#clearing out old ask drafts !! hello!!

[castlebyersafterdark]

ugh youre such a dream thank you for such detailed answers! its so appreciated and i feel as fresh as coming into the fandom all hopeful in summer 2022, up for discussing!

re this: '[wills'] sexuality is less explored in regard to the most baseline aspects of being gay. Is it infantilizing because he's our cute sweet little victim? Is it because he has yet to actually pursue his love interest in the narrative? I'm still working on pondering this myself!! Because it isn't at all how I viewed his situation or character.'

would LOVE to hear more thoughts on this, because i too have not figured it out. tbh, the whole party growing up was a hard pill to swallow at first cos its bittersweet, but it never made me deny will's character a coming of age arc or sexuality arc. i was like - welp, its happening, whether im sad or not that theyre no longer babies. infantilisation makes sense though - i even had non-fan friends who watch the show assume that will was a few grades below the other boys, and much younger.

perhaps for many, they can't accept his growing up because it's reflective of change in general, of the show coming to an end, changing? this is narrative the show itself explores, though - beautifully, i might add.

but i would love to know what your original thoughts on will's character and this storyline prior to all this spicy policing were! how did you view his growing up? was a sexuality storyline inevitable for you?

One thing I never fully understood is the general unease or being uncomfortable thinking about members of the party "growing up" and now viewing them in a different light, meaning getting involved in genuine teenage experiences like sex etc etc et al. I guess I just do find that frustrating sometimes when my view is: everyone grows up, we're there. Hit with: "but we saw them as kids! We watched them grow up! It's weird!" But WHY? I want people to explain why. Stupid analogy, but I think of how dumb it would be if my bf saw some home movie of me as a little kid and turned to me to say "well, unfortunately I can't fuck you anymore. Turns out, you were at one point - a child!" 😂 it sounds like that to me though!!!

Yeah we can still see our cute little babies s1 but we can also watch s5 and appreciate the journey, the coming of age. That's what's gonna make stranger things such a cool show, watching the actual journey from childhood to after (didnt Linklater film Boyhood over a decade to capture growing up in real time? Cool idea, never saw it). It's like any child star in the Hollywood industry. Miley was on Disney but then she started her adult career and were people initially odd about it having a pretty sexual angle? Yeah. Then everyone had to get over it. I acknowledge and understand the adjustment period, but it's frustrating in fandom for these boys that at large it's such a hang up. And, they're fictional. I know the irl actors portraying them plays into all this but... still.

(Then we got the M'leave-hers out here wanting Mike and El to get married and start having babies in s5 while we can't even talk about byler having a heated makeout or joke about Mike checking out Will's ass without pitchforks thrown our way. Booo)

As for what I thought for the shows trajectory, I did always hope we'd get an exploration of Will's sexuality as time went on. I really thought that was built into his character from the beginning (and it was and I was right) like it's one of the first things we learn about this little boy, with what Lonnie thought of him ☹️. I always wanted to see what they actually did with that and now it'll be a really, really incredible payoff if he does Get the Boy. I wasn't even really thinking too hard about byler back then but I can't even describe how heartbreaking that little moment when he tells Joyce "I'm not gonna fall in love" is in context, just... it always gets to me. S4 was a game changer and seeing what they were doing with Will and Mike? Hooked me. Decided to actually look into the fandom as something I wanted to engage w beyond just TV and the occasional pretty gifset or funny interview clip I came across on my dash or theories on reddit - shock and awe when eventually I saw how the vocal asshole fans acted. Debates and witch hunts over how far just a kissing scene can go? Sad.

Byler is great, byler is cute and palatable until you acknowledge that gay teenagers feel desire and maybe have sex, woah! People were even weird about aged up fic and art and everything! Still stumped to an extent about it. Our canon gay character (two, actually, just yet to be hmmm canonized lol) gets the sanitized treatment while Steve and Eddie and all their fanon post 7000 E rated fics w little complaint. (Finding out that was actually as popular as it is really shocked me?) I'd celebrate that and care about them more if the differences weren't so annoying. Just because of the age thing. Oh, get over it. Wish I'd taken a stand from the beginning and just did what I wanted without feeling awkward and going with the status quo. Lame. But maybe this is better, so much nicer having complete openness and a relative fresh start.

[k3n-dyll]

♱Sinful Deeds

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; 18+, wlw, fem!reader, lots of religious themes, internalized homophobia, religious guilt, sex in a church, cheating, blasphemy, reader's husband is an ass, dom!Abby, sub!reader, inexperienced!reader (with women), oral(r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), spit, corruption (?)

𝐖𝐂 - 3k

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ Read the content warnings, if it's not your thing just scroll ♡ . Also can't lie, I rushed the end a little I'm sorry I need to clear my drafts.

Priest!Abby who worked hard all her life to get where she is. Under her father's encouragement, she's made a good name for herself within a small community in this town. Despite setbacks, of course. To be ordained a priest, and to be a young woman is to be criticized - she'd known that from the beginning. Many people consider her a fraud. Consider her a disgrace amongst the church. Initially, her ordination damn near started a riot in front of the very chapel she preaches in.

That, she figured, would be the worst of it. The defamatory statements and the nasty rumors spread about her character and her morals; many families that had originally attended the church back when her father ran it either reluctantly accepted her or left the congregation entirely.

She had her days, of course. Where the rude comments and the disrespect nearly got to her. Nearly caused her to drop any semblance of professionalism within her body and let herself get angry. But with her trust in God and her strength of faith - all of the bitterly uttered words about her, the vitriol thrown her way - it slid right off of her like water off of a ducks feathered back.

If you were to ever ask her, she'd say that her real problems began with you. The day you had walked into the chapel in the midst of her sermon which was - ironically enough - pertaining to marriage, and sat down with your husband in the very back pew so as not to disturb anyone with your tardiness. It's almost shameful how vividly she remembers the dress you'd worn that day; a pretty, pale yellow number that stopped just above your ankles. The color combined so beautifully with your skin and brought out your eyes even from her place up front, the pleats of the modest dress flowing around your legs with each quiet step you'd taken. She'd been so tempted to take her speech elsewhere to get a better look at you. Tempted to stray from her stance behind the pulpit just to stare at you up close.

Temptation. The issue you had brought with your presence alone. Abby couldn't blame you, of course, she'd been dealing with these urges since she was a teenager and well...she's not perfect by any means. She's had her fair share of one-night stands and flings - a much looser version of herself that she normally keeps well hidden from the members of her church.

She'd been damn near giddy when she finally got the chance to speak to you once the service was over, only to find herself disappointed again at the way your husband seemed to interject himself into any conversation she attempted to start with you.

"Hello..." She said, a small smile plastered on her lips. Despite the way she had trained herself to speak to every person in the church with a similar, if not the same amount of intrigue and attention, her eyes never once left you as she spoke. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting either of you before?" You nodded, offering a polite smile back to her, but before you could even open your mouth to say something, your husband had piped up, introducing himself first, and then you as his wife.

Over time, Abby began to notice that it's a quite common behavior for your husband - the man often using your learned timidity as an opportunity to speak over you at every turn. And he often gets his way.

She'd seen it before. In the church, it's a tale as old as time; a man on a power trip marries a young woman who's likely been taught how to be a good and 'proper' wife from the moment she was born - quiet, submissive, a pretty doll that he can have on his arm but never actually have to listen to.

Priest!Abby who, after giving her sermons, preaching to others about self-control, and willing themselves against sin - finds herself with her hand stuffed down her boxers late at night in her bed, thick fingers curled deep into her pussy, a small, pink bullet pulsating in the other against her clit, touching herself to the thought of you. You're so sweet, and quiet, and delicate... and breakable. The image of you beneath her naked, writhing and panting underneath her touch is so clear in her mind, the blonde practically whimpering as she cums at the thought of your pretty body being so overwhelmed with pleasure that you shake and twitch at the lightest brush of her fingers.

She figured she'd never have you. As much as she craved it, as much as she wanted to trail her hands along your bare curves, Abby knew well in her mind that you would stay loyal and dedicated to the man you married. Still, the day you come to her alone with the intent to confess, excitement wells up in in her at the potential opportunity.

Saturday afternoons for Abby were generally the same, spending her time sitting on the other side of the partition in the small confession booth and listening to the perceived wrongdoings of those in her congregation. Most of the time she doesn't remember. She doesn't even put in the effort to recognize the voices of those she advises, as figuring out who committed what sin and who didn't isn't really what she's here for, but the moment she hears your voice - that soft, melodic tone of yours that she's fantasized about for weeks on end - she can't seem to help herself.

You aren't used to this kind of thing - it's never gotten this bad to the point where you feel you need to confess...but you can only run from your own mind so much. The silence is deafening as you settle yourself into the booth, and it only serves to make you more nervous. You can hear the subtle sound of Abby's breathing, the rhythmic thumping of your own heart pumping. Shakily, you sign the cross over your body, nipping at the very tip of your thumbnail before you speak.

"Forgive me...for I have sinned" you murmur. "This...this is my first confession."

You speak a lot more than you had originally intended, spilling your guts to the woman on the other side of the screen, the somewhat private setting making it easier for you to let go of everything you'd been suppressing. Abby's almost shocked to hear about your struggles with your urges. Your desires to be with someone that isn't your husband. With someone that isn't even a man in the first place. Years of training herself is the only thing that stops her from showing her irritation at the way you deem these things deeply immoral as well as, selfishly, her elation at the idea that she may have a chance.

Abby is silent for a moment after you finish speaking, letting herself sit with her thoughts, trying and failing not to allow her own greedy desires consume her mind though unbeknownst to her, her quiet only causes the pit of dread in your stomach to swell. It's when she clears her throat that you tense up even more, preparing yourself to be scolded, or worse, kicked out. You've seen it happen before - people shunned and shamed for so much as thinking of the same sex in that way.

"You aren't in any trouble child, calm down." She says finally and you realize you've been tapping your nails rhythmically against the wooden wall. Though she can't see you, you nod and stop, transferring the little assault to your thigh.

Abby knows full well that she should just wrap this up. She should give you something to do - tell you to say a prayer, to beg Christ for mercy on your soul in hopes that these 'immoral' thoughts stop weighing on you, but Abby of all people knows that it doesn't work that way. Not with this.

Before Abby can stop herself, she's already asked you up to her office, shocked by the lack of resistance to her request. Closing the door behind her, she stands, eyeing your frame as you take a seat in front of her desk. She can practically see the anxiety seeping through your pores - the constant tapping at your leg, the shifting in your spot. Without much thought, she walks over and places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently to calm you down.

"This isn't something I typically do." She starts. "I honestly probably shouldn't be doing this right now at all, but I do think we need to talk. No judgment, no barriers, okay?"

You nod but your body is still rigid, the warmth of her large palm on your shoulder is almost enough to send tingles through your body, guilt swarming in your gut at the unconscious reaction.

"I could just send you on your way. I could tell you to repent and beg and plead with God to make you better but..." Abby sighs, removing her hand from your shoulder to stand at her desk, leaning up against it to face you as she tries to think of ways to word what she wants to say. "...I don't want to lie to you."

"Lie to me?" You ask, dumbfounded, to which Abby just chuckles quietly. She knows what the Bible says is law to you, and to hear a priest refute that in any way is likely confusing.

"What I'm saying is: this isn't something that can be prayed away. No matter how badly you may want it to be, it simply isn't."

You shake your head at her words, finding it ridiculous. Or at least you want to, but deep down you know she's right. You've tried praying more than enough times to know that it will end in nothing changing. Still, you're stubborn.

"But my husband. I-I love him"

"Do you?"

"I-" The lie dies in the back of your throat. The fact that you can't bring yourself to answer confidently, or at all for that matter is all the confirmation Abby needs. A beat of silence passes before Abby says anything else, giving you time to sit in your lack of certainty before moving on.

"That's not to say I don't have a...solution in mind" As she speaks, she inches close until she's standing directly in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at her towering frame above your seated one. Your senses suddenly feel foggy, the scent of pine and musk filling your nose, your eyes unable to focus anywhere but on the stretched fabric outlining her biceps and torso. You could swear she wears a uniform that size just to show off. You blink a few times in a failed attempt to snap yourself out of it.

"I thought you said there was no way to fix it"

Abby's eyes darken, a soft chuckle escaping her at your words. "No. It can't be 'fixed', honey. Desires like that don't just go away... but they can be satiated. Temporarily at least." Gently, she catches your chin between her thumb and forefinger to keep you looking at her.

"I'm...I'm married, it wouldn't be right. I can't do that to him.." You start in half-hearted protest, the implication of her words clear. Your eyes shift to the side, though you make no move to pull away.

"He isn't a factor right now. My focus is you" The pad of her thumb lightly grazes against your lower lip. "Look, I won't push you. If that's not something you want to do, I understand, but really, how long do you think you can keep pretending, hm ? How long until you break?"

Your eyes flutter as she leans closer, the sensation of her warm breath on your skin sending shivers through your spine.

"I've been so...good at pretending..." Your voice is little more than a whisper, melting into her touch despite the alarms going off in your mind. You push it back. "I don't think I can do it anymore..."

"Oh, baby I know..."

It's only a split second between the words leaving her mouth and her lips pressing against yours, her strong palms cupping your cheeks. Though her hands are rough to the touch her hold on you is gentle. Reverent, even. Her fingers ghosting along your skin as if you're a precious jewel she's afraid to shatter. It's slow, yet overwhelming - her kisses tracing a path from your lips to your neck, from neck to collarbone. You feel her begin to massage your thighs, kneading them over the fabric of your dress before getting impatient and slipping them just underneath it.

You should be disgusted with yourself. Disgusted with her. With this. But the ungodly, hungry way at which she kisses and nips at your flesh only brings on an excitement within you that feels almost wild. Like something that had been leashed and caged within you was finally let free. You should pray. But instead of clasping together your hands begin to weave into Abby's hair, gripping and tugging at it to keep her close. The priestess whines at the sensation and you swear her knees buckle. That or her will is hanging by an invisible thread because she sinks to her knees in front of you.

"Let me taste you.." She breathes out, her gaze shifting from your face to your thighs, her hands still rubbing at them, slowly inching the skirt of your dress up further.

You think to hesitate but your body may as well be on autopilot, the mere thought of having her head between them enough to slowly pry your legs open without much coaxing. It'd be embarrassing if Abby didn't seem just as desperate as you.

Her hand slips between your thighs the second they're apart, a thick finger trailing along your slit just over your panties, the wet spot that's formed there amusing to her.

"See what I do to you?" She asks, a small, cocky smirk playing at her lips. "He could never get you like this, we both know it"

All you can do is give a pathetic nod and an even more pitiful whine as Abby teases you, her face inching closer until she's nosing your clothed clit, vivid blues unblinking as she takes in your reaction.

"Please, Abby..." You plea needily, voice cracking despite your attempts to sound stable.

She's merciful to you, wasting no time or words in pushing your panties to the side, parting her lips to allow her mouth to water freely, the coolness of her saliva sliding along your slit sending a jolt of electricity through your senses. Her fingers are first, the blonde collecting the slick mixture of spit and arousal to coat the two of the digits and carefully pushing them inside before she flicks her tongue teasingly against your clit.

Maybe you should feel guilt for this - unashamedly allowing a member of the clergy of all people, to defile you in such a way in a holy place. Throwing your head back, clasping your hands against the armrests of your seat, moaning and whining obnoxiously under the corruption of her tongue. Maybe you would feel guilty. If only it didn't feel so fucking good.

A loving deity would not deprive you of this feeling, at least that's how you justify it in your head as you cry out for more, eyes screwed shut as previously suppressed vulgarities spill past your lips.

"Abby, fuck, just like that - please!" Your cries are loud, tone little less than whorish in nature. "F-feels so fucking good, oh God"

Abby chuckles against you at that, but she doesn't speak. While the irony of you calling out for God amuses her somewhat, she can't tease. She can barely bring herself to pull away from you, her mouth and chin covered, glistening with your wetness, fingers ruthlessly sloshing in and out of your fluttering walls. You're like a drug to her in this moment. Something to be desired. Worshipped.

