.”

The sun’s ray catches Kyoya lenses a little too sharply for a moment. “Well, I’m sure anyone you speak to about (Y/n) would discuss her with similar praise.” 

Ranka’s lips fold between his teeth as he shakes his head, rubbing his lipstick as he thinks. “Mm, I don’t know. She tends to pop up into our conversations quite often.” 

Kyoya’s attention draws back to you, your form trailing toward the entrance into the supermarket. “I don’t think–”

“Awe, and the way she goes on and on about you.” Ranka gasps, cupping one of his cheeks as he practically dances while he walks. “I would absolutely melt if someone spoke about me that way.”

The megane’s gaze snaps to the man. “Really? Well, I’m afraid to ask what she says. I didn’t realize she spoke about me.” His heart hammers in his chest. 

Ranka lets out a sad tune. “Well, she used to, anyway. Used to just ramble about that big project you and her are working on, and how grateful she was to be your partner through it.” Shaking his head, his red hair glints in the sunbeams. “But she hasn’t really said anything as of late.”

“I see.” He swallows the lump in his throat. Clearly, the fight you two had, or are currently in, is still affecting both of your lives. Guilt sticks to the bottom of his stomach, but he erases it. He was still in the right. “That might’ve been partly my doing.”

Of course he was right. 

“So I’ve heard.” Ranka gives him a long look then, his voice dropping up and down in those dramatic octaves. “Curse that cliff, and curse men who don’t know how to treat good, beautiful women.” 

“Agreed.” 

“But also, curse grudges, dishonesty, and pride, hm? Curse anything that keeps us from being honest with the people we hold dear. And with ourselves.”

Kyoya's lips feel cracked in the gentle spring breeze as they part, and his glasses fall a little further down his nose. Ranka’s eyes aren’t as dark as Haruhi’s, but they melt into a toffee with the day’s warmth. A father, who has lost the woman he loves, regarding a student, but never just a student, who pushes people away for his own self-assurance. A look of deep understanding, and it almost knocks the director off of his feet. 

But of course it doesn’t. Nothing could ever knock the Shadow King off balance. 

Kyoya rights himself, rights the impossible war of pride versus insecurity, and smiles, pretending not to notice the sincerity in Ranka’s irises. 

“Of course,” he says, stepping through the automatic doors of the supermarket and making a sharp turn. Away from the group, the pack of attractive men. He reads the back of product after product, busying himself with knowledge of a new thing. A new way of life that he could never, would never be a part of. 

It’s truly an interesting, gratifying distraction. 

“What aisle are they in?” 

“Fourteen. In the back and to the right.” 

You and Haruhi snicker slightly, keeping your gaze on the vegetables in front of you, mist lightly dripping off leaves of cabbage. The coolness from the refrigerator washes over the both of you as you secretly track the Host Club and Ranka, having spotted them the moment they stepped out of the Fujioka residence. 

Haruhi sighs after her laughter dies down. “Geez, I don’t know why he feels like he has to follow me.” There’s love in her voice, but it isn’t without annoyance. “I can go shopping on my own.” 

You nudge her shoulder with yours, reaching forward to examine a head of cabbage. “I think he’s just protective of you.” 

“Right, because that’s what I need.” She snarks. “More protective men in my life.”

You both laugh again, and you feel the boys inch closer behind you. You can pretty much see them in the reflection of the glass behind the veggie display, Tamaki and Ranka more attentive than anyone else. 

Kyoya leans his back against one of the aisle ends, his glasses hiding his eyes as he works to conceal that he is listening to Tamaki and Ranka’s conversation. But you can tell. The way his head leans down, but his torso slightly aims towards the over-the-top duo. It’s obvious. 

Your eyes slide to the previously mentioned princes, the two looking soft and serious as they speak about Haruhi, most likely. “It’s nice that your dad is always looking out for you.”

The honor student sighs. “Sometimes it is, I guess. I just wish he gave himself a break.” Haruhi twiddles the leaf of a radish. “He just gets so worried, like he doesn’t think I can protect myself.”

A fond smile breaks out on her face. “One time, he did not hide himself very well. It was to the point where I couldn’t not catch him.” You chuckle. “He acted all embarrassed, saying that he just wanted to carry my shopping basket because of how much he loved accessories.” 

Her eyes flick to her father’s reflection. “He’s so weird.”

“He sure is.” You agree, but you’re both grinning, watching Ranka argue with your president. “But he loves you. That’s clear, at least.”

Her smile softens. “I know.” 

As you’re watching the pair, your eyes drift back to the club’s director. His lenses have cleared up, and you see his gaze meet yours in the mirror. Your eyes widen and you quickly look away. 

“Shit.” You confess, chuckling. “I think Kyoya knows we see them.” 

Haruhi just shrugs. “He probably doesn’t care about any of this.” 

Your eyebrows crinkle. This whole day had been filled of pushing them together, getting at least one of your best friends to confess their feelings about each other to you but to no avail. It was a little hurtful, them being so secret about it even when Kyoya insisted that any official romantic relationship within the host club should be open and honest. 

Maybe they were still figuring it out between them? Was the night at the beach the first time they had been that close? 

Too be ruefully honest, you hoped so. To think that there were other intimate moments previous to that one, overlapping with the soft, flirty memories that you held so dearly with your megane, it pinched your heartstrings. 

“He cares more than you think he does.” You say sincerely, giving her the best comforitng smile you could muster. “He just likes to pretend he doesn’t.”

“Probably because he truly couldn’t care less.” And Haruhi’s laughing, shaking her head as she completely disreagrds his care for her. Care that he has made clear on his own bedsheets. “Kyoya was most likely dragged along with Tamaki’s antics.”

Huffing, you angle your body towards her. “I don’t think so. His motivations aren’t always so…superficial.” 

Haruhi gives you a confused glance. “I know that. But, in this case?” Her tone is humorful. “He’s definitely marking the nearest exits. Did you see how early it was when he showed up with the other’s at my door? Poor guy looked like he was dragged out of his bed.”

“Or,” You start, folding your arms across your chest. “He woke up early to come see you.”

“Are we talking about the same Kyoya-senpai?” She says, but her smile isn’t as easy as she senses your irritation. 

“Yes. I’m just wondering, there couldn’t be any other reason he was suddenly at your door with all his friends this morning?”

Haruhi’s brown eyes are suddenly exhausted, and she rolls them so hard, she could’ve pulled a muscle. “Again, (Y/n)? It hasn’t even been half an hour. You said you would drop it.”

“No, I know.” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

Your attention darts back to the reflection in the glass, seeing that the hosts have distracted themselves with something else. The twins are ogling over the stacks of instant coffee, Mori is pushing Honey-senpai in a shopping cart, and Tamaki and Ranka are still at each other’s throats. 

Well, Ranka is the one baring his teeth. Tamaki is just crying, clearly upset about the lack of acceptance from Haruhi’s dad. 

Most importantly, Kyoya is elsewhere, scanning his gray eyes over two for one coupons, and probably internally gawking at how a company would voluntarily lose money in favor of their customers. 

“Haruhi,” You say, exhaling. “You’re my best friend.”

The honor student faces you fully. She wraps her arms around her torso, her empty shopping basket hanging off her elbow. “I know that. You’re mine, too.”

