#do I recycle it???????????? turn it into something else??????

[burningcheese-merchant]

No, Merchant, feel free to complain to your hearts content. I'm certainly much meaner to ugly blue alastoroncelerbillcipherspamton from temu and every last inch of his undeserved popularity. I seethe because as an Ovenbreak player of SEVEN YEARS, none of my faves get remembered in a tweet, let alone merchandise. The dragons, who all took over five years to collectively come out, got a pin set and devsis wiped their asses with them then moved on. I waited over a YEAR for another sugar nova odyssey update to come out because xylitol nova and astronaut are my favorite cookies ever and I'm still fucking waiting 🫠 meanwhile the beasts are getting shat out every 3 months with the most rushed nonsensical recycled plotlines held together with scotch tape because making profit is what really matters here, not competent storytelling. I wouldn't even be this furious if the beasts got equal attention and spotlight but we both know that's not true hahaha 😬 they love to shove their (really badly designed) golden cow in our faces because Smilk was lab engineered to get sexyman tumblr girlies screaming their heads off while not even being 1/4th the interesting character they want you desperately think he is. JUSTICE for burning spice, mystic flour, and everyone else who will get done dirty for this boring walmart Jevil 😒

Oh my gosh 🤣🤣🤣 tell us how you REALLY feel, Anon, let it all out. It's not healthy to bottle up your emotions like that (you might want to stay anonymous though, I don't think either of us want an angry mob at your doorstep lol)

I'm anticipating a ramble (as I am wont to do) so under the cut it goes

Gonna start by saying I DO like Shadow Milk. I really do. It took me a little while for him to grow on me when he first appeared, admittedly (ESPECIALLY his voice...), but I am genuinely fond of the little blue jester man. But he's certainly not my favorite, far from it. That title belongs to Burning Spice and Burning Spice alone lol. The only reason I ever turned the English audio back on (I usually play the game in Japanese, I love hearing my fave anime characters speak lol) was so I could hear that gorgeous baritone of his... Burning Spice is everything to me. I love his design, I love his voice, I love his dialogue, I love his personality, I love him soooooo much. He's my babygirl. If Silent Salt turns out anything like the character I've constructed inside of my head, then he will share the #1 spot with Spice. I'll go ahead and say that right away

I'm upset because, like you said, it feels like he got majorly shafted while Shadow Milk gets all the praise and attention. Mystic Flour as well, poor girl, but I'm focusing on Spice just to drive the point home a bit better. He didn't even get a fucking countdown. What was his little merch thing? That weird ass candle (I thought it was a vase at first lol) and that's it. Furthermore, his story feels the least developed. There was and is SO MUCH that could have been said about him as a person as well as his dynamic/connection with Golden Cheese, that wasn't for whatever reason. Episodes 5 and 6 feel like they're missing something (and you feel what the "something" is in that brief flashback to Spice's past. There's more to what became of him than "I was bored", there HAS to be. Boredom is a symptom, not the cause. I maintain that this theory of mine has merit, and it would've been nice if they dove deeper into it than they did), you know? And I hate it. I hate that Spice is basically the forgotten middle child of the Beasts while Shadow Milk gets all the glory. Seriously, for Shadow Milk:

They changed their YT avatar to him for a while (it has ALWAYS been Gingerbrave, they never changed it once to anyone else all these years). iirc they did this on Twitter too

They dedicate an HOUR LONG commentary video to episode 7 and Shadow Milk (arguably fair, because it WAS the 4th anniversary. But even so. Did they do this for any other Beast? Any other episode? Any other anniversary?)

They give him a costume (a legendary one, at that) plus a set with his Ancient. NO OTHER Beast/Ancient pair has that, and I struggle to imagine they ever will. Do you understand what I would do to have a BS/GC costume set? DO YOU???

They make an exclusive, limited edition plushie (that caused a massive shitstorm iirc, justice for everyone that got fucked over during that and fuck scalpers)

They make a whole ass pop-up store event themed entirely around Shadow Milk and episodes 7 and 8

Why? Because he's the fan favorite lol. He's long since been the golden child of this community, and now we know he's Devsisters' golden child, too. (And they're desperate for money because they're drowning in debt. That's also probably why they released Shadow Milk on the 3rd anniversary: to drum up interest on a milestone anniversary by bringing in a beloved character. Thematically/narratively, Shadow Milk should've been released last. But that's just my opinion.)

Again, I really do like Shadow Milk. I call him "Walmart Bill Cipher" affectionately (and because he genuinely does remind me of Bill. In fact, I think Bill might've inspired SM to some degree). But it's unfortunate that other characters, the other Beasts especially, are pushed aside and ignored just so Shadow Milk can hog all the spotlight. It is with a very intense grimace that I agree that Shadow Milk is a Tumble sexyman. He fits the stereotype to a T. It would serve us all well to accept that truth. He even got added to the Tumblr sexyman wiki before it turned to flour lol. Burning Spice is... NOT a Tumblr sexyman. He is a regular old hunk. Tumblr was never in the business of liking big, beefy hunks, at least not the Tumblr I knew 10 years ago lol.

I'm also, to reference it again, just really disappointed that so little was and is done to explore the other Beast/Ancient pairs - and the fandom is guilty of this, too (not to knock the PV/SM anaylses at all! They're all fantastic and I genuinely do understand and love the deep, complex connection between them!). To go back to BS and GC, because they're my lifeblood (not just for shipping reasons I swear)... it's particularly egregious to me that THEIR dynamic wasn't given the attention and detail it deserves. They are LIFE AND DEATH, the very foundation of the world itself, things I (personally) consider significantly more important than truth and deceit because it is from life and death that all else springs forth. Truth and deceit are things you actively look for; life (abundance) and death (destruction) are just there, everywhere you look, even within yourself. You can close your eyes, ears, heart to the truth and you can learn to shun, decipher, defend against deceit; there is no escape from life nor death. None whatsoever. And so much can be done with that. So much can be done with them. Burning Spice and Golden Cheese need each other in the exact same way that Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla need each other. They parallel each other quite a bit, too. They're so similar and so different. They could have and SHOULD HAVE had so much to say to and about each other, like what Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla have. But that didn't happen. Didn't happen with Dark Cacao and Mystic Flour, either. All of that love and care and philosophical exploration goes to the clown and the Jesus Christ allegory. Which is FINE, I'm not saying to leave those two hanging, just... show some of that love to the beefcake and the bird, too. And Korean Batman (Cacao reminds me of Batman, I'm sorry 🤣) and Ms. Angel of Death, too. Please, man. Truth and Deceit aren't the only dichotomy that matters and is worthy of thought and discussion

(and oh my God, dude. The Ovenbreak shit. I've been playing for as long as you, and that shit is diabolical at this point. We get ONE dragon update a year, and they always leave us on the most painful cliffhanger of all time each time. (And this last one... I have many issues, but the most glaring one of all: WHERE THE FUCK IS FIRE SPIRIT??? WHY ISN'T HE IN THE STORY??? HE IS INTRINSICALLY LINKED TO PITAYA DRAGON! THEY HAVE AN UNBREAKABLE BOND BECAUSE OF THEIR DEAL THAT GRANTED HIM SOME OF PITAYA'S POWER AND SAVED HIS LIFE! HE SHOULD BE AN INTEGRAL PART OF THIS ARC! HE SHOULD BE AT THE FOREFRONT! IF PITAYA GETS HURT, HE GETS HURT! FIRE SPIRIT'S WELL-BEING IS DIRECTLY TIED TO PITAYA'S AND THE DRAGON'S VALLEY AND BOTH ARE IN SERIOUS JEOPARDY!!! Oh God I can scream about this for so long. I have a similar issue with the Red Dragon arc in CRK, WHY WASN'T FIRE SPIRIT THERE?) I LOVE the dragons, I love their relationship with each other, I love the conflict between them, even the unique bonds/quarrels between specific ones! And their storyline is picked up and dropped over and over again, left to collect dust until they feel like continuing the story. Hell, remember Gingerbrave and co.'s quest to find where that wizard compass is pointing, and to find a place for them to build a peaceful life away from the Witches? Me neither lol. Sea Fairy's great sacrifice with Sugarteara and the cursed pearl? (SF was done SO dirty in Kingdom, she's an actual character in OB and in CRK all she cares about is Moonlight, to the point that she lets an entire civilization fall to ruin because she refuses to do her fucking job) The Xylitol gang... Well, as of writing this, that's the next update... Which will give us another legendary cookie, hardly 3 months after Dreamweaver lol. Fuck Stevia Nova, I already don't give a damn. Give me more Xylitol Nova and Astronaut and that's it

I have a lot more to say (especially about BS and GC, God I could talk about them FOREVER, they're so interesting to me), but I think I've rambled enough lol. All the love for Shadow Milk, truly, but all the love and justice for Burning Spice and the other Beasts and every other character that gets ignored, too

[meguwumibear]

The first time Zayne asks you to his house, you bring him a sprig of jasmine. You pass by the flower shop on your way to his apartment on a whim and are inexplicably drawn to the thin, white petals. The shop owner tells you the plant signifies new beginnings which seemed fitting at the time.

The look on Zayne's face when he sees the jasimine is one of pain. The light in his hazel eyes dulls, and the skin between his brows wrinkles. You resist the urge to smooth the folds away with your thumb.

"Sorry," you say, unsure what to make of his expression. You scramble around the kitchen looking for a trash can. He's rich, so it takes you some time to find it. You open cabinet after cabinet in search of the thing. "Didn't want to show up empty handed."

After some awkward fumbling, you manage to locate the can. It’s hidden to the left of the sink behind the recycling bin. The trash is empty save for the bag which smells lightly of lemons.

"Wait," Zayne replies with some urgency, his usually calm voice the most panicked you've ever heard it. His hand presses your fingers securely around the stems before you can dump the arrangement into the trash. "You just surprised me is all."

You let him slowly guide the flowers away from the maw of the garbage, lips still weighed down by an unknown force.

"Don't overthink it," you tell him, unable to guess at the cause of his sadness. Seems you may have crossed some sort of unspoken boundary in your efforts to appear polite.

"They're lovely," he concedes, forcing a smile onto his face, "but they'll die in a few days."

Is that what's got him so upset?

"Hang them upside down before they begin to whither,” you offer. “They'll hold their shape, and after a few weeks you can stick them in a vase and keep them forever."

His brows knit together contemplatively.

"They'll still be dead," he tells you, wearily eyeing the plant.

You shake your head at him, "No, their form will just have changed."

"I'm not very good at tending to plants," he insists.

You shrug at him, busying yourself with finding a vessel for the jasmine.

"Lucky you have me then. I can help you string them up when you're ready to."

He lets you fill a glass with water and plop the jasmine into its new home.

Zayne doesn't say anything for a while. He just stands there, statue still, like he’s an android with stalled programming. His eyes remain fixed on the white petals of the plant, almost accusingly. It feels inappropriate to move for some reason, so you fuss with the placement of the stems, waiting for him to take the reins.

"I was thinking," he eventually starts, gaze still stuck on the jasmine, "that I'd like to dom for you exclusively. As previously stated, I believe we are compatible and that I can provide you with the subbing experience you need."

"Oh," you reply, cheeks heating. You chance a sideways glance at him, but his sights haven’t changed. "Yeah, I'd like that. I haven't seen anyone else since we started our sessions anyway."

"It's settled then," he agrees, eyes finally flicking to you. “Moving forward you’ll come to me when you need something.”

“And you’ll come to me when you do,” you add.

He looks at you funny, but doesn’t argue.

“How do you feel about shower sex?” he asks suddenly, as his mind visibly reconnects with his body. He turns toward you, awaiting your reply.

You flash him a cheeky grin, “Lead the way.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 149 (A New Pet - And a New Landgraab Problem?)

Captain Whitaker made himself right at home at the Gordon house on Sable Square. When Lavender returned from daycare on his first day as a reanimated dog, the Captain was thrilled to meet the energetic toddler who loved pets.

He also celebrated discovery of the chicken coop in the backyard, and he loved to chase the cats. It had been a while since Heather and Conrad needed to train bad habits out of a new pet, but they were happy to do it, because Captain Whitaker fit their family like a glove.

Heather's sister, Hazel, dropped by for breakfast one morning, on her way to help Alexander Goth put together his application to run for mayor.

"It's a long process and the town hasn't had an election in close to forty years, but Alex has a lot of really great ideas to make the Bay even better," Hazel said. "I really believe in him, and he needs more help with his campaign now that he's doing midnight feedings with baby Carina."

At the mention of Alex and Lydia Goth's second child, newborn Carina, Heather rubbed her belly as she felt her own baby kick. "I'd love to see this town running smoothly with a real mayor at the helm. The water shut-offs we've had to deal with lately make it so much harder to get the kids bathed, and the dogs, let alone us!"

"I hate to sound like Dad, but get a dew catcher. It rains enough on the coast you could collect enough water to last for weeks!"

"What's a dew catcher?" wondered Lavender.

"It stores water for when there's drought or the pipes freeze in winter. It's kind of like recycling the rain," Hazel explained, and Lavender nodded along thoughtfully.

"What's recyclig?"

"It's when you take something and use it again for something else, rather than getting something new, because it's better for the environment. Like new toys. If you bought a used toy, it would be recycled, as opposed to a new toy from a store."

"Used toys are better for the envi-erment?"

Hazel nodded. "Yeah, because new production uses a carbon footprint, and you want that carbon footprint to be as small as possible to help the planet."

Heather glanced pleadingly at Hazel, launching into one of her public policy talks with a four-year-old. "Why don't you get your Aunt Hazel to read you a story before she goes to work?"

Lavender smiled, dragging Hazel to the living room and picking out a book. "Can you do the voices again, too?"

"Of course, Lava. I can't read you a story without doing the voices!"

"No you can't!"

Lavender wasn't the only one in the household interested in books. Ash had picked up as many books on time travel from the library as he could, and he'd barely put them down since. If he was supposed to invent time travel, he had to understand it first.

Heather and Conrad were wary of what he was learning, but they'd encouraged Felix and Lilith to pursue it before they knew what Marco had said. Ash promised to leave the actual time travel to the adults, so they allowed him to study books like Theoretical Electronics and A History of Time Travel to offer assistance to Felix and Lilith - but only if they needed it.