She finds her free hand stuffed down her slacks, her own core throbbing with need as she admires the pornographic image of your body writhing before her. The low vibrations that come from Abby's muffled moans only send you that much closer to the edge. Only that much closer to the release your body has practically been begging for and yet could never receive at the hands of your husband.

When your thighs clamp against her head, her jaw worn and slightly pained, she doesn't let up even a little bit, lapping at you with her tongue as if watching you unravel was critical to her existence. It just might be with how intently she stares up at you, not letting a drop of your cum escape her mouth as you finally let go, fingers still slipping in and out of you in languid motions. Abby's completely disregarded her own need in place of your own, her hand stilled in her boxers, something she only realizes when you begin to calm down.

"You didn't-" You start to question her, pushing golden strands away from her freckled face with your hand when you notice.

"It's okay, baby" She interrupts, her words coming as a pleased murmur. "This wasn't about me"

You shake your head a little, but before you can protest she's pulled you toward her, her pink puffed lips catching your own in a messy kiss, strings of saliva and cum breaking between your mouths with each breath taken. You let it happen for a while. It's oddly...comfortable. A sense of warmth calming your body in a way it hasn't in a long time before this.

As if on cue, a loud, grating tune breaks the illusion. The sound of a phone ringing. Your phone.

The 4 missed calls from your husband stare reality back into you both and utter dread sends that all too familiar chill through your bones once again.

Donations 4 Palestine - TLOU2 Masterlist

Taglist ; @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery , @tohoko, @rkivedpages, @misfits-army-van,

@andersonfilms,

[neochan]

straight out a romance novel (m) – teaser

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➪ bookshop keeper!jaemin x author!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 ➪ meet cute (read:awkward), sunshine x sunshine, strangers to something, love triangle, jealousy, best friends to rivals, found family in a way, smut, fluff, minor angst, including barista!jeno, ice cream shop worker!mark, barista!haechan, day care worker!renjun.

𝐖𝐂 ➪ teaser is 1.1k & fic is 20-25k est.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➪ i've had this idea in the drafts since 2021 when i saw this note on a bookshop door. ever since then, i've been dreaming about telling this story. today i put fingers to keyboard and wrote a little something.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ➪ comment or send an ask!

A brightly-colored yellow paper clings to the door, its message hastily scrawled in ink: "we're open!" beckoning with a number underneath. You reach for the handle, but it refuses to budge, the lock catching you off guard. If they truly were open, why wasn't the door unlocked? You ponder for a moment whether to dial the number, then with a resigned sigh, you retrieve your phone and punch in the digits.

After a brief moment, the phone rings just once before a cheery voice fills your ear.

"Hello, Jaemin speaking."

You hesitated for a moment before responding, your heart fluttering for what seemed like no reason at all.

"Hey. I saw the note on the door. Mind letting me in?" Your voice wavered slightly, "The door is locked."

There's a shuffling on the other end of the line, and then a long slew of slightly muffled curse words.

You can't help but stifle a chuckle at the colorful language. It definitely wasn't what you were expecting from the boy who answered the phone so joyfully.

Moments later, you hear the click of the lock, and the door creaks open. The boy – Jaemin – stands there, phone pressed to his ear, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

"Hello," he says, his voice slightly louder than expected, the proximity causes a feedback loop that makes your ears sting.

You wince at the sudden noise, but the discomfort is overshadowed by the way he jumps nearly ten feet in the air. He fumbles to hang up the call, hands trembling.

"Sorry about that," Jaemin says, his cheeks flushing pink. "I forgot I was still on the phone."

Jaemin stands in the doorway, caught in a moment of stunned admiration as he gazes at you. His eyes trace the gentle curve of your lips, the way sunlight dances in your hair, and the subtle grace in your movements. He sways slightly, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

For a moment, the world seems to slow down as you both stand there looking at each other. It's only when you shift your weight that he realizes he's been staring, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

Just as the silence begins to stretch uncomfortably, you clear your throat, "Um, can I come in?" you ask, voice soft yet filled with a hint of amusement.

The sound of your voice snaps Jaemin out of his reverie, and he blinks, his cheeks reddening even further at his own awkwardness.

"Oh! Yes, of course!" Jaemin steps back hastily, gesturing for you to enter the cozy bookshop.

You offer him a gracious smile as you pass by, feeling a flutter of excitement at the unexpected boyish charm that radiated off him. As you step inside, the scent of old books and ink envelops you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. This was familiar. This was home.

Jaemin shuts the door and follows you inside, his heart still pounding with the exhilaration of your presence. He can't help but steal glances at you as you explore the shelves, his cheeks flushing anew with each fleeting moment of eye contact.

Realizations seem to come slow to him today, because as you pick up a tattered book, avoiding his gaze in the dimly lit aisle, Jaemin becomes acutely aware of how his lingering presence might be perceived as stalkerish. In an attempt to ease the tension, he crosses his arms and leans against the shelf.

"So, what brings you to Seaside Stories?"

You glance up from the worn pages of the book, meeting Jaemin's gaze with a hint of curiosity in your eyes.

"Seaside Stories," you repeat, the name rolling off your tongue as you gesture around the cozy bookstore. "It's a lovely name. Is there a story behind it?"

Jaemin scratches the back of his head again, another sheepish grin gracing his lips. "Yeah, it's, um, the name of the store," he admits, his tone tinged with a touch of embarrassment.

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance towards the entrance. "But the sign outside just says bookstore," you remark.

The boy shifts awkwardly. "Right, about that... I, uh, I haven't gotten around to changing it yet," he confesses.

You can't help but chuckle at his honesty. "Well, Seaside Stories suits it perfectly," you assure him.

"Thanks," he murmurs, his voice bashful. "I'm glad you think so."

You nod, feeling a gentle warmth spreading through the air between you. The moment hangs suspended, the soft rustle of pages and the faint scent of old books enveloping you both in a cocoon of quiet intimacy.

As Jaemin stands, slightly uncomfortable by the wooden shelf that dug into his shoulder, he clears his throat, breaking the silence. "So..." he begins tentatively, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words.

You meet his gaze, "So... what's on your mind?" you prompt, a smirk teasing the corners of your lips.

A faint flush colors Jaemin's cheeks as he gathers his thoughts, his eyes flickering. "You never answered my question... What brings you here today?" he asks.

"Just exploring," you reply with a shrug, "I have a soft spot for bookshops, especially ones with charming yellow notes on the door," you add playfully.

As if his face could get any deeper shade of red, Jaemin's face grows hot again. He nods, excitment lighting up his features. "It's always nice to meet fellow book lovers," he remarks.

"Absolutely."

Another wave of silence passes between the both of you as you continue to fumble through the pages of the tattered book in your hands. The cover depicted what looked like a blue haired pirate aboard a rickety wooden boat. Definitely not what you'd read on a normal day. And absolutely nothing like what you write.

Suddenly aware of the lingering silence for the upteenth time, he attempts to clear his throat, but it comes out in a cackle that sounded like a dying cat. "So, uh, can I help you find anything specific?" he asks, his words stumbling over each other in his eagerness to fill the void.

You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "No, I'm just browsing, thank you."

"Right, of course," he mumbles, his gaze darting nervously around the room. "Well, um, let me know if you need anything. I'll just... be around."

With an awkward half-wave, Jaemin retreats down the aisle, leaving you to explore the shelves in peace. As you watch him go, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

This boy was weird, but in a good way, you think.

Now come to think of it, so was the boy in the coffee shop.

Must be something in the water.

[emotionallyunstableduck]

Hell of a Reunion

Pairing: Nanami kento x Reader/ Nanami Kento x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Blowjobs

a/n: We're sooooooooo backkkk. This has been in my drafts for literally an year now. I'm so happy to come back and write once again. I had a rollercoaster of an year from my drop year to getting into university and adjusting to it. Things feel more calm and I hope to complete all my drafts and my asks/submissions.

Masterlist

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Coming back to jujutsu tech after 7 long years felt like a dream. That was until your little trip down the lane was interrupted by an all too familiar cheerful voice "Y/NNN-chann" the blindfolded sorcerer made his way towards you. "Gojoo" you were equally happy to reunite with your old senior "I missed you people" "aww I missed you too" he chimed back. The two of you continued roaming about the campus grounds when out of nowhere your senior stood still in front of you "did you know that nanami's back". You were quite surprised at this considering how determined your old classmate looked about not returning. "I didn't know that" you replied matter of factly to which gojo snickered "well I'm just glad I get to annoy my juniors again".

Through the shits and giggles, the two of you spot said blonde by the vending machine. It was hard to believe how your old lanky classmate looked after all those years. Damn that puberty really did a number on him.

"Nanamiii" gojo began to call him, and you were in a trance. But goodness that was not the end of your delirium cause the moment he turned around it felt as if all the air your lungs was stolen as you stood still watching it play out. "Gojo. How wonderful. Just when I thought my day was going fine" Nanami spoke you out of your daze. "All in a day's work" Gojo playfully spoke out resulting in some apparent stress on the blonde's face.

His attention soon diverted away from Gojo shifting it towards you.

"Y/N" he seemed somewhat skeptical "Hello Ken" you smile at your former classmate. I was clear from his expression - ones that he always tried to hide- that he was surprised to see you. "It's been awhile ken how are you doing?".

"I've been well Y/N"

"Waahh why am I being ignored here" Gojo interrupted, burst the little bubble you two were in. "Gojo, as you can see, we're just chatting," Kento retorted. "Talking? and you? come on nanamin you are just giving Y/N special treatment". His words truly heated your cheeks up. Was it true? Was kento giving you some kind of special treatment and you weren't even aware of it?

Your thoughts were interrupted when Kento spoke "Stop spewing nonsense Gojo. There is no special treatment in talking to an old classmate" His words definitely cleared the awkward air but it sure left a little sourness in you. Did you want him to give you special treatment? (obviously, who wouldn't).

The rest of the day went by after parting your ways with kento, albeit sadly. You spent the day roaming the grounds meeting up with old acquaintances and Gojo, even took you to introduce you to the students who were delighted to meet you.

Soon, the dawn drew closer, and you were weary from all the socializing. You entered the common kitchen to get yourself a cup of coffee only to find Kento leaning against the counter, sipping on his own. You slowly make your way to the kettle of warm water when his voice breaks the silence.

"I see you've managed to get rid of that menace" his words manage to get a chuckle out of you "he's not so bad" you say to which kento scoffs lightly after which the comfortable silence settles in. It had always been so with kento, even in your high school days.

"Are you free this evening?" Yet again Kento was the one to break the silence and you thank the heavens for you aren't strong enough to do so. "Absolutely- well yeah- yes I am" you fumble out, excitement coursing through at what he might ask next. "I was hoping we can catch up, just the two-" "I'd love that Ken" you buzz interrupting him with a huge grin drawing a faint chuckle out of him.

This led the two of you down the winding hallways of Jujutsu tech as you both took in the sceneries and reminisce days of old in both joy and sorrow. "Kento, would you like to get some dinner later?" You muster up "Y/N are you sure? You've just come back so I don't want to tire you out" Oh how he makes your heart race with mere formality "No Ken I will feel so much better to go get dinner with an old friend" you smile which he gladly reciprocates, an indication of his affirmation.

Your little walk ends you both up at the dorms, specifically the ones where you spent your entire high school in. "Waah, these don't change, do they?" You exclaim already walking towards the one you used to stay in, and fortunately, the door was unlocked, and the room was empty thanks to the sparse number of people who study at Jujutsu Tech. "Yeah, they do keep it the same." kento walks in right behind you.

Moments go by you inspecting and tinkering around. You turn around to see Kento settled on what once upon a time was your bed and that sent bursts of nervousness (and arousal?) through you "You seem comfy" You chuckle trying to ease your own mind "It surprisingly is comfy. Was it the same back when you laid here? " he caught you off-guard with his question. "Yeah, I suppose they were comfy to an extent"

"I remember you being a pretty heavy sleeper Y/N" Kento thinks out causing yet another tide to over turn within you "a pretty sleeper too" He adds stilling you in your steps and freezing your breath and before you could even react, you could feel his presence behind you as a shiver crept up your neck. Your attempt at turning to face him went to vain as he pulled your back against his expansive chest. "Do you mind Y/N? I'm just trying to look at this place through your perspective. " You swore that his voice got deeper like that was even a possibility. "Ken- I-" "Are you uncomfortable?" he asks being as considerate as ever "No Ken, just nervous" you reassure still confused as to what is happening or how it even began though from the looks of it, this confusion seems to be one sided as Kento's hands land on your waist "You know I've got eyes Y/N, eyes that see how you look at me" his words are accompanied by his skilled hand travelling all the way from your waist to the small of your back to your nape where they rest in a firm grip. "I've always looked at you the say way, Ken," your voice came out barely. "Do you finally want to act on those sweet thoughts I see behind your eyes"

He slowly loosens his grip as he walks away towards your bed, leaving you staring at his movements. You watch as he settles down on the mattress, legs spread just enough to make his thighs pop in his beige dress pants. "Don't just stare Y/N, come kneel here"

Those words were enough to knock the wind out of your lungs and before you knew, you were exactly where you were wanted, on the floor, right between his sprawled legs, looking up at him "so good- as always, right dear?" he fiddles his tie out, gently wrapping it around your neck .

"Yes, Ken," you whisper out, delirious and drunk in the moment. After wading through your thoughts for a bit, you manage to speak out "Ken what are we doing?". "What we should have done seven fucking years ago" he says tightening the tie around you causing you to stumble forward from the sudden impact leading you to grab his thighs to get some stability.

"May I?" The next few moments were as if you were on autopilot, the way you leaned forward towards his croach, teeth clashing against the zip as you pulled it down, burrying your nose against his growing bulge. "Shi- Y/N, cut to it my dear" you let his voice guide you, pulling his pants down along with his boxers letting his dick spring out against your lips causing you to whine at how wet you're getting from the scene in front you.

A chain of explicits flew from Kento's mouth as yours placed little kisses against his tip while your hand wrapped themselves around his length. All you could think about was the more than welcome streach that was to come as you quickly wrapped your lips around his dick. You squirm on your knees itching for something, anything as you take his length deeper into your mouth "Oh fuck Y/N- fuck fuck fuck" he guides you with the vice grip he has on the tie acting like your collar. Your head bobs sucking his off, drool and precum dripping down your chin, some of which he picks up before sliding your underwear to the side and smearing in onto your already drenched pussy.

A particularly hoarse groan signals you that he's close "shit darling shouldn't have waited for so fucking long" he says as he pulls you away as opposed to him coming. "Why?" was all you could ask."Not very gentlemanly of me to come first, my dear, " was his reply paired with you being tossed onto the bed.

"My turn" kento croacks out and you thank heavens for this reunion.

────────────────────────────────────────────

a/n: Now that JJK neared its end, I wanna post all the drafts with their messed up timelines. I really wanna write for other fandoms too so suggestions are always appreciated<3

[genacity]

Hi there 🫢

So I just had to write a letter… and I had to put it in an envelope (obvi) and it was one of those envelopes that you have to lick to seal.

Now imagine Scaramouche being ur roommate, and he sees you lick the envelope and his thoughts run WILD

I had to share this cuz idk 💪

🎐anon

nsfw / suggestive scaramouche & the envelope; ANON THIS IS CRAZY WHY ARE YOU SO SMART

i am literally shaking. your last request was so good but this one takes it all 💯 HOW DO YOU THINK OF THESE THINGS

i was thinking of making this an entire fic by itself but i have other drafts i need to clear so you get whatever the hell this may be sorry 😰

you and scaramouche had been roommates for a few months now. he wasn’t the sweetest person in the world; but he payed his share of the bills, had a stable job, and had contributed to the house enough to be able to label him as a decent roommate.

the both of you never seemed to bother each other very often unless it was about the house. maybe the occasional “good morning” or “see you later”, but other than casualties, you never seemed to speak much.

maybe that was why you didn’t expect today to be so different than the rest. today, you had to head down to the post office to send a thank you letter to one of your family members. you had just graduated college recently and since they had send flowers and some money to “treat yourself” (you knew it would just go towards taxes anyways), you concluded that it would be basic courtesy to send a card back at the least.

you stood over the kitchen counter writing out the last of your letter to your extended family. your wrist ached with fatigue as you signed your name next to the love at the bottom of the card and put the pen aside, reaching over to the envelope you had put next to you.

scaramouche walked into the kitchen past you to slide a mug under and press a few buttons on the coffee maker. “what are you doing?” he had asked, the buzzing of the machine behind him making you lick your teeth to hold back the outward cringe. ‘that coffee maker must be old,’ you thought. ‘we should buy a new one soon.’