“Well, I thought that meant that you’d be completely honest with me.” Your voice is gentle, forgiving as you reach out to her. “And you would know that I couldn’t be angry with you even if I tried.”

“Honest with you? And why would you be angry with me?” You could tell this took her aback. Haruhi had been called many things in her youth, but she had never been accused of being dishonest. 

“I’m not. I could never be. So, when you keep secrets from me, it makes me wonder if I’m a bad friend. Or if I’ve done something that would make you feel uncomfortable opening up to me.”

“What do you mean when I keep secrets?” Haruhi asks, and she uncrosses her arms, putting one hand on her hip. 

You give her a blank stare, giving up your facade. “C’mon, Haru. I know.”

Haruhi doesn’t say anything for a moment, waiting for you to explain yourself. When you just stand there, looking at her expectantly, she gives in. “Know what?”

You groan, putting a hand over your eyes. “Haruhi.”

“I’m serious! I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See? This is what I’m talking about!” You say, keeping your voice at a reasonable level. You weren’t angry, just being upfront and truthful, like how Haruhi usually is with you. “You don’t have to save my feelings, Haru. I’m fine with it, I promise.”

“Fine with what?” Haruhi emphasizes that last word, annoyance lacing her tone. “I’m serious, I have no idea what you’re talking about. If I’m keeping something from you, I’m clearly doing a very good job. So good, in fact, that I, I don’t know, purged it from my own memory.”

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“(Y/n), you have too.” The brunette pleads. “I’m so confused.”

Your jaw ticks, and you heave out a sigh. “I know you like him.”

Haruhi just shakes her head. “Like who?”

You take another peak at the reflection, making sure no one is paying attention. “Kyoya.”

The supermarket has never felt so silent. Even has customers move around the two of you, even as Ranka begins pulling Tamakis cheeks apart, the way Haruhi stays perfectly still brings all bustle around you to a pseudo pause. Whether it was her shock, or your anticipation, even the air managed to stay perfectly still. 

Then the misters for the vegetables turn on. And Haruhi bursts out laughing. 

The hand on her hip holds her side, as if every muscles in her body is physically rejecting any romantic thought about the club’s director. The sound rings throughout the aisles, and the men behind you pause at the sound, basking in it before resuming their one-sided argument. 

Really, Ranka was just enjoying torturing Tamaki at this point. 

Collecting the tears in her eyes, Haruhi has a hard time speaking through her laughter. “Oh my god, (Y/n), you really had me going there.”

“I don’t get the joke.” Your voice is monotone, a single note on a piece of sheet music. 

“You looked so serious, I thought something was wrong!’” Another bout of giggles. “But god, me and Kyoya. Me and Kyoya?” 

“But why do you think it’s funny?” You say over her humor. “I think you two…you know…” Waving your hand, you fill the empty space awkwardly. “...would be good together.’

“No, no we wouldn’t.” She still can’t get over it. “Hell could freeze over, (Y/n), and somehow, it would be my responsibility to pay for it when it comes to Kyoya-senpai.” 

You point to her shaking form, punctuating each syllable, trying to pierce her laughter. “You like him.”

“Not in a million years.”

“And he likes you.” You say, slightly less confident. 

Her brown eyes meets yours, and they’re full of mirth. “How could you think that? With the way he dove off a cliff for you? Kyoya is a very one track minded individual. When he wants something, it’s very hard for him to desire something else.” 

Hope bubbles into the chambers of your heart before you pop them, shaking your head. “No, no, but I…” You drop your voice, encouraging Haruhi to come closer. “I saw you.”

“You’re still not making sense.” She says, looking at you the way she does with her father, or Tamaki. Like someone she loves is being very dramatic and strange. “And I passed honors calculus.”

“Haru.” Your voice is suddenly very serious, and you realize that as blunt and intelligent as Haruhi is, she is also incredibly oblivious. “I saw you two. On the bed.”

Her smile drops. 

“What?” There is a dumbfounded look in her eyes, and you take her shoulder in comfort. 

“It’s okay! That night, at the beach, I saw you both on his bed when I came to return his medkit.” You push the dread, sadness and horror deeper into yourself, keeping a reassuring visage. “Really, it’s okay. I just wished you had told me that you liked him. I wouldn’t have been so open about my own crush.”

Her irises flick between both of yours, a different kind of surprise taking root in the air around you. She watches as you shrug sheepishly, embarrassment and forced joy resonating in your posture.

“God,” Haruhi starts, and she wants to shake you so hard that your head nearly falls off your shoulders. Lovingly, of course. “(Y/n), no, that’s–”

A blur of blonde interrupts her sentence as Tamaki stumbles between the two of you. Both of you watch as his body splays out onto the supermarket floor, his chin hitting the tile with a smack. 

“What the–?” Haruhi asks, feeling whiplash. But Tamaki very suddenly rights himself, his hand coming to rub the back of his hair, which has mushrooms growing in it again. He turns to face Haruhi fully, completely shadowing you. 

“Oops!” He exclaims, the prince’s voice rising to a level of higpitched performance. “Oh, it looks like you caught me Haruhi!” Tamaki brings his hands together, clapping. “I followed you here so that I could carry your shopping basket.”

But Haruhi is trying to move around the president, a very urgent matter needing her attention. “Sorry, Tamaki-senpai, but I need you to move–”

The very, very tall man – seriously, Haruhi forgot how much taller Tamaki was –, blocks her path, still trying to make amends. “Now, now, Haruhi, hand it over.” Suoh reaches his hand out for her basket. “You know how Daddy likes accessories!” 

Finally, Haruhi pushes around him, but she sighs. 

You were gone. And she guessed you didn’t want to be found. 

Hanging her head, she looks to Tamaki, who is blushing from both ends of his ears, and the sight takes the edge off her mood. Gracefully, she hands him the basket, a small smile coming to her lips. “You’re so weird.”

Tamaki’s blush fades, and a more sincere grin paints his face. Then, he eyes the basket. 

“Haruhi, did you know that this was empty?”

Scoffing, she turns back to the vegetables, still looking over her shoulder to find a glance of your fleeting shadow. “Yeah, I just got preoccupied.”

She turns to him. “Plus, I haven’t figured out what to make everybody. We’ve never had this many people over before.”

Tamaki puts a long finger to his lips. “How about…a stew pot? One with lots of meat in it.” Then he has a thought. “And no chrysanthemum.” 

Her full attention is on Tamaki now, the way the mushrooms bob in his hair. “Yeah, that could work. It is kind of warm for it, though.”

She made it anyway. 

Soon the entire host club sits around her table. The boys feast, growing students needing at least enough fuel for a large animal. Or two. 

And as Ranka sets plenty of chrysanthemum onto Tamaki’s stew, Haruhi keeps catching awkward, soft glances between the two of you. She was so caught up in making lunch, or dinner at this point, that she hadn’t been able to clear anything up between you two. 

And her heart broke. 

You had saw that moment. That stupid, insignificant moment between her and the spectacled director and had assumed the complete wrong idea. But you were trying to be strong for her. 

She knew immediately that’s why you had been acting so intense and weird lately. Why you had ignored her the week prior. There was probably a storm of conflicting emotions in your mind, and in your heart, hot anger and cold disassociating swirling together to make a tornado of anxiety and hurt. 