Conrad accompanied him to the local library to return a few books he'd finished and check out a few more, bringing the dogs to run around. They sat in bright inflatable chairs that seemed out of place in the old wooden building. But the local historian and librarian, Gunther Lynx-Munch, said they'd been dropped off by an anonymous donor and he didn't want them to go to waste.

As he thumbed through the books on the shelves, Conrad turned to his stepson. "Are you really interested in all this time travel stuff?"

Ash shrugged. "Felix and Lilith say Emit's nice. What if changing the future changes him, too? I don't want to change the future too much, but I don't want to be feared. If I do help Felix and Lilith, I don't mind people not knowing I did it."

That night, Heather prepped fruit for Ash's school lunch while Conrad was bent over the sink to repair the plumbing. "Malcolm called again," she groused. "He's so interested in Ash's counseling sessions all of a sudden."

"I think this time travel and seeing ghosts stuff freaks Malcolm out a bit."

"He doesn't even think it's real!" She closed the fridge door with a heavy thud to put away the sliced fruit. "I think he's plotting something. With his mother."

Conrad finished with the plumbing and dried his hands, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her stomach. "Like what?"

"He's acting like I can't take care of our son, as if he wasn't flirting with Miko instead of watching Ash when he was taken. He actually said 'It can't be easy to move around that small house with all those animals.' They have a dog!"

"Don't get upset," he pleaded gently. "Has Malcolm ever been worth it?"

She forced herself to breathe, letting herself fall into his embrace. "I love you. I just worry about Ash all the time lately."

"I love you, too. Let's get some sleep; the baby needs it. We can worry about everything again in the morning."

Despite her fear and worry, the days were busy and long. Pregnant Heather was easily fatigued, and she soon fell asleep in Conrad's arms. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

[pepsimaxolotl]

TRANSITION WIN:

CLEARING OUT MY WARDROBE OF FEMININE CLOTHING

[loderlied]

i will go to sleep NOW 🫵 (pointing at myself)

[13eyond13]

wait your beatles era is over? it was so fun eventhough i follow for death note content it just made my day seeing you enjoying something so much! :]

Awww no well it's not OVER over, as in I still really like them and will retain everything I learned about them during the last 3 or 4 months and still follow a lil handful of my fave Beatles blogs on here. It's just over as in I don't feel the need to fill my dash with literally hundreds of Beatles blogs or finish reading every giant biographer's tome I started reading about them anymore or wtv. And obvs you can always chat to me about them and still see me occasionally post about them! But thank you for saying so anyways haha

[spicedfink]

Master List of Clone High fanfics I wrote before Season 3:

Boys Night ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/48332581 ) - Topher/Abe/JFK/Confucius/Gandhi (I don't know why I thought writing a bunch of characters in one scene was a good idea when I hadn't written anything in a while but that's what happened and I'm too scared to read it back and can't bring myself to delete it either) [T]

Proximity ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/48549265/chapters/122461747 ) - Topher/Abe [E]

not much sleeping happens at sleep overs ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/48971239 ) - Topher/Abe (fluff) [T]

Waiting for it ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691948/chapters/122826577 ) - Confucius/Harriet JFK/Joan Topher/Abe Cleo/Frida (2003/2023 swap au) [M]

Hopeless Romantics ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/49142935 ) - Abe/Harriet (I'm the only idiot out here shipping this) [T]

Creepy Nerd Got No Game ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/49037452/chapters/123715741 ) - Topher/JFK/Abe [M]

College Trip ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/49489810 ) - Topher/Abe Joan/Harriet (background Cleo/Frida and Confucius/JFK/Gandhi) [M]

I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/49618516 ) - Topher/Abe (Wonderwall) [T]

All Natural ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/50043178/chapters/126360046 ) - Topher/Abe [T]

Van Go Away ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/50293393 ) - Topher/Abe [T]

why would she ever ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/50400943/chapters/127341199 ) - Topher/trans mtf Abe(Abby) [M]

Sleepy Cloney ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/52332880/chapters/132388804 ) - Joan/Harriet Cleo/Frida Confucius/JFK Topher/Abe (Sleeping Beauty/Snow White inspired au) [T]

Not Who He Thought He Was ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/52393084/chapters/132539074 ) - Topher/Abe (Time Travel) [M]

If you know what I mean ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/53285812 ) - Topher/JFK [M]

The Bad Thing ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/53460526 ) - Topher/Abe JFK/Joan [E]

Gal Pals ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/53467591/chapters/135331642 ) - Topher(Tina)/Abe(Abby) (gender swap au) [T]

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

i love how as you read more into tlt, the ninth house seems more and more normal. Like if i'm at an immoral evil government competition, and i use human fat as soap and animate skeletons to do menial labor, i'm gonna LOSE if my competition is the third house, represented by ianthe "who HASN'T eaten human flesh and fucked a corpse" tridentarius. My weird skeleton thing seems normal, suddenly. Well-adjusted, even. It's recycling. They're using resources in a sustainable way. Normal and regular and productive for a post-climate change apocalypse universe.

People go on and on about how Muir drops you into gtn hearing from the person who knows the least about whats happening, and does not hand hold the reader through the crazy shit that occurs, and that's all true. It truly is a crazy writing decision to make your first pov character come from the universe's equivalent of amish fundamentalists. But the reader is actually done a huge favor being dropped into the ninth house first, because we already understand that space is cold and what catholic nuns are, and what goths look like, and what lesbians are. Very little time is wasted in the first chunk of gtn ripping hair out of your head wondering what the fuck is going on, because for all of its strangeness, the ninth house is already the most familiar thing we're gonna get.

Because THEN we learn that this whole universe's medieval chivalry system is designed to groom people from CHILDREN to not only be exploited and used as human batteries for necromancers, but to LIKE it. to wax poetic about it. to confuse it for love, to write fucking academic papers about it! Then we learn about planet flipping, an act so horrific and violent it turns the planet's soul into a massive vengeful monster capable of killing GOD. Like what do you MEAN the animals "change"? Is this why noodle has six legs? I would MUCH prefer to wear skeleton makeup and repent forever if the alternative was to witness my family dog grow TWO EXTRA LIMBS because the planet he lived on fucking died. Suddenly, living in the asscrack of a planet where no light gets in seems like a sweet deal when the whole solar system is lit by a sun that MAKES YOU GO CRAZY. The ninth house's WORST sin, killing 200 babies to make Harrow, a waste of resources and an act so terrible it haunts Harrow for the entire span of her life, is like a BLIP compared to the death count Jod's empire. God even hears about it and he's like, no big deal! The cohort probably kills that amount of people in a DAY.

And its ALSO tragic because you realize that all of this trauma and abuse that Gideon goes through is not really because of the ninth house at all. It's really just an individual skill issue that she wasn't treated with compassion. Nobody hated her because she's jesus or a bomb, nobody even KNOWS she's a bomb. It's just Priamhark and Pelleamena being deeply guilty and scared people that motivates her treatment, and absolutely nothing else.

They did something bad, and they know it, and Gideon survived it, and they can't kill her to cover it up, and that's IT. They killed themselves for pride, because they were afraid of the consequences of their actions (both the baby killing and Harrow opening the tomb) coming back to bite them. You can argue this is the catholicism of it all, and I wouldn't say you're wrong, but compared to the cavalier system, where exploitation is in the very lining of the house's institutions, the ninth house is really removed from the space empire's blood factory. This is compared to the fourth house where they have tons of children to be CANNON FODDER to join the cohort at fucking 14, compared to the eight house uncle nephew fuckery, even the fifth house which actually does seems nice to live on but also seems to have the fourth house in some sort of fucked up political bear hug??? (maybe the fourth house has so many kids in order to fight the fifth's battles? which is EXACTLY what jod's whole empire is about; politely stirring your tea and acting nice while you destroy everything) compared to ALL OF THAT, the cruelty that Gideon faces is really more a bug of the ninth's system than a feature.

There's nothing baked into the culture and everyday life of the ninth house that necessitated that cruelty; in fact, for such a pragmatic and resource-scarce place, it's WEIRD that a strong able-bodied young person was treated like a waste of space and resources. It could just have easily not happened, if Harrow's parents had been different people. Maybe they were products of their environment, but so was Harrow, and she values Gideon's life SO MUCH that she'd literally rather carve out parts of her own brain than exploit her. Gideon grows up knowing really NOTHING about cavaliers, so remote from the horrors of the empire that she develops an idea of what the cohort is from porn magazines. And in a lot of ways, that upbringing was desolate and terrible, and in a lot of other ways it literally DID NOT HAVE TO BE.

Gideon's MAIN THING is that she wants to be useful, to be needed, to be loved and it SUCKS that she couldn't even get it in the one place where she was actually an invaluable resource, where the death empire had the weakest reach. Gideon can't even blame her lack of love on the fucked up chivalry system like everyone else can because it JUST WASNT REALLY RELEVENT!?!?! This is like if i rolled up to the trauma competition and everyone else was raised in a nuclear warzone by wolves or something and i grew up in like, the suburbs and was raised by teachers and i somehow STILL WON. truly what the fuck guys.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want a Refund || Trey Clover

When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key. Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.

Series Masterlist

You prided yourself on being a normal, decent person. Maybe even a good person, depending on who you asked. Sure, you weren’t out here saving kittens from trees or solving world hunger, but you did your part.

You recycled when you remembered, held the door open for strangers (if they were close enough, you weren’t that kind of hero), and even tossed bread crumbs to the pigeons outside your apartment every now and then. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work.

So, really, what you didn’t expect was to be completely betrayed by the universe. The betrayal began small, like a mosquito buzzing in your ear: the newest novel you’d been anticipating for months was sold out.

“Are you serious?” you grumbled, glaring at the empty display like it had just insulted your mother. A handwritten sign on the shelf read: ‘SOLD OUT! More in stock soon!’ in cheerful cursive, as if mocking you.

What were you supposed to do now? Go home empty-handed? Waste your perfectly good afternoon plans of curling up with a book? Absolutely not. Refusing to admit defeat, you scanned the bookstore until your gaze fell on the “New and Best-Selling” rack.

One book immediately caught your eye. The cover was... well, something. It looked like someone had raided a middle schooler’s stash of Barbie stickers, splattered glitter over the whole thing, and slapped on an aggressively curly gold font that screamed, I’M A ROMANCE NOVEL!

You sighed. “Fine. How bad could it be?”

It could be very, very bad.

The first red flag was the synopsis. It introduced Trey Clover, the Grand Duke, who loved his spouse, the villainess, with a devotion so pure it made you want to gag. But then came the second male lead, the Prince, who confessed his love to Trey and the villainess, because monogamy was too boring for this book.

And then there was the heroine. The synopsis just called her “the Saintess,” because why bother giving her a name when her only personality trait was being the worst human being imaginable? She appeared out of nowhere, became the Saintess overnight (because logic?), and made it her life’s mission to ruin the villainess’s life while somehow convincing everyone she was an angel.

Oh, and the Prince? The book had him slip on a rock and die halfway through the plot, like the author had a word count limit and didn’t know what else to do with him. The villainess ends up dying too, right aftetr asking Trey for a divorce to "protect him." The ending involved Trey marrying the heroine, despite spending the entire book side-eyeing her like she owed him rent.

You closed the book slowly, your soul drained of all joy. “What in the fresh hell did I just read?”

But no, you couldn’t let this stand. You were a taxpayer, a contributing member of society. You did not deserve this literary slap in the face.

With righteous indignation burning in your chest, you marched back to the bookstore. You slapped the book onto the counter with a dramatic flair that deserved a standing ovation.

“Refund,” you declared, glaring at the cashier.

“Uh... we don’t usually do refunds on books you’ve already read...” they began hesitantly.

“I don’t care,” you snapped, pointing at the glittering monstrosity. “This isn’t a book. It’s a hate crime against literature. A refund, please, before I start sobbing in public.”

After a long pause—and possibly fearing a customer service meltdown—they handed you store credit. Satisfied but still simmering with rage, you stomped out of the store, muttering to yourself about bad authors, worse editors, and the existential crisis of knowing someone got paid to write that garbage.

And that’s when karma struck.

A segway—a SEGWAY—came hurtling toward you at Mach speed, piloted by a man dressed in full medieval knight armor.

“MAKE WAY FOR SIR SCOOTINGTON!” he screamed, his voice muffled by his helmet.

You froze. Your brain could not process this level of absurdity in such a short amount of time. Was this a prank? A hallucination? Had the book actually been cursed and now you were living out its bad writing?

The segway didn’t stop. It hit you with a solid THUNK, sending you flying backward into a suspiciously well-placed pile of garbage bags.

As you lay there, buried under the remains of someone’s takeout and a very old banana peel, as your vision started to blur, you stared at the sky and thought:

Dawg, why me??

You woke up to the faint chirping of birds and the kind of silence that only rich people seem to afford. Something felt... off. The sheets were too soft, like they’d been spun from angel whispers and a mid-tier deity’s hair. Your pillow was the perfect combination of fluffy and firm, a far cry from the lumpy second-hand abomination you’d bought on sale three years ago.

Your eyes cracked open, squinting against the sunlight filtering through an elaborate, gold-encrusted chandelier. A chandelier. In a bedroom. You lived in a shoebox apartment; your idea of luxury was a lamp that wasn’t from a clearance bin.

You turned your head slightly, and your soul froze mid-exit.

There was someone next to you.

Your brain screeched to a halt, flashing every warning signal it had. Stranger. Bed. You. No.

The only living thing that should’ve been in your apartment was the stray cat you’d nicknamed Gremlin, and he sure as hell didn’t have human proportions or a steady breathing rhythm.

Slowly—painstakingly—you tilted your head to look at your unwanted companion.

It was a man. A very attractive man, sleeping peacefully on his side, glasses perched askew on the nightstand. His hair was a soft mess, his breathing even, and his entire aura screamed gentle husband vibes.

Then recognition sucker-punched you in the gut.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

You blinked. Looked again. Replayed every horrible memory of that atrocious novel you had read, and then read again because you hated yourself.

It was Trey Clover.

Male lead. Gentleman. Human embodiment of a warm cup of tea. The guy who was in love with his villainess spouse (you remembered her being dramatic but competent) before the world went full dumpster fire.