“just writing a letter.” you said flatly, picking up the envelope and turning to face scaramouche to engage in small talk.

scaramouche raised his eyebrows. “to who?” he inquired. you blinked and looked around for a moment; never had he held a conversation out with you for this long. this was definitely a first. “just some family that came to my graduation.” you murmured, lips occupied as you brought the envelope in your hands to your tongue to lick the seal.

you stuck your tongue out to glide it across the sticky part at the top, the taste of plastic lingering as you wet the seal. your eyes were too focused on the envelope to assure you didn’t cut your tongue (it’s happened before) that you didn’t notice the growing expression on your roommate’s face.

scaramouche’s eyes widened at the sight of your long tongue extending from your lips, carefully licking the adhesive and sealing the letter shut. his lips parted slightly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as his grip against the counter behind him hardened.

he could only stare, frozen in place as you finished the letter off with your stamps of choice and signing the address on the front. you said something to him, but he couldn’t hear you; the only thought in his mind your tongue and what it could do to him.

wait— what? what the hell was he thinking? you were his roommate; just some lowlife he shared an apartment with. but as much as he bashed himself internally, the image of you bending him over this counter right now, using that careful tongue of yours to please him was all he could see. vision foggy as his lips pressed themselves into a line, the sound of the coffee machine behind beeping snapped him out of his thoughts.

“scaramouche, hello? have you seen my—” “no!” he snapped, snatching the mug from the machine and rushing off to his room. your eyes trailed him confusedly. what was wrong with him? matter of fact, what was wrong with you?

you watched him rush away, eyes falling to the evident bulge in his pants before he slammed the door of his bedroom.

[stsgluver]

synopsis. gojo satoru always wins.

wc. 880

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, spoilers for 236, possible spelling mistakes I have not proofread this (do I ever?)

a/n. currently clearing out all my old wips. i've already written this in a different version I think but idc bc if i write about him coming home enough times he will eventually do it. my next few works are probs going to be my rich boy!gojo drafts

there was a brief moment when the world stilled. the air was squeezed from your lungs as everything around you slowly began to spin and you weren’t sure the last time you had slept – had it been that long that the hallucinations were finally starting to kick in?

“oh my god.” those were the only words you could utter in your state of disbelief. you couldn’t close your eyes: you couldn’t risk him disappearing. if you were brave enough, you’d reach out to trace the new scars carved into his porcelain skin.

“you can’t say that, you know how my ego is,” gojo looked as gorgeous as ever, arm raised as he leant against the doorframe of his apartment. the same apartment you’d set up camp in nineteen days ago and had only left when yuuji brought you some food. you’d lost too much to process and you were a shell of the person gojo had kissed goodbye to before he left for shibuya. there were deep purple bags under your eyes, your hair was loosely tied back in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been properly washed or brushed in several days and your clothes were probably just gojo’s – you’d been desperate for some sense of familiarity. 

he looked like he hadn’t just been sealed away in another realm. the only evidence of a struggle were his new scars that seemed to decorate every inch of available skin, beyond that he looked excited to be alive, his fitted clothes clinging to him. his cursed energy was terrifyingly immense and you knew him well enough to know he was still riding off of a high that came with fighting for him. 

you were scared to ask who had been the opponent – never would the world’s strongest sorcerer be injured and not cause equal amounts of harm in return. he had a title to uphold after all, something to prove.

“not even a hello?” he shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he tsked you. he was so casual in his mannerisms, playing it all off as though he hadn’t spent what felt like an eternity counting down the seconds so that he could see you again. “you can’t have forgotten me that quickly.” he was practically whining now, desperate for the love and warmth you gave him but not daring to cross the threshold and smother you. 

you weren’t a sorcerer and though you understood some of his world, there was so much more that you didn’t. gojo would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared that one day it would be too overwhelming for you and you’d leave him like everyone else had. 

so he did what he did best: masked his insecurities with a sarcastic humour that held no bite: “don’t tell me there’s another man in the house.”

you smiled, and blinked, and you were suddenly here again; in the moment with him and not a thousand miles away wondering what the hell he’d been through. a lone tear slipped down your cheek and gojo ached to wipe it away.

“are you… are you real?” your voice was still shaky and if it wasn’t for the complete silence, you doubted that he would’ve been able to hear you. 

but he did, and then his arm is up against the doorframe again and he was gesturing to his physique as he complimented himself, “super powerful, mega rich and dashingly handsome? i know how perfect i may seem but i’m very real.” he winked and suddenly it was like you remembered that you have free will, practically jumping into his arms.

gojo wasn’t phased as he tucked you tightly into his body, his cursed technique completely dropped for the first time in what felt like forever. his body breathed a sigh of relief as his muscles ached.

“you’re such a jackass,” you lifted up your head to rest against his chest, eyes shining with tears that didn't fall.

gojo nodded slowly, brushing back the loose strands of your hair as he stared at you adoringly, “you love me.”

“mhmm,” you hummed, taking a step back from his longing arms to look up at him through your lashes. “y’know,” you traced a finger across the material on his chest, “you could make it up to me by closing your eyes.” his breath hitched ever so slightly under your touch. you leant in so that your lips almost touched his ear, “i need to kick my boytoy out. things could get kinda awkward if you two saw each other.”

it would be easier to list the things gojo wouldn’t do for you. he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, even going as far as to hold a hand over them. “how pretty is he on a scale of 1-10?”

there was a pause before you responded, as you took in every inch of the man that stood before you. a god in a mortal’s body. one that lived and breathed and worshipped you. “he’s gorgeous,” you whispered, breathless simply from his existence alone. and then he’s smiling and laughing and picking you up, spinning you in a circle and telling you how much he loves you and for a few brief seconds he’s just satoru and you’re just his.

[flor4de4amor]

thinking about how when aviator!abby gets home from base she asks you to unbraid her hair and play with it

Aviator!abby brainrot

so i got a bit ahead of myself writing for this... n changed the prompt a little to washing avi!abby's hair cause i love her + my love language is acts of service.

just a reminder for everyone reading, these aviator!abby writings are the last of the au as i'm clearing out drafts plz enjoy!

click for palestine | boycott tlou | read b4 engaging w me

warnings: casual nudity, abby's an annoying freak - per the usual.

abby’s hair is a tousled mess. she most likely undid her braid in the privacy of your shared garage, once parked after her long work day. her face is tense and you can see her body is rigid. it’s been a long day for her. she’s pressing your face with wet kisses, slaughtering your face with appreciation in the front doorway. “hi baby,” you mumble into her neck.

“hello,” she whispers back to you. exhaustion is evident in her voice. you know exactly what she needs.

running your fingers through her messy hair she groans, “want me to wash your hair up?” you offer while twirling your fingers around her soft wavy ends, a result of her tight braid.

“mm,” she groans back appreciatively, which you take for a yes. 

“you’re lucky i speak your secret little language of grunts,” you tell her softly. she pinches your backside in retaliation. you groan and laugh all at once. “be nice to me or else i’m not gonna run your bath,” you threaten without meaning. 

“sorry,” she mutters into your neck. her weight is heavy on top of your body as she clings to your flesh. her hands come underneath your sleep shirt, running up and down your spine. her way of apologizing silently. you separate, and abby sprawls out on the couch while you run the bath for her.

she sneaks up on you silently. while you’re bent over, vunerably, sticking your index finger in the running water, checking how hot it is. she snaps her hips into yours while your knees are dug into the bathroom tile. she pretends to fuck you mercilessly, and soft giggles escape her mouth.

you gasp at her actions, “abigail!” you laugh. “here i am rushing to take care of you, and you molest me.” you tease. your neck craning to look back at her.  

her face is red with excitement and a smile prominent on her lips. she shrugs her shoulders, “couldn’t help myself, your ass is so cute,” her hand reaches down to pinch your left cheek, as your underwear peeks out from underneath your sleep shirt.  you jump upright, laughing at her actions. 

“you’re agitating me,” you sigh though your smile is peering through your lips. you turn around to face her, a playful glare rest on your face. all a facade, it’s near impossible to stay mad with abby.

“sorry,” she mutters again, her hands touching the back of your neck. her thumb rubbing slow circles on the base of your skull with care. you know she’s not really sorry.

“all these sorry, sorry, sorries, full of shit.” you sigh as her warm hands comfort your neck. “just take your clothes off and get in the bath babe,” you command gently.

“kinky,” she mutters with a sly smile.

“abigail,” you roll your eyes at her, taking your time to unbutton her uniform top, as she stalls. her hands reach to undo her khakis, the checkered print of her boy shorts poking through the undone zipper. 

“mrs. anderson,” she replies with that stupid voice of hers. she’s down to her sports bra, which she quickly discards, and her boy shorts, which she’s more than happy to rip off. her toned body on display alongside her messy hair, you can’t help but take a minute to admire her and her confidence.

“into the bath please,” you command of her once more. she slides in, with ease.

“you’re so bossy today.” you smile and scoff. her legs soak in the water and her lean back is pressed against the cold ceramic of the tub, facing you. her blonde waves covering her shoulder blades.

“you complain too much, remember who’s gonna take care of you when you get old.” you remark, and grab the shower cup from the edge of the tub. 

“can’t help myself babe,” she muses with her eyes closed in relaxation.

 you fill the cup up with the running faucet water, “pass me the shampoo abby,” you tell her while sitting the cup next to you. you sit on top of a step stool, matching your squatting heigh to abby’s sitting height, which still carries a few inches over you. she opens her eyes and hands you the mint scented shampoo. you crack open the plastic container, squirt some into your hands, and place the soap unto your wife’s scalp. she sighs at the cooling sensation, but moans in satisfaction once you begin scrubbing her scalp. your nails scratching away any impurities that lay on her pretty little head, suds building on top of her blonde hair. you rinse the soap out with the plastic cup besides you, brushing her long locks when finished. “pass me the conditioner now, yeah?”

she obliges, passing the container. “thank you, love.” she turns head around, kissing you softly.

“well someone’s gotta take care of you yeah?” you smile against her lips.

“and i’m glad it’s you,” she kisses you once more.

you lather the conditioner in her long hair, sloppily braiding it so it gets out of her way. “rise off, yeah?” you urge her, knowing that she likes to shower without help.

you groan getting up from the stool, watching as she lifts the lever, turning the shower on, wincing slightly as the hot water hits her chest. you sit on the lidded toilet, observing while she scrubs herself with pine soap. she always smells like a christmas tree. she nods at you once finished, “come rinse my hair out please?” she practically begs. 

“you’re just a spoiled little princess,” you smile at her freckled face and blue eyes. but you oblige, getting up anyway. 

“you’ve made me this way,” abby replies and sits back down once more. you scoff and use the cup to wash the conditioner off her hair. brushing out the soft lather with your fingers delicately. once you’ve finished up, your wife steps out the shower, and you wrap a towel around her. water dripping from her hairline to her forehead. “you gonna braid my hair for work tomorrow?” abby asks, throwing in some puppy dog eyes. 

you sigh, “i can’t say no when you ask like that.”

abby pumps her fist in victory, “love you so much baby.” she kisses your cheeks relentlessly. 

“shut up anderson, you’re getting me all wet,” she almost cuts you off to make a dirty joke before you click your tongue at her, silencing her quickly. “go get dressed so i can pamper you some more.”

“sure thing baby.” she paddles out the bathroom and rushes into your bedroom, eager for more of your caring touch.

[ifancyharry]

Close as strangers

Harry hurried down the hallway all the way to his room, sliding the key card against the key-reader, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his palms pressed against it.

He quickly removed his shoes, tossing them near the door, before plopping down on the hotel bed, his back against the headboard.

He fished out of his skinny jeans his phone, grimacing at the screen that read 3 missed calls from ‘Angel <3’.

He sighed as he unlocked it, typing hurriedly the number he knew by heart on the keyboard, and putting it on speaker, too tired to hold the phone to his shoulder for the call.

He waited for her to pick up as he listened to the incessant ringing of the line.

“Pick up, pick up” he whispered, biting at the skin of his thumb to suppress his sighs.

He knew he was late. And he felt like he could only imagine the disappointment YN felt when he didn’t answer her call.

He and YN had picked out a specific time throughout the day where the both of them had to be available. No matter what the other was doing, at 7 o’clock they had to answer the phone, which was a pretty understandable rule, and Harry had found it easy to comply to it at first, excusing himself to take a call or getting covered by his band mates if he couldn’t make up an excuse quickly enough. But with time, his schedule had gotten really busy.

And he sometimes missed her calls.

He wasn’t the fresh out of XFactor sixteen year old he’d been when they first started dating. He was Harry from One Direction now, and despite him feeling as the same shy guy that worked in a bakery, life around him had changed, and with it, his relationship.

He knew how she was; he knew she wasn’t answering because she was upset. And Harry really didn’t blame her, but he just didn’t find it reasonable to be upset (“stubborn little thing! — he’d say, once she had calmed down and answered the phone — It doesn’t benefit neither of us if you don’t pick up ‘cause you’re mad!”).

He rolled his eyes once the line went dead, and opened the text app instead, typing quickly with his fingers.

Baby pick up I wanna talk to you

After a couple of minutes, he wrote again: please

I miss you

And after that, he tried the line once again. This time, she picked up after five rings with a small “hello?”, her voice sounded croaky distorted from the phone.

“Hello angel. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

“It’s okay”, and Harry felt her sigh through the phone, “i was thinking we should push back the calls until you’re back…”

“What?”

“I know you’re pretty busy,” she said, sternly, “and I don’t want to bother you.”

“What?” Harry repeated, and once he realized he already asked that, he cleared his voice and said: “you could never be a bother”.

YN couldn’t see him but she knew he was shaking his head. She tried not to picture the frown in his brows and the pout in his face, otherwise she couldn’t possibly keep going.

“Things are different now—”

“No.” He cut her off, “don’t say that, angel. Nothing’s changed. It’s still us.”

“Harry” she softened her tone to make sure he really understood her, “it’s still us. — she nodded firmly to herself — I think it’s best if we stick to texting for now. It’s okay.”

“Okay… okay, if that’s - if that’s what you want. Okay.”

“It’s better this way” she sighed once again and Harry felt her breathing through the phone, her shaky breath loud in his ears as if it were his own.

“But we’re good, right? Tell me we’re good.”

“Yes, of course we’re good.”

Harry nodded, staying quiet as the words she’d just spoken lingered in the air between them. Despite being so far away he could almost feel her right next to him as she kept talking, unaware of the heavy weight he felt on his chest making it a little harder to breathe, the sudden realization that maybe they weren’t good after all.

Hi lovelies!!! I was cleaning my drafts and I saw this thing I wrote ages ago, based on Close as strangers by 5sos. Lmk if it’s something you’d like to read and I will publish the whole thing!

[thelov3lybookworm]

To Love and Cakes

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a flower and gardening tools shop's owner in Velaris. When he gets sick, y/n makes her father take some rest and looks after the small shop herself. But she is new to all this as her father never let her work a day in her life.

One day, as she's looking after the shop, a red haired high fae comes looking for gardening gloves as a gift to someone. Y/n helps him, and learns that he is a frequent customer.

Due to his frequent visits, they soon develop a bond. More than friends, but not lovers.

Yet.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: i dont think there are any but still, here we go. elain being a sour and jealous mate even though she's been sailing on the elriel ship, a few curse words and all. Can't think of anything else, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: this thing has been in my draft for faxing months. This is, to me, the best work of mine. This is my baby. I LOVED writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

(ps. even if youre not a lucien girlie, try reading it. i have a secret agenda to make every one of you creatures a lucien simp, just like im trying to make @artists-ally a lucien simp)

(also, the scene towards the end where reader is dancing was inspired by one of the fbaa books, if it seemed familiar or you were wondering)

t'is a long one children, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

As Y/n finished walking around the store, cleaning, she thought back to the morning two days ago.