She would fix it. She had too. 

But the real problem was whether or not you would give her the chance. 

Sharply, you stood up from the table, your portion of the stew still halfway filing your makeshift bowl. “My driver is here.” You explain sheepishly, feeling bad for having to leave early. “My parents come home tonight, and my mom wants me to be there to greet her.”

The Host Club bid you farewell, and Haruhi catches the sharp once over Kyoya gives you as you walk out the door. 

Then everyone else is leaving, to Haruhi’s gratitude. Her personal life had a maximum capacity, just like her living quarters, and her friends had unknowingly exceeded it. 

But as the boys begin to leave, with Ranka ushering them out the door and outside to bask in the attention they gave him, Haruhi pulls on Kyoya’s sleeve.

The lanky man turns, his dark eyebrow quirking up. “Ah, my teammate.” His cool voice brushes over the walls, and Haruhi has a second urge to shake someone. Specifically him, for being so stupid and impulsive. “Did you find something out?”

She doesn’t waste time. “(Y/n) knows.”

That quirked eyebrow sews together with the one adjacent. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Kyoya-senpai, (Y/n) saw us that night on the beach. When you threw me on your bed like a lunatic.”

Kyoya’s jaw muscles spark. “That’s impossible, no one could’ve seen that.”

“(Y/n) did.” Haruhi insisted, swallowing the dread. “I guess she was trying to return your medkit, or whatever, and she saw us. And she thought–”

“She thought we were together.�� Kyoya finishes, every dot connecting like a constellation in his mind. “That’s why she was asking about your love life, why she was complimenting you, putting you on a pedestal. She thinks that we are together, but that we are hiding it.”

The megane is frigid, still, but nothing about his energy is peaceful. He is calculating, putting together the entire equation. It’s like it’s finally all written out for him, the chalkboard littered with his work as his hands are dusty and cracked.

You were mad at him. Because you felt he lead you on. Because he nearly kissed you on the beach, and then was seen hovering over another, covered in satin. 

“Thank you, Haruhi.” His usually deep voice was rough as he stepped out the door. “You were very helpful.” 

With that, the Shadow King exits the Fujioka residence. 

Next Time on Lavender Roses!

“We didn’t know you had a little sister, Boss!”

“As of today, I will be your big brother!”

“So, how’re you gonna fix this?”

Big Brother is a Prince!

taglist: @sweetandsourwrites @laurelhellfire @sunukissed @idonia-dovahkiin @kisskissshutmydoor @vervainnnn @delviasworld @luca-nightshade @wrzloyd @localgaytrainwreck @kawaii-onikuma113 @httpswilloww @vera-deville @aboveasphodel @pest-ill-ence @akumakitsune21 @britty-yk @daniels2003 @woahthere-hi @canrdsf @bandshirts-andbooks @direbatattack @fairyv-ice @coleeesworld @veras-fanfic-reblogs @wantluv @name1nonexistent2 @greensnakegoblep @eleventhdoctorsangel

[contentloadingandstuff]

Happy Birthday, Kujou Sara! - Kujou Sara x Male!Reader

AN: Happy birthday to our favorite bird general! Enjoy your little fluffy gift.

You pull on the string, stirring the doorbell to ring out. As you wait for her attendant to open the door, you quickly adjust your wear. Kujou Sara, even if she was your friend, didn't deserve to be treated with anything but your absolute best. Even if the evening was rather stuffy, you chose to prepare your more formal outfit - a blend of dō and hakama, perfect for both official business and casual meetings. 

After a moment, the wooden gate is opened and one of Sara's maids greets you with a polite bow. She motions towards the garden where, just a few steps from her, the Tengu stands. She's wearing clothes one would rarely see adorning her body - a modest kimono, decorated only with the sash and her mask. The smile on her lips is as uncommon as her attire. 

“Hello! I’m glad you're here.” She speaks, approaching you. “Thank you for coming.”

You meet her halfway. “It's good to see you too, Sara.”

You bow slightly, Sara returning your gesture. Your eyes meet for a moment. Her golden pupils gleam in the red light of the setting sun. You smile. Sara’s lips shift as well, but her demeanor turns a little sheepish as she averts her eyes. 

You can't help but think the slight red tint on her cheeks might not be makeup. 

Observing the situation, the maid steps in, bowing cordially. “May we invite you inside for a meal, my Lord?”

Sara shakes her head, suddenly brought back to reality. “Of c-course. Please, Y/N, come inside. I've prepared something for the occasion.”

You nod eagerly. “I can't wait to sample your cooking.”

The maid leads you through the gardens and into the guest room where a small table awaits you. You hand over your katana and equipment, taking a place on the mat opposite Sara. 

The table is full of various snacks. Crisp and plump Lavender Melons and Sunsettia, cut into sizable slices, shine at you invitingly, perfectly complimenting a wide variety of juicy maki rolls and golden brown tempura. Before you can even reach for one with your chopsticks two bowls of steaming ramen are brought to the table. The thick, soft noodles float peacefully inside the broth, the clouds upon which rests a soft boiled egg accompanied with various greens and a few pieces of ham. The sight of the vibrant yolk lazily streaming down into the soup, let alone the scent of the whole meal, hypnotizes you. 

Ironically, it would be a shame to eat such an inviting meal. If it wasn't so delightful, that is. The room fills with quiet, but still enthusiastic clicking of chopsticks as both of you tear into portions. Sara glances at you hopefully from time to time, gauging your reactions. You make sure to nod appreciatively. It takes what feels like mere moments until, amongst comfortable silence, the soup is eaten. 

Wiping the remnants of it from your mouth with a tissue, you sigh with satisfaction. The dish was possibly the best thing for this weather, even if the air was so humid. But now that you've eaten, it was time to give Sara something special. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Sara.” You say, reaching your hand inside your sleeve where you hid the gift. 

“Don't mention it, please. It's the least I can do to thank you for coming. I'm sure I've distracted you from important matters...” She drifts off when she notices the small, ornamental box in your hand. “What’s that?”

You chuckle. “It is for you, silly. It's your birthday. Surely you didn't expect me to come empty handed?”

“Oh! I…” Her hands move up, covering her mouth in surprise. “T-thank you. I hope the gift wasn't too much trouble…” 

She takes the gift from your outstretched hands and begins quickly unfastening the ribbons. When her fingers lift the lid, a set of jars is revealed. Curious, she picks one up and starts examining the label. 

Seeing her confusion, you chime in. 

“This is, um… that's coconut oil, for your wings. So they remain as pristine as ever.” 

Sara looks up at you, slightly wide eyed. Her silence speeds up your heart. Was this a bad idea? Does she already have some? Did you just offend her? 

You feel blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“I've talked to a scientist from Sumeru some time ago. He told me a lot about the birds of paradise in Sumeru and how they are taken care of in captivity”, you explain hastily. “To keep their wings shining and vibrant, their caretakers use coconut oil to lubricate the feathers. He said that it's better than sesame oil as it helps protect against illnesses and insects. So… I thought of you.” You wave your hands, smiling shyly. “You don't have to accept it if you don't like it though!”

As she listens to you, her mouth opens slightly as if she wants to speak, but closes without a word. She's speechless. 