Your breathing hitched. You stared down at your hands, and they stared back—perfectly manicured, dainty, soft hands that had never touched a single dirty dish or over-scrubbed countertop.

The reality hit you like a segway knight at full speed.

You’d been isekai’d.

You fought the urge to scream into the pillow. Was this some karmic punishment for returning that book? Was your snarky review in the Reddit thread too harsh? Because this? This was an unholy level of irony.

Trey stirred beside you, his brow furrowing slightly as his hand lazily reached for his glasses. He slid them on, blinking sleepily as his gaze landed on you.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, groggy, and just a little raspy—the kind of voice you’d pay extra to have someone read you bedtime stories with. “You’re staring.”

For a moment, your brain blue-screened. Trey Clover—novel character and now your husband, apparently—was looking at you with concern, and all you could think was: At least he’s hot.

“…Nothing,” you croaked, swallowing down the rising tide of panic. “Just… processing.”

“Processing what?” he asked, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes, his entire demeanor radiating "adoring husband" energy.

You clenched the sheets in your fists, trying to will yourself to wake up from this insane fever dream. Unfortunately, the chandelier wasn’t disappearing, Trey wasn’t fading into mist, and your perfectly moisturized skin wasn’t breaking into your usual crusty dryness.

This was real.

And somehow, you were the villainess in a novel you’d once described as "a literary abomination designed to kill brain cells."

The sound of a soft knock at the bedroom door made you jump, nearly upsetting the tower of books you’d been flipping through in your attempt to figure out where in the dumpster fire of this timeline you were.

“Come in?” you called hesitantly, trying to shove the incriminating evidence of your non-villainess-like behavior—a half-written list titled HOW TO NOT DIE TRAGICALLY—under a pillow.

Trey stepped in, balancing a tray of food like he was auditioning for Husband of the Year. His hair was slightly mussed, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up just enough to show forearms that could inspire sonnets. The man was a walking Pinterest board, and it was unfair.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said with a small smile, setting the tray on the table. “You’ve been skipping meals, and that’s not like you.”

You laughed nervously, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Oh, um, yeah. Upset stomach. You know how it is.”

Trey raised an eyebrow, his smile unwavering but his eyes far too knowing. “Sure. And I’ll be here while you eat, just to make sure you’re feeling better.”

Oh, no.

You stared at the tray like it had betrayed you. Soup, bread, and some suspiciously perfect desserts that looked like they had been made by the hands of an angel. You couldn’t say no without sounding even sketchier.

“Right,” you muttered, picking up the spoon with the grace of someone about to face a firing squad. As you sipped, Trey watched silently, his chin resting on one hand, his soft gaze pinned on you. The air felt so heavy you could’ve cut it with a butter knife.

“Are you going to go through with it?” he asked suddenly.

You froze mid-bite, the words hitting you like a frying pan to the face. “Go through with… what?”

“The divorce,” he said simply.

You choked on your soup. The spoon clattered back into the bowl as you grabbed a napkin, trying to avoid literally dying of shock. Divorce? Divorce?! That wasn’t in the plan! You knew what happened after the divorce—the villainess died, and you weren’t about to let fate steamroll you into an early grave, again.

“What? No! Of course not!” you sputtered, waving your hands in frantic denial. “Why would I want a divorce? You’re, uh, great! Fantastic! A literal dream husband!”

Trey blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion before his expression softened into something warmer, almost relieved. “You… want to work things out?”

“Yes!” you blurted, nodding with enough enthusiasm to give yourself whiplash. “Absolutely! Let’s work this out. Together. Like a team.”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile that nearly melted you on the spot. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that left your brain doing cartwheels. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that. I’ll be back for dinner, so rest up until then.”

He left the room, and the moment the door clicked shut, you flopped back onto the bed like a deflated balloon. The pillow muffled your scream of embarrassment as you kicked your feet, equal parts flustered and mortified. What was that? Why did he have to be so sweet? How were you supposed to survive this level of tenderness without combusting?

The door creaked open again.

You froze mid-giggle, legs tangled in the sheets like a caught fish. Trey stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised and looking like he was about two seconds away from bursting into laughter. “Forgot my pen,” he said casually, strolling over to grab the item from the bedside table.

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. “Oh. Uh. Right.”

He paused on his way out, leaning down to kiss your cheek with infuriating gentleness. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you red-faced, flustered, and questioning every life choice that had led to this moment.

It had been such a nice meal. The kind where the food was good, the company better, and the wine just strong enough to make you feel warm and floaty but not stupid. Trey was smiling faintly at you over his plate, his rare but deeply satisfying I’m enjoying myself face in full effect, and you dared to think, Hey, maybe I can survive this isekai nonsense after all.

And then the restaurant door swung open, and your fragile peace shattered like a dropped wine glass.

The prince had arrived.

Trey’s face immediately darkened like a thunderstorm on the horizon, and you felt yourself lose a year of your life just from sheer dread. The prince was a walking disaster in human form, and you’d been hoping to avoid him like the plague. But the universe clearly hated you because here he was, sashaying through the restaurant like he owned the place.

“Oh no,” you whispered, gripping your fork like it could somehow protect you.

Trey’s jaw tightened as the prince spotted you both, his grin wide enough to make you wish the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Darlings!” the prince cried, crossing the room with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever off its leash. “Fancy seeing you here!”

You didn’t even get a chance to object before he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, spun it around dramatically, and wedged himself between you and Trey, plopping down like he’d been invited. Spoiler alert: he hadn’t.

“Your Highness,” Trey said through clenched teeth, managing to sound both polite and like he was ready to stab someone with a salad fork.

“Oh, come now, Trey,” the prince laughed, waving off the formality. “No need to be so stiff. After all, we’re practically family!”

You didn’t get the chance to ask how that made sense before he grabbed your hand—and Trey’s—planting a wet, sloppy kiss on each. The sound it made was unholy, like a boot pulling free from a swamp. You and Trey simultaneously stiffened, the same thought clearly running through your minds: Don’t cringe, don’t cringe, don’t cringe…

“I simply had to come over when I saw you two!” the prince gushed, oblivious to your visible discomfort. “The saintess—bless her kind, radiant heart—has been dying to see you both!”

You glanced at Trey, who was visibly restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

“She’s throwing a ball this weekend,” the prince continued, clasping his hands together like he was sharing the world’s most exciting news. “And you must come. Truly, it’d be… well, treasonous not to, considering we’re both inviting you!”

Ah, there it was. The veiled threat disguised as politeness. You hated that this guy was smart enough to wield his royal status as a weapon, even if he made everything sound like it came with a complimentary gift basket.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace. “We’d be honored, Your Highness.”

Trey shot you a subtle look, one that very clearly said Traitor, but you knew he agreed. Anything to avoid another round of Wet Hand Kisses.

“Wonderful!” the prince declared, clapping his hands together. “I knew you two would understand. You always were the reasonable ones.”

He finally stood up, ruffling Trey’s hair in a way that made his eye twitch before striding off like he hadn’t just hijacked your peaceful dinner.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, you slumped back in your chair, utterly drained. “I feel like I need to bathe in holy water.”

Trey pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I should’ve poisoned his dessert last time.”

You stared at him. “You what?”

“Nothing,” he said, picking up his fork like nothing had happened. “Let’s finish eating.”

You could still feel the ghost of the prince’s wet kiss on your hand, and you shuddered. “Do you think we can fake our deaths before Saturday?”

Trey actually looked like he was considering it.

The ball was, against all odds, actually enjoyable. The lights glittered like fairy dust, the music was just the right level of lively, and the wine was strong enough to turn your earlier dread into a warm, floaty haze. Trey was by your side, charming in his tailored suit, and for once, the prince and saintess were blissfully absent.

"Maybe they got lost," you whispered to Trey, leaning in conspiratorially. "Or better yet, maybe they found a better party and decided to leave us alone."

Trey smirked, sipping his wine. "If only we were that lucky."

Your hopes were dashed, naturally, when the prince appeared out of nowhere like some unholy summon. One second you were lifting a glass to your lips, and the next, your arm was being yanked so hard you almost spilled your drink.

“Come now, my dear!” the prince declared, grinning in a way that felt more like a threat than an invitation. “Dance with me!”

Before you could even process what was happening, you were being twirled onto the dance floor. Across the room, you caught a glimpse of Trey being snatched by the saintess, who looked like she had all the coordination of a baby deer on ice.

The prince pulled you in too close, his breath an unholy concoction of garlic and what might’ve been sour milk. You tried to politely lean back, but he just leaned closer, grinning obliviously.

“You’re stiff, my dear,” he said, his voice low and entirely too sultry for someone who smelled like a kitchen accident. “Loosen up!”

Meanwhile, Trey was enduring his own nightmare. The saintess stepped on his foot with her stiletto for the fourth time, and you could swear you saw him wince in actual pain. She was chattering nonstop about something—maybe puppies, maybe world peace—you couldn’t hear over the sound of her heels clobbering the floor.

When the ordeal finally ended, you staggered back to Trey, feeling like you’d aged ten years. He looked equally frazzled, rubbing his shoulder like it had been yanked out of its socket.

“I’d say that was horrible,” he said under his breath, “but I think ‘horrible’ is too kind.”

Before you could respond, the saintess suddenly tripped. She wasn’t even near you—she was all the way across the room—but she hit the ground with a dramatic thud, and her dress promptly ripped down the side.

You blinked. “Wait, what just—”

“I knew it!” she screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at you from the floor. “You sabotaged me!”

The prince, for once, looked baffled. He glanced between her and you like he was trying to solve a complicated riddle. “But… she wasn’t even near you?”

“SABOTAGE!” the saintess shrieked again, her voice cracking.

The original villainess would’ve taken the high road, maybe pretended to be insulted or outraged. You, however, were just drunk enough to find the entire thing hilarious.

You laughed. Loudly.

And to your absolute delight, the crowd followed suit. Quiet snickers turned into outright guffaws as everyone around you dissolved into laughter.

The saintess gawked, looking like a wet cat as she scrambled to her feet. “You’re all… MONSTERS!” she shrieked, before fleeing the room with a level of dramatics that would make even a soap opera jealous.

The prince hesitated, torn between chasing after her or staying to glower at you and Trey. Finally, with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like “I hate my life,” he ran after her, disappearing into the night.

“Well,” Trey said, offering his hand with a faint smirk, “that was… something. Care to salvage the evening with a proper dance?”

You took his hand, letting him spin you onto the floor. The music softened, the crowd fading into the background as Trey pulled you close.

“You look stunning tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as you danced.

The compliment hit you like a sucker punch, leaving you so dazed that, in your flustered state, you impulsively dipped him instead of the other way around.

Trey laughed, eyes crinkling with genuine delight. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, cheeks burning as you held the pose.

But to your surprise, he didn’t protest. He let you dip him, even laughing as you pulled him back up. And when the dance ended, he kissed your cheek, sending your heart into a full-on meltdown.

“That,” he said, his voice filled with amusement, “was the most fun I’ve had at a ball in years.”

The tea party was a picturesque affair, all pastel tablecloths, delicate porcelain cups, and the kind of floral arrangements that screamed wealth and good taste. You were seated with Riddle, Cater, and Che’nya at a table tucked under a wisteria-laden gazebo, trying your best to survive the endless parade of gossip and sweets.

The conversation drifted naturally, like it always did, until someone—probably Cater—brought up the topic of Trey.

“Y’know,” Cater began, swirling his tea with exaggerated nonchalance, “Trey’s been looking at you like you personally hung the moon and stars lately. It’s kinda adorable.”

Che’nya leaned over, grinning like the Cheshire Cat he was. “So deep in love, it’s practically a romantic trench. What’s your secret, huh? Love potion? A really good pie?”

You chuckled, brushing off the comment, but then you glanced across the garden—and froze.

There he was, Trey Clover, the ridiculously perfect husband material that fate had handed you in this bizarre isekai life. He was standing a little ways off, chatting with a few nobles, but his gaze was unmistakably fixed on you.

When your eyes met, he smiled. Not just any smile—a warm, genuine, I-would-die-for-you-and-bake-you-cookies-afterwards kind of smile. It hit you like a runaway carriage.

Your chest tightened, your stomach flipped, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to pause.

Oh no.

Oh no.

You were in so deep.

Like, Titanic-hitting-the-iceberg-and-sinking-to-the-ocean-floor deep.

“Uh oh,” Cater sang, leaning closer with a smirk that could only mean trouble. “I know that look. Someone just had their Hallmark movie epiphany.”

You snapped out of it, cheeks burning. “What look? I don’t have a look!”

“Oh, you totally do,” Che’nya chimed in, his grin somehow wider. “It’s all dreamy and starry-eyed, like you’re in a fairy tale. Which, I guess you kinda are?”

Riddle, ever the straight man in these situations, regarded you with a mix of pity and exasperation. “Please tell me you’re not about to let these two meddle in your relationship.”

But before you could defend yourself, Cater was already leaning forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Cay-Cay’s got you covered! Wanna confess? I can totally set the mood—candles, roses, soft music…”

“I—what?” you stammered, still too dazed by your revelation to form a coherent response.

“That’s a yes!” Che’nya declared, clapping his hands together. “Alright, let’s brainstorm. Hot air balloon confession? Dramatic rain scene? Ooh, what about—”

“Absolutely not,” Riddle interrupted, his tone sharp as ever. He turned to you, expression weary. “I’ll make sure they don’t do anything absurd, but honestly, why not just tell Trey yourself? He’s your husband.”

You groaned, sinking into your chair as Cater and Che’nya continued to scheme with increasingly outlandish ideas. Meanwhile, Riddle looked at you like you’d just wired your entire fortune to a scammer and promised to fix it for you later.

Across the garden, Trey caught your gaze again, his brows furrowing slightly in concern at your flustered state. He started to make his way over, and your heart leapt into your throat.

Oh no.

Whatever happened next, you were absolutely not ready.

Riddle had been firm, as always. “A pie,” he said with the kind of authority you’d expect from someone sentencing a man to death. “It’s simple, heartfelt, and Trey would appreciate the effort. Not that I have time to indulge in frivolities like this, but… you’re lucky I know the basics.”