She had just woken up and was walking towards her father's kitchen for breakfast when she heard it. A cough. She quickened her pace, entering the kitchen to find her father bent over, his body heaving from the coughs.

She rushed to him, helping him to the nearest chair. When she bought him some water, he smiled up at her gratefully.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest, father? Why won't you let me help you?"

"I might be getting old, but not that old that I need to rely on my daughter to help me earn. Unless you are trying to steal my shop?"

"Father!" She said, exasperated, even though she knew he was just saying that to irritate her. "You are staying home till you get better. I'll take care of the shop."

"But you don't know anything about it." At the glare she gave him, he finally conceded. "Let me help for today atleast. Show you how to handle it. I promise I'll rest."

She had come to visit and stay with her father for some days, having just quit her previous job, searching for a new one. They were well off, the house that Y/n lived in owned by her. She had wanted to see if her father needed any help around. Which he didn't. He wasn't very old and ill by any means, he just didn't know when to stop. That's why she had already made her father agree to closing the store earlier and taking the weekends off.

As Y/n put away the cleaning equipment in the back of the store, the bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. As she hurried to the front desk, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful male that was waiting from behind a shelf.

He had dark crimson hair cascading over his shoulder that looked like fire, with one russet eye and one that was a golden metal one, which was whirring. A scar marred the skin surrounding that eye and trailed to his jaw.

Y/n quickly averted her gaze when she realised she was staring. He hadn't yet noticed her though, looking around the shop. She stepped out from behind the shelf and cleared her throat.

He turned to her at once, giving her a warm smile.

"Hello. How can I help you today?" She asked with a small smile.

"I'm looking for enchanted gardening gloves."

She wracked her brain for the location of said gloves before perking up. "Right this way." As she led the way, he followed a respectful distance away. To fill the silence, she spoke up. "Are you from Night Court? You don't seem like you're from here."

"Yes. I'm from... Autumn Court." His hesitation was evident, and Y/n didn't push.

"Here we are." She said, stopping in front of the gloves stacked neatly on a shelf. She left him alone when he nodded.

She began sorting out her desk, her father's, really, which was near the entrance to the shop.

By the time she finished, the male was done with his browsing and bought out the gloves to the desk to pay for them. The whole ordeal went silently and quickly. With a word of thanks and a 'good day', he was on his way.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He stared at her. His mate.

He wondered if, under other circumstances, she would have not despised him. Could she have ever loved him the way others loved their mates? Would the two of them be together if there was no cruelty in this world?

He answered those himself.

The first one? Probably.

The second one? Maybe.

The third one? No.

Because, if there was no cruelty in this world, his love, one his father had killed, would not be dead. Jesminda would be alive still. And if she was alive, he wouldn't care for anything, even his own mate.

And maybe that made him an asshole, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he stared at Elain smiling at the Shadowsinger from the corner of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the gift he'd bought for her. It was enchanted gardening gloves so her hands wouldn't get cut. Of course, the present had been discarded in a corner, unopened. It wasn't as if she didn't notice the gift. No, he had seen her look at it before placing it aside from her other gifts.

He'd seen her do that, and his heart had been pierced by an arrow. At least it felt like it.

As he stared at the gift, his mind drifted to the shop where he had bought it from. The shop run by the female. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She hadn't even said much, but she had simply caught his attention.

He blinked when a loud laugh interrupted his thoughts, looking at the inner circle sitting in the center of the room and having the time of their lives, while he sat in the darkest corner he could find. He knew he didn't fit in here, and that most of them didnt trust or like him.

He didn't know why he had accepted Feyre's invitation to stay for the night when he knew he'd be miserable.

He had thought that maybe, just maybe, they would include him in their fun. At least for one night.

He felt so dumb now.

After a little bit of contemplation, he decided it best if he left. No one was going to miss him anyways.

Quietly, he downed the whiskey in his glass, then rolled onto his feet. He set the glass on a nearby table, then turned towards the door. He walked towards it, his boots making no noise.

As he exited the room, there was no sign of the festivities slowing down. None. He removed his coat from the nearby hook, donning it as he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

It wasn't until Lucien was out of the house that the sounds faltered for a brief moment, but then the laughter started back again, and Lucien sighed, his breath misting in front of him. He stared at the little cloud of fog in front of his face.

He didn't want to go home– if it could even be called that– not yet. The night was still young. Maybe he would go on a little walk around Velaris before he returned to the mortal lands.

He started the trek across the city, walking slowly, letting his mind wander, his eyes seeing everything but taking nothing in. It was like a waste of time, looking at the beauty but not caring enough to appreciate it.

He sighed, making his way through the vibrant market place. The children running around the place, candies in their hand, adults lingering around the place with their lovers and families truly added to the beauty of the festival.

But Lucien's eyes were unseeing, his heart unfeeling as he avoided the running and giggling children.

Someone slammed into Lucien from somewhere near him, and that finally broke him out of the haze that he'd been in.

He glanced at the fae leaning against him, trying to gain her footing in the crowded area.

"I am so sorry. I got pushed–" The female looked up at him, finally stable on her feet. She cocked her head, a smile spreading on her lips. "Oh. It's you."

He returned the smile, somehow easier than it should have been considering the foul mood he'd been. "It's me. I don't think I caught your name this morning."

The lady from the gardening shop grinned, her cheeks rosy, glowing with happiness. "Y/n."

"Lucien." He mumbled, studying her. She nodded, holding out her hand. He took it.

Then they stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out what to say. "Um... enjoying solstice?"

"Yeah." She returned, a relieved expression on her face. "Just left the house after dinner. My father said he's going out with some friends, so I decided to head out for some desserts. You?"

"Not really..." That was not the right answer, but Lucien was struggling to put on his mask of indifference.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you alone?"

He smiled ruefully as he looked away. "Very."

After a moment of silence, the lady spoke up again. "What are your thoughts on some cake? Pie? Or maybe cookies?"

Lucien blinked, then glanced at her. "What?"

She grinned, turning away and gesturing with her hand to follow her. Seeing that he had no other reason to haunt the streets of Velaris, he followed her.

She weaved in and out of the crowd, walking with purpose towards her destination. She stumbled sometimes, due to being pushed around by the crowd, but mostly by herself. She seemed to have a problem walking without tripping.

She tripped again, so bad that Lucien had to catch her elbow to stop her from faceplanting. She grinned up at him sheepishly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Are you... drunk?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't drink. It's taste is disgusting."

A small smirk made is way into Lucien's face, but he simply nodded at her to keep going. She continued on.

Soon, she was walking into a brightly lit shop, cakes and various baked goods displayed through the glass.

"This is my favourite place for sweets and baked items. It's really good."

She went to open the door, but Lucien stretched out his hand and held it for her. She blinked at him before smiling and stepping in to the warm interior.

"Hello." She greeted the kind looking old lady behing the counter, who smiled widely.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good. How about yourself?" Y/n replied.

"I'm good, I'm good. Just these joints creaking a little extra nowadays."

Y/n grinned fondly. "Maybe you should just get some rest, you old hag."

"Oh shut it. I will rest once I know I have succeded in convincing you to get a partner. Mother knows how lonely you must be."

"I'm not lonely, you old hag. As long as I have you and father, I will never be alone."

"Yeah yeah whatever." Then the old female seemed to notice Lucien, and her eyes lit up. "Are you finally seeing someone?"

Y/n blinked, then glanced at Lucien. Her lips parted, then a flush climbed up her neck. She furiously shook her head, and the old lady sighed.

"Well, hope I'm not dead when you finally decide to interact with others." The female bustled away as other people walked upto the counter to place their order.

Y/n turned to Lucien, her face red, and she gestured to the display of sweets. He grinned when she turned away again. "Choose what you would like to try. I always go for pineapple, but chocolate is also good."

Lucien dipped his head in a nod when she glanced at him to make sure he understood her, and then the two of them went on to get their cakes.

As they were about to leave the shop, the owner of the shop called to him. "Psst. Hey! You!"

When Lucien glanced up questioningly, the lady Y/n had been talking to motioned at him to come closer. He inched towards the counter behind which the lady stood as Y/n talked to another one of the workers.

"What are your intentions for her?" The lady hissed at Lucien as soon as she was sure no one could hear her.

Lucien blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Don't you dare even think of hurting her. Males have hurt her enough. She is a pure soul, and if you hurt her, then I will carve your eyes out with a spoon. You hear me young man?"

Lucien nodded, dumbfounded. Thank the cauldron though, Y/n decided that moment to walk up to the two of them.

The old lady smiled at her, and then shooed Y/n and Lucien away. Y/n rolled her eyes and led Lucien out of the shop.

She crossed the road and settled onto one of the many benches overlooking the Sidra. She patted the place next to her and he obliged, studying her.

"What were you and the old hag talking about?"

"Nothing..."

Y/n raised a brow but stayed silent as she dug into the treat in her hands.

The two of them sat in silence as they ate, staring at the waters of the Sidra.

Unfortunately, soon enough the two of them were done eating, and Y/n turned to Lucien. She smiled. "Did you like the cake?"

Lucien gave her a smile. A genuine one, one that felt like he hadn't smiled in centuries. He probably hadn't.

"I did. Thank you for making my solstice better."

"I enjoyed the time too, no need to thank me."

And then the two of them parted ways, Lucien thanking her again and her telling him not to worry about it.

Lucien watched her until she had vanished between the crowd, then he turned and decided to walk to secluded place before he winnowed back to human lands.

A soft breeze caressed his face, and he closed his eyes, savoring the cool touch. His mind drifted back to Y/n.

He smiled softly, opening his eyes and leaning his head back, staring at the stars twinkling down at him, as if they were winking.

Maybe... just maybe, not all fae were miserable and hateful.

Maybe there was someone out there, like Y/n, who would not hate him for simply existing.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Y/n only had one thought in her mind, and that was to hurry up.

She had been out in the market, getting the things she needed according to the cooking book she had recently bought.

She had decided to surprise her best friend since childhood with a home baked cake, and hence the rush to get home and start the preparations.

The catch?

Y/n was shit at baking.

The few times she had tried to bake, she had either ended with something that was too hard to even be called a rock, or with something that vaguely resembled... puke.

Even thinking about it sent shivers up Y/n's spine.

But back then she hadn't used a cookbook's instruction, she tried to reason with the sane part of her brain, the one that knew this was a bad idea.

Hurry up-

And she smacked into a wall. A very warm wall.

All her bags slipped from her hands and onto the ground as she stumbled back, barely keeping herself from falling onto her ass.

She lifted her head to apologise to whoever she had crashed onto when her eyes met russet and gold. Lucien.

She paused as she watched him cock his head, a little smile spreading on his features.

"I seem to notice a pattern, Y/n."

She lifted an eyebrow as she bent to gather her stuff. He followed. "What pattern?"

She tried to shoo him off by waving her hands, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. "You are always crashing into me. That sounds like a pattern to me."

She scowled, knowing that if her father or any of her friends saw her, they would yell at her for being disrespectful to someone who was helping her.

He grinned, glancing at her as he stood, most of her bags in his hands.

"Do you need any help carrying these?" He questioned when she climbed to her feet too, and she blinked.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'll carry them myself. I don't want to bother you."

"I insist. And it's really not a bother. I have nothing else to do. These are really heavy, let me help."

"You really don't have anything else to do?"

He smiled triumphantly, as if he knew he had won. "I don't."

She sighed. "Fine then. My house is nearby. Thank you vey much."

He shook his head, that smile still on his face. "No worries."

She led him to her house, a peaceful silence between the two.

It wasn't long before they reached her house, and she turned to him, keys in her hand.

"Please come in. Let me make you some tea." That was the least she could do for him.

"Oh no, that is unnecessary, I don't want to bother you. It was my pleasure to help."

"I insist. And it really is not a bother." She smirked, throwing his words back at him.

He shook his head, grinning. "Fine."

She let the two of them in, setting about to get some tea ready. "So, may I ask what you are going to with these?"

When Y/n turned to look at him, he gestured at the bags he set on the counter.

"Because from what I saw outside, these things are usually used for baking."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah. It's my friends birthday today. I was thinking of making her a cake."

"That's great. Do you bake often?"

Her smile now turned sheepish. "No. I tried a couple of times, back when I was younger," -six months ago- "and I damn near brought down the whole kitchen once."

Lucien chuckled. "So now you think you can do it properly?"

She picked up the cookbook nearby and waved it at him. "I will follow instructions this time."

Judging by the amusement in his eyes, she thought he would laugh, but he didn't. He simply extended his hand towards her and asked, "Can I have a look?"

She handed it to him, turning to check on the tea she was brewing.

The sound of the pages being flipped were the only sounds other than her pouring the liquid into cups for the two of them.

When she turned back around, she found him staring intensely at the book, his brows furrowed, a downward tilt to his mouth. She tried to make no noise as she set down the cup in front of him, hoping to not disturb his concentration.

But he glanced up at her, frowning. "This won't work. This is too complicated."

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his eyes and words. "What do you mean?"

He closed the book, setting it aside as he pulled the cup of tea towards him. "Baking is simpler than whatever bullshit is given in there."

"You know how to bake?"

"I helped my mother when I was younger."

"And exactly how many years ago was that?"

His eyes narrowed. "How many years since you baked anything?"

That made Y/n shut up.

She sighed ruefully. "Maybe I'm just not supposed to bake."

Lucien shook his head. "I can help."

She glanced at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything else to do anyways. I can help you bake the cake."

"I don't want to bother-"

"Its not a bother. I would love to help."

Y/n smiled behind her cup as she took a sip of her tea, a warmth spreading through her chest.

"Thank you. I appreciate the gesture." Then, she looked at the redhead for a moment longer before turning away. "And you know what? I am noticing a pattern too."

•○🌑○•

After a day filled with trying to decide on the flavour for the cake, the decorations, making the cake and laughter, it was finally time to sleep.

The party had been perfect, so many memories made, and so many things she could think about.

But no matter what, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about him.

She didn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so thoroughly around a male, let alone one she knew nothing about.

And as she went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how his eyes twinkled in amusement when she had dropped an egg on the ground- huffing and puffing- she failed to keep that smile off of her face.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien's pov.

After the day filled with helping her bake, correcting anything she had been doing wrong and watching as happiness spread across her face when the cake came out almost nearly perfect, it was finally time to sleep.

The day had been perfect, a reprieve from the constant ugly thoughts Lucien had about himself. Memories had been made, though unexpected.

But no matter what, Lucien could not stop thinking about her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so thoroughly around someone, let alone someone he barely knew anything about.

And as he went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how she had jumped around and squealed in excitement- so much so that she had nearly burnt herself by the hot pan- Lucien failed to keep that smile off of his face.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Soon enough, Y/n learned that the handsome male with the metal eye, Lucien, was the Lucien Vanserra. The youngest son of the High Lord of Autumn Court.

He frequented the shop after that day they spent baking, him and Y/n becoming fast friends. He'd told her that he lived in the human lands with his friends, Jurian and Vassa.

Recently, she had learned that this Jurian he was friends with was the Jurian from the war centuries ago, the powerful human commander, remade by the Cauldron.

Expect Lucien to surprise a four hundred year old fae who thought she could not be surprised about anything anymore.

Y/n shook her head with an exasperated grin, finishing braiding her hair. She had spent the whole afternoon wondering what hairstyle would look good with her dress for her meeting with Lucien, eventually settling for a simple braid. Few strands framed her face, and she thought it looked better than any elaborate hairstyle she could have done.

Even after six months of being friends with him, he never failed to shock her by telling her things about himself.

He had sent a letter in advance that he would be visiting today, and he wanted to meet with her in their favourite cafe before reporting to the High Lord.

She had, of course, agreed. He was the only friend she had other than the female she had baked for, what with her being cooped up in her home with a book in hand when she wasn't working in the nearby jewellery store.

A knock sounded on the door, and Y/n practically flew down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm her heart before opening the door.

There he stood in all his glory, smiling at her. The fading sunshine made his hair look on fire, his skin glowing.

"My lady. You look quite...dishevelled." He murmured, his eye twinkling. Y/n frowned, lifting her hand to her hair. It had looked good when she checked it in the mirror. Maybe the braid didn't look as good as she thought it did. In which case, she wanted to go and jump off a cliff.