You sigh as your smile fades. Just as you think of how to apologize, Sara speaks out. 

“This is incredible. I don't have the words to express how… How happy I am.”

Her voice is quiet and slightly trembling with emotion. The Tengu quickly looks back towards you, a small blush on her face. “Nobody has given me such a thoughtful gift before…”

A stone’s weight is taken off your heart as you see her flustered expression. A genuine smile of happiness and relief creeps onto your features. 

After a while of cordial thanks, you finally convince Sara that it wasn't too difficult to get, even if you had to import it from Sumeru. Having received this gift, Sara's mood was only improving as the evening went by, filled with idle chatter. You've shared stories of other generals, funny encounters you've had, as well as more genuine hopes for the future. 

The night came long ago, and it was time to go home. Sara, although clearly tired, insisted on walking you at least to the estate doors. But as you were walking through the garden, unbeknownst to you, Sara discreetly dismissed the maid following you. She quietly disappeared behind the nearest corner, leaving you two alone. 

You pull the door, opening one of its wings enough to slip through. Your turn to Sara. 

“Thanks for inviting me. They say you're stiff, but they don't know just how enjoyable hanging out with you really is.”

Sara shakes her head. “No, no, I’m the one that's more thankful here. I couldn't even begin to imagine what this day would look like without you. Had you not come, it would simply be another lonely evening.”

“Signing yourself off to the grave already, Sara?” You chuckle. “I hope next year's celebration is even better than this one.”

She snickers as well. “Impossible. Nothing will best today.”

“I surely hope not!” Your turn back towards the door. “See you tomorrow-”

“Wait!” Sara says hastily, grabbing your sleeve. You stop dead in your tracks. 

“Yes, Sara?”

“I know it might be inappropriate of me, seeing as you've given me so much already…” Her eyes shift between the pavement and you. “But, if I may have one more wish to ask of you.”

“Of course. It's your day, after all.” 

Silence. 

“So what would you like me to-”

She steps up and embraces you. You let out a surprised sigh, but quickly welcome her gesture. Her arms wrap around your torso as her face buries in the crook of your neck. 

“Thank you”, she whispers. “Thank you so much.”

Thanks for reading!

[bebemoon]

look for the name JANIK (requested by @janikc) | miu miu oversized pullover sweater (a/w 1997), goa khaki cargo pants w/ ankle drawstrings to adjust length, dirk bikkembergs brown leather hole boots (c. 1998), hanae mori "hm" eau de parfum (lemon, lavender, jasmine, tonka bean, vanilla, woody notes), alexander wang beige leather hobo zipper bag

[elisedonut]

time to pretend to invent a whole new type of crystal scrying so I can make it make sense when Percy interrupts Lavender

this isn't a shipping one though since it takes place while Percy's still in school and isn't a soulmate au

though it is heavily inspired by the fact that their nautical name is “Parchment and Predictions”

its just a Percy being a good prefect/head boy fic one day ill write Percy m/f just that day is not today.

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of february

avery r. young peestain

claudine toutoungi future perfect

david rivard bewitched playground: "not guilty"

brian kim stefans the future is one of place

lisa gill post-traumatic rainstorm

clare pollard pinocchios

rebecca lindenberg love, an index: "catalogue of ephemera"

etel adnan the arab apocalypse: "xxxvi"

stanley moss god breaketh not all men's hearts alike: "a blind fisherman"

robert browning an epistle containing the strange medical experience of karshish, the arab physician

tom sleigh beirut tank

khaled mattawa ismailia eclipse: "date palm trinity"

mark levine unemployment (3)

lucia cherciu butter, olive oil, flour

reginald shepherd fata morgana: "you, therefore"

john updike claremont hotel, southwest harbour, maine

bruce smith the other lover: "february sky"

johnny cash forever words: the unknown poems: "don't make a movie about me"

eamon grennan what light there is & other poems: "jewel box"

eduardo c. corral in colorado my father scoured and stacked dishes

thomas mccarthy the beginning of colour

divya victor curb: "blood / soil"

henneh kyereh kwaku in praise

joanna fuhrman to a new era: "lavender"

rosemary catacalos sight unseen

sam willetts digging

megan fernandes winter

jaswinder bolina the plague on tv

juan felipe herrera notes on the assemblage: "almost livin' almost dyin'"

kofi

[mikrokcsmos]

Beautiful Dreamer

synopsis; in which you’re on your honeymoon, and though you should be enamored by the sights around you – you still believe that your husband is better.

pairing; husband!taehyung x wife!reader

genre; fluff, established relationship, marriage au, honeymoon au

rating; PG-13

warnings; a LOT of nuzzling

w/c; 979

a/n; he’s so dreamy.

He leans sideways against the tall, thick wooden railing, right arm folded over on top, hand tucked into his armpit. The other arm’s elbow dangles over the edge, his chin resting on it’s left hand as he gazes dreamily at the scenery in front of him.

You take up the same position next to him, albeit your dreamy gaze is zeroed in on him instead.

“What are you thinking about, husband?” Your voice is light and airy, not too loud, but not too soft either. He closes his eyes briefly to allow it to wash over him, only putting him in an even deeper state of tranquility.

He hums, a soft smile blooming over his features. He keeps his eyes closed, answering you with another question.

“What do you think I’m thinking about, wife?”

You scoot closer to him on the railing, and without hesitation, he lifts his left arm up to allow you to tuck yourself into his side. He nuzzles the top of your head, nose nestled in your hair, the lavender honey scent he’s come to know and love overtakes his senses for a moment. His arm wraps loosely around your waist, hand coming to lay on your stomach.

You take his left hand in yours, fingers playing with the thick, gold band of his wedding ring that you had the pleasure of putting there only but a few days ago when you said ‘I do’.

“Would it be selfish of me to say that I want you to be thinking of me?”

He chuckles, the vibration that exudes from his chest you can feel through your back as it lightly jostles you with its intensity.

You tilt your head to look back up at him, small frown adorning your lips that he gives a chaste peck too, the curve of your lips now threatening to curl at the act.

“What’s so funny, pray tell?” Your brow quirks up, which upside down, makes you look silly. He gives your nose a soft nuzzle, voice lilting with a teasing tone.

“The fact that you believe I would even be thinking of anything else but you, my love. That is funny.”

A loud mother duck, who has her hands full trying to get all her ducklings in line and back into the water off to the side of the wooden deck, is what breaks you two out of your lovesick haze.

Leaning back against Taehyung, you both watch as one by one, the ducklings plop haphazardly back into the water. Each one squawks momentarily in fear of their head being beneath the water for too long, before the mother duck nuzzles them back upright.

Taehyung now looks at you, your expression akin to something of both longing and fear. His fingers tap against your stomach, his voice caressing your outer earlobe that causes goosebumps to erupt onto your skin.

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?”

As he rubs your stomach, you can’t help the anxiety that slowly begins to build within you, nerves on edge of the insecurity that passes through your lips. It has his heart clenching.

“Do you think I’m gonna be a good mom?” He can feel the emotion you try your best to keep tucked within you, and kneeling down beside you, he gently turns you to face him, his head now perfectly aligned with your barely there baby bump.