Turns out, Riddle did not know the basics. And neither did you.

What followed could only be described as a culinary catastrophe.

The kitchen looked like it had been struck by a flour tornado, with you and Riddle at its chaotic epicenter. Your attempt at pie dough was a war crime in the making—half stuck to the counter, half to your hands, and none of it remotely edible.

“Why is it stretching?” Riddle hissed, his face as red as his hair, holding one end of the dough while you gripped the other. The elastic monstrosity between you refused to snap, stretching longer and longer like some unholy noodle.

“I don’t know!” you shrieked back, your voice an octave higher than usual. “I followed the instructions! Mostly! Kind of!”

“‘Kind of’ isn’t good enough! Put some force into it!”

Riddle tugged one end of the dough like he was in a tug-of-war with a particularly stubborn ghost. You yanked back, and the dough elongated even further, wobbling ominously in the air.

That’s when Trey walked in.

He stopped in the doorway, taking in the absolute chaos: the flour-streaked counter, the rolling pin embedded in what used to be a bag of sugar, and you and Riddle holding opposite ends of the world’s saddest dough.

“What… exactly is happening here?” Trey asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You froze, still clutching the dough. Riddle looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“We’re baking,” you managed to squeak out.

Trey blinked, then burst into laughter, the sound warm and rich like honey. “Is that what you’re calling this?”

His laughter didn’t help your embarrassment, but the way he stepped forward, gently taking the dough from you and Riddle like a benevolent baking god, did. “Alright, let’s see if we can salvage this. Flour, water… and patience. You two watch and learn.”

You stood back, flustered and hopelessly smitten as Trey worked his magic. In minutes, he turned your disaster into a perfectly respectable pie crust. He even smiled at you both as if to say nice try, kids, and it made you feel oddly warm inside.

Still too mortified to admit the pie was meant for him, you let him finish it while Riddle quietly excused himself, muttering about overdue paperwork.

You did feel for Riddle, poor guy was stuck babysitting the Prince after all. Maybe the dough was sad because of his stress.

Later, Cater and Che’nya were far too pleased with themselves when they found you.

“So,” Cater said, grinning, “how’s Operation Swoon going?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumbled, remembering the dough debacle.

Che’nya’s grin widened. “Lucky for you, we’ve got Plan B: flowers! Romantic, classic, and impossible to mess up.”

You weren’t sure about that last part, but their enthusiasm was infectious. You ended up at a florist with Cater coaching you through every step, from picking out the blooms to tying a ribbon. By the time you were done, the bouquet looked gorgeous.

When you handed the flowers to Trey later, he looked… stunned. His eyes widened, his cheeks turned faintly pink, and his smile was so soft and genuine that you nearly dropped dead on the spot.

“For me?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, suddenly nervous. “Yeah. Just, uh, wanted to thank you. For everything. You know.”

Trey cradled the bouquet like it was something precious. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot.”

And when he smiled at you again, you realized that maybe, just maybe, Cater and Che’nya’s meddling wasn’t so bad after all.

You were practically vibrating with excitement as you entered the restaurant, rare flower in hand. You’d spent far too much money on it, but it was worth it. Trey deserved nothing less. The merchant had waxed poetic about how the flower symbolized eternal devotion, and you figured it was the perfect way to set the stage for your long-overdue confession.

Trey was already seated at the table, his calm demeanor somehow both comforting and devastatingly attractive. When he saw you approach, his eyes softened, and that sweet smile of his—the one that made your knees weak—spread across his face.

You handed him the flower, and his expression lit up as though you’d just handed him the moon.

“For me?” he asked, his voice full of surprise and warmth.

“Of course,” you said, a little shy but mostly proud of yourself. “I thought it suited you.”

His fingers brushed yours as he took the flower, and before you knew it, you were holding hands across the table. The atmosphere felt perfect—soft candlelight, his warm gaze locked on yours, and your heart pounding like it had just discovered cardio.

This was it. The moment to confess that you loved him.

You opened your mouth, ready to pour your heart out—

And then she appeared.

The saintess, an uninvited hurricane in the form of a woman, swept into the room with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. You barely had time to process her arrival before she snatched the flower from Trey’s hand like a seagull stealing a french fry.

“Oh, Trey, you shouldn’t have!” she gushed, clutching the flower to her chest like a deranged soap opera villain. “How thoughtful of you to get this for me!”

Trey’s face froze in what could only be described as polite murder. His jaw tightened, his grip on the table visibly white-knuckled.

You, however, were already halfway to a breakdown. “Excuse me?” you sputtered.

The saintess ignored you entirely.

Enter the prince, the human equivalent of a golden retriever who’d been hit on the head one too many times. He trailed behind her, clearly regretting his existence. For once, he seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and awkwardly tried to mediate.

“Ah, maybe I should—uh—just give this back,” he mumbled, reaching for the flower.

The saintess responded by shoving him.

The prince, unprepared for even the gentlest resistance, stumbled directly into Trey’s arms.

Trey, now holding a grown man like a bridal bouquet, froze. His eyes darted to you, silently screaming what do I do with this?

Before he could decide, the prince looked up at him, smiled coyly, and winked.

You might’ve laughed if the saintess hadn’t chosen that exact moment to drape herself across you.

“Oh, my dear friend,” she simpered, batting her lashes, “surely you understand Trey’s affection for me. You’ll support us, won’t you?”

You were too stunned to respond, stuck holding the saintess like an overly affectionate sloth. Across the table, Trey looked like he was begging whatever gods existed for an escape route.

Finally, something in Trey snapped. Gently—yet firmly—he set the prince in his seat like a toddler being put in timeout. Then, without a word, he reached across, grabbed the saintess by the arm, and unceremoniously deposited her in her own chair.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” Trey said, his voice smooth but his expression pure I’m done with this nonsense. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the restaurant, not even sparing a glance back.

Oh, and he definitely took the flower back.

In the carriage, Trey was silent, his expression unreadable. You hesitated before asking, “Are you okay?”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just… tired.”

“Of what?”

“Of not having moments with you for myself,” he said, his voice soft but full of frustration. “Every time I try to enjoy being with you, someone interrupts. I just… I want you. Just you.”

Your heart practically melted on the spot. Overwhelmed by his honesty, you leaned forward and kissed him—a gentle, tentative gesture that said everything you’d been too nervous to put into words.

Trey froze for a moment, then pulled you closer, kissing you again, this time deeper and with so much emotion that you thought your brain might short-circuit. His hands cradled your face, and the world outside the carriage ceased to exist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his smile so radiant it made your heart skip. “I guess this means you’re mine?”

You nodded, breathless.

“And I’m yours,” he murmured, sealing the confession with another kiss that left you thoroughly, blissfully dazed.

It was supposed to be a simple stroll through the common garden—just you and Trey enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and you were basking in the warmth of Trey's smile when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

The prince.

And worse, the pebble.

You recognized it instantly—the cursed rock from the original novel, the one destined to send the prince spiraling into a tragic, fatal end. It glittered ominously on the path, as if taunting fate.

The prince, blissfully unaware, strutted forward like he owned the place. He stepped right onto the pebble, his foot slipping out from under him with comical precision.

In that split second, you knew what you had to do. Annoying as he was, no one deserved to die because of a glorified piece of gravel.

You lunged forward, grabbing the prince by the arm and yanking him upright just before disaster struck.

He looked at you, wide-eyed, for all of two seconds before breaking into a toothy grin. “Ah, so this is love,” he declared, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Fear not, my dear! Your feelings for me are obvious, and I, in my infinite generosity, shall grant you the honor of becoming my bride!”

Trey, who had been watching this unfold with his usual calm, suddenly stiffened. His hand slipped into yours, his grip firm but not unkind as he gently pulled you closer.

“Your Highness,” Trey began, his voice polite but laced with steel, “I think you may have misunderstood something.”

“Oh?” The prince arched a brow, clearly oblivious to the warning signs.

“She's already married,” Trey said, his tone so calm and measured it was borderline terrifying. “To me.”

The prince’s eyes lit up with excitement, not deterred in the slightest. “A rivalry for their love, then? Excellent! Let the best man win!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Riddle—ever the voice of reason (or exhaustion)—strode into the fray like a man who had been dealing with this nonsense for far too long.

“Your Highness,” Riddle snapped, looking entirely done with life. “What in the sevens are you doing?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the prince by the collar and dragged him away like a scolding parent hauling a toddler out of the candy aisle.

“You can’t just propose to married people!” Riddle hissed as they disappeared down the path.

Left in their wake, you spotted Cater and Che’nya lounging under a tree, shamelessly munching on popcorn. Cater caught your eye and waved, looking far too entertained by the whole ordeal.

“Did you see Trey’s face?” Che’nya whispered loudly. “I’d give it a solid nine out of ten on the jealousy scale.”

“Totally,” Cater agreed. “Hey, Alfred!” he called to the butler nearby. “Get me a glass of wine; this show’s getting good!”

Before you could decide whether to laugh or cringe, Trey’s hand gently tilted your chin, drawing your attention back to him.

“Focus on me,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours.

And oh, jealous Trey was adorable. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with a possessiveness that made your heart skip several beats.

Caught up in the moment, you leaned forward and kissed him, a quick but sweet gesture that left him blinking in surprise before a soft smile spread across his face.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Cater almost spill his wine in excitement, while Che’nya clapped like a seal.

“Now that’s spicy!” Che’nya crowed.

“I need another glass,” Cater sighed dramatically, as if the sheer romance was too much for his delicate heart.

But you didn’t care. Trey’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for once, the rest of the world faded away.

The war room was dead silent, the kind of silence so heavy you could hear the shuffle of maps and the scratch of quills on parchment. Every important figure of the empire was present—Trey and you, the Emperor and Empress, military generals whose scowls could crack stone, the Pope looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, and, shockingly, even the Prince, for once not actively trying to ruin someone’s day.

Strategies were discussed in grim tones. Supply lines, terrain advantages, possible reinforcement numbers—you and Trey were fully immersed in weighing the support your duchy could offer. For once, even the Prince managed to look engaged, though he was suspiciously chewing on the end of his quill like a kid stuck in detention.

Then, like an uninvited storm, the doors slammed open.

“Hellooooooo!”

Every head in the room turned as the Saintess waltzed in, an hour late, as if this were a garden party and not a high-stakes war council. She was dressed in what could only be described as a fever dream of bad taste: a dress so garish and bedazzled it could probably be seen from orbit, complete with absurd feathered accessories sticking out at odd angles like a startled peacock.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she sang, twirling unnecessarily as if this was a runway. “I couldn’t decide which dress to wear. Do you think this one looks good?”

The silence was palpable, charged with a collective secondhand embarrassment that could power an entire city.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering if you could claim an "upset stomach" for the fifth time this month. Then, unable to stop yourself, you deadpanned, “Yes. It’d make a great enemy flag.”

Trey choked on a laugh, quickly covering it with a cough. The Pope crossed himself, possibly praying for patience. One of the military generals muttered something under his breath, hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword. The Prince just buried his face in his hands.

The Saintess, predictably, burst into tears. “You’re so mean! I’m just trying to brighten up this dreary meeting!”

The Emperor looked deeply, soul-crushingly confused, glancing at the generals as if to ask, Does this happen often? Meanwhile, the Empress, seated beside him, was gripping the armrest of her chair so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

Trey sighed and leaned closer to you. “I’ll handle it,” he murmured, giving you a quick nod before standing.

He approached her like one might approach a wild animal, hands raised in surrender. “Saintess, perhaps we could discuss this outside—”

But no sooner had he stepped within arm’s reach did she trip. On purpose.

In what could only be described as an Olympian-level act of self-preservation, Trey sidestepped so swiftly she ended up flailing through the air like a failed acrobat.

She landed directly on top of the Emperor.

The entire room froze.

The Emperor looked down at the Saintess sprawled across his lap with the bewilderment of someone who just found a raccoon in their bed. The generals were wide-eyed, clearly waiting for his reaction before deciding if they needed to draw their swords. The Pope had started sweating through his robes, clutching his staff like it was his last lifeline.

And then, like an avenging goddess, the Empress rose from her seat.

Without a single word, she grabbed the Saintess by her feathered hairpiece and hauled her up like a disobedient child. The Saintess shrieked, limbs flailing, but the Empress dragged her toward the door with a grim determination.

“OUT.”

The doors slammed shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Trey cleared his throat, brushing off his sleeves as if nothing had happened. “Well,” he said, returning to his seat beside you. “That was… eventful.”

“Eventful?” you hissed, elbowing him. “She just dive-bombed the Emperor!”

Trey shrugged, lips twitching. “And yet here we are, still alive. I’d call that a win.”

Across the table, the Emperor straightened his robes, trying to reclaim what little dignity he had left. “Shall we… continue?” he asked, though his tone suggested he wanted nothing more than a stiff drink and a nap.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a laugh as the meeting resumed. Somehow, against all odds, you managed to get back to planning strategy. But you knew this story was one for the history books. Or at least for drunken retellings later.

The negotiation room was a grand affair, with gilded walls, an impossibly long table, and an air of tension so thick you could slice it with a butter knife.

The opposing kingdom’s crown princess sat across from your delegation, radiating intelligence and poise. Her every word was measured, her presence commanding, and she somehow managed to make a simple quill look like a weapon of mass destruction.

Meanwhile, your prince was... spinning in his chair.

“Wheeeee!”

You felt your soul leave your body.

“Your Highness,” Riddle hissed, his voice laced with the kind of fury only a man on the verge of a migraine could muster. “Compose yourself!”

The prince paused mid-spin, blinking like he’d just remembered where he was. “Right, right. Negotiations. Totally got this.” He picked up a quill and twirled it between his fingers like a toddler pretending to be an adult.

You buried your face in your hands, quietly mourning the future of your kingdom.

Across the table, their saint was the picture of grace, clasping their hands as though ready to bestow divine blessings upon the room. They exuded an aura of peace and righteousness that made you think, Ah, yes, this is what a saint should look like.

And then there was your saintess.

She was currently leaning against the wall, dramatically fanning herself with a peacock-feathered fan that you were pretty sure wasn’t hers. She’d arrived late, claiming she’d been “blessed by the spirits of fashion,” and was wearing a gown so covered in rhinestones that it could probably be seen from space.