Before her hand could touch her hair though, Lucien caught it, grinning and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact. Y/n blushed.

"When I said dishevelled, I meant you look like you've run a mile. That looks exquisite." He said, straightening and flicking her forehead. "You look exquisite."

"Shut up." She mumbled, shoving his shoulder and stepping out, turning to lock the door. When she had finished, she turned to find him leaning against a pillar of the front porch. He smiled and inclined his head towards the road.

They walked towards the cafe, talking about his past days in the human lands and her job at the jewellery store. How she didn't really care for it and was thinking of taking up something else.

They soon reached the cafe which stood right on the banks of the Sidra and had outdoor seating as well in the backyard, right next to the river. As they settled down in their usual seat in a corner right next to the river, her eyes sharpened on the paper stuck on a nearby wall.

"Hey Lucien? Do you see that?" Y/n questioned, making Lucien glance back at it.

"Yeah. Looks like they're hiring." Lucien's eye lit up as he turned back to her. "You should try." She nodded enthusiastically.

Soon, they finished their food and Lucien was waiting to pay, having insisted on paying while Y/n talked to the hotel's owner. She was quite happy Y/n said she wanted to work there. They finally settled on her starting in two days.

After that, as they were walking home, the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes reached them. Y/n grinned at Lucien who took her arm and walked towards the stand where an old lady was selling small round cakes that were the size of Y/n's palm. They made idle conversation with her while she handed them their treats.

"You two make a good couple. Are you mates?" She asked as soon Y/n took a bite. Which was very unfortunate as she immediately choked on it. Lucien patted her back, grinning as he turned to the lady.

"No, we aren't mates. We're just friends."

"What a shame. But maybe the bond hasn't made itself known yet?"

Lucien shook his head with a sad smile. "That would've been wonderful, really." Y/n's had whipped to him, her eyes wide. Did he just say what she thought he did? Could it be that he... no. That was stupid. He had a mate that he would die for, regardless of whether she liked him back. He would never...

"But I already have a mate." He continued.

"Oh I'm so sorry then for assuming things."

"Don't be. It's not like it matters anyway. She doesn't want the bond."

"Oh mother, that's truly unfortunate. Maybe you could be with someone else? I loved someone in my youth, but he never paid me any attention. Then one day my friend advised me to forget the male. Now I'm married to my friend and I think I couldn't be any more happy."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "That's a good advice, I must say. And I'll definitely think about it." He winked at Y/n, making her blush furiously.

They continued on after that, though there was silence now compared to their earlier mindless chatter. And it was filled with tension. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the waters of the Sidra nearby.

As they walked, her mind wandered to what Lucien had said to the woman. Could he really mean what he had said? He wasn't one to joke about such serious matters... but then again, maybe he was jesting.

Soon, they had reached her house, and she stepped up to open the door.

"You want to come in? We can have some tea..."

Lucien smiled. "I would love to if it's not a problem."

As she set about making the tea, he sat watching her every move. Which made her work extremely carefully, wondering if he was judging her. Which was absurd. Because, not only would Lucien never judge her, but also because she never would have cared for something so trivial as someone judging her. So why did she care now?

Because you lov–

She shut the thought down before it even finished.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

It had been over a month since he had seen his Y/n, and he was already craving her presence. Initially, he been able to go longer periods without meeting his friend. But as time went on, he became more and more enraptured with her and shorter and shorter became the time period between his visits.

The way she laughed on anything he said. The way her eyes would light up when she looked at him. The way he could make her blush by just looking at her. How she would get excited when taking about the newest book she was reading or when she learned something that made her happy.

He just couldn't get enough of her sometimes. All he wanted to do was stay and bask in her presence.

Of course, it wasn't possible, what with his work of going back and forth between human lands and the Night Court, as well as Day Court, where he had been spending some time getting to know his father.

It was a shock when he found out that Beron wasn't his real father, but he was adjusting. She had a big part in his acceptance. And he was grateful for it.

Now, he was going to leave his emissary duties for the Night Court, going to live in his father's court permanently. Which was why Feyre had decided to have the whole of the inner circle and him go out to eat for dinner. Lucien had suggested the cafe by the Sidra for the ordeal.

The place where Y/n currently worked.

He was smiling at his thoughts of her when he knocked on the door of the River House. Nuala opened it, greeting him with a smile before letting him enter. There was already sounds of chatter coming from the living room as he walked towards it. Everyone was here then. Great.

The quicker this was over, the faster he could spend time with Y/n.

He would leave soon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come back to Velaris. He had important people here.

He had informed Rhys about his departure a few months ago, and had agreed to stay till they found someone who would be willing to take up the duties of Lucien. They were still searching for someone, so Lucien was still the emissary.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien tapped his leg on the floor impatiently, his eyes constantly flitting between the tables and booths in search of his friend.

It had only been a few moments since he had arrived with the inner circle, but he simply couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of her.

While he was searching for Y/n, he failed to notice the High lord and lady's, as well as the entire inner circle's eyes on him.

He craned his head, and he finally heard that beautiful voice he'd been dying to hear from behind him.

"Good evening. May I take your order?"

He turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but Lucien didn't care as his eyes met those of Y/n's.

Her mouth lifted at the edges, a knowing look in her eyes as she turned away to converse with Rhysand.

His brain didn't process the words being exchanged between the two, he was so busy admiring her.

And wondering when the damn dinner will be over so he could finally talk to her and catch up.

When she left the table after taking their orders, she distcreetly brushed her hand against his bicep, pulling a smile on his face.

Just an hour or so. He reminded himself as he focused on the table in front of him, ignoring the looks of the inner circle, including Elain.

Which wasn't all that hard.

•○●⛦●○•

The time seemed to pass slower, just to torture Lucien that night.

Right when Lucien was about to loose his patience, everyone had finished dessert, and were on the verge of leaving.

Lucien stood, nodding at Cassian and Azriel in goodbye, hugging Feyre and shaking Rhys's hand. Making some excuse- unconvincing, he was sure- about having to go meet up with Vassa and Jurian, he walked away, eyeing the place Y/n had disappeared into.

He knew that she was about to leave, had probably already left, and he couldn't wait to tell her all the juicy stories he'd acquired over his recent travels, as well as the budding tensions between Vassa and Jurian.

The moment he stepped out onto the road, he heard her voice.

"So desperate to meet me fox boy?"

Lucien smirked, turning to find the owner of the voice leaning against a wall. "You wish."

Her eyebrows lifted as she pushed herself off the wall. "Sure. Didn't seem like it was just my fantasy when you were searching around like an eager puppy."

He grinned, though a flush climbed up his neck at being caught red handed. "Just wanted to see you so I could tell you about Vassa and Jurian."

Y/n grinned, throwing her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his neck. He returned the hug in kind, warming up his body a little through his magic so he could ward off the chill in the air surrounding them.

They stayed in the hug for longer than seemed appropriate, but no one was watching anyways. And neither of them cared if anyone was.

Y/n was the first to pull away, smiling shyly up at Lucien.

"You want to get some cake before we go home?" Y/n questioned, beginning towards the general direction of her home.

"I feel like we should make it ourselves." Lucien wiggled his eyebrows, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began the trek to her home.

She shook her head slightly, becoming redder by the moment as she grinned softly at her feet.

•○🌑○•

It was solstice tonight.

It had been one not-long-enough year since he'd met Y/n.

Lucien's chest felt lighter than it had been in ages.

They had already found a new emissary who they trusted, and so today was Lucien's last day as a member of the Inner Circle.

He was here today to deliver some reports to Rhys.

The sound of utensils and laughter greeted him as soon as he entered the River house, the inner circle being as loud as ever. But as soon as he stepped foot in the dining room, everything went silent, all eyes turning to him.

He smiled at Feyre, nodding to Rhys and pointing to the papers in his hands. He placed the stack on a table nearby, before nodding again to the rulers of Night and turning away.

"Wait! Where are you going? Come have dinner with us." Lucien looked at Feyre, shaking his head.

He didn't want to stay. Not when all that was going through his head was how he would go up to Y/n's door and knock, and how she would open the door suspiciously, those eyes narrowed. But then she would realise that it was him, and she would fling the door open with squeal, tackling him into a hug, laughing. How when she pulled back, she'd realise she was in her pajamas and would self consciously brush herself down, touching her hair. How–

"Lucien?" Lucien winced, coming back to the present.

"I can't stay. I have to go meet a friend."

"Oh. Did you plan a meeting beforehand?"

"Oh no. She doesn't know I'm here. I'm going to go surprise her."

"She?" A gentle and soft voice intoned. Lucien stiffened. The voice he had wanted to hear acknowledge him ever since the bond snapped for him.

He turned to look at Elain, his brows rising as he took her in. She was standing from her seat next to the shadowsinger, her knuckles white from clenching her fork so tightly. Her brows were furrowed in anger, and she looked murderous.

"Yes..." He didn't really know how to answer the question, so he simply watched her.

Rage entered her eyes. "Is this the female you went with that night when we were out?"

Lucien blinked, wondering what was making Elain so angry. "Yes. Exactly that one."

Elain huffed out a bitter laugh. "So is she trying to steal my mate now? She did look like someone who steals males."

For a moment, no one moved. There was so much silence it was deafening.

Almost everyone was staring between Elain and Lucien, their eyes wide. Except from Amren, of course. Nothing could faze the little devil. And Nyx, who waved around a piece of carrot like a sword.

Lucien smiled slowly. "Glad to know your thoughts on my life, mate. I will let her know of your amazing thoughts about her."

Lucien turned away, walking towards the foyer, but just before he turned out of sight, he glanced back, his eyes meeting Elain's.

"She and I were only ever friends, but now that you've said it, I realise that we never were meant to be friends." Lucien smiled slightly, bowing his head. "Thank you."

And with that, he left, ready to meet with his friend.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Her solstice had been normal. Nothing great to do. Her father had gone out drinking with his friends, her friends having been busy with their own families. Even the old hag was busy tending to and celebrating with her brother.

She was sure Lucien would also be busy with something, since he hadn't written to her to let her know of his arrival if he was coming.

That left Y/n alone.

But then suddenly, a knock had sounded on the door, and Y/n's heart had fluttered before even knowing who stood on the other side of the door.

After Lucien told her what was going on with Vassa and Jurian, he began telling her of the events that went down in the High lord's home as she got ready to take a stroll around Velaris with Lucien.

Her blood boiled when she heard of the things Elain said to Lucien, but a smile of reassurance from him was all it took for her to calm down.

They were in the main square of Velaris right now, watching the people dance around the huge fire in the centre.

It had become a tradition in the recent years for the people of the city to come together and dance the night away, laughing and drinking and mingling. It was a wholesome event, where younger people would gather around the old towards the end of the night and simply listen to their tales.

This was the first time Y/n was attending with someone else, as usually she would come here alone and sit next to the elderly, watching as younger couple her age danced around and bonded.

The glow from the fire danced in Lucien's eyes, making it look like there was fire inside those mismatched eyes. There was a relaxed grin on his face, one like she'd never seen before. He seemed so careless now, so free, it made Y/n smile too.

"You're staring." He pointed out, his voice barely audible over the cheers and the faeries singing along.

Y/n blushed, but in a sudden burst of boldness, she spoke, looking away. "It would be a crime not to."

From the periphery of her eyes, she found him gaping at her and had to suppress a triumphant smile.

"You know, I feel like the Mother took extra time making you."

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound lighting fires across Y/n's body.

"All that extra time to make me ruined by a fucking scar."

His tone was light, though Y/n could sense a hint of insecurity and sadness under the joy.

She turned to him, watching as the smile slowly vanished from his face at the look in her eyes.

"You are beautiful, Lucien, scars and all. And if I had the chance, I would show you how beautiful they are to me." She let her hand reach up toward his face, ignoring the heat entering his eyes or the way his pupils dilated as she traced the scar that ended at his jaw.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

HIs eyes fell shut as the music came to an end, and the people dancing around the fire dispersed for a moment.

"Y/n..." He whispered, his hand reaching up to hold hers against his face.

The music started up again, a soft and slower sound than before, more sensual.

This one was for people who were a couple or in a relationship, just a slow waltz to cool down before everyone again joined in a faster, more traditional dance.

"Dance with me."

The words were a shock to her system, and she nodded without even thinking.

It wasn't until the two of them had begun dancing, her arms wrapped around his broad and strong shoulders, their faces barely inches away, that she remembered that this was a waltz for couples, and she and Lucien were definitely not a couple.

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. She opened her mouth to tell him, trying to ignore the warmth against her skin from the fire behind her, his body pressed so close to hers in the front.

"Lucien, this dance is for-"

"I know." He mumbled, his eyes smoldering. "I know." He repeated, making sure she understood.

Suddenly, his arms around her waist became more apparent, the way they rested over her lower back. The way the stray hairs that had escaped his low bun tickled her neck, the way his breath washed over her skin when he exhaled.

Y/n's mind was about to either stop working, or remind her of Lucien's touch every two minutes, and honestly, she didn't know which one she prefered.

He never broke eye contact once during the whole dance.

Soon, but not soon enough, the slow music came to an end. And the people that sat along the outer edge cheered, clapping and demanding the couples kiss. And as all the couples shared that intimate moment, Y/n's heart rate picked up, panic clawing up her throat, feeling so many eyes on her and him, wondering what Lucien would do.

She didn't have to wonder long, though.

Lucien began leaning in, making Y/n's eyes flutter closed. She swallowed, licking her lips.

Then she felt his hot breath closer to her face, his lashes brushing gently against her skin as she felt those plump, beautiful lips on the corner of hers.

She felt him smile against her skin. All the while, it was hard to breathe.

But then he pulled away, a flush on his cheeks. If it was because of the heat of the enormous fire behind her, or because he was genuinely flustered, she couldn't tell.

As the faster music started, Lucien grinned wickedly at her.

"Let's dance, my lady."

•○🌑○•

Y/n's feet were sore, but it was all so worth it.

At some point during the night, she had discarded her shoes next to a kind old male who she had known since she was a child.

All the dances after Y/n and Lucien's initial waltz had been fast paced, where everyone changed partners every few moments. It was one of the best things that had happened that night, getting to know new people and dancing and singing along to the top of their lungs.

It was all so beautiful.

She had always thought so, watching from the sidelines. But now, being one of the people she would have watched, it was a whole different experience.

The dancing was supposed to go on for atleast one more hour before the elders gathered and began telling stories. That would go on for the rest of the night.

And so, Y/n decided to get some rest, maybe somewhere on he benches near the Sidra where it would be quiet before returning to listen to the elder's tales.

Listening to loud music for hours was one way to invite a headache.

Y/n began making her way up to Lucien, who stood on the opposite side of the huge fire, but then she paused, simply admiring him.

He had discarded his embroidered overcoat next to where Y/n had placed her shoes, now only in a simple, thin white shirt that clung to his sweaty frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He laughed as he held the hands of a little girl, giving her instructions on how to move. The little girl's tongue poked out of her lips as she concentrated, and Lucien was just as concentrated as her.

Once the current music came to an end, the girl grinned up at Lucien, and he ruffled her hair in return before she ran away, maybe to her friends.

Y/n finally walked up to Lucien, smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello, you."

He smiled back. "Good evening, my lady."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the title. "Shut up."

"Can I not even greet you now?"

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm going to go sit at a bench, rest a little then return. You coming?"

He nodded, walking over to where his coat lay on the ground. He picked it up along with her shoes then returned.

When she tried to take her shoes from him, he waved her away.

The two of them walked in silence, heading towards the quiet river. Once there, they walked onto the bank and settled down where the place was relatively drier than all other places. Y/n dipped her feet in the cold water, releasing a relieved sigh at the soothing sensation.

Lucien pulled out two packets from the pocket of his coat, tearing open the wrapper and handing one to Y/n. She looked at him, confused.

He simply opened his pack, and then bit into the cake.

"Why do you have these with you?" She questioned, though she began nibbling on the little treat.

He shrugged. "Jurian found these at a bakery in mortal lands a few days ago. I thought you might like it."