His hands come up to cup your stomach gently, as if afraid the weight of his hands alone could harm the little life that’s growing day by day inside of you. Like he did with your nose earlier, he nuzzles your baby bump with his nose, before giving it a loving kiss and fixing his brown orbs back onto yours.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to be an amazing mom.” His smile is boxy and wide, eyes shining with excitement. Your eyes begin to water, lip trembling.

“You’re going to be an amazing father, Tae.”

His eyes get glossy, and the setting sun on the horizon only makes his features glow even brighter. The baby pink shirt he wears makes you envision a little girl running around his kneeling figure, pulling and tugging on said shirt with little pleas of wanting to be held and loved by her daddy.

“She is going to love you, and have her wrapped around her little finger, mark my words.”

He lets out a watery chuckle, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, before standing back up. He places his hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your sides as he tilts his head at you in wonder.

“Oh, really? You believe it’s gonna be a girl?”

You nod, confident in your gut feeling.

“Well, if she’s anything like you–,” he starts, stepping closer to you to place kisses on each part of your face, you giggling the whole time. And as he kisses each part, he names them off one by one. “–your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your dimples, your mouth.”

The lingering kiss he leaves you on your lips has you arching your back into him in order to get closer and deepen it. His hands slide up your body to caress each side of your neck as he stares into your eyes with nothing but love and promise.

His lips move, his words reaching the very depths of your soul to gently envelope and ease away any and all doubts or worries you might’ve had about being a mother.

“It’s not always easy growing a little life inside of you. The morning sickness. The hormones. The changes to your body. The sleeplessness. Yet, when it all gets too hard, just remember how powerful you really are. You are growing a life inside of you, and that is incredible. You are incredible.”

And, as always, he was right.

You do become an amazing mom.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi, can I lose Aaron Hotchner with his daughter who does theater, the reader was going to debut in a play as Juliet

Aaron Hotchner X Teen Daughter Reader

Thank you for over 500 followers!!

Hey its been a while since I wrote one of these terribly sorry, It's tje summer holidays now so I will work on them more.

Request: Hi, can I lose Aaron Hotchner with his daughter who does theater, the reader was going to debut in a play as Juliet

Third person pov...

Y/N Hotchner was in her highschool Theatre group, she was sit on the stage absently listening to what her drama teacher was talking about, the 15 year old had been in the theatre club since she started highschool.

As she sits her teacher talks talking. "The play we are doing this years class is Romeo and Juliet" He tells the group of Female and Male students, they all gasp and start taking to one another whsipers filled the air.

Their Drama teacher chuckles at how excited they all sound before clapping to get their attention again. "Alright Alright! Settle down students" once it was quiet the teacher began talking again.

"Now I have already thought about parts, For Juliet I have chosen..." the H/C teen was half listening to her teacher half not as she swung her legs.

"Y/N Hotchner"

Y/N jumps in surprise and snaps her head over to her teacher and sees the rest of her club watching her, she looks around nervously. "Y/N you shall be Juliet" her E/C eyes widened at that.

The teens jaw drops in shock. "..huh?" She muttered completely shocked the hall silent before everyone starts clapping for her, Y/N quickly stands up from the stage and stands next to her Drama teacher.

'Juliet huh' she thought to herself as her teachers calls out the other parts for the play.

An hour later the teen is leaving school, the script for the play in hand her speaking parts underlined. "Juliet huh.." she muttered to herself before leaving the school grounds and making her way to her Dads work.

She gets through security and the reception desk relatively quick before walking to the elevators and pressing the floor for the BAU.

As she waits she glances down at the script reading over her lines, once the doors open she walks out again still reading the script and into tje bullpen of the BAU.

The door swung open, and Y/N entered the office, vibrant and unaffected by her father’s heavy workload. She was dressed in a simple black ensemble, her hair cascading in soft waves. At fifteen, she had grown into a confident young woman, and she wore that confidence like a second skin.

“Dad! Are you busy?” she asked, glancing at Emily before returning her focus to Hotch.

“Not at all. You came at the right time,” he said, his voice shifting into the gentle timbre he reserved for her. “Your entrance is always welcome.”

Y/N’s face broke into a wide smile as she crossed the room to hug her father tightly, warmth radiating between them. “I’m glad! I have something really exciting to tell you!”

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Hotch urged, though he already sensed what was to come.

“I’m going to debut as Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ next month!” Her excitement bubbled over, lacing each word with passion. “I wanted to invite you and the team to come see it.”

Hotch felt his heart swell at the sight of her enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful, Y/N! I’m so proud of you,” he said, more convinced than ever that she would shine on stage. But his pragmatism chipped away at those feelings; the BAU often came first, not leaving much room for personal endeavors.

“What’s the time?” he asked, noting the delicate balance he needed to maintain between work and family.

“It’s Sunday at seven! Please say you’ll come!” She looked at him, her deep brown eyes sparkling with hope.

“I’ll be there,” he promised honestly. “And I’ll let the team know. I’m sure they’d love to support you too.”

Y/N grinned. “Thanks, Dad! You’re the best!” Triumphantly, she slid a flyer for the play across his desk, where pink and lavender roses entwined around cursive letters announcing the performance.

As he watched her leave, a swell of warmth filled his chest. Emily stood nearby, watching both father and daughter with a wistful expression.

“Y/N is remarkable,” she said, patting Hotch’s shoulder. “You really should be proud.”

“I am,” Hotch replied, a rare vulnerability surfacing. “She makes it easy.”

Later that afternoon, the team gathered in Hotch’s office for the customary briefing. The scent of freshly baked coffee lingered in the air, fueling their energy as they prepared for yet another case to dissect. JJ, Reid, and Rossi filed in, each of them taking their usual spots around the room.

“Hey, Hotch,” JJ began, her smile brightening the room. “What’s the latest on the case?”

Before he could reply, he caught the wave of nerves unfolding in the pit of his stomach. “Actually, before we dive into the details, I have something else to share,” he interjected, causing the team to perk up with curiosity. “My daughter, Y/N, is making her debut as Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ on next month on Sunday, I’d like it if you all came to support her.”

Surprisingly, the room erupted into a chorus of enthusiastic agreement.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it!” JJ declared, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“I’ve always wanted to see her act!” Reid chimed in, adjusting his glasses, the gears in his mind clearly already turning with thoughts of Shakespearean analysis.

“Count me in too,” Rossi added, a smile playing on his lips. “The kid’s got talent. It runs in the family, I bet.”

Hotch’s heart warmed. It was moments like these that reminded him the BAU was more than just a job; they were a collective family bound together by loyalty and support, just like him and Y/N.

As the evening wore on, they dove into the intricacies of their latest case, but even amidst the discussions of serial behavior and profiling, Aaron found his thoughts returning to Y/N. His heart swelled with pride at the thought of her in that iconic gown, delivering lines that had stood the test of time.

At precisely seven o’clock on Sunday night a month later, the theater buzzed with excitement. The faint sound of chatter flitted through the air as Hotch and his team took their seats in the front row. The theater itself was a labyrinth of richly decorated walls and elegant velvet curtains that framed the stage.

When the lights dimmed, and the chatter gave way to an anticipative silence, Hotch felt a pang of nervousness in his stomach. He glanced at his colleagues, who were whispering about the anticipated performances.