You caught Trey’s eye from across the table. He looked entirely too amused, like he was moments away from bursting into laughter. You glared at him, silently begging him to take this seriously.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward as if to say, I’m trying.

Thankfully, the Empress had come along for damage control. She sat at the head of the table, calm and unflappable, effortlessly steering the conversation back on track whenever your prince derailed it with comments like, “So, how do you guys feel about dragons?”

When the opposing kingdom’s crown princess suggested an ambassador exchange as part of the peace treaty, the Empress visibly perked up.

“That’s an excellent idea,” she said smoothly. “In fact, we have the perfect candidate.”

You felt a sliver of hope. Maybe she’d suggest Riddle—he was intelligent, responsible, and would undoubtedly represent your kingdom well. Or Trey, whose calm demeanor and charm could win over anyone. Or—dare you dream—maybe even you, since you were clearly the only one in this circus who had a shred of common sense. And the two of you could move away from this hellhole.

“We’ll send the saintess,” the Empress announced, her voice dripping with what could only be described as malicious glee.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

The crown princess on the other side of the table looked mildly alarmed. “Um,” she began, clearly searching for a polite way to decline.

“She’ll be an excellent cultural ambassador,” the Empress continued, her smile widening. “She’s... unforgettable.”

Riddle’s eye twitched, but he said nothing. Trey looked down at the table, probably to hide his grin.

The saintess, oblivious to the underlying implications, squealed in delight. “Oh my gosh, finally! I’ve always wanted to travel!”

The opposing kingdom reluctantly agreed—probably under the assumption that taking her would somehow count as reparations.

When you all finally returned home, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter, as though a glittery, rhinestone-encrusted weight had been lifted off your collective shoulders.

Trey leaned over in the carriage, his voice low and amused. “Well, I’d call that a success.”

“Success?” you laughed. “We basically tricked another kingdom into taking her off our hands.”

Trey’s smile was soft as he reached for your hand. “And we averted a war in the process.”

You sighed, but your heart skipped a beat when his thumb brushed against your knuckles. Maybe you could live with this version of “success.”

Without the saintess egging him on, the prince had downgraded from menace to society to mildly annoying NPC. He still popped up every now and then, offering unsolicited advice on topics he clearly didn’t understand, but Riddle—bless his overworked soul—had finally had enough. As royal advisor, he slapped the prince with permanent probation, effectively keeping him confined to paperwork and far, far away from you and Trey.

Life, for once, was peaceful.

So peaceful, in fact, that you and Trey found yourselves back at that restaurant—the same one that had become the backdrop for two very traumatic encounters. It felt like tempting fate, but Trey, ever the optimist, assured you that lightning wouldn’t strike thrice.

And for once, he was right.

The food was good, the atmosphere was cozy, and not a single insufferable royal barged in to ruin the evening. You both laughed, reminisced, and indulged in desserts that Trey—being the baking connoisseur he was—had plenty of opinions about.

By the time you left the restaurant, the streets were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. The air was crisp but not cold, and everything felt oddly serene, like the universe was apologizing for all the nonsense it had previously thrown your way.

As you walked side by side, Trey suddenly stopped.

You turned to face him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he knelt down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Trey—”

“Before you say anything,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with emotion, “I just want you to know that despite how things started between us... I’ve never regretted a single moment with you.” He looked up at you, his green eyes warm and sincere. “You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making you just as happy.”

He opened the box, revealing a ring—simple, elegant, and undeniably perfect. “So... will you marry me? Again?”

You stared at him, your chest tight with emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle. And then you laughed—because how else were you supposed to process the sheer ridiculousness of everything that had led to this moment?

“Yes,” you said, your voice trembling with joy. “Of course, yes.”

He stood, sliding the ring onto your finger with a smile that could have melted glaciers.

And then he kissed you—soft, slow, and so full of love that it felt like the world around you ceased to exist.

Somewhere in the distance, you thought you heard a cat knock over a trash can, but nothing could ruin this moment.

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[simpxxstan]

so who in svt do you think loves titties 🤨

18+ nsfw MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

omg this. i have the CRAZIEST fantasies abt svt and tits sorry tmi but really enjoyed writing this for that reason. also i think all of svt like titties ... they are just men at the end of the day lmaoo i just think the difference is in degree and moments

seungcheol

i think he likes tits a lot. primarily because he cannot fathom how soft your boobs are. it's his favourite thing to touch during and outside of sex too. he loves going into the shower with you, mainly to get his hands on your soft boobs. and because they're so soft and pliable and squishy in his hands, it gives him all the more reason to mark it up with hickeys.

jeonghan

oh my favourite menace LMAO he's addicted to your tits. and not in a very convenient way. he'll remember about your tits during work and beg you to send pics (sometimes you recycle old pics and sometimes he'll convince you to go to the washroom at work to take a pic). during movie night, he makes sure you can't focus on the movie because his hand is down your shirt. and forehead kisses before leaving the house? no. jeonghan prefers squeezing your tits one last time before leaving.

joshua

not too obsessed with tits per se. he loves all your body parts, because they're so soft to touch and so warm to cuddle against. the only times he particularly favours your tits are during sex. when he can eat you out and fondle your tits at the same time. when you sit on his dick and he can kiss your breasts because they're literally in his face.

jun

again, obsessed and a tit menace. he'll grab whenever he can- during a red light when you're on drives, when you're cooking in the kitchen, and at night when he's the big spoon, sprawled across you from behind. and his favourite foreplay is undoubtedly, laying his head in between your tits, sucking and biting all over, as he fingers you and you arch out for him.

soonyoung

ANOTHER obsessed menace. he just wants your soft boobs all the time, to the point where it's annoying. he makes you wear his t-shirts at home, so that they fall off your shoulders and he can see your cleavage, and the mere sight makes him hard. but also non-sexually, soonyoung likes to lazily make out with you and suck your tits to heaven before he sleeps, and that gives him as much satisfaction as something else like a massage or any other relaxation method.

wonwoo

not a huge tit enthusiast. he likes how soft your breasts are, especially when you hug him and he feels them squish against the hard planes of his chest. but not overly obsessed (he'd much rather kiss your plush thighs and hips before he makes out with your pussy).

woozi

secret tit enjoyer. he's watched too much hentai to not be. i think his favourite way to ravish your tits would be when you give him titjobs in his studio, your softness turning him on endlessly until he's coming all over your chest and the sight makes even his spent dick twitch. non-sexually, i think he also likes to kiss them before sleeping, enjoying the softness as he cuddles with you after late nights at work.

dokyeom

addicted is an UNDERSTATEMENT. triggers off his submissiveness like crazy if he can suck your boobs for longer than 30 seconds. he's also partial to buying you clothes and lingerie that make your chest look pretty, although he gets very protective whenever you wear them (they're only for his eyes, he says). has an entire collection of polaroids he clicks when he wear these lingerie for him.

mingyu

ANOTHER OBSESSED PUPPY. he just loves your entire body- loves grabbing your soft flesh, your smooth skin, the curved and dips of your body, he loves it all. but the cherry on top, of course, are your tits. as a fan of clothed sex (i think mingyu is obsessed with this too), he really loves clothes that flaunt your boobs for him. gets hard if you squish your boobs against his body unconsciously when he wraps you in one of his bear hugs. also a fan of non-sexual intimacy, for exanple when, he gets to lie next to you in the bathtub, your tits in his mouth, as you watch netflix together.

-minghao

secret tit enjoyer, but not a lot. he ravishes your tits in unusual ways- like when he props you up on the kitchen counter while making out before dinner, his hands fondling your soft boobs. like when you let him drizzle maple syrup on your tits and lick it off after breakfast in bed. like when you let him paint you nude but he can't keep his eyes off your pretty tits for the entire duration of the painting so he marks them up (and adds those hickeys to the painting as well).

seungkwan

not obsessed but still likes them a lot. i think seungkwan gets mighty horny whenever he sees your tits bounce or even show through your clothes, when you're playing sports or dancing for fun with him. apart from that, he keeps his liking very controlled (except when you ride him in cowgirl and he sucks your breasts till they're super sensitive and you're squirming in his grip).

vernon

quite enthusiastic. he's going to grope you at any opportunity you give, and even the ones he takes. will spend entire evenings with your tits in his mouth as you card your hand through his hair and listen to your favourite songs. he won't ask you for it, but if you wear lingerie, vernon will cum in his pants, no question about it. also the type to want to see nipple piercings on you, so when you get one boob done for his birthday, he swears he doesn't want anything else from his life (just the other boob too, if you please).

chan

ANOTHER MENACE. he has very serious and wild fantasies about your tits. he tells you about them very shyly, so he's overjoyed whenever you react nicely to them. like when you let him massage your tits with oil for hours until you cum untouched, while you're handcuffed to the bedposts. like when he uses his vibrator on your tits, relishing the soft jiggle. like when you let him clamp your nipples a bit- not too much, but still tight enough to make you feel constantly stimulated.

[nanpecan]

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 4

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1.  pt 2. pt 3. pt. 5 pt. 6

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You’re a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and you've now had two extremely intimate encounters with grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento. After surviving a terrifying encounter with a curse you feel like you can finally think clearly. Nanami wants to talk to you as well, is it finally time to put it all out there?

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, slight angst, explicit smut (mdni) !!

˚₊✩‧₊word count: 7.8k (sorry not sorry)

˚₊✩‧₊author’s note: I wrote like five different versions of this chapter and this is the one i'm finally happy with. I love a good confession. I hope y'all enjoy the ending heheheh!

˚₊✩‧₊obligatory mistki song to accompany this chapter

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up to a bright, sterile light flooding your surroundings. You were in the infirmary. You couldn’t remember how you got there but you blushed as you remembered Nanami outside of the office. He had probably brought you here after you passed out. You propped yourself up and looked down at your body. You had been stripped of your suit jacket and button up and were now in a white undershirt. Your right arm was hooked up to an IV. You looked over at your left and took in the aftermath of the hasty healing. The arm looked almost completely normal but the skin was a little bit discolored, more pink, like a fresh scar. 

You pressed down on your rib cage and didn’t feel pain anymore. Shoko must have fixed you up. Your neck felt better and you cleared your throat. No pain. You put a hand up to your throat and massaged it thinking back to how close you had been to dying. 

You spotted movement from the corner of your eye and turned your head towards it. Shoko was walking up to you. “Are you an angel?” You said as you smiled at her. 

She shook her head. “You are just full of surprises.” She pulled up a chair next to you and sat down. “Did you know you could use RCT?” 

You looked at her and nodded slowly. “Not well, that’s why I have this scar on my lip. I discovered it in my fourth year. I don’t have enough output to heal anything major.” 

“You say that but you were able to patch yourself up pretty well for being inexperienced. And the two victims, they’re saying the curse’s bite was clean, but I think something else happened.” She wasn’t saying any of this in an accusatory manner but something made you uneasy. 

“I…” 

“You used recycled cursed energy didn’t you?” You stared at her briefly before finally nodding. Even though you had never been told it was bad, it felt wrong to admit it. 

“I don’t know what happened, I just suddenly knew what to do. I grabbed a smaller curse and…” you made a sharp inhale noise, “and then I felt the weight in my hand and I was able to” you made a whoosh sound with your mouth. “And then it just worked.” You frowned as you realized how stupid that sounded. 

“I see.” She understood. You shook off your surprise. 

“Talking about it now…it feels wrong, like I shouldn’t have done it.” 

“It is wrong.” She said simply. “Well, it’s taboo.” She looked up at you. “It’s not a technique just anyone can use, the old heads think it would be used inappropriately by the wrong people. Under the right circumstances it would allow for a sorcerer to have an unlimited power supply and become basically invincible.” She sighed. “They always think the worst of people. You’re not like that are you?” You looked at her and shook your head. “Good.” She stood up. “Take my advice, don’t tell anyone what you did. Falsify your report.” 

“It won’t make sense how I was able to defeat the curse then.” 

“Lie, tell them it was weak. It just caught you by surprise, they have no reason to suspect anything as of now.” 

You looked down at your hands bitterly. If you falsified it and called it weak your little outburst would be unjustified. The students could have been facing an unimaginable danger. 

“Will you teach me?” you asked.

Shoko smiled. “Nanami asked me the same thing,” you glanced at her curiously. “If I could teach you how to correctly use RCT I mean.” She stared at you looking for a reaction. You didn’t have one. She smirked. “You should give him a chance. I’ve never seen him so interested in someone.” 

You felt your face burn up and blushed. “He told me he wasn’t interested.” You said softly. 

“He talks out of his ass to look cool. He probably didn’t mean it.” 

“It’s probably only because we-“ you stopped yourself and blushed again. 

Shoko laughed. “Oh I know.” 

“You do?” You said horrified. 

“Nanami’s one of my dearest friends, I got it out of him. He looked frazzled the next day and I always get the information I want.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s so hard headed and in denial of how he feels.” You looked down at your hands. “I can see you’re both like that.” She grabbed your hand. “I think you’d be good for him.” She smiled softly. “I haven’t really known you for very long but your spirit reminds me of someone. You act like the weight of the real world hasn’t affected you, but I’ll admit I did some digging and know that you’ve gone through a lot.” You didn’t look at her. “You’re very optimistic for someone who’s lost so much. I think you should at least give it a shot.” 

“If I do…” she listened intently, “will you teach me?” She laughed. 

“Sneaky.” She shrugged. “We’d have to rearrange your schedule and find a reason to justify it to the higher ups.” She sighed. “But sure, why not.” 

You nodded thankful. “Speaking of managers…why don't you give Ijichi a shot?” 

She smiled and shook her head. “I’d ruin him. Besides, I’m not into younger men.” 

Shoko discharged you about an hour later, you both got caught up talking about a little bit of everything. You looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was almost 7 pm. You went out to the hallway. You needed to call a ride to get the car back from the museum, all your things were in there, you had been too exhausted to think about grabbing them before you left. You had a report to write. 

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” You jumped and turned to look. Nanami smiled slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you, my apologies.” 

“It’s okay…were you waiting the whole time?” 

“I was.” 

You were a bit surprised. “You should have come in! We weren’t really discussing anything important. I wouldn’t have taken so long if I had known you were waiting.” 