She smiled, staring into the water as she slowly chewed.

"The inner circle were in the crowd tonight."

Y/n whipped her head to look at Lucien, but he didn't even seem bothered or interested in talking about the inner circle. He said it so casually, like he was telling her it was night and not day.

After a moment, Y/n spoke. "Was Elain there?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cake. He took his time chewing before he gave her a response.

"I saw them after the fourth or fifth song. Apparently, they'd been watching since the first song."

Y/n gaped at him.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?! Your mate saw you dancing with me on a song meant for people involved romantically!"

He blinked, then raised a brow. "And?"

"That might ruin any chances you had with her!"

He shrugged again. "There was never any chance anyway."

"Lucien! You-"

"Look Y/n. It's been long since the bond made itself known. It's been long enough that if she wanted to accept the bond, she would have. And long enough that if she didn't want the bond, she would have rejected it."

"Yes I know but you love her-"

"Let me speak, love. Let me get this off my chest. I never loved her. She didn't give me the chance to. The pull I felt towards her was simply the bond clouding my judgement. The desperation with which I seeked to gain her attention was me simply yearning for happiness. If I had not been so lonely and upset all the time, maybe I wouldn't even have acknowledged the bond if she ignored it too.

"And maybe I am a bastard for that, but I don't know what had gotten over me for the past year or so. I had lost almost all of myself, until you came along.

"You-" Lucien looked at Y/n, his eyes bright "-you made me realise that I did not need another person to make me happy, and that I didn't have to stop being myself for someone to love me. And i will be eternally grateful to you for it."

Y/n shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. "Lucien, you deserve to find love. You deserve to have a happy life."

"And I know that now. All because of you."

"But I did nothing." She sniffed, her cake forgotten in her hand.

"You didn't have to. Just simply being my friend and showing me kindness made a significant difference in how I saw myself."

"But what about Elain? What about the bond?"

He smiled. "She can be with anyone she wants now. She wanted to have control over some aspects of her life after having been forced to turn, and honestly, I don't blame her. I would have wanted to do the same if my life had been anything like her."

"And what about you?"

Y/n felt like she knew the answer, but she still wanted to know.

"I do not need a bond to be with someone I love, you know."

"And who is it that you love?"

His smile turned knowing. "You know the answer, don't you?"

"Tell me still. After all, you do love hearing yourself speak."

This was a serious moment, but Y/n felt like if she didn't try to lighten the air by joking, this would become real. And she didn't know if she could handle that.

"I love you, Y/n."

She closed her eyes, telling herself this was not real, that she would wake up soon, and realise this had been a dream. Just like all the times before she had had the dream of being with Lucien and then waking up, all alone in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

But when silence settled around her, him staring at her expectantly, she realised this was no dream.

That someone like Lucien really was in love with someone like her.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eyes. "You don't mean that."

She felt his thumb brushing away the tear a moment before she felt his lips on her cheek. "I do. I am in love with you, my lady. I would do anything to show you how much I love you. To prove to you that I really do."

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "Why?"

He chuckled. "What do you mean why? There is not need of a reason for me to love you. I simply love you because you exist."

After a moment, she whispered what she had been dying to scream. "I love you, Lucien. I love you so much."

His smile widened, and he began closing the distance between them. "Then let me be yours."

Just before their lips met, she mumbled. "Be mine."

And her body ignited.

•○●⛦●○•

Her joints were creaking, but the old hag watched, and waited.

She had this primal need to have the little girl she'd watched grow up in front of her eyes find happiness, and she would threaten even the mother if the need arose to make Y/n happy.

But she didn't have to do that, because as she watched, the fire head male leaned in and pressed a kiss to Y/n's lips, and the old hag smiled, giddy with happiness and excitement.

And then she turned away, meaning to hobble back to the solstice celebration in the main square and leave the two younglings to enjoy the night together.

But then she paused, staring at the young female that stared at Y/n and the fire boy she'd fallen in love with.

Slowly, the old hag's brain remembered that this female with soft features and silky hair was the high lady's sister. And in turn, Lucien's mate.

Damn the mother. The old hag cursed, shaking her head.

"Leave them be." The hag ordered the girl in front of her, who turned to her with wide eyes. "They both deserve happiness. Don't you dare think about getting in the way."

The girl in the lilac dress nodded, her eyes becoming watery, but the hag had already begun walking away.

And after a final glance at the giggling couple on the riverbank, the girl turned away, jealousy and relief warring in her chest.

•○●⛦●○•

When Lucien pulled away, his hand still resting on her cheek, she couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. His lips quirked, a little swollen.

"Something funny?"

She shook her head, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the water. "Should we do a toast, my lord?"

He laughed at that, shifting closer to her as he put an arm around her shoulders. "And what will we toast with? We don't have wine or anything."

"We have these cakes." She pointed out.

He lifted his cake into the air. "Alright then. To love!"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "And cakes!" She said as she raised her hand, and Lucien laughed.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Carefree and happy.

And Y/n simply watched, admiring.

Loving.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

I visited the WGA library to read Yellowjackets scripts and wanted to share some of my findings! (Pt. 1)

So as some of you may know, scripts for the latter half of Yellowjackets Season 1 have already been released to the public (you can find 1x05-1x10 here: https://drive.google.com/drive/mobile/folders/1FctrMniXqWRFJOe-rX6dSgvmXEO2KyLE?usp=share_link) and the Pilot script is pretty easily accessible on the internet if you look it up.

However, I have never been able to find the scripts for the rest of S1. An old draft of 1x04 can be found on Script Slug but A LOT has been changed from this script to the final product (Van is dead, Nat actually killed her dad, Javi is called Cody?!). It’s an interesting read for sure but it seems the actual final script of “Bear Down,” along with “F Sharp” and “Dollhouse,” are not accessible on the internet. So I headed over to the WGA Library and checked out those three scripts to read! It was super interesting (highly recommend going if you’re in the LA area!). I was not able to get any pictures of the scripts due to the Library policy, but I took lots of notes and saved some of my favorite lines!

I’m going to start with 1x02 and make two separate posts of 1x03 and 1x04 because otherwise this post would be way too long!

1x02 “F Sharp”

•The episode starts with Misty’s POV of the crash, and there’s this line that I love:

“Across from her, Lottie reaches forward to desperately clutch Laura Lee’s hand in the aisle. Their shared terror making it all the more clear that, in this moment, Misty is all alone.”

This shows Misty’s longing for companionship and affection. Even in what she thinks might be her last moments, she is utterly alone. I think this moment is part of what tips her over the edge into obsession in her relationships with Coach Ben, Crystal, and Natalie.

•In the final product, we don’t really see what Nat’s POV of the plane crash is (other than her nightmare in 1x03 but I’m not sure if that actually happened or not?) but in the script she gets knocked unconscious and buried under a bunch of luggage and equipment and the other girls have to dig her out.

•Misty and Taissa are the ones to pry the exit door open for everyone to escape.

•Jackie doesn’t even try to save Van in the script, she just immediately runs over and tries to drag Shauna away from Van from the get-go.

“Jackie runs after Shauna and starts clawing at her, trying to get her to move toward the exit.”

•After Shauna and Jackie make it outside the wreckage, Jackie and Shauna “begin fighting angrily in the dirt, Jackie clearly still desperately afraid to remain so close to the fiery wreckage” as Shauna tries to go back in for Van.

•And I just thought this descriptor was a cute little addition; after Misty chops off Coach Ben’s leg, we get this line:

“And as we realize this little show called ‘Yellowjackets’ is sick, unexpected and awesome, we smash cut to—

MAIN TITLE”

•“Laura Lee trying in vain to hold and comfort a struggling, hyperventalating Javi.”

A nice little moment of Laura Lee comforting Javi as he’s trying to find his dad.

•”Jackie: For the record, I was trying to save you. I thought…

I was going to lose you. Jackie bites her lip, a little teary. Shauna glances at her and nods, I know—but we also get the sense that Van isn’t the only one judging Jackie right now.”

A little Jackie/Shauna moment. You can see how much Jackie loves Shauna, but Shauna is still conflicted over Jackie’s choice to leave Van behind.

•Some things Caligula says when Natalie breaks into Misty’s house:

“Hello, pretty lady!”

“Hells bells! My dogs are barking!”

Love this.

•The information Misty has in her secret file: articles and magazine covers about the crash, press clippings, a local wedding announcement for Shauna and Jeff, Taissa’s campaign flyer, and a brochure for Natalie’s rehab clinic.

•When Nat asks Misty why she has all of this information, Misty says:

“You guys are the most important people in my life.”

Just another reminder that Misty’s whole existence revolves around the Yellowjackets, even after 25 years.

•Nat is hyper focused on looking at Travis’s drivers license in the bar scene when Kevyn walks up to her. She totally ignores Kevyn, just focused on Travis’ picture. She is described as looking “pale” and “like she’s seen a ghost.” Just shows how hung up Nat is on Travis and how much that relationship fucked her up.

•Misty says “Holy macaroni” when she sees Coach Martinez’s body. Insane.

•Okay brace yourselves for this one guys, in the script Coach Martinez is STILL ALIVE when they find him impaled on the tree.

“The coach’s eyes pop open. He suddenly grabs Travis. Eyes wild with pain and fear, the coach tries to speak but only makes raspy sounds as blood bubbles at his lips.”

“Travis: Dad! Let go!”

Travis’s dad won’t let go and there’s a scene where Travis is trying to claw him off of him, then the tree branch cracks and Travis shakes his dad off of his arm, “knows it’s his dad or the both of them” and the tree branch falls.

Wow. As if the scene that ended up making it in the final product wasn’t traumatic enough, Travis has to actively let his dad fall to his death when he’s still alive and desperately clinging to him? Ouch. I’m glad they cut that scene honestly poor Travis.

•Shauna is holding Javi and comforting him during and after this scene.

“We see Shauna still comforting Javi, we can’t hear what she’s saying but her body language is very giving—a maternal streak she didn’t know she had.”

Love the nod to Shauna’s maternal nature here. She’s naturally very nurturing and caring, but after she loses her baby she becomes more cold and distant with her other child, Callie, in fear that she will lose her too. I just love seeing the before and after here, we get to see what Shauna was like before all of the trauma. Shauna wants to nurture Callie, it’s a natural part of her personality as this scene with Javi shows, but she can’t get too attached after what happened in the Wilderness.

•In the adult timeline, there’s another deleted scene in which Nat drives to Shauna’s house and spies on her from outside.

“She seems to be fighting an impulse to get out of her car, but her feelings are unclear. Does she look uneasy? Vindictive?”

Another hint the conflict between these two that we still haven’t seen yet? Maybe this is lingering resentment from Shauna challenging Nat’s leadership as the new Antler Queen?

•When Nat hands Travis her flask to drink from after the whole Coach Martinez incident, there’s this line:

“She wants to tell him there is nothing he could have done. How guilt like this is poison, and if he’s going to blame himself she will punch him in the face”

I think this is clearly a nod to Nat’s own guilt around her father’s death. She knows that Travis is likely tearing himself apart inside because she did the same thing after her father’s death. She blamed herself, as Travis is doing now. Also love the punching him in the face line, it’s very on-brand for Nat and honestly wish she had punched him in the face a few times when he deserved it.

*1x03 and 1x04 notes to come!*

[fuxuannie]

* pairing : dan heng x gender neutral reader

* prompt : dan heng is so painfully awkward, to a point march 7th herself had enough.

* authors note : this is such an old draft that it still had my idv divider.. IM SO SLEEPYYYY T_T

DAN HENG grumbles as he's sitting in The Archives on his.. rather sad excuse for a bed. He's staring at his phone, typing something out before letting out an unsatisfied sigh and deleting it in the same minute it was written.

March 7th walks in without knocking, again. Doing her signature walk towards Dan Heng and sitting on the floor infront of his blankets and pillows that were laid down on the floor. "What's up?" She asked, staring at him as he looks at his phone and back up at March 7th. "Uh.. how do you.. talk to someone?" His question sounded stupid but it was genuine, he wasn't entirely sure how to strike a conversation with you. He asked for your number, you happily gave it to him, but now he wasn't sure of his next move.

"..Is that a serious question?" March 7th laughed with a baffled expression, but Dan Heng's forced cough as a response was not helping his situation. "Okay. It's a serious question.. Oh my stars, I can't believe you're asking me how to hold a conversation.." She wiped away a non-existant tear from her eyes, before clearing her throat and acting all serious-like.

"So give me your phone."

"What??"

"Do you want help or not??"

"..Okay."

Dan Heng hands her his cellphone, and she stares at the screen before letting out an almost comical gasp. "YOU'RE TEXTING-" And before she could even finish, a hand was quick to cover her lips and a hushed 'Shhh.' followed right after. "You don't need to announce it to the whole damn station, March!" He hissed, slowly uncovering her mouth as she lets out a giggle. "Sorry. A little excited is all."

She stares at the little phone for a while, raising it up in the air and staring at it from various angles. As if a painter trying different angles to view their creations. "What are you doing..?" Dan Heng asked with a sigh, only gaining an index finger against his lips. "Have you tried saying 'Hello'? Maybe add in a 'This is Dan Heng, I wanted to ask how you were.' And such." March 7th suggested, handing the phone over to him as he stared at it in his hands. It was that simple, why was he overthinking so much?

After an unnecessarily long conversation about what to text, Dan Heng just groans into his pillow and March 7th sighs in defeat. He hears her type out a message, and doesn't completely mind, until he hears the 'Ding!' of a message being sent.

He slowly lifts his head up from the soft and comfortable pillow, eyes wide as he stares at March 7th. "What. did. you. send."

His surprisingly serious tone made March 7th burst into laughter. He immediately tries to reach back for his phone, but she's pulling away to try and keep it away. "I'm doing you a favor!!" She said inbetween laughs, but he eventually gets a hold of his dear device, but she's is far too busy clutching her stomach with how much shes been laughing.

His face shifts from shock to despair, his eyes go from his phone and back to March 7th, then his phone and March 7th again. This repeats a few times before he sighs in embarrassment. He leaves his phone ontop of the table near his bed and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Atleast they haven't seen it yet." He says, trying to remain positive. He hears March 7th stand, and she leans a little to stare at his phone. "Uh oh. They should really add a feature where you cam delete messages."

Maybe this is a sign to jump out the nearest window without a helmet.

It doesn't help that theres a knock on his door, you peek your head in and chuckle awkwardly. "I figured that this message had something to do with March, especially with the commotion you two were causing literally a few rooms away from my own."

The pink haired girl giggled, rubbing the back of her neck as she didn't bother to deny the accusation. You give her a small 'Can I have some alone time?' look, and she understands immediately, hopping off the small platform and walking past you with a wink. Somehow despite her playful nature March 7th truly had good intentions at heart, she saw Dan Heng as a brother, and she knew more than anyone you were the best candidate for his heart.

You sit next to him, as he buries his face in his knees, mumbling and grumbling random incoherent words. "Dan Heng?" You say softly while placing a hand on his shoulder, he lifting his head up but refused to meet your gaze. You chuckle slightly, ruffling his hair. "It's not as embarassing as you think, I promise."

He sighs, turning to look at you. "..It's not that it's embarassing.. I just, I really wanna talk to you but.. I'm not really good with the whole.. socializing thing." Dan Heng says with slight hesitation as he spoke, but you gently grab one of his hands, using both of your own to hold onto it. "It's okay, just take your time and talk to me when you're ready. But I mean, I'm here, aren't I? We can start there."

Finally, a smile seems to find it's way upon his lips. "Yeah.. You're right.

And right outside his door, March 7th and Himiko both do a silent high five as they finally got Dan Heng to do something about that damned crush of his.

[ellewritesalright]

The Panther and the Hound

Nikolai Lantsov x reader

A/N: Hello folks! This is a request from an anon that has been sitting in my drafts for many months now so I hope y'all enjoy!!

Request: nikolai lantsov x yul bataar!reader, black cat reader and golden retreiver nikolai.

Synopsis: Needing help on a mission at sea, Nikolai recruits a captain feared by slavers and military ships alike. The Panther, as her enemies call her, or, as Tolya and Tamar call her, their sister.

Warnings: Mentions of heists, fighting, and violence, but mostly fluff and pining I'd say.