Then it happened. The lights came up, illuminating the stage, and Y/N appeared in her maiden role, a delicate visage of youthful passion and raw talent. With every line she delivered, Hotch could see the embodiment of countless hours spent rehearsing in the family living room, her voice lilting and vibrant, each syllable dripping with emotion.

The performance flowed seamlessly as she danced across the stage, her essence intertwining with the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet. Each tragic moment hung heavy in the air, and Hotch’s heart raced with pride.

When the final curtain fell, the applause resonated like a heart beating, filling the theater with affirmation—for Y/N and for the team who had gathered to support her. The lights brightened, and as Y/N took her bow, her gaze locked with her father’s.

He gives his daughter a huge proud smile and blew her a kiss which she returned a wide happy grin on her young face as she bowed to tje audience, a successful performance for her and her class.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Requests are still open!

Word count: 1330

[bettathanyou]

I'm really new to the fandom (I got in it because I am absolutely in love with this wet-cat of a man, Cedric) but I already have the head canon that Cedric thinks he's (romantically) unlovable. It just doesn't compute in his brain that someone could have such feelings about him. Sure, he can be liked and admired but never loved. (Probably due to his traumas)

Can you write a little thing about Y/N being not very subtle about their feelings but Cedric just doesn't get it. Sofia tries to even be a little match-maker!

Sofia: I think Y/N has a crush on you! :D Cedric: You should know better than to lie.

Take A Hint: Y/N x Cedric The Sorcerer, Having A Crush!

"Cedric!"

Your voice carried through the breeze of the garden, the trees rustling softly alongside your hair being tousled by the wind. It was another fair weather, perfectly sunny day in Enchancia; right now, though, all you cared about was centered on the sorcerer in plum stained robes.

He was grumbling to himself, oblivious to your approach.

"Cedric...!"

You called out louder, your pace subconsciously picking up as you approached Cedric. Upon your second greeting, the man visibly flinched, clearly snapped out of whatever daze he was in before.

Cedric quickly turned his head towards you standing there, his mahogany irises lighting up in recognition and warmth. The man's lanky body was still half bent over the lavender bush in front of him, with silvery grey bangs hung slightly in his eyes.

You beam Cedric a giddy smile, feeling your heart race by just seeing those caramel eyes fixed on you. What made your stomach flip, though, was seeing the sweet and shy smile creep along the sorcerer's cheeks to return your own smile.

In a last minute decision, you decide to be bold; because, well- you tried being subtle for weeks about your feelings! You had hoped for all the small touches, winks from catching eye contact, and compliments that the sorcerer would've noticed by now.

However, Cedric wasn't getting it; you were going to go mad at this rate, if this slow burn got any damn slower.

Your fingers gently brush a lock of thick, silky silver out of Cedric's eye. You see the man freeze from contact, clearly not expecting such close proximity. Cedric swallows, hard, holding his breath and hoping you couldn't hear his heart slamming against his chest.

His eyes stay fixed on you, as you adjust his bangs without a word- and you certainly weren't complaining. Cedric's eyes were already a lovely light brown color on their own, but in the bright summer sun they shined like pools of molten gold, the kind any noble or king would envy.

He was beautiful, and the glow in your cheeks damned you to how much you liked him.

As you pull your hand away, your fingertips brush against his cheek. It was like a match being struck against the grain, setting Cedric's skin ablaze with a red hue.

You giggle slightly, biting your tongue trying not to embarrass him further.

"... Your bangs are starting to get longer, Cedric." You commented with a smirk, unabashedly checking him out.

"It's- Uh, well- I..." The sorcerer fumbles with his words, then his hands with a nervous tick.

"I like it, you know."

I like you, too. You thought to yourself, the words almost tumbling out of your throat alongside it.

Cedric laughs awkwardly, clearly unsure how else to take your compliment other than a small, "Thank you, dear."

Wait.

"...Dear?"

You cock your head to the side, a Cheshire grin spreading across your face.

Cedric raises his brows in equal parts surprise and distress, as if he didn't even know what came out of his mouth. He scrambles to say something, but you don't give him the opportunity to apologize or try to take back what he said.

"I think I like that, too~"

You confess with a soft chuckle, breaking eye contact as your own bashfulness begins to catch up to you. You rub your arm a little self consciously, to soothe your nerves before glancing back at the sorcerer.

Cedric inwardly flinches from your eyes catching his own again. He didn't understand why you were so nice, and friendly, and happy to be around someone like him, but. It felt... Good- and nerve-wracking.

Definitely nerve-wracking.

It was like your presence alone made every nerve ending in his body be set on fire, and he wasn't exactly sure why. But the stinging glow of his cheeks, raised body temperature, and sudden loss for words due to a curious kind of brain fog that only happens around you...

Cedric shakes his head, blinking quickly to regain his focus. He didn't know how long he was staring for, and frankly the sorcerer didn't want to think about it. He stutters out a response, clearing his throat.

"Well, if you're al-alright with t-that, I can address you as s-uch." The sorcerer speaks in a neutral tone, but with a slight raise to his voice as if he was asking for permission.

You bite your tongue to barely conceal a squeal of happiness.

"That's fine..." You drawled out, but then quickly added, "Can call you dear, too?"

Cedric glances away, tugging on his muted yellow ochre tie. His initial response was to ask "why?" , because he wasn't sure why you would use such a term of endearment, for someone like himself.

But then, he also knew if he asked you why, then he would have to answer your following question, which is usually,

"well, why not?"

"...I suppose that's only fair; alright then."

Cedric nods, straightening up and smoothing down the front of his robe. He clears his throat again, taking in a deep breath.

"So, what did you need from me... D-dear?" Cedric chuckles nervously to himself, suddenly feeling very aware of everything and especially you, staring at him and making his heart race uncontrollably.

You huff in amusement, lips curled into a small smile.

"I just wanted to spend my break in the garden, really. Then, I saw you! So I wanted to say hi and chat- if you're not too busy...?"

You glanced over to the lavender bush Cedric was studying before you interrupted. It seemed like nothing was picked just yet, and suddenly you feel nervous about distracting Cedric from his work. You know the tight schedule he can have, over the course of getting to know him between his running around doing things for Roland or the royal children.

You go to open your mouth to apologize, but before a word can leave your lips Cedric is already speaking.

"No...! No, not at all, (y/n). I-I mean, yes, I am busy, but I meant-..." Cedric scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly as he trails off.

Your heart flutters, whether it's from his smile or your own anxiety, you weren't sure.

"...Yes, my dear?" You offer with a smile, rocking on your heels for emphasis.

Cedric chuckles softly at that, his shoulders relaxing as he laughs. You can only smile wider in return, a loss for words at how every mannerism of his makes you come undone at the seams.

"I will always have time for you, (y/n)."

Cedric speaks with a soft, but confident voice, nodding to you. You blink, not expecting such a drastic shift of attitude from the sorcerer.

"Ri-right...!" You replied, voice shaking slightly. Now, it seems it was your turn to be flustered beyond coherent thought.

You both continue to chit chat about things happening currently in the castle, as well as get to listen to Cedric explain what he's using the lavender he's harvesting for; unsurprisingly, it's for a potion.

To be honest, you couldn't really focus on what he was saying entirely, because of Cedric's tendency to (cutely) ramble about magic things. But you didn't care in the slightest; the shimmer in his eyes as he speaks with passion about things he loves, is all that you need to see.