“It’s alright, I wanted to speak with you privately and there are ears everywhere in there.” He seemed irritated and you had a feeling he was referring to Shoko. 

“Ah, I need to walk to the main entrance, would you want to walk with me?” For some reason you didn’t feel any sort of resentment towards him, you felt rather calm in his presence. Having almost died four hours ago probably had something to do with it. “I need to go to the museum again to get the school car.” 

“Do you need a ride?” 

“Um,” you thought about it. You smiled at him. “Let’s see how this talk goes first.” 

You walked down the hallway with him. Neither of you spoke for the first minute. 

“I overheard some of your conversation with the office worker. What happened today?” he said.  

You frowned as you thought about it. Should you tell him about your RCT? You could trust him, right? You looked at him and scrunched your face. “I unexpectedly picked up one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers that had been unwrapped from its seal.” He stiffened. “I managed to stop a curse from getting it but at the cost of doing something a little unorthodox. I broke a couple of ribs, ruptured some internal organs and almost degloved my left arm but it was nothing a little RCT couldn’t fix.” You said with a smile. “Anyway, I was a little upset because while I was told the nearest sorcerer was on the way, they sent two students. Two first years at that.” You furrowed your brows. “If things had played out a little differently. If I had failed they would be in over their heads.” You sighed. “I probably sound stupid, or like I’m doubting their abilities. It’s just, they’re kids, they shouldn't have been the first line of defense.” You turned to look at Nanami after he didn’t say anything back. “I know it’s sort of silly, we’re a school after all… I think I have a soft spot for them because my younger sister is around their age.” 

“I share the same sentiment.” Nanami said, a somber look on his face.. “I don’t think it’s silly.” 

“Thank you.” You said with a smile. You both walked in silence again. “What..what did you want to talk to me about?” Nanami stayed silent for a bit longer. You looked at him again. “I have a feeling I know what it’s about. For some reason last night feels like so long ago…For me at least.” 

“I did want to discuss that, but seeing as you’ve had a long day…” 

You laughed a little. “Don’t worry about it. If anything it might make me feel better, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately but I think today snapped everything into perspective. It was a good wake up call.” You put your hands on your cheeks and shook your head. “I’ve been thinking too much about myself and when that happens I start to overthink and criticize everything I do or that others do to me.” You sighed. “So let’s talk it out.” 

“Why are you so convinced I wanted someone else every time we’ve been together?” 

“Straight to the point, fair enough.” You muttered. 

“You told me it could have been anyone, and that you weren’t the one I was hoping for. What did you mean by that?” He asked. 

“I..I just thought that maybe,” you felt your face getting hot. You sighed, “After you were affected by the curse, I mean even before that, you might have known something was going to happen and that maybe you had expected Akari to drive you originally and so you might have been a little disappointed when…when it was me instead.” Nanami was silent. You turned away from him. “You don’t have to say anything, I’ve already accepted it.” 

You heard him let out a breath of laughter and turned quickly to look at him. He put a hand up to hide his smile. “I apologize.” You frowned. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “You’re so quick to resolve your invented problems instead of talking them out. I mean, you’ve already accepted what? That I had, based on a mission that was changed three times, somehow masterminded a plan to sleep with a manager?” You looked at the floor embarrassed. 

“When you say it like that…” you muttered. 

   “I’m flattered you think I’m capable of such forward thinking, really.” He seemed more relaxed. “How do you explain what we did last night then? If it wasn’t you I wanted, why would I come for you again?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe you think I’m easy.” 

He stopped walking and got serious. You looked back over your shoulder at him. “I would never think that.” He seemed disgusted at the idea. He walked up to you, his gaze softening. “I’m afraid I continue to hurt you without meaning to. I need to be more honest, as you have.” He looked at you and you couldn’t help but blush. “If it had been anyone else in the car I would have had much, much more restraint.” He removed his glasses and looked you right in the eyes. “There’s something about you that draws me to you. I can’t explain it, I don’t want to explain it, and against my better judgment I can’t seem to stay away from you.” 

You stared back shocked. “I-“ 

“Today something in my gut told me to wait for you to return from your mission. I felt sick with worry when I heard something had gone wrong. I could have just left you with Shoko and asked for an update later but I couldn’t leave you. I’m not acting like myself, and it’s frustrating, you’re frustrating. You come up with solutions instead of speaking to me and I admire your independence, but I can’t help wanting to be involved in your decisions.” You didn’t know what to say. “I tend to be cold towards people in an effort to isolate myself. I’ve been hurt in the past and the last thing I want is to let someone in when everything in our lives is so impermanent. However, it’s too late for me.” He looked at you now with a deep sadness in his eyes. “You’ve broken my defenses. I need you.” 

You continued to stare at him wordlessly, shocked at everything he had just confessed. He liked you. He really really liked you. He needed you. You blushed and stuttered over your next words. “I- I don’t know what to say.” His face was slowly turning pink. “Me? I broke through to you?” He nodded. “I’m not very special.” You muttered quietly. 

“You’re very good at underestimating yourself.” You gave him a look. “Despite the sorcerer world turning its back on you, you continue to be loyal to it, and you care about the people around you. If I had been interested in Akari you would have helped me, correct?” 

“Yes.” You said. 

“You’re either a very good liar or you’ve got a good heart. That’s very rare.” He stepped closer to you and you thought he might try to kiss you again. “If you had driven Satoru and he had been affected by the curse would you have let him sleep with you?” 

You made a face and frowned. “No.” 

“If it had been anyone else?” 

“No.” You had to look away from his intense gaze. “The reason Akari passed me the mission was because she knew I liked you,” you blushed and looked up quickly. “We didn’t know what kind of mission it was! That’s not the reason at all I didn’t know it would be a-“ 

“I believe you.” 

You looked at him nervously. He had backed up some. You were both silent for a bit. “I’m happy.” You finally said. “But I’m…hesitant?” You frowned and looked down at your hands. “I…I mean I almost died today. Back at the cafe, when you said that romantic matters weren’t really smart in our line of work I honestly thought you were making some sort of excuse to turn me down. I know you’re not one to do that, I was just overthinking everything. But now…” you looked up at him. He seemed to understand and solemnly put his glasses back on. “I’m not very strong. Shoko can teach me how to use RCT and I’m so grateful for that, but it may mean I’ll be out in the field more. Even if I’m not, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever really be safe on missions. I don’t want to hurt you.” He was silent. “The moment I thought I was going to die I had nothing in my mind. I fought back of course but I didn’t have any regrets, I didn’t have anyone to worry about. All my dues have been paid and I’ve set everything up for when I’m gone. I…I didn’t even think about you.” You frowned. “I shouldn’t have said that.” You didn’t want to look at him. That must’ve hurt. “I thought you didn’t like me, I thought you-“ 

“I understand.” Your chest felt tight. His tone was neutral again. 

“It seems we’ve switched positions huh.” You said. 

“I’m not giving up on you,” he stated.

“What?” 

“I’ve found something that I want and I’ve made a promise to myself to not have any regrets when I die.” He came closer to you again. “I believe in the separation of business and pleasure. It’s dangerous to mix both, however as I’ve said, I need you.” He leaned in closer. He was going to kiss you this time you were sure. “Even if we don’t work out, even if you turn me down right now, I wouldn’t regret it. I feel as if I’ve said what I needed to.” He leaned even closer and you felt his breath on your face. “Are you not even curious to see if we could do it?” He whispered and you closed your eyes. He was going to kiss you. You felt his warmth fade and you opened your eyes to see him smirking and backing away. “You’re very honest with me, but you should be honest with yourself.” He started walking down the hallway leaving you standing there. You realized you had puckered your lips and everything. “I don’t mean to be rude when I say this, but,” he stopped for a moment. “Will you let fear rule your life?” 

You watched him walk. Will you let fear rule your life? It ringed in your ears. Up until now you had. After all, you were always the first to call yourself a coward. You hated confrontation. You had been so afraid of curses and of being hurt. But could you have done what you had if you were truly a coward? You had saved two lives, just today. You had fought tooth and nail to get that finger and unknowingly saved two students from meeting a worse fate. You had endured the rigorous years at Jujutsu Tech and everything in between. You had left home when you knew you were unwanted. You should have been afraid then, but you weren’t. You started tearing up a little. 

“Are you coming?” You looked up to see Nanami had stopped and turned towards you. 

He looked like he always had, well put together, confident in his stance, not a crease in his suit, so utterly unbothered. He glanced at his watch. You began walking towards him. Standing right in front of him you looked straight up at him. He looked down at you and cocked his head. You grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his suit. “Thank you.” You said to him. “I want to live fearlessly.” You looked up into his glasses, the light was hitting them just right and you saw his eyes through them. You felt his heartbeat against your chest and you lifted yourself up on your toes to kiss him. 

He kissed you back gently, letting you take the lead before he flipped you to push you against the wall and attacked your lips. You laughed against his mouth and he backed his head away to look at you. 

“We’re in public.” 

He scowled. “I don’t care.” He looked serious and you know what he was going to say next. “Come home-“ 

“I haven’t been home in a while. I need to check on my plants.” 

He gave you a look. “Plants?” 

“I didn’t even get to eat the sandwiches you bought me.” 

He kissed you again quickly. “I live near the café, I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You really like me, huh.” 

He laughed and you smiled as you watched him. “You make me smile. Not many people can.” he backed up and you watched as he fixed his tie. “You’re going to have to think of a better excuse than your plants,” he said. 

“And why do you want me to come over so badly?” you asked in a teasing tone. You both continued to walk down the hall. 

“Well right now I think Ieiri would want someone to watch over you, given your condition.” 

“Right, my condition,” you agreed sarcastically.

“You need someone to take care of you,” he said. “It wouldn’t do if you just collapsed again on your way out. As someone with a higher rank, it’s within my responsibility to take care of you.”

“Within your responsibility, I see.” He nodded.

“I’m glad you agree. I’m only suggesting this out of concern of course.” 

“Oh yes, I’m so grateful that Grade 1 Sorcerer, Nanami Kento, can take time out of his busy schedule to watch over me. In fact I am feeling a bit faint, thank goodness he’s so responsible.” 

He nodded again, “I really am.” 

You laughed and felt your chest growing warm. “Well then, is it within your responsibility to do this?” You put your hand on his shoulder turning him towards you for another kiss. 

You pulled back to see he had no reaction, but the tips of his ears turned pink. You tilted your head, staring at him with a smile on your face. His lips tightened as he pretended to be deep in thought. He sighed, “I would say so, besides you requested it so kindly, who am I to turn you away.” 

You laughed. “I’m glad my kindness isn’t lost on you. Would you be so kind as to kiss me again?” you asked, batting your eyelashes. He finally smiled back at you and pulled you in for another kiss. He put his hands up to hold your face close to him. 

“So I take it, you're agreeing?”

 You mimicked his thinking face, “Hmmm, sure. Why not.” He kissed you again. 

“I would invite you out to eat beforehand, however I’m sure you’d like to clean up first.” 

“I’d love a shower right now, but I have to drive to Naka-ku for the car, remember.” He frowned and you kissed him again. “Patience Nanami, you’ll get what you want after.” 

He scoffed and squeezed your face a little before dropping his hands. “You’re in no shape to get worked up. I do genuinely want to make sure you’re alright.”

You frowned at him now. “I’m tougher than I look.” he raised an eyebrow. “But maybe you’re right…especially because you haven’t been very gentle with me.” You smiled but you saw his expression darken. 

“I do apologize,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It wasn’t a complaint.” 

You heard footsteps coming from the corner ahead and stepped back from Nanami. Daisuke appeared from around the corner and looked shocked to see you. 

“Y/N! I was just coming to check on you.” His eyes went to Nanami who stood there silently. 

He nodded in acknowledgement. “Daisuke.”

“Nanami.” Daisuke said back respectfully. 

“I’m okay, I was on my way to get the car from the museum.” Daisuke was still staring at Nanami, “Ah, Nanami escorted me to Shoko after I dropped off the finger, I guess I passed out.” 

Daisuke turned back to you worried. “You’re okay now right?” 

“Yes, I’m practically brand new, Shoko fixed me up. And Nanami offered to give me a ride to the museum.” 

“Ah,” he glanced at him again. Nanami checked his watch. “Well, don’t worry about that, Akari went out to get the car. She should be back in any minute now. She's worried sick about you. She had me check on you.” You looked at him curiously. Why hadn’t she texted you. You felt around for your phone and realized you didn’t have it. You must have dropped it at the museum. 

“Well you can tell her I’m okay. I seem to have dropped my phone, I’ll wait for her to get here.” Daisuke nodded and looked at Nanami who checked his watch yet again. 

“Ah, I can wait with Y/N if you have somewhere to be sir.” Daisuke said. 

Nanami looked up and frowned. “No need, I’ll walk her to where she needs to go.” 

Daisuke seemed confused. “Okay…” 

“Walk with us. Do you know where she’ll be?” You all started walking, Nanami behind you and Daisuke typing away on his phone. 

“She’ll probably be in the garage, she has to check the cars tonight before they’re serviced.” 

“Okay, do you know if she needs any help?” 

“She’ll probably say no.” He typed silently. “She said no.” 

“Stubborn.” You said. You turned back to look at Nanami and smiled at him, he seemed to lighten up some. “Well I’m not keeping you from anything right Daisuke?” 

“No, I’m going to leave once I get to the garage. It’s past my time to head out.” 

“Thank you for helping me out today.” 

He nodded as he typed something else. “Of course. She’s pulling in now.” As the three of you walked, Daisuke continued to type away at his phone. You tried to sneak a glance at what he was typing but could only make out he was messaging with Akari. You suddenly felt Nanami pull on the back of your shirt. You smiled and slowed down to walk next to him instead of Daisuke, Daisuke didn’t seem to notice. You looked up at him and smiled again picking at his collar after you noticed his tie was crooked. He grabbed your hand as you pulled away and you blushed. 

Daisuke stopped in front of the parking garage and looked around for his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved at you and bowed slightly at Nanami. Nanami nodded. 

“So you’re the jealous type,” you said as you both watched Daisuke walk away. 

Nanami frowned. “No, I’m not.” He crossed his arms, but he was a little flustered. “I was just annoyed that he interrupted us.” 