Word count: 2450

..........

Tamar and Tolya stood at the bow of the Volkvolny. There was no containing their grins as they watched a ship with black sails sit docked in Ketterdam's Fifth Harbour. The Prowler was a fine ship, with a hardy crew and a fearsome captain, a captain that just so happened to be their sister.

The Volkvolny sailed nearer and nearer to the harbour, and when it docked the twins were the first off the ramp. Nikolai could barely keep up with them as they approached the Prowler. He wasn't sure why they were so excited. Sure, they hadn't seen their sister in a year and a bit, but he couldn't fathom actually wanting to see a sibling; he wouldn't mind only having to see his own brother every five years or so, let alone just over a year. Yet, Tamar and Tolya were practically giddy when they'd convinced Nikolai to partner with the fearsome Panther for a job. 

You were supposedly the greatest captain on the True Sea. You were credited with a long list of ships you'd sent to the depths, and an even longer list of slavers you'd cut down with a slice of your sword or a twist of your corporalki wrist.

He wasn't sure how much of your reputation was built on embellishment, but once he saw you giving command from the top deck of your ship, he could see what some of the fuss was about. You stood straight-backed and proud. You donned a cutlass and a black pistol at your hips. Your eyes had such a sharp glint to them, he wondered if you ever even had to make use of your sword; surely your looks could kill.

But as you saw Tamar and Tolya at the top of the ramp, the tough exterior melted and you grinned like the sun.

“Look what the tide washed up, huh?” You said, voice clear as molten sugar.

Nikolai stood aside as he watched the reunion of siblings. Tolya scooped you up in his arms first, and then Tamar squeezed you enough to make you let out a breathless laugh.

“I think you’ve grown, little sister,” Tolya grinned as he rested his forearm on your head. “You’re a taller armrest now.”

“Very funny,” you said drolly, though you maintained a smile. Tolya dropped his arm.

“I think it’s just her boots. Are they new?” Tamar said as she observed your footwear.

“Knicked them off a ‘leather merchant’ bound for Ketterdam who was hiding two dozen Kaelish women in his cabins.”

“Did you sink his ship?”

“Does a spear pierce best when sharp?”

A comfortable silence settled between you three siblings.

Your eyes met Nikolai’s and your smile curved into a slight smirk as you eyed his teal coat. 

“Who’s the peacock?” you asked Tamar and Tolya.

Before the twins could answer, Nikolai stepped forward and held his hand out to you. “Sturmhond.” You shook, then he glanced up at the black sails. “You have a lovely ship.”

“Lovely? Never heard it described that way, Sturmhond,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Nikolai shrugged slightly. “The craft of the mast and the hull are beautiful. Did you have a hand in the design?”

“Not at all. I commandeered it from its old captain.”

“Commandeered it?” Tolya let out a soft chuckle. 

“Mutinied it from your old captain, you mean,” Tamar piped up, a sly edge to her voice.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Tam,” you lightly glared at her.

“It is generally frowned upon to mutiny against your captain.” Tamar tilted her head. “But in your circumstances, I think you were justified.”

Tolya looked at Nikolai, ready to let him in on this conversation. “Our baby sister here held a mutiny against the old captain after he sank a ship full of Fjerdan refugees fleeing for Novyi Zem.”

Your face hardened. “There were children onboard. Families. I felt thirty frightened heartbeats, all of them put out after he brought the cannons around on their ship.”

“Why?” Nikolai had to ask.

“Because that Ravkan bastard was a nationalist zealot who would rather see innocent people dead than allow a Fjerdan flag to sail,” you replied, tone still hard. “So, I organized a mutiny that night, took his ship, then I dumped him on some frozen rock of an island up in the Bone Road.”

Nikolai nodded as he listened to this. He couldn’t help but admire your actions against your old captain.

“But enough of this prattle,” you said, clapping your hands together. “We have a job to do, don’t we?”

……….

You sailed out the next day. After a strategic meeting with your sister, brother and their interesting captain, the Prowler hit the open waters.

It was your ship that this Sturmhond needed most. While his Volkvolny was well equipped, yours was faster. It amused you that your ship was faster; as they sailed side by side, his Hound of the Waves couldn’t keep up with your Panther, as your crew affectionately called her. But Sturmhond needed that speed for this mission of his. 

In your meeting the night before, he said there was something he needed to steal off the coast of West Ravka and charter to Novyi Zem in one week. You’d replied that you only needed four days of sailing to get all the way across the True Sea.

Soon enough, you were docked in West Ravka. You treated with Sturmhond on his ship this time. Your brother and sister had sailed with you for the short journey, though they seemed eager for you to see the Volkvolny. As they toured you around the ship, a bunch of tables were set out.

“Sturmhond likes for the crew to dine together before a big mission,” Tamar explained.

“From the smell of it, it’s the chef’s best turnip stew,” Tolya grinned.

Dinner was set out on the main deck of Sturmhond’s ship. Tamar and Tolya sat with some of the crew, and you went to pull up a chair from a nearby table. As you took hold of the wooden arm, someone at the table said your name.

“Have a seat, captain,” Sturmhond smiled up at you.

You raised a brow at him, ready for him to buckle under the intensity of your eyes. He didn’t. You decided to pull out the chair and sit beside him.

“I’m surprised I didn’t see you there at first, especially considering that garish coat of yours,” you said cooly.

“Not all of us can pull off black leather,” he replied, raising his cup slightly to you.

“And you think you’re pulling off that teal?”

“Am I not? It’s a shame that I’ve only heard this now, considering I’ve worn this coat for years now. It’s sad to think none of my crew have had the heart to tell me it doesn’t suit me,” he remarked, still smiling confidently.

“It’s a bold colour. Must attract a lot of attention when you wear it on the street,” you said as you took a sip from your cup. “I hope you’re clever enough not to wear it on our job tomorrow.”

“Thank you for your concern, but some say I’m very clever, you know,” he grinned.

“Is that so?”

He nodded, still smiling. You’d yet to see him without a smile on his face, whether it was friendly, polite, sly, confident, or clever.

One of the crew brought around a tray of food and set it out at your table. You both began to fill your plates.

“So,” Sturmhond began again once you started eating, “what got you onto the sea?”

“I followed my brother and sister out here,” You replied. “We split when I was sixteen. We docked in a Ravkan port near the border to Shu Han, and I crewed up away from them.”

“Why?”

“I needed the chance to grow. They’d protected me for all of my life, and I felt like I needed the space to be my own person.”

“So you left.”

You nodded. “When did you leave home, captain?”

“When I was fifteen.”

“So you know what it’s like.”

He nodded as well, his smile softening. “It’s tough at first.”

“Until you find sailors you can trust, it’s lonely.”

“Your siblings were that for me. Trusted them as soon as I met them.”

“I don’t know why, considering they’ve never ever looked friendly.”

Sturmhond chuckled. “Regardless, I am glad I did.”

“I’m glad you did too,” you raised your glass slightly to him. “Having met you now, I’m not sure what all the fuss is about, but my siblings greatly admire you.”

Sturmhond seemed about to take offence, then he noticed the sly spark in your eye. “You’re tricky.”

“Am I?” you smirked at him.

He merely smiled and brought his cup to his lips again, watching you over the brim.

……….

“Ah, here he is: Captain Surplus.” Nikolai heard you tease as he stepped onto the Prowler the night of the mission. You stood at the railing of the upper deck, your telescope in hand. 

In order not to draw too much attention, only a skeleton crew went ashore to carry the package to the docks. Sturmhond, deemed non-essential by the twins, had relented to staying behind. So, he decided to wait with you aboard your ship so that he could sail with you once the package was acquired. Tolya and Tamar would captain the Volkvolny across the True Sea at a slightly slower pace in order to throw off any authorities that might be chasing the package.

“Very funny,” Nikolai said with a smile and scrunch of his nose at you.

“Thank you.” You handed him your telescope. “I spy something orange.”

“I spy?” He raised a brow at you.

“Yes. Have you never played?”

“Not since I was a child.”

He raised the telescope to his eye and peered beyond the long docks to the Ravkan port town. His vision dragged along the different colours, waiting for something orange to appear.

“Is it that sweet shop?”

“Nope.”

He looked again. “That market stall?”

“Which one?”

“There’s only one orange one: the fruit vendor.”

“Hmm��� no.”

He gave you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, unimpressed by your smirk.

“Given up, Captain Surplus?” 

“Never,” he grinned. “Is it… that bush with those pointy-looking flowers?”

“Those flowers are pink.”

“They’re orange.”

“They’re very much pink.”

“Fine. They’re salmon then.”

“Salmons aren’t orange, they’re pink.”

“You’re splitting hairs.”

“By not being delusional?”

His eyes narrowed on a crate with a bright orange tiger painted on the side of it. “Is it that crate?”

“Which crate?”

“Saints, woman, what other crate?” He grumbled softly. He pointed it out. “That one. The one with the tiger.”

You grabbed his wrist, raising it so the telescope was level to your eye. Nikolai pretended to be casual as you held onto him.

“That crate?” your lips frowned a bit as you stared through the lenses.

“Yes, that one. Is that the orange thing? The tiger?”

You lowered his arm and gave him a look, almost to say he was wrong. Then a smile cracked on your lips. “Yes, that’s the orange thing,” you said sweetly.

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“I know.”

He stared at you for a second too long, drawing your attention away from the harbour. He couldn't bring himself to play coy and look away once you looked back.

"Are you always smiling, or is your mouth just like that?" You asked him, eyes trailing along his face.

Nikolai laughed. "Which answer would you prefer?"

"The honest one."

"A smart choice," he said, still grinning. "The former."

"Really? Because I can recognize Tolya's handiwork from a mile away," you replied with a challenge in your eyes.

Nikolai held back his surprise at the shift in conversation. Still, he enjoyed the suspicious smirk you gave him.

"He's only tailored my eyes, hair, and nose," he replied. "Everything else is all me."

"I find that hard to believe," you said with an almost haughty tone as you turned back towards the harbour. "Lips as nice as those are hard to come by."

He blinked to catch up. Were you flirting with him? No, you couldn't be… could you? "Wait, what?"

But before you could answer, your Second called you over, and you stepped away from him. 

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, captain," you smirked as you left him there to wonder.

..........

That night, as the Prowler was sailing towards Novyi Zem, there was a knock on your cabin door. You'd been forging some documents and you called out for the visitor to enter. You'd expected your Second, but when you glanced up, it was Sturmhond approaching your desk with his hands clasped behind his back. There was something almost militaristic about the way he often stood.

"Shouldn't you be asleep in the cabin I so graciously provided for you?" You asked, raising a brow at him.

"It's barely midnight. All my best ideas come to me after midnight."

"Is that so?" You leaned back in your chair. "Let's hear one of these ideas, then."

"There's my idea for a flying ship using Squaller crew members," he mused, smiling softly at you. "Then my glamorous idea about a device that recycles waste from the crew on the Volkvolny." He stepped a bit closer to your desk. "And of course there's my brilliant idea to come to your cabin tonight and confess that I'm mad about you."

You nearly dropped your pen. You looked up at Sturmhond, your eyes tracing his features, trying to detect his motives. The frightening thing was that he seemed to be telling the truth. There was a hint of worry in his brow the longer you went without responding to him. 

"So are you going to do it?" You asked. 

A small wrinkle formed on his forehead. "Do what?"

"Confess your feelings for me?" You said in a small voice, a hint of hope underlining your words.

He smiled widely at you, his pretty grin once again lighting up his face. "I'm crazy for you. You're clever and kind and yet ruthless in the best of ways."

"I'm ruthless?"

"Beautifully so." He nodded.

You stood, walking around your desk to face him properly. "And you like that?"

"More than you could know," he said, still grinning at you.

"Then perhaps you should do something about it," you said to him, your eyes glancing at his perfect lips.

His grin widened as he dipped his head lower. He smelled like leather and vanilla. "Perhaps I should."

Then his perfect lips were on yours, and you were smiling into his kiss.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment--I really appreciate the feedback! Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Nikolai Taglist:

@sweet0pia-uwu @notoakay @naushtheaspiringauthor @liter4ti @marchingicenotes7 @eyeofthestorm @poseidont @hashcakes

[starry-blue-echoes]

I found this old snippet 90% finished in my drafts so W O E, 2k words of Tonio being my favorite character and Mr.Giovanna slowly understanding that he is not in fact Giogio's father anymore <333

(also tw for implied/referenced child abuse since Giorno)

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

Tonio noticed the second the man approached Giorno’s table.

His customers knew better than to do so. They knew the boy was under his personal protection and it was best to steer clear. A greeting hello when the boy arrived, a brief exchange of conversation, an offered treat or trinket was of course allowed, but approaching his booth while Tonio was not present?

That was not common.

In fact, by the time Tonio made it out of the kitchen and to the dining area, the man had gathered quite a bit of attention from the other customers if the glances being cast his way were anything to go by.

The man was practically looming over Giorno’s booth, all but boxing the boy into his seat and talking in a low voice so as to not be overheard. Tonio couldn’t even see Giorno from his spot.

Tonio did not like this.

He did not like this one bit.

So plastering on his best Customer Service Smile, he approached.

“Excuse me sir,” he spoke up, keeping his voice light and pleasant. “My apologies, but at this establishment you must wait to be seated.”

The man turned to face him, not moving away from the booth and instead attempting to slide a softer, kinder mask over his features.

Hm.

It was sloppy, Tonio couldn't help but note. Sure the facial expressions were… passable, he supposed, but his body language was all wrong. Maybe spending so much time amongst the real dangers in Italy had made him a bit of a snob, but honestly this was laughable.

“Ah, you misunderstand sir, I’m not here to eat, though I have heard good things about this restaurant.” the man waved him off with what was supposed to be a lighthearted chuckle that only succeeded in feeling patronizing. “I’m here to pick up my son.”

“Oh?” Tonio responded with a slit tilt of the head, and a cold, cold feeling slipped into his gut. “You’re this boy’s father then? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Step father, technically.” Mr.Giovanna explained, the veiled insult sailing clear over his head. “His mother already had him when I stepped into the picture, but I see and love him as my own.”

His smile got tighter when he saw Giorno, kind, smart, shy Giorno who loved frogs and ladybugs and the color pink and listening to Tonio talk about recipes, flinch.

“I see.” was all he offered.

Tonio knew so little. So, so little. Part of him knew it was purposeful. That he was giving himself plausible deniability. An empty comfort.

But he knew enough. He’d always known enough. More than enough really.

And now it was looking him dead in the eyes and spitting in his face, daring him to lie down and take it.

“Well, it’s getting late. We’d best be getting back to the house before your mother starts dinner. Come along, Giorno, you’ve taken up enough of this man’s time.” 

How long has he been standing idly by as he’d seen Giorno hurt? 

How many times has he knowingly allowed Giorno to return to that sorry excuse of a family? 

How many times has he merely nursed his injuries instead of doing anything to stop them from happening in the first place?

Well no longer.

“Actually, sir.” he interrupted. “I have some…. concerns I’d like to speak with you about.”

The man froze before slowly turning toward him.

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes and he not very subtly squared his shoulders to make himself look bigger.

“Oh?”

How funny. The man thought he was intimidating.

Tonio had done a bit of asking around about Giorno’s family when the boy hadn't been present. Nothing too nosey of course, just the standard gossip that was floating around which he generally got quite a lot of. 

And the results of his findings were quite fruitful.

Mr.Giovanna had a temper and was somewhat quick to anger, and he’d had a few dealings with the underworld, but that was as all. The man wasn't anyone important nor did he have any connections whatsoever.

He was just a simple, ordinary, powerless man.

A man who in the long run wouldn’t be able to do a thing to Tonio.

Tonio did not normally like taking advantage of his position, of the power he had at his fingertips. The near crippling fear of entrenching himself further and further into this world always had held him at bay, but in this moment he was more than willing to make an exception for this.

“Yes.” he made a slight show of stepping slightly closer to Mr.Giovanna and the booth seat, closer than was socially acceptable and a clear challenge to the man’s current proximity to Giorno. “And in all honesty, I’m not quite certain I feel comfortable allowing you to leave with this boy.”

“And for what reasons would that be?” Mr.Giovanna was openly glaring at him now, trying and failing to loom over a man who had a few centimeters on him.

“I notice things, Mr.Giovanna.” Tonio spoke, keeping his words clipped and flat lest his rage bubble over. “Giorno has been a patron in my restaurant for well over a year now, and I am not nearly as blind or stupid as you appear to think of me. I may be a chef, but I am also very familiar with the practices of medicine and the healing processes of the human body.”

Sometimes Tonio loathed this skill of his. Of seeing the way people moved and being able to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, of seeing the lethargy and careful movements and stiffness and knowing of the presence of bruises or cigarette burns or broken skin.

(In a bitterly comforting way, Giorno had always liked that part of him. Of their shared skill. He said it made him feel less alone and less strange)

Mr.Giovanna simply sneered at him. “And why exactly are you paying so much attention to little boys?”

His rage surged at the accusation, howling and throwing itself against the cage he’d locked it inside, only made worse by the man’s smugness as though he’d just won and Tonio would back down.

Oh how he longed for his butcher’s knives. They cut through skin and muscle like warm butter and would so easily make short work of the man before him.

“You know very well that is not what I’m talking about.” much to his dismay, his calm mask had begun to crack at the edges, his voice growing more tense and taught with every prolonged moment. This man was managing to slide through every crack of his carefully constructed walls in ways the most vile, loathsome mafioso couldn’t, and all with hardly more than a few words.

This needed to end soon. Before Tonio did something he would regret. For Giorno’s sake.

“I am not going to allow you to leave this establishment with this child unless you can offer me a reasonable explanation for why he comes here with bruises every single week, and that is final.” 

A lie of course, he wasn’t letting Giorno go anywhere with this pathetic excuse of a father, no matter what excuses he scrounged up.

“Well I don’t owe you shit.” he snapped back, forgoing excuses and even denial of the accusations completely. At the very least, it seemed Tonio was getting under Mr.Giovanna’s skin just as badly. “I am going to be taking my son and we are going to leave. Giorno, come here right n-” but as the man tried to move Tonio out of the way and make a grab for the boy, Tonio grabbed his arm in an ironclad grip.

The man froze, surprised either by the strength or by the audacity.

Tonio’s expression didn’t falter.

“I think it would be best for you to leave, sir.”

For a second all was calm.

And in the next, pure fury overtook the man’s face.

The punch was quick and powerful, and Tonio barely had a moment to realize what was happening before he had both hands on the booth table to support his weight with a blooming pain in his jaw. With one of his hands he hesitantly brought it up to test the area, but while it would undoubtedly bruise and was rather tender, nothing felt broken or severely damaged.

Tonio should have seen the punch coming, but alas, hindsight is 20/20. He partially expected a second blow…. but it never came.

In fact, Mr.Giovanna was being awfully quiet.

His grin which had temporarily been chased from his face found itself sliding back into place once more.

It seemed the man finally noticed. Now that their conversation had reached a small pausing point, it was likely that much more obvious, but Tonio still couldn’t help but internally chuckle at the man’s horrendous observation skills.

It was dead silent in the restaurant.

The clicking of silverware, the murmur of conversation, the footsteps of the waitstaff, all of it had vanished into thin air.

And as Tonio stood back up to his full height, one merely needed to glance around the room to see why.

Every single customer and staff member was staring at them.

And not one was happy.

Expressions ranged from murderous fury to offended disgust to cold disapproval. Weapons of all types were in hand: knives, firearms, utensils, even a few Stands had joined the fray.

Sometimes being neutral felt like a curse, but in this moment? In this moment Tonio had never felt freer.

Because everyone respected the rules inside Trattoria Trussardi.

And those who didn’t……

“You’ve broken the rules, Mr.Giovanna.” Tonio spoke, a grin still on his face. Only now he let the pleasantries fade away. Now, he let his grin stretch wide and manic, filled with teeth and not quite reaching his eyes.

To an outsider, it was downright predatory.

And Mr.Giovanna, finally realizing the lion’s den he had stumbled headfirst into, froze.

But Tonio did not care.

Not one bit.

He nudged the man to the side with the back of his hand, and didn’t even resist the urge to wipe it on his apron afterwards. He’d need to wash his hands later, wouldn’t want the food suffering from whatever filth that man possessed.

“Giorno,” he asked quietly, his body relaxing and growing soft at the bright, vibrant hope sparkling in the boy’s eyes. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Giorno’s eyes widened, growing glossy and shiny yet not a single tear spilt.

“I would.” he said in a hushed whisper, as though the words would break if he was too rough with them, and in Tonio’s heart the only regret he felt was that he hadn’t done this sooner.

He gently grabbed Giorno’s hand to tug him away from the booth seat with as much gentleness as he could, leading him toward the back door that led to the stairs up to his apartment. Giorno’s hand was so small, yet it clung to Tonio’s like a lifeline.

He would call Doppio later tonight to help with the paperwork, of course after Giorno had eaten and gone to sleep. He had more than enough spare funds for the shopping trip that would be required tomorrow, but it would also likely be best to ask if there was anything Giorno wanted from his now-ex-parents house. He’d likely have to rearrange some furniture upstairs, Giorno would need his own room obviously, maybe cash in a favor or two to help, and of course possibly transferring schools which meant even more paperwork-

But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he got to look forward to a nice, calm dinner that for the first time since inviting Doppio in wouldn’t be alone. 

And just as he nudged Giorno through the door…

“Marco.”

“Yeah Boss?”

Tonio liked Marco. A good head on his shoulders, a competent host and waiter, had potential for a manager position, always called in ahead of time if gang work interfered with his schedule, and on the rare occasion things got out of hand he was good at regaining order.

“I’m temporarily waiving the ‘no violence’ rule.” Tonio said. “Make sure nobody breaks anything important and if things get too noisy, see to it that it’s moved elsewhere.”

Marco’s eyes lit up with an emotion he didn’t dare to place, but his face remained stoic. “‘Course, Boss.”

Tonio looked back to the restaurant, his eyes soft and smile warm in a way that did not match the manic and horrifying implication of his words in the slightest.

“You have 30 minutes. Try to keep the mess to a minimum.”

The future looked bright and Tonio felt happy.

[phopollo]

Tell us about the other characters in Rusty and GB's photos!

TEEHEE IM SO GLSD YOU ASKED (this is going to be a long post)

Also just for anyone who's curious about the mentioned photos becsuse you may have missed the post, fear not, you can just check it out right here 👍

So!! Let's start with Rusty's photo! I think it's pretty clear thst we've got Rusty in the center there, little baby man style, just a little guy-- but of course, he's not the only one there-- so let's talk about Rusty's little parental polycule!

To his left is Momma!

A bit younger than she's appearing in the actual rest of the story, but there she is! Momma is pretty much the same as the musical version-- previous world champion racer, retired in her old age, etc etc

Above Rusty though, is Poppa! That's right, I say both Momma and Poppa rights for Rusty

Poppa is a steam engine switcher like Rusty. He ran a few races back in his younger days, but he never really won any-- and while he's about the age that he really probably should be retiring, he's still working hard!

And then to Rusty's right is Memphis!

Alternatively, the original Belle! I've decided to use just Memphis, since there 2024 Belle already, and I wasn't planning any connection between them, so making them Jr/Sr just didn't feel right. Memphis has a roughly similar story to her canon one as well! She's an old sleeping car who used to race with Momma, and was even her coach for many of Momma's years as champion!

It may not be as obvious because he calls her by name, but Memphis is absolutely also one of Rusty's parents! Unfortunately, they as a family got separated when Poppa and Memphis got assigned to another station/train yard when Rusty was younger-- it's been maybe a whole decade at this point. Rusty will always volunteer to bring something to the other station when they send requests for help though, just for the opportunity to see his other two parents

So then! Now let's talk about Greaseball's family photo!

In case it wasn't entirely clear, because I used the like.... draft version of her wig; on the left is Junior!

This one's our little baby girlball! She is not having a good time :(

On the right is Virtuoso!

Lowkey, kinda just made him up, because Greaseball strikes me as having really complicated family relationships. They're kind of age gap siblings, they never really had anything in common aside from their father's racing desires for them, and admittedly, in what turned out to be a golden child/black sheep situation, Virtuoso was very much the black sheep. He is very much what I'd consider as a "season 2" kind of character-- one mentioned a couple times or that you visually see the photo of some time during season 1 (shortly before the events of the musical through Rusty becoming the champion), but you wouldn't actually hear about or meet him until season 2

And then finally, in the middle, we've got Senior

Everyone say hello Greaseball Senior, who's inspiration came from the very first iteration of Greaseball. He sustained a pretty serious injury pretty early on in his racing career, leaving him unable to get up to speeds to keep up with those around him. And while he could still work, he wasn't satisfied with that-- as a result, he ended uo pushiny his dreams and aspirations of racing on his kids pretty hard

As I mentioned earlier, the family dynamic and relationships are kind of.... rocky, to put it politely. Virtuoso is completely out of the picture at this point, and I definitely wouldn't say Jr and Sr get along. Jr will go out of her way to avoid him, but Sr keeps going out of his way to track her down because of the vicarious glory of being her, the current reigning world champion's, dad. Admittedly, Jr's view of family and what family is supposed to be is a little messed up because of all of this

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello!! Can i plss request gun's ideal type. What kind of person he finds attractive,etc,etc. Thank u very much 🙏

Oof, digging this out from drafts. Thanks for the ask anon. Here's a couple more I had also written about!

Lookism: Ideal types

(Johan Seong, Jake Kim, Goo Kim, Gun Park)

Not all lookism men attracting the I can fix him types?

Johan Seong

Talk about mommy issues, come get your boy.

He's looking for stability, an anchor in the storm. Someone that makes him feel loved and present. He can be unbelievably flightly and childish so patience and tolerance is a must.

His tantrums and sulks are legendary so you need to be able to handle him and focus on clear communication so your needs are taken care of too.

It goes without saying you need to be a dog person. Choosing between you or Eden and Miro? He would pick his pups everytime.

Jake Kim

Wants someone here for a long time and a good time. He expects a groan and smack for his lecherous winks and embarassing jokes but you need to be fun too. And if you have an arsenal of cringe up your sleeve? All the better.

You don't need to be his exact equal, but having someone that he can offload to and bounce ideas off of helps. After all a problem shared is a problem halved.

Being kind and tolerant of the rest of Big Deal will make Jake warm up to you quicker. If they see you as one of the crew, then you're definitely the one. However you knowing about his business comes with a whole other load of issues.

Goo Kim

What's the saying? If you can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen. Well if you can't stand this clown, get out the circus.

Fun, spontaneous, a little reckless, not too fussed about a little criminal damage or violence. Y'know, all the standard stuff you look for in a loving partner.

Needs absolute loyalty when it comes down to it, and to know you'll stay by his side. If you manage to get this guy to open up to you but break his heart and stab him in the back? Well sweetheart, I guess it is a dog eat dog world, but you better watch yours.

Gun Park

Look, everyone keeps talking about him needing a fighter and that is true. But it's not the be all and end all, he at least prefers someone that could take care of themselves. He's not the knight in shining armour type, but if push comes to shove then fine. After all, beating up people is one of his favourite hobbies.

If you can't fight then you should have other traits to make up for it as a minimum (street smarts, book smarts, whatever). He values competence above all else (look at how he treats his successors).

Independence is an absolute must. He's off terrorising god knows who most of his time, you can't just sit there waiting on him. It gets old, fast.

[romana-after-dark]

Roman's 1000 follower fundraiser game!

Hello friends!!!

I am so happy to see I have 1200 followers! Thank you so much everyone who got me here, old followers from when I first wrote The Wrong Way, to new followers with my Logan Howlett era, to everyone that know me from my main and followed me to dark fics! Words cannot express how much yall mean to me and how much the support I've gotten through the hard things means.

I want to do a celebration, but something that won't overwhelm me. I'm switching work stuff around, however, so I should have more time and be less exhausted and sad.

So I’m doing a fundraiser game!

The charity: I will be donating to my favorite charity, Smile Train. when I was 6, I saw an add for Smile Train and asked my mom if I could donate. My mom said we didn't have enough money to both donate, and do the yearly church fair, so I had to choose. Of course, I was 6 so I chose going to the fair. And I felt bad about that every since. So, my go to has always been Smile Train for charities ever since. When I was in middle school I saved every allowance for a year and did some extra chores to save enough for a whole surgery! Now, I'm not that ambitious this time bc I am in fact, poor. But I can set aside some for the needy. I considered doing Palestinian Children's Relief Fund, but I found out Smile Train actually partners with them so it works!

How it works: So, As y'all've probably noticed, I love music so much, that almost every title of a fic is either a song title or a song lyric. Sometimes I say it, sometimes I don't.

THROUGHOUT THE END OF NOVEMBER!

Look though my masterlist here or on my main, @romanarose. Find at least one fic titled after a song.

Send an ask with UP TO 5 Song title/fic title connections. No More. This is to allow everyone a chance, and to no overwhelm me.

One title = 100 words. You find 3 song titles? you get a 300 word blurb. find 5? 500! 500 is the limit.

If you send a fic title that has already been pointed out in an ask from another person, sorry, it'd not counted! (Unless I'm really feeling the writing). Send 4 titles but 2 have been used already? You get 200 words!

Send me what you want. it doesn't have to be dark! I'll make an exception. Characters I'll write for bellow!

For every fic title/ song reference, I will donate $1 to Smile Train! The more songs we can find, the more money they get (without overdoing my bank account. However Nov has extra friday which means more pay for me.) Questions you may have: "What if someone else said the fic title, but it was published and I didn't see it, or it's still sitting in your asks because you are always super fucking slow at doing these ROMAN" Yeah you're right I'm always slow at these. I guess you're SOL, buddy. If it's already sitting in my asks, I won't commit to adding it to your word count. BUT if my creative juices are flowing, I may have mercy

"What if all of my song titles I found have been used already?"

Well, frankly, I'll probably write you something still! I'm not mean.

"What if you didn't use a song title, but we find a song with it anyway?"

Well, that's up to my discretion. If it's a song I know that may have influenced the title subliminally I might count it! But if it wasn't in intentional thing, no guarantees. But Again, I'll be flexible.

"How are we supposed to know what goes on in your weird little old man head."

Uhhhhhhhhh bestie I dont even know what's happening in there!!!! Just have fun with it. See if you recognize songs or lines. It's okay

"What about chapters?"

Great Q, voice in my head! Since most fics I don't have chapter titles, I'll allow it! If I have a bonus chapter, or a chapter i just wanted to title and its a song, go ahead! Only exception is Rooms on Fire. Sorry, but i'm pretty clear those are intentionally all songs. It's too easy.

"$1 is per fic title is awful cheap."

Bestie my checkings over drafted today!!! I got it covered and figured out, this is just a little something I wanna do with LITTLE extra money but I still have debt I gotta work on it's tough out here!!!

Any more questions send them in! YOU HAVE UNTIL DECEMBER 1ST WHICH IS WHEN DEAD DOVE DECEMBER STARTS AGAIN!

Logan Howlett

any Triple Frontier boys sans Tom

Moon Boys

Wade Wilson

Kylo Ren

Scott Summers

Remy Lebeau (but not dark for him I can't see it. Will allow dark reader though!)

Tommy Miller

Javier Pena

Han Solo (no non con, maybe dub con)

Steve Murphy

And yes, I've said I'm done with Joel but I will allow for Joel this time because it's for charity and he pulls people in.

and although I've never written them, I'll write for the Bikeriders Cal, Benny, or Johnny but no non con. I'll play wit dub con, and dark reader

I will also write canon character x canon character, so if you want some Scogan or Johnny x Benny or FishBen, Im in! If a pairing is something I feel just doesn't lend itself to the scenario you give me, I might tweek it. Everything is up to my discretion!

I will also write crossovers!

And I will write any of my oc's and anything in universe. So fen, if you wanna read you and Lorenzo go crazy! If you want a blurb shipping Scott and Dolly in OGS, just ask!

Open to it all

This is my little celebration my rules and discretion, but I want this to be overall fun!!! Just a good ole time! Don't take it too seriously, and we'll raise money in the mean time!