Afterwards, you sadly tell Cedric you have to get back to work, but then ask really quick if you can stop by his workshop later to see the potion he's making in action. He agrees, almost too quickly, which leaves you with a smile that lasts all day.

"I'll see you then, dear!" You call out, waving your hand in goodbye.

Cedric waves back, not realizing the smile on his own face.

________

"Mr. Cedric!" Sofia barks out excitedly, already running over to the tall man.

Cedric yells in surprise, nearly jumping out of his skin from the sudden appearance of his apprentice and friend.

"Princess...! Merlin's mushrooms, child, you scared me half to death!" Cedric chided her with a huff, pushing back his bangs.

"Sorry...!" The young girl peeks up from her auburn curls, flashing Cedric an apologetic smile.

After a beat, Cedric relents, sighing in resignation.

"It's quite alright. Did you get everything on the list I gave you?"

"Yup! All accounted for!"

Sofia displays her basket of herbs and flowers proudly with a bright, cheery smile.

Cedric hums in approval, quickly looking over everything to make sure it's correct.

After a moment, he nods, patting Sofia's head in praise.

"Excellent work, my dear."

Sofia chuckled warmly. "Thanks, Mr. Cedric."

As they brought in the ingredients for the potion, Sofia eyed the man with a mischievous smile.

"So... You're gonna show (y/n) the potion too, right Mr. Cedric?"

Cedric paused for a moment, looking down at the girl. She wore a smile he knew all too well meant trouble, and he didn't like it.

"You know better than to eavesdrop, Princess."

"I wasn't...! I mean, not really! I just couldn't help but overhear while picking the flowers!"

Sofia grabbed a daffodil for emphasis, holding it up to the sorcerer like it was indisputable evidence.

Cedric scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as he waved her off.

"Yes, yes, I understand what you mean, Sofia."

As they continue down the hall, about to turn the corner into Cedric's tower staircase, Sofia speaks again.

"You know, Mr. Cedric, (y/n) seems to really like you. Do you think... She might..." The girl wanders off, biting her lip and smiling.

"She might what?" Cedric prompts her with a concerned tone, his hands turning clammy as the silence fills the space around them.

"...You know! likes, likes you?" Sofia giggles, eyeing Cedric with another smile.

Cedric huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea makes his cheeks flare a bright red at the thought, even if the idea was absurd to begin with. After all, it's you. You're too beautiful, too kind, too interesting, too- too you, to even consider a bumbler like himself.

"It's rude to gossip, Sofia. You ought to know better." Cedric scowled, giving the girl a pointed look with a raised brow.

"I'm just saying...!" Sofia replied in a sing song voice, shrugging.

Now-," Cedric turns to her, pulling out his wand. With a flick of the wrist, the basket disappeared, teleported back to the cluttered table of his workshop beyond the door.

"As much as I appreciate your hard work today, I'm afraid I have to do the rest alone." Cedric speaks with a firmer, but still kind tone.

"Well... Alright! I hope everything goes well with your potion, Mr. Cedric!" Sofia waves in goodbye, and the sorcerer smiles and gives her a wave in return. Her purple and pink shirts swish as she turns to bounce down the steps, hearing the familiar creak of Cedric's door about to shut.

Sofia glances back, smiling brightly.

"I hope things go well with you-know-who, too!"

Cedric's heart stops, and he flings the door open to scold the child again. Yet, the only thing on his steps now was empty space, and the echo of Sofia's giddy laugh as she stomps down the staircase.

"...Don't run, Sofia! You're going to fall one of these days!" Cedric yells with the impatient yet caring attitude that Sofia knows and loves.

Though Cedric sighs wearily, he shuts his door with a broad smile on his face, his heart aching in that unfamiliar but welcome way that means he's thinking of you.

[normansnt]

The tailor (sanji x male tailor! Reader)

Warnings: the reader cuts himself with scissors. I don't know if thats a warning but yeah.

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The strawhats docked at another island for the logpose to reset. As usual everyone went their way. And Sanji obviously went with Robin and Nami clothe shopping to carry their bags.

They were walking around town when they spotted a shop standing alone. It wasn't too big nor small. The first thing that someone felt when they saw it was calmness. It was a cozy little store. First Nami wanted to ignore it due to its simple looks. But Robin felt like the little shop had great things to offer.

"I find it rather adorable, I wouldn't mind going in" said Robin in a calm voice.

"Well all right we have time after all" gave in Nami looking at the log pose. Sanji didn't say anything but he had a little cheer in his mind that the girls decided to go in.

It was a small shop with unique and beautiful clothes put on display. The closer they got the clearer they could see how amazing the clothes put on display in the shop window were.

When they stepped into the shop the little bell over the door gave a light "ting" sound letting whoever was in there know that they had entered. The smell of lavender greeted them. The shop was only slightly bigger on the inside then it looked from outside, but it was not too small as though not having enough space.

Two clothing racks stood in the middle and if you walked to the other side of the store three mirrors greeted you with a small stage in front and a table besides them. The walls, which had clothes hanging on racks neatly organized, had a comforting light blue color. There was also a staircase leading to a door, a closed door so they had no idea what was behind it.

"Aughh damn it" came from behind the closed door.

"I will be down in a minute" yelled a mans voice.

Nami and Robin started looking around while waiting for whoever it was behind that door to come down, Sanji kept analyzing the place. All though he had to lie if he said that the clothed there didn't catch even his attention.

They seem to have been made with utmost care due to every stitch being very clean and the pieces of fabric complimented each other well very well.

The door opened suddenly and a man not much younger then Sanji stepped out. He had a big smile on his face and glasses on his nose which were held together by duct tape.

The man had h/c h/l hair and e/c eyes. These looked lovely with his s/c skin. He was a handsome man by the looks of it and based on his outfit he knew his way around clothing as well. He was wearing a white button up shirt with brown suit pants which had red squares detailed on it, around his neck was a tape measure and on his middle finger a thimble showing that he in fact made these clothes with his own hands. To top it off on his feet were black loafers, he looked very sheik.

"Oh hello" greeted Robin politely "are you alright we heard cursing before?" Asked the raven haired women kindly.

"Oh, I apologize for that, I was just cutting some fabric and the bell startled me so I cut into my finger a bit" smiled the man sheepishly while holding up his index finger which was bandaged all the way.

"Must have been a deep cut" muttered Sanji.

"Anyway I apologize again, what can I help you with ladies and gentleman?" Said the man while flashing a big smile. 'Adorable' thought Sanji, his smile had a child like innocence to it and the glint in his e/c eyes made it all the more sweeter- what? Since when did Sanji think like this about a man? He admits when a man is handsome, of course, but he never went into detail describing his attraction towards one- attraction? What is going on today?

"And for you sir?" Asked the man who he still didn't know the name of because he wasn't paying attention to the conversation he was having with the girls, who, disappeared,now realized Sanji. The man must have noticed his confusion so he said hastily

"The ladies went to try one some pieces" said the clothing shop owner while pointing at a door beside the three mirrors on the opposite side to the little table.

"And my previous question was if you are looking for any clothing?" Said the man smiling kindly. Sanji didn't want to be rude he wanted to get the handsome mans name at least.