“Sure…” you teased. 

He sighed, “Maybe you should go check on your plants.” 

You smacked him playfully and laughed. “Shut up.”

“Y/N!” You heard Akari call out for you. You turned to see her rushing towards you. “Back to back you have me worried about you. I need you to stop getting into trouble, please.” She glanced back at Nanami and bowed slightly. “Good evening.” 

“Akari,” he said, nodding back. 

“I’m okay, a lot happened but it all worked out. I’ll write a report tonight and submit it first thing tomorrow. I don’t have the energy to retell it twice.” 

“Okay,” Akari said. “Oh I found your phone,” she pulled it out of her pocket. “They’re saying it was a gas leak and that a broken pipe left two staff members with injuries that needed amputations. It’s all over the news.” 

You frowned. “Besides the amputations, are the staff members okay?” 

“Yes, the man is still in shock, the woman has been directed and interviewed.” 

You nodded satisfied. “I’m going to head home. Please let me know if you need help with inventory tonight.” 

Akari sighed and shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. Let me know when you get home.” She glanced over at Nanami, “Do you need anything sir?” 

He shook his head. “I was just talking with Y/N, I wanted to make sure she was okay.” 

Akari smiled, “You’re so kind.” you made a face at her when you recognized the sarcasm and the look she was giving him. She looked at you confused. It’s okay you mouthed at her. She looked at you still confused, we talked! She couldn’t read your lips. We talked, you repeated. She shook her head. 

“We talked it out.” You said out loud. You looked back at Nanami. “I told her about the car..” he blushed and nodded. “I also told her you turned me down and that you were kind of an asshole, I was mad.” He smiled a little. “But we talked it out.” You turned to Akari. “We’re good now.” 

“So what are you dating her now?” 

“It’s not-“ 

“I was asking him,” she said pointedly. You rolled your eyes at her. She was being protective, which you had been grateful for in the past but now you were a little annoyed. 

“She hasn’t fully agreed, but as of now she knows I’m interested in her.” 

“It’s getting late,” you murmured trying to change the subject. 

Akari looked at you confused. “You’ve fawned over him for the last two years and now you can’t give him an answer?” 

“I’m going to hit you.” 

“Well I’m proud of you, know your worth.” She turned to Nanami, “You’d be lucky to have her.” 

“I’m very aware.” He said. 

You were so embarrassed. “I’m going to go now.” you grumbled. “I’ll talk to you later, Akari.” 

“Text me,” She said, waving you off. 

Nanami walked you to his car. You weren’t really surprised when you saw it. It was a foreign make, you wouldn’t have expected less. He opened the door for you and you nervously sat down. When he came in and turned the car on you noticed the radio was off. 

“You really don’t listen to music do you?” 

Nanami looked at the radio and shook his head. “I don’t. But you could play something if you’d like.” 

“No, it’s okay, I won’t change it up for you.” You both rode in silence as he pulled away from the school. “Why don’t you listen to music?” 

“You can play something if you’d like.” He said smiling. 

“No, I’m just curious.” 

He was silent for a bit longer and you were afraid you might have pushed it. “I used to have a friend while I was attending jujutsu tech.” You knew who he was talking about. “We were teenagers together,” Nanami smiled fondly. “He used to show me all types of music. Every day it was something new, he was very into the charts and new releases. I could never keep up.” His smile dropped and he was a little more somber. “After he passed I just…”

“I see.” You say quietly. “Thank you for sharing with me. I’m sorry I brought it up.” 

“Don’t be, I understand it’s a strange habit.” 

“No it’s sort of sweet, it’s like a moment of silence for him.” You worried you might have overstepped once that left your mouth, but he smiled. 

“Something like that.” 

You continued to chat until you reached the apartment building you had pulled up to two days ago. You turned to him. “I’m curious to see what your place looks like. If your car is any indication, I bet it’s nice.” 

“It’s a bit messy at the moment, I wasn’t really expecting company.” 

-

Messy? You looked around at the spotless apartment. The hues of greys and browns elegantly accentuated the minimalist design of his furniture. “This is really nice,” you said looking around. You noticed a large bookshelf in the living room filled with books of all different thicknesses and colors. You smiled as you saw a pile of different books scattered around the coffee table. “Were you looking for something?” 

“Ah, thats…” you turned to him curiously before looking back at the books. Pride and Prejudice, The Sound of Waves, Jane Eyre, the more you looked the more you realized they were all romance books. 

You slowly turned to look at him, he was looking down at the books, his face pink. “Were you reading through these..for me?” you asked softly. You didn’t want him to think you were teasing him. 

After a beat he nodded. “I'm afraid I'm a bit clueless when it comes to romance,” The flush to his face had calmed but his ears were still burning. “I was looking for...help or rather, inspiration if you will.” 

You turned to face him and moved directly in front of his frame. You slowly reached up to remove his glasses. He moved his face closer to allow you access. You didn’t know why but you were suddenly very aware of your fingertips on his skin, brushing along his temples as you removed his specs. You pulled them down and stared into his hazel eyes. “Well, I don’t think you really need the help..” you said, you felt your cheeks burning as you thought about what you were about to say next. “I’ve already liked you for some time now.” 

He took a small step closer to you. He carefully pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and moved his hand under your chin. You saw his eyes flicker down your body before looking back into your eyes. 

He sighed before backing away from you completely. “You’ve had a long day, you should wash up and get some rest.” 

You couldn’t help but pout. “I -”

“The bathroom is down that hall to the right, it’s connected to the bedroom. I’ll prepare some food while you shower. Is there anything you’re allergic to?” he asked.

“No, um thank you.” he nodded. 

“There are clean towels in the bathroom. I'll lay out some clothes for you in the room. They might not be the best fit but-” 

“Thank you.” you said again. As much as you had wanted to move forward he was right, you were exhausted. And you’re sure you probably smelled a little; a mix of sweat, blood and the lingering smell of the infirmary. 

 You stepped out of the shower, patting yourself dry and went up to the mirror. Non-fog, ofcourse. You quickly brushed your hair and wrapped the towel around yourself stepping into his bedroom. On the bed he had neatly laid out a white shirt and a pair of shorts with a drawstring. You changed into them and reached for your phone. You had forgotten to text Akari. 

-Did you make it home???

She had sent the text about ten minutes ago.

-Yes, I did, sorry. 

You replied. 

-Good good. By the way what the hell happened? 

-With Sukuna’s finger or nanami? 

-THATS RHE ÍTEM YOU RETREIVED?? 

-Yeah lol 

-That’s not funny what the hell, I’m going to kill Renzo 

So that’s what the front desk guy's name was, you made a note of it. 

-Yeah, a curse was trying to get to it and injured those people and almost got me but I managed to make it out with all four limbs…barely. 

- I’m shocked you weren’t more injured, not that you’re weak or anything but this is serious. We need to check on the location of all the other fingers. You have to emphasize that in your report. 

- …

-What? 

-…let’s say I ALLEGEDLY have to tweak some things on the report…(I’m only telling you because you’re one of the only people in my life I can trust) 

-What you fucked the old man again? 

-Akari….

-Okay okay, I’m sorry 

-let’s say I ALLEGEDLY used RCT to heal the injured and myself some, and I ALLEGEDLY used an unorthodox technique and then maybe ALLEGEDLY Shoko advised me against telling anyone about it

-Then ALLEGEDLY why are you telling me this over text shut up and tell me about it tomorrow in person I’m deleting these texts good night, love you, glad you’re safe 

-Fair enough, good night. 

She made a good point. You thought to yourself. You went back and deleted the texts. A futile attempt at covering your tracks. 

You sighed, It didn’t matter honestly. At the end of the day your report was not likely to be read. No one had died, the finger was retrieved and you, a weak manager, had managed to survive the whole ordeal. Your mind wandered back to this morning and the death of the sorcerer. You briefly wondered if Gojo had retrieved the kid. 

There was a knock at the door, interrupting your thoughts. 

“You can come in.” You said. 

“I just wanted to let you know the food is almost ready. Take your time.” Nanami’s voice came through. You stared at the door and felt that warm feeling in your chest again. You were in his house, in his bedroom, wearing his clothes. How the hell had you managed all this. 

You stepped out of the room, trying your best to not trip over the slippers you were wearing- also his. Nanami looked up at you from the kitchen, he was wearing an apron and turning down the heat on something in a pot. 

“It smells incredible.” 

“It’s nothing fancy.”

“Do you need help?”

He shook his head and looked back down at the pan in front of him. He carefully transferred the contents onto a plate. 

You ate dinner in silence, the tension thick. You discussed some books here and there, but the conversation would always end in awkward pauses. Both stopping before saying something that would push the tension over the top. You finished dinner and began collecting the plates. 

“You’re a guest at my place, I would be ashamed if I made you clean up after me.” 

You pushed his reaching hands away. “Please, it's the least I can do. I insist.” He didn’t move. “Nanami go shower. I want to do this, please let me.” You looked down at your hands. “I feel like you’ve done so much for me,” you looked up, meeting his eyes. “Please.” you whispered. 

He stared at you and you had to do your best not to smile. He was struggling to keep his composure. He nodded curtly before quickly heading into the bathroom. You couldn’t help but feel bad. You had him wrapped around your finger. You smiled to yourself as you cleaned up. Whatever you had done to deserve this, you hoped you did it in every lifetime.

You finished cleaning up the dishes and wiping the table and went over to the books again. You traced a finger over the spine of the books in his collection. Your attention turned to a photograph. It was him as a teenager. With him you saw a young Shoko, Gojo, Geto and the boy you knew to be Haibara. You looked at his face and felt a tug at your chest, he was really just a boy. His eyes were so familiar to you. Your eyes switched back to Nanami and you smiled as you saw the annoyed look on his teenage face. You wanted to take a picture. 

You reached for your phone only to find it wasn’t in your pocket. You must have left it in the bedroom. You could pop in there while he showered. It would be fine. 

You made your way to the room listening for the sound of the bathroom fan. Still on, this should be okay. You opened the door and looked in to see a shocked Nanami, who had just finished securing a towel to his hip. 

“I’m- I’m sorry!” you squeaked. Closing the door. You felt it stop before you shut it all the way. You looked up to see Nanami standing by the door holding it open. His hair was dripping wet, his body glittering with beads of water. You couldn’t help but stare.  

“You’re really testing my patience.” He said through gritted teeth. “I wanted to at least try to have a proper meal, maybe a date, or some time to really get to know each other before I took you as mine again, but here we are. I don’t think I can last much longer.” He looked down at you and placed his hands on your waist, finding your figure, which had been lost in his shirt. “Giving you these clothes was my first mistake, I can’t help but think about how I could get used to seeing you like this all the time. Wearing my clothes, strutting around my apartment, eating my food, irrefutably mine.” He moved a hand down along your neck and pulled the shirt to the side revealing your collar bone. He moved his lips down and gently kissed along the ridge. “Will you let me have you once again? I promise to be gentle.” 

You were silent, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt trying to ground yourself. You closed your eyes as you felt his teeth nip at your skin. 

“Well?” he asked, kissing up along your neck. 

“Yes, please. Always yes.” he moved up to your face and placed a hand on your chin lifting you up to kiss him. He was being so soft. 

He grabbed your hand and led you towards his bedroom. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. You tried to calm yourself but had a feeling the night was only going to get more intense. 

He slowly pushed you down onto the bed. You started to reach out for the towel around his waist but he stopped your hand. “Patience, Y/N,” he smiled coyly. 

He reached for the edge of your shirt, lifting it to pull on the band of your shorts. You shifted back on your elbows as he lifted your hips and pulled the shorts down your legs. You readjusted your shirt to cover yourself. You didn’t have underwear on. He looked at you, his eyes locked onto your core. “It would be a shame to cover you up.” He reached for the hem of your shirt again and lifted it up. You obediently pulled your arms up allowing him to pull the shirt over your shoulders. He tossed the fabric aside and once again stared at you, his gaze intense and focused on your body. 

He crawled onto the bed pulling you to the center. You readjusted yourself to lay your head back on the pillows as he moved to the center of the bed, his knees resting between your legs. You looked at the towel and tried to reach for it again. He smirked and pushed your hand aside again. He backed up and you watched him lower his face down closer to your thighs. He kissed the inside of your thighs softly, making his way closer and closer to your mewling core. He sucked a little on the skin and you moaned softly. You looked down at him and felt the heat in your stomach grow. He looked up at you, eyelashes glistening with droplets of water. You ran a hand through his wet hair, tugging on it slightly as he sucked on your sensitive skin again. 

 “Please.” You whimpered. He released your skin with a wet plop and hovered his face over your cunt. He moved his nose down running it between your folds and you felt the tips of your ears burn as you watched him take a deep inhale. “Nanami…”

“From the moment I tasted you, I knew I was ruined.” He ran a stiff tongue between your folds and you gasped. “You don’t know how much I’ve craved you since then.” He dove in. Licking, prodding, sucking, you unraveled under his touch trying your best to hang on to the feeling building up your core. You didn’t want it to end. “Nanami!” you gasped as he latched onto your clit and toyed with it in his mouth. “Nanami, Nanami…” you couldn’t think, all you knew was his name and this feeling. He suddenly moved back and you gasped. Your hips were raised and you wriggled trying to chase the feeling. You hadn’t come, but you wish you had. “Kento,” you whined. You saw a flame light in his eyes. 

“I’m being selfish,” he said, adjusting himself between your legs again. You watched, hypnotized by his hands as they reached to undo his towel. “But I’m afraid your cries were getting me close.” The towel fell to the side and you dug your fingers into the sheets craving the sight in front of you desperately. 

You took in his entire body from head to toe. His hair was glistening in the light,  a sheen of sweat over his flushed face, his body was so… “Beautiful.” you said out loud. “I shouldn’t be calling you beautiful, maybe, but you are,” you said. “Nanami you’re-” He pulled your legs up onto his thighs as he sat back and ran his erect cock between your folds. 

He curved his body over yours, placing his hand under your chin again. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe you,” he said. He placed a kiss on your lips before pulling himself up again. He ran a finger from the side of your neck down along your body. He passed over your perked nipples, and traced down the curve of your waist and to your hip, resting his hand there and gripping you on either side, securing you against his member. “I’ll try to be gentle, I really will,” he said. You thought he might be trying to assure himself more than you. 