"Please excuse me but I seem to have zoned out previously, do you mind telling me your name?" Asked Sanji red in the face.

"Oh no problem, of course, my name is Y/N L/N it is a pleasure to meet you" smiled Y/N while putting his hand out for Sanji to shake. He did just that while introducing himself as well.

"So are you looking for any clothing? I can tell by what you are wearing that you know a thing or too about fashion" he flashed his handsome smile again.

It was true Sanji did put a bit more care into what he was wearing than oder man but compared to Y/N he probably couldn't tell the difference between velvet and chiffon.

"Oh no, thank you, Im just here to carry the ladies shopping bags and assist them any way they need" smiled back Sanji. All though he liked the clothes in this shop, he didn't want to waste money, not to mention it was hard to find something that fit him because of his build, he was skinny but very muscular at the same time.

"Are you sure? I can tailor something for you as well" said the man hopefully.

Sanji saw the glint in his eyes, it looked similar to when he was about to cook a new meal or try a new recipe. Passion, passion for ones work. Sanji liked that about Y/N he seemed very eager to work, just like him. Also the thought of having his own tailored suit sounded lovely for Sanji. Finally something that fits perfectly.

"I actually think that's a really good idea Sanji you have been wearing the same suit for forever" Said Nami suddenly standing beside Sanji. She walked out of the fitting room with the clothes she wants to buy in her hand just a minute ago. Sanji didn't notice her walking out. But how could that happen? Sanji not noticing Nami? Its true he was focusing on Y/N but not this hard! Right?

"Yes, getting a new suit might actually be useful but I don't want to waste money that could be spent on food Nami-san" said Sanji.

"Its not a waste of money its clothes, we have enough money for food, its just one suit it cant even be that much money" said Nami looking at Y/N hopefully.

"Oh no its 50 berry" Said Y/N hoping they are ok with that price. Nami's eyes turned into berry icons showing how happy she is that she will be saving this much money.

Y/Ns clothes had amazing quality and were cheap as well. This showed how kind the male was he never thought much of money. He just sold his clothes to make people happy and of course he needed to eat something.

"Very well," gave in Sanji "I would love to have you tailor me suit" finished Sanji smiling at Y/N.

"All right we will leave you to it then" said Robin also coming out of the fitting rooms. And with that the girls paid for the clothes they wanted and left. Weirdly enough, Sanji didn't mind this, of course it would be amazing to spend more time with the lovely ladies of the strawhat crew but staying alone with Y/N was an idea he didn't oppose of.

While Y/N was taking his measurements Sanji could feel his hands touching his body slightly. Y/Ns feather light touch left goosebumps on Sanjis skin for some reason even though it was only through fabric.

Naw, Sanji was no fool. He has noticed in the past that Ladies are not the only ones who capture his attention, he wanted to sleep with man as well in fact.

However what Y/N was doing to him was completely new. The man made Sanji flustered and now he understood those butterflies in the stomach everyone was talking about. They had just met but Sanji was smitten. Even more so when they started talking, while Y/N was making his suit.

"Yeah, I love cooking Im not really good at it though" said Y/N a little red in the face. "The last time I tried to make breakfast I left the omelette on the stove because I got distracted and well lats just say I had to get a new kitchen." Smiled the e/c eyed male sheepishly. Sanji loved when he smiled like that it was rather adorable.

"I can teach you if you like" said Sanji perhaps a little fast. Y/N stopped his movements and looked at Sanji with a slightly red face and a small smile

"You would do that? Thats so kind but you guys will only be on this island for so long Im afraid we don't have time, I mean pirates have to move right?"

The interesting thing about this sentence is that Sanji never mentioned that they were pirates. That means Y/N must have known the entire time. And yet... and yet he was this nice to them showing nothing but kindness. Thats it, he had to have you, at least on the crew.

"Well... we don't have a tailor on our ship yet..." started Sanji hopefully. At this point he didn't care if you couldn't fight he would protect you, he didn't care he has to clear things with Luffy he will threaten to not give him food for a week.

"Oh, Im sorry, I would not be a good pirate, I hate fighting..."

"You don't have to I'll protect you" Y/N smirked a little bit. "I didn't say I couldn't protect myself I just said I hate fighting, lets just say me and fighting have a...problematic past." Y/N was searching for the right words. "You see if I were to be a pirate they would find me and well I do not fancy that" smiled Y/N embarrassed hoping Sanji wouldn't question him further.

"They? Who is they is someone after you?" Sanji was shocked. You, an innocent angel, had a past with fighting? Not to mention someone was after you?

Y/N was contemplating what to do. On one hand he trusted Sanji even though they had just met he took a liking to the blond. But he is risking a great deal if he finds out about his past.

Oh what the hell he has been in hiding till now even if Sanji decides to hold this against him he can just flee.

"Sanji have you heard about Ciper pol?" What? Yes he had he fought them not long ago...where is this going?

"More specifically Cp9?" Oh no, what is Y/N about to say?

"I was part of them" there it is, exactly what Sanji feared. "Im not anymore, I fled, they raised me to be a monster who knows nothing outside of fighting, but thats not me, I hate fighting, I decided to flee not long after an old lady showed me how to sow" a sad smile spread on Y/Ns face. "She thought me in thanks for not killing her family, I was supposed to kill them. Thats why after I stayed with them for a long time and she thought me how to make clothes I ran away and lived in hiding since then"

There it was, out in the open. Now Sanji can run away, make a disgusted face, curse him. These are the reactions he got before this.

But instead Sanji took out a cigarette and lit it up. He took a drag and then said

"My crew just fought Cp9 not long ago" Y/Ns eyes widened 'and they are still alive??' "In fact we declared a war against the government, then won the fight against them." Sanji looked at Y/N who's expression showed absolute shock.

"Listen it doesn't matter how your story begins you had no say in that, your decision afterwards matter. And you fled, you ran away from that horrible life and that was your decision and that shows the person you really are--" before Sanji could finish his sentence Y/N was clinging to him, hugging him with almost unbearable strength, almost. "Thank you..." whispered the slightly shorter male.

He meant thank you for them defeating his past comrades, Sanji knew that. He hugged back. It was a very comfortable hug, Y/N smelled like clean clothes and lavender, just like his shop.

After hugging for a good two minutes Y/N pulled away.

"I'm sorry its just... they deserved it" chuckled Y/N slightly "they needed an ass whopping to get them in the right mind just a little" continued Y/N while taking the cigarette from Sanjis hands and taking a drag. "Fuck I needed that".

Sanji got tomato read. The way Y/N inhaled the deadly chemical and then tilted his had back to blow it out. His adams apple visible and his neck exposed.

"Anyway where is this pirate crew who declared a war on the government? The handsome cook said they needed a tailor I would like to check it out" smiled Y/N kindly again. Sanji got even redder. This is going to be interesting

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WHAAAAA- two posts on one day😗

I told you my next fic is gonna be a Sanji fic😍

I tried to not like this man due to his pervert behavior but I just have to end up falling for him🙃

ANYWAYS I love how this fic turned out I tried to make it longer now, and I successfully did so, Im happy🥳

I hope you guys like it Im sorry for any grammatical mistakes I made if I did please correct me🙏

Well, I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies gentlemen and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