Slowly he pressed his tip against your center and clenched his jaw as your wet folds enveloped him easily. He slid in slowly, sinfully, his face twitching as he felt your warmth consume him. He bottomed out and you bucked your hips as you felt him reach that spot deep inside of you. Your breathing was rapid as you tried your best not to move against him. You wanted him to move, you wanted him to take you in the same desperate way he had in the car, but he wasn’t moving.

He waited for you to settle before pulling out just as slowly. He began pushing in again. You moaned, you were beginning to get annoyed. He was being gentle, sure, but a little too gentle for your liking. You let him continue. He bottomed out again but this time he bucked his hips up to purposefully hit that spot and you let out a gasp. He pulled out, not all the way this time, before pushing back in. He was speeding up, but barely. You didn’t know if you could take this. God, it felt good but the pleasure was excruciating. You moaned in ecstasy and squirmed under his touch. “Kento please.” 

He stopped for a moment, taking in the sound of his name on your lips. He squeezed your hips as he continued at a slightly faster pace. You moaned underneath him. The wet sounds of your skin slapping against each other filled the room and you wrapped an arm around his neck. You couldn't take it any longer. You lifted yourself up, pushing him back and straddling his lap. He was still buried deep inside and you shivered at the shift in pressure in your lower abdomen. 

“Y/N-”

“You had your fun.” You said before kissing him and grinding your hips into his, pushing him even deeper than you thought he could go. You moaned into his mouth, and began bouncing your hips desperately over him. You moved quickly, you were already so close. Just a little bit more, more, more. You felt your high topple over and you shook vigorously, your body twitching and your mouth open against his gasping lips. You felt him jut his hips up as the grip on your hips tightened. He gasped and you felt him shake against you as he came. You felt his cock twitch inside of you releasing deep inside of you.  

You pulled him closer and pushed your face against his. You just wanted to be closer to him. You pressed your body into his as his hands traced up your spine. He kissed tender kisses into the skin of your neck and you moved to press your cheek into his. You nibbled on his earlobe and finally rested your head into the crook of his neck. You were both silent, breathing hard and taking time to memorize the feeling of your bare skin pressed together.  

You could get used to this.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

˚₊✩‧₊nana here: nanami is mr. darcy coded and you can't tell me otherwise. thank you all for reading! I might continue with series but it'll be more of a personal project than anything haha. I'll definitely post updates if there are any. as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't.

again shout out to @zoldsick for reading and editing my wine drunk ramblings

pt. 1 pt. 2. pt. 3 pt. 5 pt. 6

˚₊✩‧₊ taglist: @wrldtups @rjreins @phattyboo90 @tnyblacklesbo @silkija @justwantedachange @inthedarkshadows000 @nniiyyaa @starkmila09 @sikuthealien @wifenanami @bloombb @kentos-glasses @inciteterr0r

[inkskinned]

for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

[sturn777]

7 DAYS

pathetic!chris x mean girl!reader — ib : @kiemiu

sypnosis : chris has seven days to prove he’s more than the cocky, reckless guy you’ve always seen him as. from awkward dates to unexpected confessions, he’s determined to win you over—no matter how messy or ridiculous things get. will seven days be enough to change your mind, or is he just setting himself up for heartbreak?

chapter one: prove it.

THE PARTY IS LOUD, sticky, and overcrowded. the kind of scene you’d normally avoid. but madi dragged you out tonight, all smiles and promises of a good time. now, you’re stuck leaning against a peeling wall, sipping a vodka soda that tastes more like melted ice, watching everyone else pretend they’re not as bored as you.

you don’t even notice chris until he’s standing right in front of you, all smug confidence and messy hair, like he’s walked straight out of a cliché. “you’re really killing it over here,” he says, tilting his head as he leans casually against the wall beside you.

you glance up at him, unimpressed. “what do you want, chris?” you mutter. “just checking in,” he says, grinning. “you look like you’re having the time of your life.”

“don’t you have someone else to bother?” he chuckles, unfazed by the bite in your tone. “probably. but you’ve been giving me these nasty glares all night, and i wanted to see why.”

“and now that you have?” he laughs softly. “you’re mean. kind of like it, though.” you roll your eyes. “is this your idea of flirting? because it’s not working.”

“nah, i’m just curious,” he shrugs, his gaze lingering on you a little too long. “you come to these things just to stand in the corner and glare at everyone?”

“what i do isn’t really your business, is it?”

“fair point,” he says, taking a sip from his drink. “but it kind of is. you being here makes me think you don’t hate this as much as you want everyone to believe.” you raise an eyebrow at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means you can act tough all you want, but you’re just like the rest of us,” he says simply. “you’re scared someone might actually like you.” the comment hits harder than you’d like, but you don’t let it show. instead, you laugh, sharp and cold. “you think you’re that someone?”

he smirks, leaning just a little closer. “maybe. if you’d let me.” “please,” you scoff. “you’re all talk, chris. probably recycled that line on every girl here.”

“maybe,” he admits with zero shame. “but you’re the first one who hasn’t fallen for it.”

“congrats. you found someone with standards.”

you push off the wall, ready to walk away, but he steps in front of you, his smile fading into something more serious. “seven days.” you blink. “what?”

“give me seven days to prove i’m not just all talk,” he says. “if i can’t, i’ll leave you alone for good.” you hesitate, trying to figure out if he’s messing with you, but his gaze is steady. “and if you fail?”

“you can name your price,” he says. you think about it, curiosity tugging at you despite yourself. finally, you shrug. “fine. seven days. but don’t think for a second i’m going to make it easy for you.”

his grin returns, cocky and sure. “wouldn’t want it any other way.”

you turn and walk away, refusing to look back, but you can feel his eyes on you, and something tells you this is going to get messy.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @beautyloves )

[fangsandfeels]

The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: tkdb boys that love your scrunchie

COMMENTS: my second recycled twst prompt...i am STILL COPING!!!

Jin really does not care what anyone else thinks about the soft blue scrunchie on his wrist. You had crammed it over his hand earlier that morning, smiling like a fool as you did so. He allowed it—after all, your silly whims and beautiful smile always melted his heart, and he did so love matching with you. If this was your way of marking him as your own, who was he to refuse? Besides, if anything said anything, he could just cut them down.

Kaito nearly cries when you gently pull his arm towards you, stretching the elastic of the scrunchie to fit it over his hand. His heart nearly bursts in his chest as the scrunchie snaps against his wrist, and in that moment he vows to never take it off. It’s a precious gift from you, a sign that you really truly love him (and only him!) He would be a fool to take it off! Oh, but if the scent of your shampoo wears off, he may shyly shuffle over to you and ask you to wear it for him again.

Alan is so stone faced even as he wears your scrunchie, but don’t let that fool you. He is hyper aware of everything he does with it on his wrist—oh, heaven forbid he gets dirt or dust or even blood on it, he will be so upset. You can tell him it’s not a big deal, but the yellow fabric is precious to him because you gave it to him. It’s a gift from you, even if he’s only borrowing it for a little while. He needs to keep it safe—and by extension, you.

Haru only wears it on his very very very rare days off. He doesn’t want to ruin it!! He would be so sad if the bright orange fabric got stained by one of the animals...or if one of them ate it thinking it was food...ripped it because they were gnawing a little too hard...Haru would be devastated. He treasures everything you give him so deeply, even if it's only a silly hair tie to others.

Taiga does not particularly care that his hair is too short, thank you very much. Actually, who are you again? Just kidding, kitten, you don’t have to pout at him like that. You’d think he likes stealing your scrunchie just to annoy the hell out of you, but he really does do it because he likes it. Well...both your pouting and the hair tie itself, really. Hey, you knew what you were getting into with him!

Subaru does not want to offend you. In fact, that is the very last thing he wants to do ever. And so, when you leave your scrunchie for him after one of your visits to Hotarubi, he returns it as soon as possible while apologizing profusely. What do you mean you left it on purpose? It’s so pretty, the shade of purple matches his uniform and—oh, you want him to wear it? Well, how can he say no to you when you look at him like that?

Lyca often wonders about the stretchy fabric you use to tie back your hair. It’s a deep purple, much like his uniform (which he likes more than he’d care to admit), but he doesn’t truly understand the appeal until you give it to him. It smells sweet, just like you. It never leaves his wrist. He doesn’t care that people are looking at him weird for sniffing it whenever he misses you—it's none of their business anyway.

Yuri wakes up at his work desk as usual, bleary eyed and mildly nauseous. It takes him reaching up to rub his eyes to realize that you left a gift around his wrist—a light blue scrunchie, soft and smelling of your shampoo. His cheeks turn a fiery pink and he freezes, hand twitching like the scrunchie is giving him an allergic reaction or something. He is short circuiting, staring wide eyed at the hair tie that has held your hair up, it has touched you and you have touched it, day after day after day and ohhh how is he supposed to deal with this!?

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 7

WC: 1109 Masterpost CW: panic attack, dissociation, past imprisonment

Danny felt like he was on a roller coaster. One moment he would be feeling safe, embarrassingly falling asleep on Hood mid meal, and the next a stool would scrape across the floor. That screech of metal on linoleum was distinct enough that Danny could swear he was back in the lab. His newest wound stung. The collar pinched at his neck. The acidic bite of bleach stung his nose.

They were talking.

They were talking too close to him.

Danny wanted desperately to hide, but there was no hiding in the lab. There was no hiding in the Box. Acrylic walls on all six sides, electrified metal frame, coated in a ghost shield; the box was torture. Danny pressed himself into the corner and squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to watch their faces. He didn’t want to see the cold cruelty in their eyes, not even one more time.

Had it always been there?

It must have.

It was never true, he was never their son.

How had he ever thought that they cared?

He was so stupid, stupid, stupid—

Something pressed into his hands. Something soft and warm. The smell of herbs burst around him, chasing away the scent of bleach. Danny clutched at the warmth, curled around it. It was never warm in the lab, not unless they were experimenting on him with heat. And that was never warm like this.

“There you are, Kid.”

Kid?

“That’s nice, isn’t it? You can kept it as long as you need. Just keep breathing for us.”

Who?

“You’re in the safe house. Your wounds are treated. The collar is off.”

Danny felt around his neck with shaking fingers. The skin was tender under the bandages, but there was no collar.

“It’s just me, Red Hood, and Nightwing. Nightwing is getting you a drink. Do you think you can drink something?”

No, no he didn’t. His throat felt tight.

“That’s okay, Kid. How about a suck’em candy?”

Warm fingers brushed against the back of his hand, actual skin touched his. Danny shuddered. He let his hand be turned for the candy to be placed in it.

“Pop that in your mouth.”

Danny listened to the warm voice. He wanted to bury himself in that warmth. Why was it so warm here?

Tart citrus bloomed over his tongue, chasing away the rotting taste of stale recycled air and bile. He moved the candy around his mouth. Each breathe filled his nose with the lemon scent mingled with the herbs. The tension went out of him so suddenly that he collapsed.

Those warm hands caught him. He was pressed against a whole band of warmth and Danny let out a sigh. The earthy scent of death joined the other smells. A liminal. Red hood. He was… safe. The safe house.

-

They took turns staying awake that night. While they likely would have anyways, what with it being the kid’s first night with them, the panic attack pretty much guaranteed they would sleep in shifts. Dick slept first and it was only training and a strong cup of coffee that had him alert and ready for his shift. He was glad for the second cup when he heard stirring from the bedroom.

It was early, early enough that the sun wasn’t up yet, but the kid was standing on slightly shaky looking legs, peering out of the door.

“Hey there,” Dick said softly and with a smile. He approached the door but left a good few feet between them. “Did you sleep well?”

The kid nodded. “Better… than in a long time, yeah.”

“That’s great! Are you hungry.”

He nodded again before glancing to the side. His hand flexed where it was holding onto the door jam.

“Is there something else you’d like before food?” Dick asked gently.

Another nod.

“It’s okay to ask. We want you to be comfortable.

The kid’s mouth worked for a moment before he managed to ask, “A shower? It’s just that… Hood mentioned one and…”

“Of course! I bet you’d like to be clean,” Dick said. “I’d like you to use the shower chair we have and to leave the door open, in case you slip or something, but I wont look in unless I hear something concerning.”

“Okay,” the kid agreed quickly; quickly like he was afraid Dick would take away the offer. They had a lot of work to do.

Dick stopped at the closet and grabbed a bath towels, two wash cloths, and the med kit. He set the towels down on the closed toilet seat and the med kit on the small sink counter. “We’ll put a water proof bandage on your new stitches and get you wrapped back up after the shower. Be gentle around it and your neck, but you should be good to clean up well!”

“I will be. I won’t make you redo your work.”

“Hey, no, that’s not what it’s about,” Dick said quickly. “We just don’t want you to hurt yourself, okay?”

“I… okay?”

Holding back a sigh, Dick instead turned with a smile and bandage. It was good to see the stitches didn’t look too bad and they were soon covered up with the temporary covering. Dick explained how the shower worked, pointed out the shampoos, conditioners, and body wash, and then left the kid alone. He took up watch just outside the door. If the kid slipped, he wanted to be able to be there at a moments notice.

“Kid already awake?” Jason rasped from the couch after the sound of running water filled the apartment.

“Yeah. He’s in the shower now. The wounds look good.”

“Credit goes to Tim, he did the stitching.” Jason stood and stretched with a pop.

He had taken off most of his uniform, as armored as it was, to be able to sleep. Still, he looked stiff and rubbed uneasily at his arms. Dick would have to make sure the other took some pain meds once they were at the new safe house and that he got some more sleep.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Dick said instead of voicing any of his current thoughts. He was sure they wouldn’t be welcome right then. “I figured we’d do breakfast here?”

“Yeah, I want to get some food in the kid since we didn’t really get another chance yesterday,” Jason agreed as he made his way to the pitiful kitchen.

Dick closed his eyes and listened to the running water and Jason clanking about.

They could manage this. They were through the first night. They just had to handle it an hour at a time.

---

AN: I'm so out of it I almost forgot Trauma Tuesday! Luckily I had this written on Saturday. Poor Danny had a hard time of it, but his brothers are there to help!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost.