#freakin cute chapter

[highlordofkrypton]

Wildflowers, a Tamlin x Rhysand prequel fic

Chapter 7

It takes one year.

After eleven years of endless bloodshed, it takes one year after Tamlin’s participation in the Human Liberation War for the Courts of Prythian to call its first ceasefire in hopes of discussions for peace. If not for the sake of its people, then for the sake of their land.

Adriata is beautiful. A palace built atop a mountain, overlooking clear blue seas that wink with diamonds under the generous sunshine. The breeze is crisp and cool, even on the hottest of days. What he would give to be out there, playing in the water and letting it ease the ache in his muscles. Too much time has been wasted fighting, and he’s only done a year of it.

“Focus,” his brother, Enfys, jabs Tamlin in the side, his voice a barely-there hiss.

“It’s a good thing your youngest is a little dull, Celyddon, or I would have worried about your seat.” 

Tamlin tunes back into the conversation just in time to hear Beron Vanserra cast insults in his direction. The Autumn Court is their only ally within Prythian, but that means nothing in terms of kindness or respect. It only means that their goals are aligned. For the moment. 

“I would worry about your spawn, Beron. I have made three warriors of mine. Perhaps you should put your cock away and focus on strategy.” Celyddon grins, amused by his own humour. With seven sons, the only thing Beron seems to  be good at is conquering his wife.

All seven of the High Lords are in attendance, scattered around the room or seated at the circular dining table. Nostrus, High Lord of the Summer Court, had been kind enough to welcome them into his home. His territory along with Memrun’s Dawn Court are the only neutral locations left. Every other Court has pledged their forces to help the humans gain freedom. 

“Now, now, it may come as a surprise to you both, honourable lords, but we did not gather here to hear you bicker like old hags.” Nostrus clasps his hands together with a pleasant smile, beckoning the attention back to him. Naturally, with far too many powerful High Fae in one place, the conversation tends to diverge. Repeatedly. It’s the third time he’s had to reign them back in, and hopefully,  his charm will work in his favour to get somewhere more productive with this.

“Laugh all you want, Sieffre. I’ll make sure to string your half-breed son up along with his flying mutts.” Beron snarls at the High Lord of the Night Court, who only grins wider. The threat rolls off his shoulders, and he doesn’t bother to offer a counter-promise. At least, not with words. His violet eyes glow with tempered anger.

“Is that the limit of your creativity, Beron? You threaten us with a good time?” Sieffre could not sound more unimpressed.

Tamlin’s head throbs. The peace talks dwindle into background noise as he hones in on the song of the seabirds. As soon as the bickering picks up again, his headache intensifies. He has no choice but to excuse himself in the middle of High Lord Memrun’s appeal for Prythian to stand as one instead of tearing itself apart. The war has yet to resort to true violence, the kind that puts their territories and Courts in direct danger, but it is still young. There is time. Tamlin keeps his eyes downcast for the most part, a sign of submission he has ingrained in himself to make sure that no one ever misconstrues his presence or his powers as a challenge. At the threshold of the room, he catches the cold gaze of Nikitas, who simply offers him a single nod of respect—of disguised encouragement. It surprises Tamlin, who returns the gesture before finally escaping.

Once out, Tamlin can finally breathe .

He wants no part of this. No part of war or peace. None of it. He just wants to be left alone. Rhodri never taught him the patience needed for politics, only how to bide his time for the kill. He lacks the skill to be here, but if he understands correctly, his father only needs him here as a show of power. (But not too much. Never too much .)

Tamlin lets his impulsive thoughts lead him down the mountain, skipping down white stone steps into the town below. A handful of guards stop him, but he takes no offence at the necessary precautions. “I want to see the water,” is all he says. So, he will go see the water.

He looks nothing like the beastly son of the Spring Court, not in his fine dressing coats and even less once he sheds his clothes. He’s comfortable like this, tan skin drinking in the warmth of the sun and fearing no shame. He’s waged war with nothing but his ability to shapeshift; what embarrassment does he have now to go swimming completely bare? Tamlin dives into the water with grace and strength, his body making the perfect arc to mitigate unnecessary splashing. He can feel the weight of his golden hair clinging to his wet skin, but even that feels more liberating than whatever guise he’s meant to wear in  the war room.

“They can see you, you know.” His attention settles on familiar violet eyes. Tamlin ignores him; for a moment, floating calmly on his back.

Rhysand crouches on the dock, his gaze sliding down Tamlin’s chest to settle on the scar there—the scar he gave him in a fit of childish rage. It’s his fault; he should have contained himself better, but lords of their stature do not apologize, no matter what they feel. He can’t help the way his curiosity leads his attention elsewhere, brows raising in surprise before he scrubs his face.

“I don’t care,” Tamlin says flatly, back paddling lazily. “They’ll see what they want to see.” A dull animal. Nothing more and nothing less. He sees no reason to stop himself from doing exactly what he wants. The High Lords have already decided who he is.

What happened to you, Rhysand wonders, but he already knows the answer. War happened. Being born in their vicious courts happened. He kicks off his shoes and rolls up the hem of his black pants. Sitting at the end of the dock, he dips his feet in the water, baring his teeth at the initial cold. “You’ve grown, Little Prince.”

“Like what you see?” Tamlin teases, a ghost of a smile dancing on his features. 

Ah, there you are . 

“I still see a boy who licks walls and, apparently, would rather go swimming naked instead of negotiating for Prythian’s salvation.”

“There are more than enough people in that room. They can figure it out.” His emerald eyes flutter shut. The beads of water on his belly begin to dry, so he makes sure to dive back under once more before returning to his star-fishing.

Rhysand huffs his laughter. It’s true. The High Lords are more than capable of making anything happen by virtue of their power, and the question is whether or not they want to. 

The two of them exist in silence for a long moment, allowing the tension of battle to fade away for just a moment. Here, they are just precious sons. Not warriors. Not enemies. At the end of it all, the Courts will return to their status quo as if nothing happened. Grudges will be held, but for no real reason. Not in Tamlin’s eyes, at least. Politics flatter the ego; they don’t protect people. In a hundred years or two, none of this will matter. He doesn’t see why he should hate Rhysand for a job he didn’t even want. He would understand it if Rhysand wanted his head for killing people.

(There are days where he wishes the Fae would take it and spare him the meaningless violence. For what purpose does he even breathe ? He wishes that he was never b—)

“You fight sloppy, by the way. Against a more tactical legion, if they have a chance to focus on you, it’d be easy to pin you down,” Rhysand offers, suddenly. It makes Tamlin laugh because despite it all, they’re both still bitching about how the other fights.

“Good thing they’re busy with creatures like the Attor to focus on me. You fight too prettily. Or you’re holding back. I can’t decide.” It’s true. Rhysand enters the battlefield with such flair. Maybe it’s the nature of his powers, but Tamlin won’t know the full extent of Rhysand’s powers until he becomes High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand is a skilled fighter; his style is sharp compared to Tamlin’s broad strokes.

“You think I’m pretty?” Rhysand bats his eyes, mocking.

A low rumble escapes Tamlin’s chest, a growl of annoyance, and he splashes the other young lord with water. Repeatedly. (Tamlin has never thought about it, but now that it’s brought to his attention… The splashing is a good distraction from the gentle flush on his cheeks.)

“Hey! Hey! Enough!” 

Laughter feels like a miracle, and the sound of Rhysand’s as he tries to bat the water away makes Tamlin smile for the first time in a long time. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Tamlin says as he swims a bit closer. “Your wings are beautiful.” He must have found a way to summon them. 

Rhysand’s mouth parts in surprise, and his expression is sincere. “You noticed,” is all he can manage despite the nagging feeling in his chest. Flattery? Appreciation? Their last real conversation feels like a distant memory, but Tamlin remembered. As much as he can, Rhysand hides his wings. They’re a necessity in battle, but they’re also an important part of him. A private part of him that he does not share with anyone outside his people, not even his father. “Can you make wings?”

“Don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“Why not?”

Tamlin shrugs and goes back to paddling around. When he started shapeshifting, he felt like a thief. He would wander into the woods and ask the animals he found there if it would be alright with them to use their powers—the very things that made them strong. Would they forgive him if he used it to cause pain to others? After all, it is not in nature’s way to kill for sport or morals; it is only a necessity. He would whisper to them his bargain that after all this, he would stay true to Spring and offer rebirth. How, he hasn’t quite figured out, but he’ll find a way, either by giving back or opening his mind to possibilities. 

As for the wings, Tamlin always felt like that was someone else’s dream. Not something for him to take.

“Any plans for dinner tomorrow?”

Tamlin purses his lips thoughtfully, then shrugs. Nothing he can’t get out of as the spare in his family.

“Perfect, meet me in the east quarter. You owe me a drink.”

“For what ?” Tamlin squints. 

“Splashing, stabbing, lots of clawing. Oh, and you bit me.”

Tamlin rolls his eyes. “I recall you stabbing me in the heart.”

“Not much worse than going for my carotid. Plus, it was just the tip. If it makes you feel better, I won’t judge you if you forgo the pants.” Rhysand teases, trying to rile Tamlin up and find that playfulness he once knew. 

Tamlin grunts, unimpressed, but ultimately accepts the offer.

***

What are you doing, Rhysand? What in the name of the Cauldron are you doing?

The other High Lords may be able to share a drink with their enemies, but Rhysand’s cool and calm demeanour in the face of Tamlin was manufactured, at least in part. It felt like that old memory again, just him and a boy he’d felt pity for. The rest of it is his instinct to protect himself and his own. He’s the enemy and he was vulnerable. His father would have told him to slit his throat on sight, let the sea dilute the blood and swallow his bones. His father would also tell him to use tonight as a lure, then slit his throat. It would deal a considerable blow to loyalist forces. Tamlin was a thorn in all their sides. Even Azriel’s intelligence is unable to predict where they’d place him on the battlefield, much less offer a tactic other than primal rampage.

He holds up two different tops. One is a simple long-sleeved button-up shirt made of silk. It’s black, like most of Rhysand’s outfits. He thinks to pair it with a navy coat with black lapels and a fine embroidery of black whorls, mimicking smoke. With just enough magic, he can give the illusion that the smoke is alive within the fabric. The other outfit is a black suit with gold detailing.

“I’m busy!” Rhysand shouts at the intruder at his door. They seem to pay him no mind as they barge in rudely.

“Aren’t we all,” his cousin drawls, a low purr in the face of his annoyance. The Morrigan is a figure of legend in this war, a female warrior blessed by demons. (Not actual demons; she’s just flanked by Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel alternately, depending on her mission of the day.) Outside of her battle leathers, she finds comfort in crimson and red gowns—a different kind of armour. Her pale brows raise in surprise. “You’re putting an awful lot of effort into a dinner with the High Lords .”

“I’m not going to dinner with your highnesses ,” he clips. He holds the gold outfit up to his neck again. He should have brought more choices; he doesn’t think Tamlin would notice what outfit he’s wearing anyway, but he takes care to dress well. It matters to Rhys .

“Rhys,” Morrigan sighs. “Rhys, tell me you’re not going to dinner with Celyddon’s youngest.” The day before, she had spotted them on the dock but assumed Rhysand was up to his usual taunts. She didn’t stay long enough because she gave him the benefit of the doubt. 

“And what if I am?”

Her sigh evolves into a groan. Two manicured fingers pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to cleanse her mind of the headache that is her idiot cousin. “You’ve been spending too much time with Cassian. I swear, you are growing more stupid by the second. Why can’t you be like Azriel? He minds his own business.”

“I assure you, Mor, that is the exact opposite of what Azriel does.”

“When he isn’t ordered to,” she rolls her eyes. Leave it to Rhysand to find a loophole. Were it anyone else, she would have assumed that this was part of some greater strategy, but Rhysand’s father has made a point to exclude his son from all planning. He’s also made sure to leave Rhysand on the outskirts of the fighting with one small squadron to command as he pleases. Anything to keep Rhysand out of sight, out of mind and feeling helpless in the war effort. “Fine. I’m going to regret asking this, but why? ”

Why indeed , Rhysand muses to himself. He works through his different opinions, casting aside the obvious answer. Manipulation is his father’s game. Rhysand hasn’t decided who he wants to be yet. With a deep breath, he figures if he’s going to be honest with anyone, it might as well be with Morrigan.

“I want to know him.”

“You do know him. He’s a wild animal that’s been killing troops of humans who just want to be free. You know how the other side is; they would rather kill them than let them go free. It makes no sense!”

“He’s not an animal,” Rhys says seriously, his gaze piercing into the mirror’s reflection. It’s enough to stop Morrigan mid-rant. She tenses her jaw.

“Is it because of the incident at Hybern ten years ago? You’re still fixated on that?”

Rhys says nothing. His fingers grip the coats in his hand, rumpling the fabric.

“He’s not you, Rhys. He’s his own person, and he is no longer a child. He can take care of himself; we’ve seen that. He doesn’t need you.”

And she’s right. Rhysand knows in his heart of hearts that Tamlin is not reliving his own isolated childhood with a cold father. He knows that Tamlin is more than capable of holding his own in a fight. Fuck, Rhysand would bet good money that Tamlin could take his father’s seat in a few years, if his powers keep growing this way.

“I know,” he says softly, turning to face her. “No one needs me, but he might like someone to talk to. Someone who understands.”

Morrigan opens her mouth to say something, and the look she gives Rhysand is one of pity. He’s not talking about Tamlin. He’s the one who needs this. She sighs, the third time in a handful of minutes. She gets up and rifles through the closet with the clothes he’s brought for himself. One of his suits is black on black, a silky black thread weaved in a paisley pattern (truly, one of the more beautiful gifts from humans). She enchants the embroidery into a forest green, dark enough so Rhysand’s aesthetic remains, but there’s enough of the pattern for the colour to be obvious.

“I’m not sure if he’ll notice, but this is the colour of his mother’s dress on that night.” Morrigan fondly recalls the memory, finding it sweet how he pawed at it while she enjoyed Margret's company.

“You’re making this feel like a date.”

“Isn’t it?” Morrigan grins.

“It is not .” On this, Rhysand remains firm. At the end of these talks, they will become enemies again, standing on opposite sides of the war. They’d need a miracle to change that. Or a change in leadership, but those thoughts should never be spoken aloud.

***

The tavern is in the merchant’s quarter of Adriata. The establishments are a mix of modest elegance inspired by beautiful handmade crafts and the familiarity of the working class. Sons of High Lords are welcomed with reverence, but when the sun sets, it’s easy for them to blend in among the people, so long as the drinks are flowing and the bards sing their epic tales. It’s still too soon to hear of war exploits, and perhaps it’s for the better, considering that there are agents of many sides in the city for the next unknown number of days.

Tamlin feels out of place in the cramped tavern where everyone sits close enough for their shoulders to brush. Everything is loud, and there are so many people , both human and fae alike. The only piece of comfort is the wood used both in structure and furnishing. Even cut, Tamlin can still hear the faint whispers of all the stories they have to tell—the lives they lived before coming here and the things they have seen afterwards. He presses his palm against one of the supporting pillars, a gesture akin to greeting an old friend. 

“Tamlin?” 

His name makes him jump as if caught somewhere he shouldn’t be. The young lord turns slowly, only to be met with another High Fae. Lucien Vanserra is the youngest son of the Autumn Court. (The one who had caught stray insults despite having done nothing to deserve it.) Red-haired and always smiling, Tamlin rather liked Lucien. He is amiable to everyone around him, treating the people he speaks to like they’re the only ones in the room, all while making connections and building bridges for others to connect.

Tamlin smiles genuinely. “Lucien. Hello.” They haven’t seen each other since they were children, except for a handful of negligible occasions where the Autumn Court deigned the Spring Court worthy of their attention. Lucien was always, always kind. 

“I’m surprised to see you here, but I’m glad. Truly.” The words are warm, and Lucien goes as far as taking Tamlin’s hand and shaking it, one palm over and under. He hadn’t liked it at first, but understands the meaning in it now. He offers a squeeze in return.

“Is this… a popular place?” Tamlin glances around. He’s not even sure how he’ll get a table, much less hold a conversation with anyone over the noise.

“Of course, isn’t that why you’re here?”

“No, ah, I was…” Tamlin pauses, humming as a time filler until he can come up with a reasonable excuse. Rhysand might not want anyone to know that they’re meeting; maybe that’s why he picked a place where they can get lost in the crowd. Even if he did not mind, Lucien is Beron’s son. Who knows what Beron would do with this information?

“He was meeting me.” Rhysand’s cool tone joins the conversation. He slips his arm across Tamlin’s shoulders in an attempt to lean on him casually. It doesn’t work as well as he hoped; Tamlin’s just that much taller for the gesture to be awkward. It’s only made worse by the way Tamlin shimmies out from under him to put distance between them.

“Rhys! It’s been a while!” Lucien’s smile grows wider, and the two Fae go as far as hugging one another with two pats on the back. 

“Too long, might I say. I see you’ve already scouted out the best places to be on an evening like this.”

Tamlin watches the interaction curiously as they catch up. He even goes as far as looking at his hands, wondering if he could ever feel comfortable enough to hug an acquaintance as a pleasantry. He figures he could omit the two pats on the back for fear of smacking anyone too hard. He gets so caught up in his quiet little thoughts that he loses track of the conversation, and Lucien has to ask him a question twice.

“Hm?”

“I said, are you coming to Tarquin’s later? You know how he likes to party. There will be wine and dice, at the very least.” Lucien leaves his statement open for more. Tarquin’s parties are known throughout the realm to be otherworldly ; that’s how fun they are. He’s unsure how much to share, lest he scare Tamlin off. 

“We might go. Depends who’s coming,” Rhysand interjects when Tamlin never answers the question.

“Most of the guests will be of the Summer Court. Eris will probably go and Tamlin’s brothers, too. I know I saw Kallias earlier, but Nikitas is very strict on partying during wartime.” 

The mention of Eris and his brothers has Tamlin making a face. One of the shortcomings of his training is that he never learned to guard his emotions. Not in Court affairs, at least. 

“We’ll think about it,” Rhysand laughs, catching the expression and gently patting Tamlin on the shoulder in reassurance. “It was nice seeing you, Luce. Have a drink on me while you’re here.” 

And with that, he ushers Tamlin away to the first two free seats at a table that already seems like there are far too many people on it. At the very least, they are on the very edge of the wooden table. It’s a lot less cramped that way, for someone of Tamlin’s stature, at least. Rhysand manages just fine. Or he makes it look that way.

“We’re getting mead. One glass, you’ll be fine. The lamb here is to die for. It’s slow-roasted for hours, and you can taste every spice for… What’s wrong?”

“I…,” Tamlin starts but stops to glance around. No one’s listening to them. Even the people closest to them are immersed in their own personal nonsense. Here, they aren’t traitors to their Court or enemies. They are just two Fae, enjoying time spent together. He lowers his voice anyway, and his gaze drops with learned shame. “I don’t eat meat.”

Rhysand laughs until he realizes that Tamlin’s serious. “Wait, seriously? How does that make any sense?”

Anger snaps into place and darkens Tamlin’s golden features. “Yes, seriously. Why is that so unbelievable?” He’s suddenly that boy again, the one who would never allow anyone to laugh at the son of the High Lord of the Spring Court, except this anger is darker. Tinted with pain and… something else.

“Well,” Rhysand tries more gently now. “I just didn’t expect that since I’ve seen you take a bite out of people. Multiple times.”

“I don’t swallow.”

“So, you spit?”

The two men beside them stop to stare. Tamlin growls loud enough for them to get up and take their business elsewhere. Good, more space for them. “Yes, what’s so wrong with that?”

As much as Rhysand wants to be gentle, he can’t help but laugh again. He reaches out and touches the fist that Tamlin has balled on the table, coaxing him to relax . “There’s nothing wrong with that, I’m just surprised. Also, they looked at you because I was making an innuendo, which you confirmed. And!” He says, louder, in hopes of outracing Tamlin’s thoughts. “And it was not to make fun of you , the joke was obvious. I had to make it. Nothing to do with whether you do spit or swallow. That is dealer’s choice.”

Tamlin pulls his hand away. Otherwise, he seems mollified by the explanation. A small part of him is annoyed at himself for revealing himself to be as dull as the High Lords say, but it says a lot more about Rhysand who cares enough to speak to him patiently. Any other Lord would willingly coax his anger for the sake of meaningless, momentary victory.

When the barmaid asks for their order, Rhysand orders strictly vegetables (with the classic spices, of course).

“You don’t have to do that, Rhysand.”

“Do what? I’m not doing it for you . I’m just curious whether or not I could survive a meal without meat. You would allow me this experiment, won’t you?” He bats his violet eyes, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “Tell me, though. What difference does it make? The lamb is already slaughtered, whether you eat it or not.” Rhysand knows there’s more to his personal choice, but he questions his methods.

“Perhaps it won’t make a difference here, but in a much smaller setting, the ingredients are rationed towards the number of guests. At home, that means one less plate of meat, if not more, to be prepared by the cook.” It could even mean the salvation of one whole animal, but that’s not the whole reason. Tamlin respects the circle of life and his own necessity to eat other living things. “I’ve already spilled enough blood uselessly. This is my way of restoring the balance,” he shrugs. Rhysand probably thinks it’s silly, the same way his entire family, except his Iolin, had. 

Rhysand takes what Tamlin’s saying to heart and raises his glass in the name of his new-old friend. “To restoring the natural balance.”

Tamlin stares. Processes. For once, he’s not being mocked. For the first time, outside of the context of killing, he’s being… celebrated?

“Oh, don’t give me that look and raise your damn glass.” Who would have thought? Tamlin, the ‘beast’ of the Spring Court, is thoughtful. Their glasses clink, a truce in disguise. “So… what do you do in the field? Most of the rations are meat, or the vegetables are stewed in broth.”

“I forage.”

“You forage ? In the middle of war ?” Rhysand’s brows shoot up. Were he anyone else, this information could be critical. Tamlin foraging alone sometime before or, even worse, after a battle, could make him easy prey for an assassin. Or a shadowsinger. 

“I like the time alone.” 

“You are something else, Lordling.”

Tamlin frowns, yet again, but he doesn’t seem as bothered this time. The food arrives, and even though it’s not what Rhysand came to sell him on, Tamlin’s happy. Each plate is treated with care, cooked individually rather than tossed together in a single marinate. He notes the char on some of them, just the right amount without burning but pulling out all the right flavours. If it wasn’t for his change in diet, he might not have noticed these little nuances, but it is a surprise how hard it is to feel satiated in a single meal with a variety of choices. (It’s been a year since he’s been home. Choice is a luxury someone of his stature does not deserve.)

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying it.” Rhysand grins, half of an aubergine disc on his fork.

“How do you know I like it?”

“Because your eyes get wide like saucers, and you do a little happy bob with your head.” Rhysand does his best to mimic it.

“I do not.”

“Sure, you don’t.”

Dinner is easy. They don’t tread on heavy topics, just casually hopping from one mundane thing to another. Both of them carry enough weight on their shoulders. The ceasefire might very well be a vacation for them. Rhysand manages to ease Tamlin into their friendship, enough that they’re fighting over the last stuffed cucumber in a battle of forks. He lets Tamlin win. Or so he says.

“So, what now?” Tamlin asks. 

Rhysand had expected him to retire after dinner, muttering some lame excuse about duty, but he sees his opportunity and takes it, grinning all the while. “Well, I'll settle the tab, and we’ll see what we feel like doing. Did you want to join Lucien at Tarquin’s?”

“I thought I owed you?”

“Consider it my thanks for the good company and your honesty.”

“Oh,” is all Tamlin can say. He hopes the dim lighting of the tavern hides the way his cheeks colour. He can’t help the way his heart latches onto the compliment. It’s one thing to be lauded for his physical prowess, another to be appreciated for his personality. He knows Rhysand must be flattering him because he really, really doesn’t bring much to the conversation.

He follows the other Fae to the bar, vaguely listening to Rhysand pay for Lucien’s drinks, too. Tamlin often gets lost in his thoughts and his surroundings, curious about everything and finds magic in the world around him. He’s attentive to what others might find mundane, noticing what often goes forgotten. His attention lingers on the pattern of Rhysand’s suit, fingers reaching out tentatively to trace them. 

“Ready—” Rhysand turns to Tamlin, unable to finish the thought as they are shoved all too close to one another. People squeeze past them, coming in and out, and Rhysand finds himself pressed against Tamlin’s chest. He looks up, watching the High Fae curiously.

“Sorry,” Tamlin mumbles under his breath. Despite the proximity, he puts his hands on either side of Rhysand and onto the bar, making sure that Rhysand’s minimal personal space is protected. It’s a small gesture—meaningless because he can shove all the other patrons out of the way in one swipe—but he shields Rhysand anyway. “What?” He asks, noticing the way Rhysand is staring at him.

“Nothing,” Rhysand grins. “I think we’re good to go.” He nods in the direction of the group that’s just left, the last of them already out of the door.

Tamlin clears his throat and steps back, allowing Rhysand to lead the way. “Would you be interested in a walk? Down to the docks?”

“Are you trying to bait me into a nightly swim, Little Prince?”

“You don’t have to swim if you don’t want to.” Tamlin grins. He properly grins at Rhysand, and it may be one of the rarest beauties Rhysand has ever seen. (Does he covet it because it’s rare? Or because even the night skies yearn to see the sun?)

“Oh, I want to. Race you?”

Oh, Tamlin is like a child again. He lights up in a way that he hasn’t in over a decade as he nods and charges ahead without waiting for a countdown. He dashes through the crowd, smiling to himself and offering no apologies for those who have to jump out of his way. Even before he gets to the dock, he’s discarding his clothes and this time, he makes a splash as big as the ball of joy rooted inside his chest. 

Rhysand comes to a slow at the dock, looking down at his friend with a smile and shaking his head. “I let you win,” he proclaims. It’s the cucumber all over again. He hesitates, worried about his clothes, but decides fuck it . He hasn’t felt this free in a long time. Layer by layer, he discards each item in a pile on the dock before standing there, proud and naked as the day he was born. Dark tattoos whorl around his arms and back, meeting at the chest. No one else has seen them, but Tamlin has shared some vulnerabilities. Rhysand can share this much in return.

“Coming in?” Tamlin asks as if he wasn’t just tracing the tattoos with his eyes. And there’s the scar of his teeth on his shoulder, properly healed but silvery against his pale skin. Tamlin notices that, too. He’s far too polite to stare, or to satiate any other possible curiosity, only diving beneath the waves and disappearing.

“Little Prince? Tam? Tamlin?” Rhysand expects there to be some fancy trick or fish-flopping that Tamlin wants to show off. Minutes tick by and Tamlin never resurfaces. Rhysand has heard of the creatures living beneath the water, prone to waking by the moonlight and slumbering by day. The son of a High Lord wouldn’t drown so easily, would he? He lets his doubts get the better of him and dives into the water, only to find a horde of bubbles blowing him back to the surface.

More splashes and laughter. 

“Got you,” Tamlin snorts and back paddles away.

“No, you didn’t.” Rhysand challenges him, swimming after him and jumping onto his shoulders.

As far as anyone can see, there are no Lords here and no prodigal sons. Only two boys reclaiming the childhood they never had.

[deus-ex-mona]

help nooooo i just realised that they butchered akechi’s character too

[velvetwyrme]

Hi you-

Yes you, I just read through your fanfics and let me tell you HOW MYCH I FRIGGEN LOVE THEM-

Your writing is great and funny just perfection ��💜💜 I’ve also been enjoying the posts you’ve made for the pap self ship week-

Anyways just wanted to tell you you’re great and I hope you make more stuff!

WAUGH❣️❣️

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad you like em!! 🥺🥺💛

I definitely intend to post more stuff (both writing and drawing :]!!) so I hope you'll enjoy whatever comes next!

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: WE MADE IT TO CHAPTER FIVE!! EVERYBODY CLAP!! labour of love fr <3 but we're almost to the scene that sparked the whole freakin series and i. oh man im just yearning for that hurt/comfort

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.

CHAPTER FIVE :: CONFIDANTS

You look younger in your sleep, Azriel thinks.

He doesn't think he's ever seen you like this before. The hard lines of your face are all smoothed out as you rest, so unlike your usual expression. There's something softer about you.

The constant furrow between your brows is whisked away for once. He can still see the familiar line between your brows though, if he looks close enough.

If he can look past the bruises that mottle your face, that is.

The damage you've sustained from training within the camp is severe enough to curdle something sour in his stomach.

Azriel had held his reservations about his trip back to Velaris— a suspicion that proved to be well founded. His own memories of training at Windhaven provide plentiful ways for you to have ended up in this state.

You’re curled up instinctively in your sleep, wings tucked around yourself. It sews of thread of worry through Azriel's chest, a slight concern at the state of your wounds and how the position will agitate them. While you don't move much in your sleep, he knows from experience that it'll be hell when you finally do stretch back out.

But... he can’t bring himself to wake you. You need the sleep desperately.

Azriel is fairly certain that the huddled form you take is some subconscious way to protect yourself, even in your sleep. Your wings drape across yourself, keeping yourself covered, hidden.

And while that makes some part of Azriel's heart ache, he can't deny that you—it looks… sort of cute.

Azriel forces himself to avert his eyes, ducking his chin for extra measure. Those pesky thoughts were becoming more and more frequent — something that he's pointedly ignoring at this point.

Protect, his shadows whirl around his ears like tiny gusts of wind, whispering their suggestions. Protect, they whisper.

Protect. Both a thought and a feeling. A guiding intuition that seems to reverberate from his very bones.

The suggestion from his shadows isn't entirely left field either, as they always take inspiration from what he can see. From his wandering thoughts, from his prolonged gentle gaze that lays upon you whenever he can.

Azriel scowls lightly at himself. He had no claim to protect you and further more, most Illyrian males like yourself would take great amounts of offence to the mere insinuation. He knows that you are more than capable.

He steals another glance at your peaceful, sleeping figure and his shadows seem to quieten in response— at least about you. The whispers don't ever truly quieten.

Azriel's fairy certain where they're getting their ideas. It's what he wonders too as he takes in your battered face once more—whether it’s the truth or just his familiar brand of desperate hope.

Something that would explain the urge to protect beyond reason.

Something like... a bond forged in starlight.

The Mother's Kiss whistles quietly outside and Azriel shifts his gaze again and this time, it lays upon the Heartstriker.

Sitting atop the one table-top in your shelter, the blade stays sheathed away in the very same bejeweled case that Azriel had found it in. Same as on that very first day he laid his hands on it.

It had been a wretched mission. One of his very first. It was not performed with the eloquence he would come to learn in future years.

Heartstriker had not been the objective of the mission. Far from it, in truth. The objective was a simple stealth reconnaissance into the Court of Nightmares.

He was to delve beneath the rock of the mountain in a mission very similar to his current. Swirlings of rumours and whispers of rebellion, against the new Highlord. Azriel was there to learn who had the guts to pick up the knife and try.

Heartstriker was a ploy. A shiny trick that Azriel had not yet learned how to evade.

He was still a novice by his own standards, only a few hundred years old. Spying in this sense was still fresh, still new. The work he had done under Rhysand's father during the war had been far more reliant on his brute strength. He had strict instructions not to hesitate to draw his blade.

It had taken time to relearn the importance in a message sent with words.

To remember the power of mercy.

This mission had been the first and only time Azriel had underestimated the measures in place in the Court of Nightmares, meant to keep out the likes of him.

His hesitance to kill had given another Fae time to trip an alarm, to flood the room with warriors. So when he had been backed into a corner by the snarling miscreants that lived in the belly of the mountain, taken by surprise, he hadn't hesitated to snatch up any weapon he could reach.

And it had branded him, singeing him right to his core.

But when he tried to force his fingers apart, they wouldn't obey, even as they screamed with the pain of the invisible flames. It was as though his hand had become fused with the blade, each atom of his being completely joined with the bronze of the sword through a terrible, unstoppable and invisible force.

Every part of him shrieked in agony. An age-old fear reared up within him, his hands burning like they were set alight and he could feel the flames licking at his skin, at his hands, could smell the scent of burning flesh—

He had fought on and won, all the same, taking on two battles at once. Fighting foes by real and faux, all whilst burning up from within all the while. The sword was immeasurably heavy and yet too light, all at once.

And only once almost all his enemies were slain, their blood staining the marble floors, did the burning cease. The blade seem to hum in response to the battle— drawn to the final foe who was clawing for his breath through his blood-soaked throat.

The tip of the sword had urged Azriel forward, like pulled by an invisible string, and he let it lead him, plunging the blade through the chest and into the heart of the last enemy left.

Only after, had the humming stopped. The sword finally clattered from Azriel's strong grip, the fusion broken.

His hands were same as ever, mottled with their scars, but with no indication of the burning he knew he had felt.

On his return, Rhys had told him the history of the sword and it's duly fitting name: Heartstriker.

It hadn't been claimed in centuries and as such, naturally it had come to live amongst other cursed objects within the Court of Nightmares. Unable to be used, unless someone bested the pain it took to raise it.

But Azriel had, entirely by accident.

It is said that once mastered, it will always strike true. Rhys had said, violet eyes gleaming as he looked over the bronze sword with piqued interest. That it's more than a regular sword but a living thing you must work in tandem with.

If anyone tries to take it from you, they must suffer the same fate. It can be gifted freely but, He had paused, that smirk that held no warmth in it pulling at his lips. I'm sure you can guess how often that happens down there.

It hadn't been used within the Night Court either, condemned to another hundred years or so without sight of battle. Azriel had more than enough blades of his own. The Illyrian broadsword that he had earned all that time ago in the Blood Rite for a proper battle and his Truth-Teller for the finer details.

Heartstriker wasn't right for his stature. Too short, strange weighted.

He'd kept it all the same. Perhaps, he told himself, to keep some other Fae from suffering the same fate if they laid hands on it.

His hazel eyes drift back across to you, bundled within yourself. You make a noise in your sleep, a gentle snuffle, and Azriel finds himself smiling.

Or perhaps, he thinks, he knew to keep it for entirely other reasons.

—

The quick healing of Illyrian's is more often a blessing than it is a curse.

On today's quiet winter morning, it is somehow both.

When you wake, dragged from your slumber in the early hours, it's before the sun has begun to make an appearance on the horizon. The shelter is coated in a soft darkness of dawn. The trees sway outside, a thousand creatures still roaming amongst their branches, reliant on the dark before daylight breaks.

It's the pain that wakes you, ebbing in through your sleep til it shakes off your sleep. You wake with your teeth already gritted.

The only pleasant surprise is that fact you're not shuddering yourself awake out of a nightmare, especially considering yesterday's training session.

You have a feeling that it has something to do with the sleeping Illyrian, propped up beside the fireplace, keeping watch.

His shadows still move about, even in his sleep. His neck is tucked down, his forehead pressed against his knee. It hides away part his face but as your eyes adjust to the shadowy light, you can make out his closed eyes. His hair looks messier than you've ever seen it.

It can't be comfortable, sleeping the way he is— but you have a feeling that Azriel has slept in places far worse before.

Shifting about in the darkness, your hand comes down to press tenderly at your sides, assessing as quietly as you can. There's no immediate sting of sliced skin as your fingers tips poke and prod at the skin, which makes you sigh in relief. You press down again, at bit harder this time, and it forces a wince out your gritted teeth.

Extremely bruised. But at the very least, the skin has knitted itself together in the nighttime.

Your face still aches, too. It's not quite the same ringing that made both eyes throb painfully yesterday and with a slow wrinkle of your nose, you can assess that the worst of your broken nose has healed up too.

Your ears, however, poses a different problem. One of them, the right side, still rings lightly. It would be more concerning, you think, if the left one itself wasn't so muffled altogether.

Huffing out a breath, you drag yourself up to a sitting position, moving at a tentative pace. Pain ricochets around your body. You're doing the best you can to be quiet but it's futile it seems — there's one creak of the bed as your weight shifts and Azriel's wings twitch, giving him away. He’s awake.

He lifts his head slowly, letting it roll from one side to the next, stretching out his neck. It's the only indication he gives you of feeling sore from his cramped sleep all night, his attentive eyes already watching you closely. His shadows, you notice, seem to gain speed at his rousing— circling his shoulders and neck closely.

You clear your throat and focus your gaze forward, resuming the task at hand. Raising one hand, you snap your fingers beside your left ear, then your right.

Frustration bubbles up inside you as you repeat the motion, as if it’ll change the outcome.

It doesn’t.

At least beyond the ringing, your right ear can hear the snap clearly— a keen Fae sense that like any warrior, you rely heavily on. The left one…

All you can think is that they must have hit you pretty damn hard to leave it as dulled as it feels. It can still hear, thankfully, but the noise that filters through is muffled around the edges. Buzzy. It makes you feel off kilter and unbalanced.

You let your hand drop and try to remain stoic, so used to hiding your emotions away from your face. You don't realise your drooping, limp wings give you away anyways.

Azriel gets to his feet swiftly, the movement so smooth you would have never guessed he spent the night tucked up uncomfortably against the bricks of your fireplace. He regards you with those burning amber eyes and your heart seems to lurch forward in response. You avert your gaze.

"It would seem we have an opportunity to test out our efforts." He says. His voice is still coated in sleep, low and rumbley, and it sends a bright zing down your spine. You lift your gaze from your lap and raise your brows in question.

He waves a hand to the table, in gesture.

Your various ingredients for brewing the tonics stay tucked in one corner, some wrapped up and set beneath the table. There are several different bottles too, stoppered with corks and containing yours and Azriel's attempts at the healing tonics.

It takes another moment to understand what he means.

"No," You say sharply, climbing to your feet. A thousand parts of your ache and groan in protest and you channel your focus into not letting a single ounce of it show.

Rolling your tense shoulders back, you wander towards your armor in slow steady steps. "Those aren't for me. I've healed enough in the night."

"I see." Azriel replies. "Is that why your left ear isn't working right?"

Gaze snapping back to him, you curse his ever-so observant nature. Maybe that's on you for trying to keep a secret from a Shadowsinger.

You are keeping a secret from a shadowsinger, something whispers in you.

A cold flush fills your body, numbing out every nerve for a single moment. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your wings hike up, tuck in. It feels wrong.

For the first time in your life, it feels so so utterly wrong to be keeping this secret from someone. To be hiding who you truly are.

But Azriel... he was a stranger not too long ago, wasn't he? You're not sure if you can even call each other friends, even if you had begun to in your mind, without even realising.

You think back to last night, to when he could have easily lifted your shirt a few inches higher when trying to save your life and known.

Then you wonder if he did — and he hasn't said anything.

If he's waiting for you to trip up, to fess up, to explain to him why you've been lying to him from the moment you first met him.

Azriel seems to sense your internal battle, the same way he seems senses a thousand things from you as though he's known you his whole life. He clears his throat to get your attention. When you focus your vision back on him, you notice one of the bottles is in his scarred fingers.

"I will train you today," He says. "On the condition that you take it."

Your nose twitches. It's an ultimatum. He knows you want to train, to brush off yesterday and let the pain in your body fuel the determination of today but he won't let you do it so carelessly. Bastard.

Before you can blink, he tosses the bottle across to you. You react instinctively, cradling your hands to catch it quickly before you realise what you're doing. Your nose twitches again, a tiny flare of annoyance at his smugness.

No, not smugness. Surety. His expression, bordering on bored, tells you that he knows you don't have any other options— unless you want to climb back into bed and rot for the day.

You yank the cork off the bottle harshly. Then, just to show him how unpleased you are with this, you lob the cork at him with all your might. Your bruised side screams in response. Azriel snatches from the air easily, without so much as a blink.

He looks like he wants to smile but thinks the better of it, placing the cork gently onto the table. "I'll meet you outside." He eyes the uncorked bottle in your hand then back at you. "Drink it. Please."

—

The tonic, as you find out, is only mildly effective.

It's a gutting discovery. The mixture is nowhere near potent enough to fix the level of nerve damage that gets inflicted during clippings if it barely lightens the bruises on your side.

The mottled blue painted on your skin gives way to a light purple, the edges of them retracting to a tinged yellow. The skin glows hot as the tonic works as best as it can.

The taste of it is nearly as rancid as the failure feels.

You deal with it the only way you know how; chewing it up and spitting it back out as determination to do better. The drive to push yourself harder in training rears up, fiery and stubborn— harder than you logically know is any help to yourself.

What was already tedious and heinous training is made that much worse by your injuries.

You're moving sloppily today, offbeat. The dullness in your left ear helps to keep you off balance. Still, you manage to keep up with Azriel— not quite the one step ahead you're usually aiming for but, at the very least, you're still holding your own.

Your ribs ache and your heads throbs. The ringing in your right ear has disappeared with the help of the tonic, only to have started up in the left. A relief in one sense— it's good to be hearing more of anything. A fucking pain in another.

The only major upside, really, is the sword.

The Heartstriker, Azriel had called it

You had been half convinced it was a hallucination, the gift. Sure that it some desperate illusion born out of the delirium of the blood loss because, really, when was the last time you had ever gotten a gift?

When you'd limped your way out into the snow and saw it in his hands, you had blinked in disbelief.

But it's almost like Azriel had expected it, his scarred hands reaching out to gently curl around your wrist, murmuring its name as he had pressed it into your hand. It's yours, he had said.

He had let go of your wrist go immediately, stepping back but not far, still hovering close by. He let you have a moment to marvel at it before he urged you to follow to the usual neck of the woods you trained in. The sound of clashing steel had soon followed.

It's a perfect addition, you find.

The blade is like a mere extension of your own arm. It's light enough to carve through the air with ease but when you strike, it's buries deep. Compared the Illyrian broadsword used in training at camp, it suits your stature far better. You move more agilely, hit more frequently and harder when you do.

It's probably the best thing you've ever owned— ever held.

You're gazing at it where it rests on your lap, glinting in the light of the day, as you try to catch your breath. Azriel had given you a moment to recover, far earlier than normal, due to your injuries, no doubt. Normally, you'd grumble and snarl and push him to continue but today, you're quite happy to have another moment to stare at the first gift you've gotten.

Azriel breaks the silence with a question.

"Why haven't you competed in the Blood Rite?"

Something icy spikes in your blood and your back straightens instinctively, the hair on the nape of your neck standing on end. Whether he knows it or not, he is treading close to dangerous territory.

"Why do you ask?" You answer his question with another question.

Azriel regards you with a certain look, his dark eyes dragging down your body intensely and back up to your face. It's enough to make you fluster momentarily, to feel a faint stirring in your heart that doesn't entirely feel like your own. No one has ever looked at you like that before.

"You're strong. You hold your own. You're of age." He states carefully. "You remain attached to this camp with no rank until you pass it. Why not?"

You scowl at his frame of thinking, as if you haven't passed over those reasons a thousand times. Beyond the fact you can't ever ensure you wouldn't be burdened with your cycle during the Blood Rite, there's more than enough reason for you to remain a nobody.

You feel oddly disappointed that he would think only in that manner; glory and rank.

"What makes you think I want any rank in my camp?" You spit bitingly, watching as his wings sink down an inch at your tone. His misunderstanding of why you've chosen this way of life bothers you more than you expect.

"Because you did?" You ask. "Because three bastards fought their way through it and won and left their shitty pasts behind? I am not you, Azriel."

Azriel doesn't react, not even the raising of his brows. Only his shadows give himself away, whirling around slower than usual. He speaks in that same careful tone as before.

"I know you are not."

He makes you feel foolish for giving in to any lick of your anger, for so quickly snapping at your only friend. You turn your head away and stare down into the snow, taking a breath. Cauldron, you're tired. Lifting you arm, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, clearing the sweat that beads there.

"I could leave but for what reason? Ever since I—" You suck a sharp inhale, swallowing back words that dance too close to giving you away. You pray he doesn't notice your hesitation. "Ever since I was young, this has been my goal. This change must come from within, you know that."

You inhale again, feeling the breath rattle past every ache and pain in your chest.

"I can only do the things I do... the things I must achieve, by being unnoticeable."

You cast a glance up to him. "To them, I am some bastard who won't give up and die. I am not a proper threat. You, of all people, should understand that it's easiest to work when people are not paying proper attention."

And that's all you have known — how to become unnoticeable when needed and how to be noticed when wanted. Attention, you've learned, only means a target on your back.

Beyond that... you can't imagine someone who would want to notice you for anything more. You've had many, many years to make peace with that bitter fact.

I am.

Without warning, there's a sudden thrum from deep within you, like a echo of a drum, of a call. It's golden and threaded with softness. I am paying attention.

It startles you, one hand flying to your armored chest in surprise. As quick as it had appeared, the hum flees and leaves your bound chest twingeing only in its usual discomfort. One moment of brief serenity. You long for it, despite the unfamiliar nature.

You realise abruptly that you've trailed off and force yourself to move, body aching in the process. Heartstriker sinks into the snow and you use it to clamber to your feet, not nearly as graceful as you would like. Azriel doesn't say anything.

In fact, when you lift your gaze to meet his, he's staring at you more intensely than usual. His shadows seem more agitated. They flit about, circling his hands more than his shoulders, and you can barely see the scarred skin through their inky darkness.

There's a long moment. Around you both, the trees creek as they bend in the wind, a thousand leaves rustling around you in a chorus.

Azriel breaks the silence, casting his eyes to the ground and lifting his blade. "No more questions."

He says it like a promise, his lips pulling at the edges like he might be offering a smile.

"Just fighting."

—

By the time the moon rises, the ache in your body has dimmed to a more bearable pain.

While you'd be miffed at the idea of Azriel pulling his punches, you can't deny the sliver of gratitude you have for it now. As you reach over the cauldron of simmering stew, only a few of your ribs twinge enough to make your motions falter momentarily. The stew bubbles and brews, filling your shelter with a hearty smell.

It's been too long since you last cooked something to share.

You try to shelve the guilt away—you and Azriel have been running a very tight schedule, switching between training, tonics and rest. Taking time to cook, for yourself or others, hasn't even had time to cross your mind.

Your brief brush back with the reality during yesterday's training, however, had provided you with ample reminders. Your home camp and all its violent glory.

So, you cook. The logs crackle on the fire and above them, the stew simmers gently as you stir absentmindedly at it. Giving yourself this quiet moment, you let your thoughts drift as the tiredness of the day trickles into your body. Your thoughts turn to the quiet Shadowsinger.

He had taken his leave as soon as he had declared the end of your days training, needing another trip to Velaris.

I'll be back by morning, he had said, each of his seven cerulean siphons flaring brightly before he stepped between the fabric of the world and disappeared. Another hidden trick up his sleeve.

You'd allowed yourself only one moment of surprise before you closed your mouth— you really needed to stop underestimating him. As the stew before you begins to hiss and spit, you pull yourself from your thoughts and prepare yourself for the discomfort of meal times.

They never are as friendly as you might hope.

Despite your generosity, the different outcasts of Exordor remain cagey. Regard you with pensive and guarded looks, hands hovering on the butts of their swords. You can't blame them in the slightest.

But those that can brave the walk to your cabin, risking both themselves and your own safety against the other Illyrian brutes in the camp, are rewarded with a hot meal. Tonight, you feed 12 hungry mouths before your doorstep grows quiet.

You pack it all away in silence, with a quite yearning for company you've only just become used to having.

It's only as you're tucking in for the night, your wings wrapped around yourself tightly, does the first pain strike. Right to your core, the very insides of your gut feels as though it's being shredded. You gasp, your entire body curling up tighter to fight against the pain.

For only a moment, confusion clouds your mind at the attack that seems to come from nowhere, from an invisible enemy. Only one answer comes forward—the only thing that can threaten to reveal your secret without your permission, through mere scent alone.

A certain agony that only tortures you twice a year.

[NEXT PART: BETRAYERS]

[monsoonceroom]

New Spy x Family chapter! Let's Gooooo!

So Damian & co (but mostly Damian) are studying when the above drops. I did google this & apparently 'Mitera' means 'Mother' in Greek, so this is likely their version of Ancient Greece. Pretty neat imo.

With Ostania's economy probably in shambles after the war, I wonder if this boom was partially because of the country's citizens hoping for a way to get back on their feet financially by selling some sweet ancient relics.

It's nice to know that they had twitter in 1960/1970's Ostania. Weak joke, I know.

Anyways, treasure hunting happens & while the boys are in proper attire, the 3 butlers are in suits in the middle of a freakin' forest. This would be absolutely miserable in real life. However, with this being Spy x Family, I automatically assume they're much too professional to allow even a single speck of dirt to sully their clothes & will be vaporized immediately.

Also, it looks like their hair colors are inversions of the kids? Instead of 1 brunette & 2 blonds, it's 2 brunettes & 1 blond. Also that Egeberg butler does look pretty fine.

Shush you! Damian already knows his family life is shit; let him be happy!

It's cute to see them explore the wonder's nature has to offer. Also did they not bring enough water, so they had to resort to drinking from waterfalls? Props for getting it from fast running water rather than a stagnant pool though.

STRRRIKE! Maybe I'm just exaggerating, but I lowkey wonder if Jeeves can give Martha a run for her money when it comes to physical prowess. While not much in terms of what we've already seen throughout the series (especially compared to Yor) I imagine not many people would have been able to use an acorn like a bullet.

:(

Have some food to cheer up, Damian!

Hold up; wild-caught venison? Did the butlers hunt deer while treasure hunting? They probably brought the food with them but the image of guys in suits stalking a deer is hilarious.

Lol, Ewen & Emile are like 'Did he just call us peasants?'.

Damian is calling upon the spirits to guide him.

Oh crap, it backfired & now he's possessed!

Not to worry! A kind spider has come to help!

Maybe the real treasure was the big ass flower we found along the way.

A quick google search says that 'Geschocran' when translated into English means 'Projectile Crane', so nothing too crazy there considering the pistil on that thing. I checked to see if maybe the name 'Witch's Crib' had any real-world equivalent although nothing came up aside from baby cribs & witch hazel. I wonder what the in-universe lore is on the 'Witch's Crib' name?

Goddamn kids these days & their helicopters. Back in MY day we had to wait hours in the car to get somewhere, uphill, both ways in the snow in 180 degree weather.

More sad Damian & Jeeves trying to talk to him about it. Also no one else is home? Where the frick did everyone go? Let's see; Melinda has her own place so she's probably chillin' there, Demetrius is likely studying at a library, & Donovan is, I don't know, concocting evil schemes in his lair or something.

Yooo! Damian's accusing Jeeves of being a snitch! At least Damian forgot he was sad.

KSKSKSKSKSKSKSKSK Looks like Damian tried to impress Anya & then complained to Jeeves about it later. I wouldn't doubt it if Jeeves is feeding Melinda info, but alas, we have no proof.

[sopebubbles]

Master List

Twelve

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: Yoongi takes you on a date

Warnings: slight angst (mostly talking about her past), mentions of past abuse, homelessness, fear of abandonment

Honestly yall its a lot of yoongi and oc being freakin soft 😩

Yoongi was only slightly disappointed to find you awake and making breakfast with Hobi in the kitchen when he came in after eight in the morning. He'd kind of been hoping to be able to take a peek at you in your nest, just to see for himself that you were as safe and cozy as his other omega had promised (many times) that you were last night. Although he hadn't been gripped by the same agonizing fear he had known for the month you were gone, he still hated being away from you so long last night, and he'd texted both Jimin and Hoseok multiple times last to assuage his anxiety (and his guilt). They'd promised him that you had nested just fine, had eaten well and seemed perfectly happy with Jimin's company before peacefully going to sleep. It was cute just how much he worried about the details. 

"Yoongi!" You said his name brightly when you saw him and rushed over to give him a hug. You were too energized from a good night's sleep and the cup of fresh squeezed orange juice Taehyung gave you to be self conscious about it. You didn't seem to notice the flour on your cheek until Yoongi brushed it off with a smile. "Oh sorry. I'm probably getting you dirty," you said as you tried to pull away. He held you close. 

"I don't mind. Good morning," he hummed as he rubbed his chin over the top of your head. 

"M-morning." Yoongi's arms tightening around you turned to jelly when you'd been solid only moments ago. 

How can he be so warm? He must be tired and hungry.

"Can I get you some pancakes?" You offered, and he finally loosened his hold.

"Only if you eat some with me. Have you eaten yet?" 

You shook your head. "But I need to help Hobi."

The omega waved a hand at you without looking back. "I can handle it. If your alpha says eat, then it's time to eat. Which you know. She kept saying she didn't want to eat until you got here," he added just to make you squirm. A small whine escaped your throat, drawing the attention of all the men, whether they intended to look your way or not. "Careful, girl. Your whines have power here," Hobi smirked as he set two plates in front of you and Yoongi on the counter. 

You sat down and ate quietly for a few minutes while Yoongi tried and failed to pretend he was paying more attention to the food than to you. Jin and Jungkook were laying on the couch, nearly falling back asleep after stuffing themselves before anyone else got up. Jimin had gotten up to take your place helping Hobi while Taehyung and Namjoon sat at the table sharing the newspaper. 

"What do you want to do today?" Yoongi asked after several minutes. 

You swallowed and cleared your throat. "I have to work later."

Yoongi's fork froze halfway to his mouth. "What? why?"

You shrugged. "I work Saturdays."

"You work six hours a day, six days a week?" You nodded. "That's too much."

"I-I thought you d-didn't mind me working…"

Screwed it up already. Now you'll see how he really feels. The pancakes in your stomach turned to lead. 

Yoongi could see you getting nervous, watched you grow even smaller. "No. No, I don't," he managed, forcing his voice to be calm. "I don't mind you working if it's what you want.  But that's a lot. Thirty-six hours is almost full time but no benefits. That just seems…sketchy."

You tilted your head at him. "What do you mean?"

"Just that it seems like your employer is taking advantage of you. Do you get any benefits?"

"Well, I get heat leave."

"But what about health insurance? Vacation? Extended sick leave? What if you get pregnant?" Yoongi could feel all the air leave the room and wished he could take the words back.

You shook you head and spoke softly, "Yoongi, I'm not–"

"I know. I didn't mean that. I'm an idiot. I swear I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying, those are things you'd expect in a full-time job."

You shrugged. "It's not like I have a lot of options, Yoongi."

"I know," he sighed. "I just want you to be treated fairly."

You stood from your stool and walked toward the stairs. "People like me don't get treated fairly."

Yoongi got up and followed you, catching your arm as gently as he could. "I'm sorry. For what I said and how I said it. I know that you've been doing the best you could, and I have no right to judge that. Everything is okay." His hand laid hot against your neck, thumb stroking just the bottom edge of your scent gland. When he felt your shoulders relax, so did his. "Come finish your breakfast, and when you're ready I'll take you to work."

You turned worried eyes up at him. "You worked so hard, alpha. You must be tired. I'll finish, but then you need to go to sleep. Jimin and Tae will take me."

The corners of Yoongi's mouth turned up in a placating smile. "Okay."

He watched you walk back to your seat at the counter and pick up your fork, ignoring the eyes of the others as he joined you. He wanted to talk it through with you more, but he wasn't going to make you do it in front of everyone, and he didn't want to get into an argument before you went to work all day. Instead, he asked you how your night was and what you did the day before, and you plastered on a smile that slowly became more natural while you told him all about nesting and your newfound love of pillows.

When you'd both finished eating, you took your plates and washed them along with the others, no matter what Hobi said. You couldn't sit down and relax now. Doing so would only create nervous energy you wouldn't be able to dispel. You'd have to spend the rest of your day in motion. Yoongi followed you again when you went up the stairs to change for work, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't a little annoying.

At the top of the stairs you turned to look at him. "Are you going to follow me around all day?" You snapped. 

Yoongi took a step back. He honestly didn't even realize how close he was. "I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to." He rubbed a hand over his eyes and you could see how tired he was. 

You crossed your arms over your chest. "What are you doing?"

He sighed. "I was going to sleep like you'd suggested. I think I was following you because…"

He wants to sleep in my nest. 

The realization dawned on both of you. "It's not time yet," you said softly, but eased your defensive stance. 

Yoongi met your eyes with equal tenderness and smiled a little. "Yet?"

"Yet," you confirmed.

Somehow the idea that there was a future nest he would be invited into was enough for him. "That's alright."

You turned on your heel to walk to your room, but he called you back. "Would you like to go on a date with me tonight?"

"A date?"

"Yeah. If you don't have any plans."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

He chuckled. "Well, I told you we could date as part of our courtship, and I would like to get to know you better."

"But…" you looked at him with an expression of such utter confusion that he wished he had a camera to document it. 

"But what?"

"I just…I don't want you to force yourself to take me on a date if you aren't attracted to me."

It was Yoongi's turn to be utterly lost. "Whatever gave you the idea that I'm not attracted to you? I'm your alpha."

"Yeah, I know, but I feel like you're just doing this, taking me in because you want to protect me, because I'm so helpless and pathetic. And you were so cool about not breeding me. Plus you have all the guys, and so I just guessed you weren't thinking of me that way." You wilted under Yoongi's amused gaze. 

He snorted. "Princess, I do want to protect you because you are incredibly vulnerable, but that doesn't change my attraction to you one bit. And there's a whole world of intimacy between protecting you and breeding you. It's vast and we should go slow, but a date is a good start. That is, unless you aren't attracted to me."

Blood rushed to your face as you felt put on the spot. What kind of omega wouldn't be attracted to the alpha he was? What person wouldn't fall for his gentle, caring demeanor? But you couldn't possibly admit to it.

Yoongi stepped closer to mark the top of your head with his scent. The embrace only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away, but it still left you weak in the knees.

"I don't have anything to wear."

Yoongi shrugged. "It will be very casual. No one will see you but me. You can wear pajamas for all I care. Bonus points if you wear one of my hoodies."

You smiled at that thought. "Okay then."

"Good. Then I'll see you tonight," he told you before he turned and went into the pack bedroom to sleep. 

Yoongi was pleasantly surprised to find an apple-scented pillow in his usual spot and let himself enjoy it for a few minutes before his memory from last night came back to him. 

He had brought a patient to the emergency room of the hospital he had brought your ex-alpha to a few nights ago. After they filled out some paperwork, Yoongi and his partner took a break. His motivation was unclear, even at the time, but he found out what room the alpha was staying in from a nurse that liked to talk to him whenever she got the chance. She told him that he was still in the ICU, but that he was in a coma, and hadn't woken up since the night he was brought in. When he found the room, there was a woman inside. A tall redhead, an alpha as well, if Yoongi wasn't mistaken, so he steered clear, but it had stuck with him the rest of the night.

When he heard you, Jimin and Taehyung leave the house, Yoongi got out of bed and went to the living room where Jin and Jungkook were still on the couch.

"Is everything okay, Yoongi?" Jin asked when the alpha only stood over them without saying a word. 

"I need to ask you some questions. Legal questions," he clarified and sat on the coffee table opposite them. 

"What's on your mind, hyung?" Jungkook sat up to give him his full attention. 

"I found out last night that her ex-alpha–"

"His name is Sebastián," Jungkook added. 

Yoongi growled. "He's in a coma. And I just need to know what's going to happen to her if he never wakes up. And I guess, what happens if he does?"

Jin sat up and shared a look with Jungkook before he spoke. "If he doesn't wake up, there would most likely be a grand jury investigation, which would determine who, if anyone, was responsible for his death."

"In that case, the blame would likely fall on the driver, since she has already been charged with drunk driving. It would be manslaughter," Jungkook added. 

"But she said she pushed him, in her statement. That won't matter?"

Jin shook his head doubtfully. "She could get charged, but in my experience, if you put that girl in front of any judge or jury, there's no way they wouldn't chalk it up to self defense. If he does survive, it wouldn't even make sense to press charges for assault. He wouldn't look very sympathetic. But whether or not she's charged criminally, if he dies, his family could bring a wrongful death suit to civil court. But again, it will be hard to make her look like a perpetrator, especially since they're both Lykos."

"You seem confident that she'll be okay?"

"I am," Jin assured him. 

"But what if she had a motive?" Yoongi worried. 

"You mean because they knew each other?" Yoongi nodded. Jin thought it over, rubbing his finger along his lower lip. "The prosecution would have to prove she meant to push him into traffic and not just to get him off of her. In that case, she'd just need to be coached not to take the bait."

"Could you do it? Would you take the case? If it came to that, I mean." Yoongi didn't know any other lawyers, and he certainly didn't know any he thought he could trust with something like this more than Jin. 

He must have been able to read that emotion in Yoongi's eyes because Jin nodded. He wouldn't take that trust for granted again. "If she needs me to, of course, Yoongi. I'll do anything for you."

You were surprised when Yoongi said he was taking you to a drive in theater. You'd hardly been to any movie theaters at all in your life, and never a drive-in, but you liked the idea of it. There were lots of benefits to it. You got to go out to a public place, but sitting in his car was relatively private. The movie removed the pressure to make conversation, but on the other hand, if the movie wasn't very interesting, you could talk through it without disturbing anyone else. It was really a perfect idea for a first date. 

He'd urged you to take a nap when you got home since the movie wouldn't start until later, and you were glad you'd taken his advice. You didn't have much to choose from when it came to clothing options, so you simply put on a clean pair of jeans and the mustard yellow hoodie he had loaned you a few days ago. Yoongi seemed pleased enough with your ensemble, repeating his compliment of how nice you looked in that color. He wasn't dressed up at all either, wearing a pair of ordinary jeans and a baggy long sleeve shirt. You wouldn't know it because he wouldn't say such a thing, but there wasn't anything you could wear that would look more appealing to him than his own clothes, because they made you look like you were his. He beamed at you when you came down the stairs to leave with him. 

"Do I look okay?" You whispered to Hoseok. 

He pinched your cheek. "You look adorable. He loves it. Believe me." He winked at Yoongi over your head and the alpha held out his hand to take you to the car. "Don't come home too early," he instructed as you went out the door together. 

Once you got settled in the front seat, Yoongi cleared his throat before he started the engine. "This is for you," he said as he handed you a brand new Samsung phone.

"Oh, I–"

"Before you say you don't need it, just consider that it's for me. I want you to make sure that you have it with you and it's on all the time. I told you that it's important for me to know where you are, so I can keep you safe, so you need a phone. And don't worry, it's not like the newest model or anything. Besides, remember you're agreed to let me provide for you. So just accept it. It has all of the pack's numbers saved already, in case you ever need one of them, and they all have your number already. I'm your emergency contact," he rambled.

Instead of offering any protest you smiled softly and unbuckled your seat belt to lean over and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you, alpha," you said before you leaned back into your spot. You may have wanted to refuse, but he was right, it was for him and not you, not really. If he needed you to carry this thing around in order to feel more secure, that shouldn't be hard for you. 

You weren't prepared for more gifts when you got to the drive-in. When you found a spot to park, Yoongi told you to wait while he got out of the car and went to the trunk. You looked anxiously through the back window, but couldn't see anything that gave away what he was doing. Eventually he pushed a large gift bag and picnic basket through his open car door before he joined you again. 

"What's all this?" You wondered, looking at the tissue paper sticking out of the huge bag at your eye level.

"Why don't you open it and see?" He teased. 

You narrowed your eyes at him as you got up on your knees to be able to look over the bag, but your scrutiny only made him smile. Pulling out the paper piece by piece revealed two soft round pillows inside, one lavender and one orange.

"I figured you needed some pillows for your nest. I thought these could remind you of me and Jiminie."

Your cheeks and your eyes burned as you pulled out the two pillows, almost ball-like except for how plush they were. They squeezed nicely in your arms when you held them to your chest.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Yoongi asked, beginning to feel nervous when you didn't say anything. 

You buried your head in them to hide your wet eyes. "They're perfect." Your words were muffled, but they still warmed Yoongi's heart. When you collected yourself, you placed the pillows safely back in the bag and set it aside. "What's in the basket?"

"Oh, I asked Hobi to put together some snacks for us. But if there are any other treats you want, I'll go get something from the concession stand." Yoongi opened the top of the basket and you both reached for the box of raisinets at the same time. You whispered an apology while Yoongi plucked them out. He opened the box and handed it to you. "I'm going to go get some popcorn. Do you have a drink preference?" 

You shook your head and he got out once again to go get more snacks. You shoved a few raisinets into your mouth and put the rest away. Then you pulled out the soft orange pillow from the gift bag at your feet and held it close again. You wondered if he'd already scented it, or if it was your imagination that applied the orange aroma. 

The longer he was gone, your mind began to wander. It was hard not to think about all the first things you were experiencing lately. Your very first completely safe, self- made nest, your first drive-in movie, your first date. It had felt like you'd been living for years, in the most raw way possible, but maybe all you'd done was survive, and only barely. These new things seemed so small and insignificant to you when they were only abstract ideas, things you would live without because you didn't need them to survive, but now they felt monumentally important as each one carved a memory in your heart. And each one was available to you only because of Yoongi.

The man at the center of your thoughts broke through them when he returned several minutes later carrying a large bucket of popcorn, which he handed to you, and a large coke that he balanced on the dashboard. 

"Is everything okay?" He asked, taking in your expression, which remained pensive as he settled into his seat. 

You forced a smile, not because you weren't feeling it, but because it wasn't a thing you were accustomed to showing. "I'm fine. I…" you searched for something to say that would take you away from your thoughts. "I didn't even ask what we were seeing."

Yoongi chuckled at himself. "Oh. Yeah. It's actually a horror movie. I was actually hoping we could see the comedy that's playing on the other screen, but it was sold out, so this one was left. But if you don't like horror movies, I was thinking we could just sit and talk. Or we could leave. Or if we're really bored we could turn on the radio station for the comedy and watch it with the horror scenes."

You laughed at his ridiculous idea, but thought it actually sounded kind of fun. "Well, I do like horror movies, but option three also sounds interesting," you admitted with a smile that almost stopped his heart. 

Yoongi cleared his throat as he looked out the window. "There's still like twenty or thirty minutes before the sun sets and the movie starts. Maybe we can still talk?" 

You began to get the feeling that this was what he actually wanted to begin with. He had said he wanted to get to know you, and you supposed he had a right to know the person he was taking in, but at the same time you didn't want to overwhelm him with all of your baggage, at least not in one night. 

"What do you want to talk about?" You hedged, shoving a kernel of popcorn past your lips. 

"Well, I just really want to know more about you, but I don't want to be unfair, so you can ask me anything you want to," he offered, turning in his seat to look at you. 

"I don't know what I could tell you that Jungkook hasn't already. I mean, he must have run a background check on me, right? And he would have told you before he let you take me home?"

Yoongi shook his head. "Jungkook hasn't really said much, actually. I mean, yeah, we do know about, um, where you were before you came to the city," he said diplomatically. 

"You mean jail?" You asked provocatively. "You can say it. Unless it makes you uncomfortable, which I understand." You knew you shouldn't be getting your hackles up with him. He approached the subject gently and here you were, striking back with your claws out like the alley cat that you were. You closed your eyes to try to calm your racing heart.

He placed a hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, it's okay. I'm not judging you. No one in the pack is, either. You're not the only person to get arrested, you know."

You opened your eyes and looked at him incredulously. "Have you been arrested?"

Yoongi nodded his head. "When I was sixteen. A friend and I stole his uncle's car and went for a joy ride. I was just a passenger, and I hadn't presented yet. They dropped the charges."

"Wow, grand theft auto," you chuckled and he did too.

"My point is, we all have a past. I mean, some of us more than others, but you're not the only one."

You eyed him uncertainly. "Did he tell you what I was arrested for? I wasn't just arrested Yoongi. I spent six months in county."

Yoongi nodded. "I know, but I'm not judging you for what you had to do."

You shook your head with a wry laugh. "That's the thing. I didn't do it. I mean yeah, she made me go out there, but I promise you I didn't sell my body. Honest. That was my first night. I may have been naive, but I'm not an idiot. The first guy I talked to was a cop, and I knew it. I could spot him easy, so I offered myself up and I let him arrest me. And when they charged me, I pleaded guilty. Do you know why?" Yoongi shook his head, dark eyes locked on yours. "Because going to jail was better than going back to my alphas."

Yoongi kept his face neutral despite the anger he felt bubbling below the surface of his skin. He'd never ever question your decision, but he would always feel angry that your situation was so bad that jail seemed like a viable alternative for you. 

"You said alphas?" He questioned when he managed to speak. 

"Two of them," you said with a nod.

"And one of them was female?"

"Yeah, they were husband and wife."

"How did you meet them? I mean…he's so much older."

You grabbed the coke from the dashboard and took a long drink to clear the lump in your throat. Yoongi's eyes never left you, but you tried to ignore him. "I met her first. I was on the streets. I was almost seventeen by then, but I'd been on my own for months. She just started talking to me one day when she was volunteering at a soup kitchen…offered me a place to stay. And I was desperate enough to not question it."

"So she just…took you in off the streets?" You nodded. "And then what?" He asked as if your story was the one he had bought a ticket for tonight.

"And then…and then everything seemed normal for like a week. They just seemed like a regular couple. They had a spare room and they needed help around the house, so I would clean and take care of the house in exchange for living there. It was several days before I realized they actually wouldn't let me leave. I hadn't really been on heat suppressants yet, and when that time came around I found out that the real reason they wanted me was because they wanted babies. They couldn't have any on their own, so they would use me. Like some fucked up puppy mill," you choked out.

Yoongi reached over to pat your back, but you flinched away from him, and he could understand that you wanted your space after such a revelation. He took his hand back and tried to think of something to say when all he wanted to do was rage on your behalf.  But he knew it wouldn't do you any good. "It makes sense that you were so frightened when two other strangers took you off the street. You must have been very scared."

You looked him straight in the eyes. "It's only been a few days. Shouldn't I still be scared?"

It wounded Yoongi deeply that you felt that way, but he could hardly blame you. He knew it wasn't about him exactly. "I'm sorry. I know there isn't really anything I could say to reassure you that you're safe with me but–"

"It's okay, Yoongi. I do feel safe with you. It's different. The way I feel when I think about you. When I'm near you…I feel safe but…" you looked out at the narrowing strip of pink sky to your left. 

"But what?"

"I've been taken in so many times when I think I'm at my lowest. When I was abandoned as a baby, when I met those other alphas, when Eli came to play big brother. And never, never has any of it actually made me safe."

"I hope–" Yoongi could feel the tears at his water line, but they would stay there. He bit his lip and looked away as well. "I hope you'll stay long enough to know that you will be safe in our home."

You looked back at him finally and noticed the collar of his unbuttoned button-down shirt was crooked. Reaching over to straighten it, you assured him, "as long as you keep it safe for me, I won't have anywhere else to go."

Yoongi took your wrist gently before you had the chance to pull away from him. With his fingertips against your pulse point, he could feel the strong, steady beat of your heart, not high enough to be panicking, but still a little anxious. "I will do everything I can to make you feel safe," he promised.

Before you could make any kind of response, the lights over the parking lot shut off and images began to play on the screen in front of you. Without another word, Yoongi released you in order to fiddle with the radio, tuning it to the right station for your movie. You both settled back into the seat, facing the screen, with a mountain of snacks in between you. You each tried your best to focus on the movie, but you could feel it every time his eyes slid toward you as he watched your profile instead of the characters on screen. Every time you turned to look at him he recentered his attention, but he was fooling no one. Several times your hands brushed when you both reached into the popcorn for a salty snack, and he would chuckle awkwardly before pulling away. 

You both tried to focus on the movie, but the truth was that it did nothing to hold your attention, not with Yoongi right beside you.

"There's something I don't understand," you said abruptly, causing Yoongi to look quickly between you and the huge screen. The movie had been pretty straight forward, to the point of being pretty boring. 

"What?"

"Why do you like me? Why me?" Yoongi laughed openly while you pouted. You pulled your feet under you and turned to face him straight on, giving up any pretense of watching the movie. "Don't laugh. I'm serious. I mean. I don't know. I guess I'm trying to understand your intentions because I want to believe that this won't be like before but I…I'm scrawny and dumb and there's nothing interesting about me. I'm not even pretty enough to make up for it all. And there are plenty of needy omegas in this city. So what could you possibly want me for?"

Yoongi's humor subsided, and he turned the radio down before moving to face you as well. His expression was serious but his eyes still held light. He reached over to brush back your hair so he could see your face in the scattered light from the projector. 

"I don't think attraction is ever really about those things. Not how someone looks or what they have to say, but how those things resonate with you. It's an elemental, a chemical thing. I just like you. Maybe that's why Hobi and Jin think we're fated mates."

"Fated mates?"

"I don't know. It's kind of…lykos folklore. Sort of what saps think of as soulmates. Like, it just feels right with someone, like you're linked to them even though there's no real reason. There's no proof that it's real. It's just a feeling I guess. But they say it only happens with alphas and omegas. And I don't think I believe it. I don't know if you feel that. But I do feel drawn to you in a way that I never have with anyone else. I don't even think attraction is the right word. I just feel like…I need to be with you."

Yoongi's eyes never left your face while he talked and you didn't realize you were holding your breath until he stopped and you inhaled so you could answer him. "Maybe that's why my omega wants me to trust you even though everything else tells me not to. Like, I should be terrified of you, but I'm just not. I just want to be good so that I can stay."

You didn't know you were leaning toward him, nor were you fully aware of the words you spoke or how they made Yoongi's heart race, but when he brushed his fingers along your cheekbone you suddenly leaned back, blinking rapidly to regain your composure.

Yoongi coughed and pulled his hand away, reaching for candy to occupy his fingers. "I guess I should be honest with you about my intentions," he said with a shrug. "Because I know they aren't entirely altruistic."

You swallowed, but kept your eyes on him. His words made you nervous, but you'd hardly call it fear. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's a little dark. Or maybe all alphas feel this way. I always knew I was an alpha before presentation, because I always wanted people to depend on me. I always wanted to be in charge, to be a provider, to have the people in my life need me even more than they wanted me. In a way, the attraction I have, the love I have for the others, that's the unbelievable thing. With Jimin, with you, I felt from the first time I met each of you that you needed me. You wouldn't survive without me. And I liked that. Do you think that's kind of sick?" He wondered. You couldn't tell if he wanted an answer, or if he wanted you to be a little bit scared. But still you didn't feel it.

I don't think I will survive without you, your inner self echoed. 

You reached out to him, let your fingers graze the back of his hand. "I'm not sure. I'm not the best judge of what's normal and what's not. But it sounds right to me. I think to myself sometimes, I don't know how I've survived this long. I should be dead. Omegas…we aren't built to make it on our own. Sometimes it seemed like my death was right around the corner, but I don't feel that way anymore. The last two days have felt like the safest days of my whole life," you admitted. 

Yoongi's chest felt tight, like his heart would burst through his ribs if you kept talking. He turned his palm up so he could slot his fingers through yours. You sat in silence for a moment, letting him hold your hand while he tried to keep his breathing steady. 

"I don't understand why you're not pack alpha. Is it because Seokjin makes more money?" You wondered after a minute as you brushed back his chin length hair with your fingers. 

Yoongi chuckled. "If we're getting technical, Taehyung makes the most money in the pack."

Your eyes bulged in surprise. "But I thought Tae didn't work."

"He doesn't have a job in the strictest sense, but reclusive artists are often the most sought after. His paintings sell for a high price tag to collectors."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe I picked the wrong alpha." 

Yoongi tugged on your hand playfully, making you giggle. "I always wanted to be a pack alpha. When I was younger I tried to establish my own pack but…it just wasn't right. I didn't have a lot to offer back then. I've never had Jin's resources. And then I met his pack, and I felt very comfortable with them. It was easy to fall in love with each of them so quickly. But they were already complete before me. I felt surprised they even wanted me. So I let go of that dream. It's been over five years now."

"But then you met Jimin, right? Did you think about starting a pack with him? On your own, I mean?"

Yoongi shrugged. "An alpha and a beta isn't much of a pack. You can make a pack without a beta, but without an omega? What's the point?" He looked at you through his eyelashes, but then quickly away. "Besides, Jimin and I both always wanted a big pack, and he clicked with Jungkook and Taehyung right away. It would have been selfish to take him away just because I wanted to be in charge."

"You're my pack alpha though," you murmured, sending a shiver down Yoongi's spine. He could only nod. "Good."

He lets his eyes close and for a minute you just watch him breathe steadily, happy that he seems content with you. But as seconds slip by you begin to feel that it might not be enough. Maybe it was silly, but you felt so much closer to him after all you'd both said, and holding his hand wasn't physically close enough anymore.

"I'm kind of cold," you told him quietly, taking him from his thoughts. 

"I can turn on the heat," he offered, letting go of your hand and reaching for the ignition. 

"Or maybe you could just hold me?"

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. He helped you move all the snacks to the backseat of the impala and moved closer so you met in the middle. You huddled into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you legs over his. You let out a quiet, happy sigh you hoped he didn't notice. 

"If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was say so," he whispered to the top of your head. 

You turned your face into his shoulder. "I'm working on it," you mumbled. 

He smiled and ran his fingers through your hair, dragging his fingernails gently against your scalp. "You're doing great, princess."

You made a noise Yoongi wouldn't only describe as grumpy and turned your face up at him. "Why do you call me that?"

"Because that's what I want you to feel like. Because princesses have everything they need provided for. And because you're special just because you're you. But if you don't like it, I can call you something else."

You nestled into him again. "Well, when you put it like that."

Once again, Yoongi turned up the volume on the radio and you both at least pretended to pay attention. Although the movie in general was pretty innocuous, you took advantage of one lame jump scare to bury your face into his neck. Yoongi held his breath as you nosed at his scent gland, causing his light, happy scent to fill the car around you. He let you stay in his arms until the end of the movie, and although you didn't fall asleep, it was an easy mistake for him to make. He scratched teasingly at your side to rouse you when the screen went dark. 

"Are you ready to go home, princess?"

You tilted your head up to see his features illuminated by the lights of other cars as they made their exits. You'd practically forgotten that there was anyone else there. Your head nodded sleepily, and Yoongi reluctantly moved you over to your side of the seat. When he moved behind the steering wheel you moved back to the center seat and strapped in the seatbelt there so you could stay close to his warmth.

No matter how old you get, the urge to stay up on a Saturday night always remains. Yoongi could tell by the soft footsteps moving about the second floor that the pack are just settling in for the night, brushing their teeth and for the most part discarding unnecessary items of clothing before staking their claim to their spots in the nest. Everyone was home for once, and they'd all sleep soundly. Even you. Even Yoongi, although he knew that it still wasn't time for you and him to share space for that activity. You climbed the stairs sleepily with Yoongi a few steps behind you, making sure you didn't slip as you swayed precariously. His hand went quickly to your hip, grabbing hold of the fabric there when you tripped over the top step. The noise brought Hoseok to the bedroom door.

"You didn't get her drunk, did you, alpha?" Hobi asked from the half open door. Yoongi rolled his eyes, because the omega knew that wasn't the plan.

"No, just sleepy," you yawned as you rubbed your eyes. 

Jimin squeezed past Hoseok to give you a goodnight hug. "You smell like you crawled out of an orange." He giggled, "apples and oranges."

Yoongi blushed while the two of you said your goodnights. 

"Do you need any help getting ready for bed?" Hobi asked softly. He'd helped you take apart your nest earlier today so that you could keep practicing. 

"No, I think I got it. And I have new pillows," you whispered happily.

"Okay then," he smiled back. "Yoongi, I'll see you in a minute," he said, and the instruction to your alpha was clear, just in case he didn't already know where he would be sleeping tonight. He closed the door and the two of you were cloaked in darkness except for a sliver of light from a lamp Hoseok left on for you in your room. 

"Are you going to tell them what I told you earlier?" You asked after a moment passed with nothing but the sound of your breathing. 

"I won't, if you don't want me too. But no one is going to judge you if you're–"

"No. I was just thinking it would be better if you did. That way I don't have to tell it six more times."

Yoongi nodded. It was a vulnerable thing you had shared, and it couldn't be easy to talk about with others. "I read once that if you talk about your trauma repeatedly, like you're telling a story, it can start to feel more like a thing that happened and not something that's still happening to you."

You cringed at the thought. "I think I'd still rather have you explain it. If you don't mind."

"Of course," he agreed easily, anything to make you more comfortable. 

"I had a good time tonight," you admitted after another quiet moment where neither of you seemed to want to leave. 

Yoongi's smile was becoming semi permanent. "I'm glad. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

He took one step closer to you and leaned down to kiss your cheek, but you turned your head up in such a way that you caught his lips with your own. You froze in surprise, and even more shockingly, he didn't move away. Yoongi took another step into you, so your chests were just touching. His hand went around your back to keep you steady despite intensifying the angle of your kiss. Still, it remained chaste even as it went on. His lips were hot and soft and just slightly moist, but he seemed content to press his mouth just gently to yours for another moment longer. Then his lips finally left yours, he whispered his goodnight and disappeared into the pack bedroom. 

😃😃 they kissed! Who wants to scream about it?

Permanent taglist: @lilacdreams-00  @wholockian1 @babycoffeefire @theatren3rd @bri-mal @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @yoongiigolden   @staerryminimini @valhallawhispers @m4gg13-g @i-have-no-life-charlie @hellokittiesxbae @pamzn

Taglist: @ellesalazar @rinkud @osakis-gf @scuzmunkie @queen-in-the-shadows @toughbook @zariaskz @chansbaybygirl @cryingpages @coralmusicblaze @alex--awesome--22 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @juju-227592 @bangtanflirt @wittyreader @nyrovieeie @welcome418 @guinhosletters @lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime @moon-cupcakes @passionandsuga @zvrjkb @m0v3m3ntsblog @kykyxstandler @writingwithmai @moocow778 @ladyalicesbookstore @yoonseokerist @deejay08 @momoasenthusiasticreader @littlestarstinyseven @bittersweetbaylee

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[leeknowslaughh]

Wind Breaker Chapter 158 SPOILERS!!!

I’M CRYING OVER THIS COLORED PANEL

I really loved this arc a whole lot, but boy am I glad it’s done!! Please, Satoru Nii, please give us more background on Sakura and PLEASE GIVE US SUO’S BACKSTORY!!!! 😭 I’m begging for it.

Good for Endo even though I still don’t like him and have NOT forgiven him for what he did to Sakura!

NIREI LOOKS SO FREAKIN CUTE HERE IM NEVER MOVING ON!!!!!!!!

Also good for Sakura to learn how to text well enough to let everyone know it’s over and that Umemiya, my king, is victorious! ❤️❤️

Kaji looks so defeated 😞 my poor baby! I need him to be hugged. Someone hug him stat!

Overall, this was a great arc and a wild ride of emotions. I’m glad it’s over so we can move on to some fluff!

[lunerna21]

I FINALLY CAUGHT UP TO THE UPDATE FOR BOOK 7 AND I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED WITH HOW MUCH I ENJOYED IT

***SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 JPN SERVER AHEAD! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!***

***ALSO SLIGHTLY LONG POST AHEAD! MY APOLOGIES!***

UM CAN I MENTION HOW HARD I LAUGHED WHEN SILVER WAS TELLING THE STORY ABOUT FLOYD GRABBING RIDDLE'S HAIR TO SEE IF IT WAS HOT?!

AND JADE HYSTERICALLY LAUGHING WHILE AZUL IGNORES THEM!!!!

If they ever animate that scene, I'm gonna hurl from seeing Floyd just being catapulted off screen and Jade enjoying himself 😂

Floyd being so bored of his dream and just him swaying like the seaweed was freakin hysterical 😂

It just reminded me of this for some reason:

I mean it makes sense since Floyd is always up for a challenge and isn't afraid of basically anything, so of course Malleus's vision for Floyd's dream wasn't going to be very exciting

ALSO WE CAN TALK ABOUT FLOYD HAD THE BALLS TO FIGHT MALLEUS, LEONA AND EVEN FUCKING CATER?! CATER WIPED THE FLOOR FIGHTING FLOYD BUT I WASN'T EXPECTING CATER TO KICK ASS

HELL YES CATER!!

.......And then we jump into Jade's dream...

....The moment I saw how Jade imagined both Azul and Floyd...

AND THEN SOMEONE POSTED THIS ON TWITTER AND I ABSOLUTELY LOST IT

JADE BY FAR IS THE MOST HYSTERICAL CHARACTER IN TWST AND I CAN'T BELIEVE FLOYD HAD TO SEE HIS DOOFY LOOKING FACE LIKE THAT

I don't blame Floyd for duking it out with Jade I would feel the same if thats how my siblings imagined me lol

And finally, Azul's dream!!

First of all, AZUL WAS SOMETHING ELSE DURING HIS DREAMS

Azul being a coral rush player?! AND KINDA BEING JOCKY?! I wasn’t prepared for that! 😂

(special shoutout to Idia for throwing shade at his first image of a cocky player, that was 👌🏻)

JADE JUST GRABBING POOR IDIA'S TABLET AND GETTING AZUL'S SIGNATURE ON IT 😂👏🏻👏🏻

AND IDIA JUST SLOWING MOVING OFF TO THE SIDE THIS POOR GUY HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH 😂

When the mermaids started harassing everyone and knocked us over, I WASNT READY FOR AZUL TO CARE WHEN WE GOT HIT

I WAS A FREAKING MESS IM SO DELUSIONAL AND I KNOW HE'S NOT ALWAYS NICE BUT AHHHHHHHH HE WAS SO CUTE HERE (Ignore me I'm delusional and I've missed Azul so much 🥺❤️)

It was so bizarre to see Azul playing a jocky player and being popular in school, but once Idia explained that any negative moments or lessons Azul had to face (bullying, losing the contracts) were no longer a thought because of it only being a dream with no negative emotions

It’s still mind boggling how detailed everyone’s dreams are but terrifying like damn Malleus has so much power and yet he can juggle so many of them

After Azul invited us to the party and was INCREDIBLY NICE for someone like him, and Idia got suss:

I knew something was up, especially after he made everyone wear the anenomes for the party AND GRIM SHOULD'VE KNOWN BETTER HE WENT THROUGH THIS BEFORE WHY DID HE BELIEVE THIS

Floyd and Jade bouncing off Azul being a bully was soooo worth it

It's kinda scary how I preferred the old Azul, considering he wasn't a cocky jock straight from a manga/book ICK ICK ICK

AND THEN AFTER AZUL FELL INTO THE BLOT, HE WAS A PAIN IN THE BUTT TO CORNER I WAS SO IMPRESSED WITH THE PLANNING AND HOW WE HELPED DESTROY THE CONTRACTS ONCE AGAIN

But this devastated me 😭

It still must've felt pretty shitty having to go through that again, but I started to cry I'm just so happy Azul woke up from his dream 😭❤️❤️❤️

Azul's battle with himself! *chefs kiss* I love how they reference it similar to the battle from The Little Mermaid and how Azul's blot form began to grow

But let me tell you something:

I WOULD DIE IF I COULD FRAME THIS!! JUST SEEING THE GLOWING EYE AND AZUL DOING THIS POSE! PERFECTION!!!

ITS SO GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK AZUL!!!❤️

This chapter was such a fun trip, and I'm so glad we're slowly getting closer to releasing everyone from their dreams

BUT ONE LAST THING! TWST INTENTIONALLY DID THIS TO HURT MY FEELINGS!

HOOOOOWWWWW DARE TWST FOR SHOVING THIS IN MY FACE I WANT MY BEST FRIENDS BACK SO BADLY AND THE FACT THAT THEY DO THIS CONSTANTLY AND ALSO GRIM BRINGING THEM UP IS JUST AWFUL

I MISS THEM SO MUCH I NEED TO SEE THEM AGAIN

NEXT UP, SAVANACLAW!! (RUGGIE I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH!!)

Enjoy the weekend~~!!!❤️

(Screenshots from https://youtube.com/@gasmask01?si=lpin67yaOvHDdg_c )

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track A10

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: Interstellar Marriage

Characters: Muneuji, Ushio, Nagi, Netaro, Akuta

Summary: The party is in full swing after the toast. Netaro finally arrives and hands out some colorful buns, however… 

Thank you jes @arcanecrayonn and Sou @/716chr for helping me tackle Chihiro's lines! Thank you Jelly @/jellyfish_apple and Aurora @/azurecrystalz for checking over my Akuta and Kuguri lines too!

Behemoth of a chapter, hope you guys enjoy!

Location: HAMA House - Dining room

Momiji: (I’m worried about Kafka, he’s been sharing a drink with the ward mayors one after the other… There's a lot of alcohol in his system now. I remember he could barely hold his liquor when we celebrated his 20th birthday…)

Kafka: *yawn* There you are Chief~ Carry me~

Momiji: Huh!? I take my eyes off of you for a second and you’ve already gotten yourself this drunk? 

Yukikaze: He must have been very excited to see the company finally coming together. Shall I carry him instead?

Momiji: Ah… Thank you, but I should probably get Sakujiro-san to handle him. 

Momiji: (What happened in Kobe couldn’t be helped, but he’d probably sulk if he found out Yuki-nii carried him again.)

Yukikaze: Oh, but I just saw him leaving with Liguang, Kinari and Yodaka to play mahjong.

Momiji: Really, mahjong now?

Kafka: I don’t wanna~ I’m not sleeping till Netaro gets here! We’re gonna take over the world together~

Momiji: (After interviewing Netaro on Daniel’s recommendation, the two of them really hit it off.)

Momiji: (It’s nice to find a colleague you can get along with on a personal level huh, Kafka?)

Chihiro: Aww, Chii was thinkin’ of snappin’ some cute selfies with Chiefy, but looks like she’s totally busy with Prez right now~ Oh well, maybe later then.

Tao: Yeah. …? Wait, do you hear that?

Chihiro: Huh?

??: ….meat buns~ get high on our meat buns~ made fresh everyday~

Netaro: So delicious they’d drive you mad! Would you like to dig into one?

Laika: Bun! 

Chihiro: OH-EM-GEE!! These buns are, like, super duper dazzably adorbs☆ And your robopet is SO slaying that gyaru fit! Chii’s totally obsessed~♪

Tao: Oh, are you Yowa-san, from the meat bun cafe? They did say you’d be coming in late.

Netaro: Indeed, you are correct! I am Netaro Yowa, soon-to-be 18th ward mayor! I was a teensy bit delayed as I was specially preparing these new flavored meat buns, exclusively for this party! 

Chihiro: Chii’s name’s Chihiro! And this is Taotao! These mystery buns look mega delish and poppin‘~♪

Netaro: These ones over here are the “Peculiar Interstellar Marriage☆Natto-Curry Meat Buns,” and on this side are the “Bon Voyage of Laughter☆Cheesy-Shroom Meat Buns!”

Laika: Nattou~♪ Nanana~ Pipipi~

Chihiro:No way! Burstin’ into song like that, seriously, that’s just shooo freakin’ KYUTE ☆ Taro-ppu, can Chii like, snap some selfies with you two? Lemme post them on dazzle too, pretty pleaaase~

Netaro: Why of course, Chii~!

Tao: Crazy how they’re already on a nickname-basis… 

Chihiro: Hey cutie, d’you have fingers~? C’mon, make a heart-sign with Chii~

Tao: Don’t mind me enjoying one of these buns while you have your photoshoot. Let’s see… I think I’ll go with the cheesy mushroom bun.

Chihiro: Then Chii’s gonna go with this totes rad lookin’ natto curry bun~ Nom-nom time~♪

Tao and Chihiro: *munch*

Netaro and Laika: ….. 

Tao: Mmm…mph? Pft— Haha, hahahahahaha!! W-what’s going on, I can't stop laughing!

Chihiro: Huh!? Taotao…!?

Tao: Hahahahaahahha—! 

Chihiro: Waitwaitwait! Chii’s, like, got zero idea what’s goin’ on rn, but isn’t a Taotao mega ultra LOL moment like this is equivalent to rollin’ a SSR!? Gotta record this ASAP!!

Tao: Oh man– My stomach hurts…! 

Laika: Nattou, Giovanni, piroppu~

Chihiro: Gosh, he’s sooo cute, rollin’ on the floor like that ☆ Ugh, my maternal instincts are just overflowing right now! What is this feeling!? I’ve never felt this way before! I literally can’t stop snappin’ pics~♪

Toi: I-It’s Chii-sama…! I’m walking on the same ground as Chii-sama… Breathing in the same air…! 

Toi: Ahh… I need to express my gratitude for this miracle with a prayer! Thank you for letting me be born in the same generation as my favorite idol! 

Mashiro: Chii-sama is, without a doubt, one of the highest lifeforms to grace this planet! 

Sonia: Oh wow~ So Chii-shama is one of the ‘chosen ones’? I shee, I shee! 

Chouun: …I believe that all life is equal, but I shall refrain from commenting further. 

Momiji: Oh, Netaro-kun is finally here. Kafka’s already asleep though. 

Kuguri: Enjoying yourself, cica*?

Ten: We came over ‘cuz we didn’t get to toast together yet. Cheers to finding all the members~

Momiji: Thank you, both of you. Cheers! 

Momiji: (It’s inevitable that new bonds would be formed as more people moved into the dorms but… I have to say, Ten-kun and Kuguri-san are an odd pair, I wonder when they got so friendly with each other?)

Ten: Oh yeah, I saw Shuumai barking his head off when that meat bun guy showed up earlier.

Kuguri: Fufu, perhaps it's some wild instinct at play… Are you sure you should be letting something like that in here?

Momiji: Like ‘that’… Are you talking about Netaro-kun? Sure, he’s a little odd but, I don’t really think he’s dangerous. 

Momiji: (According to Toi-kun’s reading, Netaro-kun is someone we need to lead us to his brother. I made a promise to help him, and I plan to see it through.) 

~~~

Akuta: Mph, everythin’ looks SO super tasty I can’t stop stuffing myself!

Akuta: I’m gonna eat a lifetime’s wortha food here and now! Nobody get in my way, got it!? 

Ushio: Ugh, how many “seconds” is that already? I can barely stomach watching you let yourself go. 

Kiroku: But… Kurama… that’s your third plate… of yakisoba… too… 

Ushio: So? That has nothing to do with what I just said.

Kiroku: There’s… no need to… feel ashamed… It’s delicious… after all…. 

Ushio: Who said I was embarrassed? 

Muneuji: Hm… I’m still famished. I should go get seconds as well. 

Nanaki: I’m coming with you, I need more of this pizza— Hm?

Tao: Phew, it’s finally stopped… I laughed so hard I really thought I’d need stitches… 

Chihiro: Wha-wha-whaaa? Why’re there like, a gazillion pics of Tao in my gallery? Weeeird, it’s like I got some kinda motherly instinct takin’ over me….

Netaro: Ahaha! I may have added just a teensy bit of a secret ingredient~ Right? Laika~

Laika: Shwatch*.

Nanaki: Huh, that’s…!? 

~~~(flashback)

Netaro: “Euclidean Deconstruction - Instant Undressing Pen.” A lovely invention, if I do say so myself~

Netaro: You see, human clothing can be so… ugh. They’re too restrictive! 

Kiroku: …Where did… he…come from…?

Nanaki: No, before that, who the heck is he? How’d he get all the way here? The door’s behind us… 

Akuta: Hold up, where’s the egg?

~~~(end flashback)

Nanaki: Ah…! 

Muneuji: What’s wrong? You’re shaking like a leaf.

Nanaki: I-It’s that guy from before…!

Muneuji: ?

Muneuji: —...!

Akuta: Aw yeah, I can feel the calories already!

Muneuji: Everyone, I need your attention.

Kiroku: ?

Muneuji: The strange individual we encountered on top of the school roof after our HosLive, is here right now. The intelligence operative who took the egg with him.

Ushio: Wha!? No way… 

Nanaki: No matter which way you look at him, it’s the same guy. Can’t forget someone who looks like… that. 

Akuta: …F’real? Don’t remember the dude. 

Ushio: Yeah, didn’t expect much from someone with your brain cells, Idiotake. But… Why's he here? It doesn’t make sense. 

Ushio: Is he the 18th ward mayor? The one they said would come in late. 

Muneuji: Most likely. He must be Netaro Yowa-san. 

Nanaki: What was it again… He was from a secret operation called… Ponzu or something—

Akuta: Yorozu!

Ushio: So you remember that. 

Kiroku: The… egg is… with him…!

Ushio: What?

Kiroku: Over… there… 

Laika: Pipipi. Jijiji. Bween.

Nanaki: That’s… not the egg, right? Looks like a regular pet robot to me. 

Ushio: I agree with Panda. 

Kiroku: No… That’s… definitely… 

Muneuji: You were indeed the one who had the strongest bond with the egg. I believe in Kinugawa’s intuition.

Nanaki: Putting the egg aside, you think it’s okay for us to be near that guy?

Ushio: Who knows… He seems dangerous. We should probably keep our distance from him, unless you want to get caught up in explosions or have your clothes stripped off or something… 

Akuta: Hey so, did we meet on the school roof back in summer?

Netaro: Hm?

Ushio: What is he— Why the hell would he just march up to the guy and ask him that!?

Akuta: Well y’see, my friends over there think we’ve met before so—

Akuta: Right, guys!?

Ushio: Pretend you don’t know him… 

Nanaki: …Wait, Muneuji!?

Muneuji: Pardon me. I am the 8th ward mayor, Muneuji Kaguya. Would you perchance remember me?

Netaro: Uji, your eyes are most beautiful indeed. I can’t help but feel I’ve seen them somewhere long ago— 

Muneuji: ….. 

Netaro: But, I cannot pinpoint the memory. How about we hold our greetings now instead?

Muneuji: ….. 

Akuta: In that case, heyo, nice to meetcha! Je m’appelle Akuta, superhero at your service! 

Ushio: Muu-chan, let’s go! You, too! 

Muneuji: …I understand now. It’s because he is a member of the Yorozu.

Muneuji: Precisely because they are intelligence operatives, they blend in with society by pretending to be civilians. He must not be able to reveal his identity as he did on the roof.

Ushio: Muu-chan, what are you mumbling about?

Nanaki: So, he’s saying that he doesn’t remember us, right?

Muneuji: Indeed. If that is how he wishes to spin this tale, then we must act accordingly. We should not hinder his mission. 

Kiroku: ….. 

Ushio: Right, let’s leave it at that.

Nanaki: Hmm… Well, okay, I guess. 

Akuta: ‘Kay~ Then I don’t care either~ Let’s get back to digging into some good grub! 

Muneuji: …..

~~~

Nagi: *deep sigh*

Sonia: Are you ok, Nagi-shan? 

Nagi: Yeah… 

Sonia: I guess you’re shtill worried… 

Nagi: Yeah. At this rate… something bad is bound to happen. 

Nagi: It might be better to just go back to the shop and hand out flowers… 

Sonia: But… It’s really cold outside at this time of night… 

Nagi: It’s better that way. 

Sonia: ….. 

Nagi: Yeah. This is for the best… Let’s go back. 

Sonia: Nagi-sha–

Momiji: Oh, Nagi-kun, what are you doing all the way here?

Nagi: …urk. Um, I… 

Sonia: Y-You shee, we got a last-minute order just now…!

Nagi: That’s right. It was very sudden.

Sonia: Y-Yesh, even though we closed the store temporarily just to come to the party, geez!

Momiji: I see… got it. We’re bringing out the cake, so come back soon! 

Nagi: O-Okay, thank you. Then… 

Momiji: Take care! 

Nagi: Urk…!

If player character is female: Momiji: Huh, w-why are you suddenly clutching at your chest!?

If player character is male: Kaede: Why’re you suddenly clutching at your chest!?

Nagi: It’s nothing, um… I’ll be off, then…! 

Sonia: Are you okay!? Nagi-shan! 

Nagi: I’m okay… for now.

Nagi: But, my happiness is overflowing… This is real bad. I need to balance it… 

Nagi: …Let’s go, Sonia. Handing out flowers in the freezing cold should help water down this feeling. 

Sonia: Okay! 

Notes:

A very minor difference between Kaede and Momiji's response to Nagi, being that Momiji is more prone to stuttering when surprised, but I thought it would be good to point out for anyone interested.

Swatch is an exclamation that Ultraman uses.

Cica is how Kuguri refers to the Chief. It means kitten.

<- Previous | Next ->

Masterlist

[ciaomarie]

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

I recently wrote a post-season 2 story about Carmy helping with Sydney's apartment search. I wanted to back track a little to get into his head space just after the Friends and Family almost disaster, but prior to the apartment hunt, during which he is hopelessly crushing on Sydney. Mostly, it's backstory and gives more context to why Carmen is who he is :)

When Carmy stumbled frozen and broken out of the walk-in the night of Friends and Family, Sydney was waiting for him. However, something in his eyes made her reconsider whatever she had been planning to say. She pointed him to sit on floor against a stove she had turned on and made him hot tea. Wordlessly she sat on the floor next to him until he finished. When he tried to speak, nothing came out. His icy mottled fist began to circle his chest, but Sydney closed her hand over his.

"We'll start over again tomorrow."

Weeks later Carmen asked her why she hadn't quit that night. She said "Your face…it looked like mine did when I lost Sheridan."

In return she had asked him what happened with Claire and if it had been her fault.

"No. She thought she knew me, but she didn't and honestly, we didn't have anything in common."

The more Carm thought about Claire the sorrier he felt about how he'd behaved and the less he regretted the break-up. Claire was his high school dream girl. She was always kind to him, despite being able to mingle in nearly every clique at school. She was as comfortable with the student government club, as she was with the skaters. Everyone liked her and for no apparent reason she frequently stopped at his locker to ask if he had gum or invite him to study. So he always kept a pack of gum for her, but was too shy to join her study group. Once she and two of her friends ambushed him after school and convinced him to come to a party the night prior to graduation. He decided he might as well not end his high school career without ever having gone to one. The party was held in woods behind one of the football player's homes. There was a bonfire, cheap beer, too few cups, and couples making out or swaying to "Die in Your Arms".

Claire found a clean Solo cup and they shared a drink as she gazed into his eyes.

"I love this song"

"Yeah…it's popular".

Natalie had been playing Justin Bieber non-stop for the last few years and Carm was almost willing to give up all music if he never had to listen to him sing another note.

He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but at some point Claire kissed him. 12 years later when they began dating she brought up the night of the party and how he looked so surprised and blushed.

"You were so cute. I bet it was your first kiss!"

"No, but almost" he said a little taken aback. As pleased as he was that Claire was interested, he felt like her project. Something about their relationship reminded him of a cheesy 80's teen movie. Too sweet. Not enough acid.

He could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he'd not given her any number, much less a fake one. But it was Claire, the brilliant, fearless, beautiful girl he'd used to sketch over and over again and she wanted HIM. He liked her so much back then. She went off to Michigan State and he began peeling mushrooms at a restaurant eventually becoming Carmen Berzatto "the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America."

But before Claire, in 7th grade summer school, there was Kyla Branson. Carmy needed to take 7th grade math again before they'd pass him to 8th grade and Kyla was a transfer student. She had just finished 6th grade, and was taking 7th grade math and English early, because she was a pianist. A whole freakin' prodigy that would be touring with Eric Clapton later that fall. The math teacher had told the class, much to Kyla's obvious discomfort.

On the third day the class split into pairs to do an assignment and Carmy and Kyla were paired. He could barely look at her. Kyla had thick curly eyelashes which framed her large black brown eyes, her hair was usually brushed up into a soft coily bun like a ballerina, she wore small white diamond earrings in her shockingly small ears, and she had an heart-breakingly cute overbite that showed whenever she smiled. Carmy was gone over this little black girl. She was very shy too, but an overachiever so she persevered in making him talk enough to get the work done.

Once she saw his sketches on the back of his notebook and said he was artist. Using his best charcoal pencils he drew a portrait of her in the privacy of the attic at home. On the last day of summer school he gave it to her when class dismissed and dashed out of the room, his face redder than Heinz ketchup. Kyla caught up with him outside and grabbed his hand leading him out of the view of the car pick-up line.

"Thank you Carmen. I think you're beautiful too" Kyla whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. For three seconds. Then she ran back to the car pick up line, got into her parent's car and Carmen never saw her again.

Once he thought he saw her. The eyes and overbite were startling familiar, but the name was different. It was the day that Sydney Adamu walked into The Beef. It was the day that someone saw who he really was again.

[judebellswife]

THE LITTLE THINGS — Mason Mount (part 01)

summary: where a single, young and talented model first meet with mason mount from chelsea in a 🔥 photoshoot for gucci brand, and slowly started to fall in love him. will he has feeling for y/n too?

warning: english not my first language! i’m also not a runway model

smau! series (part 01/?)

y/username

Liked by hunterschafer and 931,330 others

y/username Another day another casting 🦋

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kerrileemiller hi

y/username hi bbe 💗

tomfordforgucci.00 Hey! heard that you’re going to have a photoshoot for gucci? is that real??

howard.cooper What is one message you would give to your fans?

dianaweelch Are you real?

y/username YESS I AM SO FREAKIN’ REEEEEAL 😂

[y/n and mason story]

masonmount

Liked by gucci, jazbenham and 3,410,572 others

masonmount Sneak peak of today photoshoot

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gucci ❤️

masonmount 🔥❤️❤️

sydneylee First, are you and y/n have a photoshoot together? If it is then my dream come true 😩😩

gucci 🤔🤔

sydneylee So its true? Isn’t it

y/username

67,114 Likes

y/username Job done, refreshing with some mango 🥭🥭

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williehanson You’re my idol y/n, beautiful, talented

y/username thats so cute and thank you xx

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gucci

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gucci Mason Mount & Y/n Y/l/n photoshoot for new Spring 2023 collection. Check out for more on our bio!

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masonmount

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masonmount Oh, hii there @y/username

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next chapter >

[velvetstreets]

SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY: PT 4 - Fool For You

A/N: ITS BEEN A YEAR SINCE I POSTED PART 3 💀 I’m sorry y’all 😭🫶, made this EXTRA long to make up for my hiatus. These mfs finally start cooking with some gas in this chapter! Enjoy 💗

None of the people in my writings portray the actual people I write about! It’s all a work of fiction, I have no idea how they are/act irl.

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex (f!receiving), swearing, oral sex (m!receiving and f!receiving), two kids in love, tooth rotting fluff.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

——————

“Hi.” You mewled out from the comfort of your own bed, in an oversized Egyptian blue hoodie. It had years-old worth of stained flecks of white paint from when you helped paint your bestie’s apartment; the collar of the sleeves were beginning to fray, and as well as had an eyeliner stain in the inner left sleeve after getting ready for a girls night, but you loved it - imperfections and all.

“Hey.” He grinned from the bright phone screen.

“God you look so freakin’ cute, how the hell you do that?” Jack said, wasting no time to shower you in compliments.

You rolled you eyes playfully and rolled onto your side.

“Shut up, I look fuckin crazy right now.” You laughed. You worked a long shift last night, a Saturday, raking in bags of cash which you were happy about, but you were exhausted when you finally came home. Jack had waited for you in the parking lot as he often did, always with food as he knew you’d be starving. Last night you asked him to get you Popeyes Chicken, and boy did he deliver. He tried to pretend that he was offended you didn’t want his staple meal from KFC, but he couldn’t care. He’d get you anything you asked for, from food to diamond jewelry to a house even; he’d spend it all on you if you asked. You squealed in excitement when you met him in the parking lot, you were starving and his act of service meant a lot to you, even tho it was just chicken.

You had noticed that Jack did that a lot. Helped out in any way he could in order to lessen the load you had on your plate, which you deeply appreciated. Nobody had ever gotten your love language correct, always assuming physical touch was all you liked because of your job. It scared you a lot to know that Jack knew you well enough to pick up your patterns and ways of thinking and how you were feeling. Yet at the same time, it was such a relief - emotionally, to have someone notice you in the way you had dreamt about being noticed.

“-Yeah, fuckin crazy gorgeous,” Jack cheesed, not letting up.

You exhaled a tuft of air in response with a small smile, accepting defeat and hoping to move on.

“What’s up, Harlow?” You asked as you got out of bed to go to your kitchen to look for something to drink.

“You have a break from school coming up soon right?” He hummed.

“Mmhmm. Spring break, a whole week.” You confirmed, rummaging for a cold water bottle.

“Good. I wanna take you somewhere. The whole week.” Jack said.

“Oh? Where are you taking me?” You whipped your head back to the screen, amused with his plans.

“You’ll find out when we’re there. Just pack for warm weather… maybe a beach or two.” Jack slyly grinned, not wanting to give away too much.

“Jack… you’d tell me if you were gonna murder me, right?” You hummed questioningly, sticking your head in the fridge.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Out of the two of us, you’re more likely to murder me.”

“You sure you wanna take that stance as a white man?” You joked.

“Yes, especially after I almost got myself tased when you asked me to get your lipgloss out of your purse two weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed. “Close call.”

Jack shook his head in disbelief and chuckled.

“A whole week? You’re gonna get sick of me.” You continued.

“Never.”

“Well then I’m gonna get sick of you!” You laughed.

“You won’t! Just trust me.” Jack grinned warmly at you.

You stared at him for a moment, heart beating rapidly against your chest before answering.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You exhaled, unable to hide the creeping smile on your face.

Jack rolled onto his back in his bed, phone still at his side while whispering a little ‘yes!’ to himself before bringing the phone back to his face.

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up Friday at 5.”

“This better be good, I need to come back relaxed before finals.”

“You’re gonna have the time of your life, I promise.” He said, reaching out his pinky finger to the screen.

“Okay.” You smiled, putting your own pinky to the screen, the both of you tapping the screen as if you were curling your fingers around eachother to solidify his promise.

——

Jack fussed with his hair before ringing your doorbell, heart almost beating out of his chest, he was excited, but slightly nervous at the thought that you might’ve bailed on him. It wasn’t a huge doubt of his, but he was always a little worried that he would scare you off too quickly.

He looked around the hallway of your apartment building. Every door looked the same, but he couldn’t help but imagine what your place looked like. He had seen bits and pieces of it through FaceTimes, but never seen it all in person. What color was your couch? Do you like your apartment at a cooler temperature? Did you have empty water bottle crowding your nightstand like he did? Did you have pictures of your friends, your family? He was eager to break through your walls (metaphorically) and learn more about you.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the door opened and you appeared. There you were, standing in a matching forest green lounge set, with matching green Fenty Puma slides and barefaced. It felt like all the air was punched out of Jack, you were so adorable, he wanted to litter your face in kisses and smush your cheeks together, but he kept those feelings at bay, settling for a warm hug and a kiss to your hairline.

“You look beautiful, as always.” He hummed into your hair. He felt you smile against his chest, before murmuring a ‘thank you’.

You let him into your apartment and Jack took his time inspecting his surroundings.

“I just need to get a few more things, and then we can go.” You told him, and he nodded.

Jack walked around your living room, looking at your abstract bookshelf, his fingers swiping along the spines of the books, trying to remember as many titles so he could order them later and read them himself. You had a few plants, one on said bookshelf, one on the giant window by the couch (which he now saw was green), and one that sat on top of your fridge. He moved toward the fridge, inspecting your magnets and the few photo booth pictures of you and a few friends, from ‘Summer’s 27th Bash!’ and ‘Jordan and Celeste’s Wedding’, amongst a few other pictures. One of them being a bit older and faded, a woman who looked like you; holding a little girl, the two of them sticking their tongues out for the photo. He couldn’t help but smile at that one.

“Ready?” You asked, bringing Jack out of his thoughts. He turned around and nodded, heading for the door. Jack took your bags and the two of you got into the elevator and went down to the car Jack had waiting. He handed your bags to the driver before opening the door and pressing a warm hand to the small of your back, helping you get in, before he scooted in next to you.

“So you’re still not gonna let me in on where we’re going?” You asked as you rested your head on his shoulder, yawning softly.

“Just wait and see, I promise it’s worth the wait.” Jack murmured as he kissed your hairline again, his hand reaching for yours and intertwining them.

“Hmpf. Fine, be that way.” You childishly pouted. Jack couldn’t help but laugh at your stubbornness as he rested his head atop of yours.

“I thought you said you trusted me?” He humorously quipped.

“I do. I’m just nosy.” You said, eyes now shut as you adjusted and got comfy in Jack’s arms.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head as he rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand.

——

After a three hour flight on the jet Jack had rented, you were finally at your destination.

“Turks and Caicos?? You brought me to Turks and Caicos??” You squealed as you looked out at the ocean from the luxurious villa Jack had rented out for the week.

“I thought you deserved a real vacation, one where you’re pampered and truly relaxed, not just at home before your schedule starts up again.” He explained, his eyes gleaming with adoration for you as you fawned over your new surroundings.

You turned around, finally looking at him. You were starting to tear up, your lips in a pouty frown that fought to keep the overwhelming emotions down.

“Thank you for this, Jack. Seriously.” You hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his waist as he wrapped his around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” You quietly said, a few tears escaping your eyes.

“Well I’m glad to be the first, and only.” Jack said. ‘And hopefully the last’ he thought, pulling away slightly only to encompass your face in his hands, thumbing away the stray tears, placing a soft kiss to your lips.

“You more than deserve it.” He said as he pecked your lips a couple more times.

“Cmon, let’s go get settled and then order room service. Sound good?”

“Mmhm.” You hummed contently, a small grin peeking out.

——

You let out a deep sigh as you let the hot water soak your hair and run down your body. You were gonna sleep next to him tonight. For the first time. You felt ready, less anxious then when you first started contemplating it, but still nervous nonetheless. It had been a while since you were vulnerable with a man like this; certain experiences having made you avoidant and guarded when it came to the men you slept with.

But you felt a sense of comfort when it came to Jack, unlike anything you’d felt before. It was new. Different. It scared you but it also excited you. So for once, you were willing to give into it, at your own pace of course.

After exfoliating your body and taking care of your hair, you got out of the shower, feeling revitalized from your flight.

You wrapped a giant fluffy white towel around you and applied your lotion and finished with your skin routine.

You stepped out of the luxurious bathroom, letting steam air out as you stepped back into the master bedroom.

“Hey.” Jack grinned at your presence.

“Hey.” You smiled back at him.

“Good shower?”

“The best.” You sighed happily.

“Here-“ Jack got up from the couch in the room, disappearing into the closet for a moment before walking back out with a fluffy robe.

“- figured you’d enjoy this.” He held out the robe for you to put your arms.

“Oh my godddd, it’s so warm!” You whispered delightfully, tying the knot before turning around in Jack’s arms so your face was buried in his chest.

“Yeah, they have a lil towel warmer, stuck it in there while you showered.” He chuckled, his hands rubbing up and down your robed back.

“Mmmmm. So niceee.” You hummed.

“Good, I’m glad. Now get in bed and choose something to watch while I go shower. I ordered us cheeseburgers with a few sides, s’that okay? Otherwise I can fix you something else.” Jack suggested.

“No, that’s perfect, thanks.” You said, the small grin you were sporting, never leaving your face.

“Okay. Be back in a few.” He smiled, kissing your hair before heading to the bathroom.

You got situated in bed, the tray of food on the side table, and the remotes laid out for you.

Who the hell was this man? You’d never felt so pampered before, men were usually selfish and greedy, but Jack was the opposite with you. All he wanted was to give, financially, sexually, emotionally. It seemed fake, but he never changed within the months you’d been hooking up.

Jack really just wanted to support you in any and every way, but was understanding and wanted you to set the pace, for you to decide how fast or slow you went. He knew you were sus of him and men in general, what their motives were, and he couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how men could be; disgusting, manipulative, selfish. But ultimately, he just wants to take care of you. Be a man you could be proud of, feel safe with, feel loved by. He didn’t care how long it took, he’d stick around for as long as you wanted him to.

You giggled childishly as you hugged the warm robe around you. You put on That’s So Raven, feeling nostalgic of simpler times.

Jack emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his hips, his curls a dark brown now as they’d been soaked from the water, beads of water slowly trailing down his chest, with his happy trail peeking out.

“Ooooh, That’s So Raven- good choice.” He complimented, eyes on the screen. You couldn’t say the same about your own, glued to his long torso, his abs flexing with every breath.

“Yeah, reminds me of good times.” You remarked.

“I’m sure it does.” Jack said with a playful tone, catching you staring at him.

Your cheeks heated up a bit from being caught, as Jack made his way to the closet.

“No peeking!” He playfully exclaimed, dramatic as ever, eyeing you before going into the closet, making you laugh.

Jack couldn’t help but smile to himself while he got into his robe, he loved hearing your laugh. He loved it even more when he was the one making you laugh.

He opened the door and ran to the bed, jumping into it like a child which made the the both of you giggle.

The two of you ate and watched shows for the rest of the night, switching on and off between eachother about who got to choose what to watch. Eventually you both changed into your pajamas, a big t shirt and panties for you; and some basketball shorts and classic white tank for Jack.

Jack noticed you start to get sleepy after a while. You had cuddled into eachother, his arm over your shoulders, leaning you into his chest. He felt your breathing start to slow and get deeper, and your eyes fluttered open and closed. When you finally gave up on trying to keep them open, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before sliding out the bed. He grabbed a few pillows and an extra blanket that was lying around before he grabbed the tv remote.

Just as he was about to turn the tv off, he was startled by your voice.

“Where are you going?” You quietly murmured, eyes squinting from your tiredness and the tv.

Jack muted the tv before turning his attention to you.

“Was gonna go sleep on the couch.”

“Why?” You questioned.

God you were adorable when you were sleepy. Jack wanted nothing but to kiss you silly.

“ I didn’t think you’d want to sleep next to me? Or- I mean, I just figured you’d want your space.” He tried to explain. He didn’t want you to feel obligated to sleep next to him just because he brought you out here; he figured your usual routine was in place still.

“ I-I did, but not anymore.”

“No?” Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“No.” You meweled. “Will you please come back to bed? Please.” You whispered, anxiously tugging at a string from the hem of your shirt.

Jack practically skidded across the room in a cartoonish fashion, like the Roadrunner; to get into the other side of the bed, making you giggle.

“Too eager?” He joked.

You shook your head with a smirk creeping at your lips.

“Oh, not enough??” Jack questioned before you got a chance to answer, and he got up and ran back to where he stood originally before running and jumping onto the bed like a spider monkey.

A loud laugh bubbled from your chest, making you throw yourself back into the fluffy pillows, causing Jack to smile.

“Perfect amount.” You smiled back at him, curling your body into his chest, letting out a soft sigh.

Jack pressed a kiss to your forehead, picked up the remote and turned the tv off, letting the room fill with comfortable silence. The distant sounds of the waves washing providing a soothing white noise for the two of you to drift off to sleep.

——

You woke up earlier than expected, 5:27 to be exact. The sun slightly filtering through the curtains, the waves still present in the background, with a few birds chirping every so often.

Jacks grip was the first thing you noticed. Tight and solid around your waist as he held you against his chest. You looked up at him, admiring his soft face. Long eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt, freckles adorning his cheeks and his mouth in a slight open pout, his breathing deep. His curls slightly tousled from sleep, but their form framed his face beautifully. You couldn’t help but lovingly smile as you brushed a curl from his forehead, placing a small kiss.

Jack let out a small grunt, and you looked at him, hoping you didn’t disturb his sleep. That was until you realized you felt his hard cock pressing against your thigh, giving you an idea.

Jack eased his grip on you as you shuffled around, fully resting his back against the sheets, before you straddled his hips. You dipped your head down, pressing wet kisses under his ear and along his jaw.

He started to stir as you left hickeys along his neck and chest; red marks that would soon enough turn purple across his pale skin.

“Good morning, handsome.” You hummed.

“Mmmm, ‘mornin angel.” Jack grunted in his raspy morning voice. It was something you’d get to hear once in a while, usually when Jack was in another city working; he liked to call you early before starting his day. But now you got to hear it personally, in the flesh, centimeters away from you, and my god did it get you wet.

You continued to kiss down his torso, gliding your nails across the skin, making him shiver in delight.

You cupped his clothed cock, making his breath hitch.

“Can I-“

“Please, yes.” He breathed out.

You grinned as you pulled down his shorts, Jack kicking them off completely with his foot.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his perfect cock. The tip a gorgeous shade of pink, close to matching his lips, precum already leaking from the slit as his cock twitched in anticipation.

“Fuck, so pretty Jack, so so pretty…” you whined before taking him in your mouth.

“God, I’ve missed this. Missed your hot little mouth sweetheart. It’s only been a few days but it’s been too long without you,” Jack babbled, focusing on not thrusting his entire dick down your throat, keeping the respectfulness at bay.

You groaned as you continued to bob your head up and down, your core clenching as he continued to praise you. Jack shivered at this, hands reaching into your hair.

“Your little throat takes me so well, doesn’t she pretty girl? Takes Daddy so well,” His voice now more gruff as he chased his orgasm, hips lifting off the bed a little.

You coughed as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you eyes water, taking your mouth off of him.

“Fuck, m’sorry-“ Jack quickly apologized.

“No, no, I liked it.” You grinned at him as he swiped a fallen tear with his thumb. You kissed his thumb before going back to his wet cock, kissing up and down his length before you took him in your mouth again. You twirled your tongue around him and suckled at his tip, saliva and precum drooling from your lips down his cock and into his trimmed pelvis, matting the hair together.

Jacks grip tightend in your hair as his moans got louder.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so good to me. So good to me with that precious filthy mouth, angel.”

You relaxed your throat, nuzzling forward into his pelvic bone, tapping his hip to signal he could have his way with you before playing with his balls.

“Fuck yes, just like that, breathe through your nose baby, breathe with me, yeah- just like that- fuck.” Jack grunted as he fucked your throat.

The obscenely wet sounds that echoed the room as his tip continued to hit the back of your throat, combined with the precious whimpers that fell from you was enough for Jack to burst.

He came an ungodly amount down your throat, so much that you tried to swallow it all, but it just kept coming. You took your mouth off of him, spurts of cum still leaking from him, splattering across your chest and your chin before he finally finished.

Jack shuddered from the intense euphoria and the lack of covers, dick still twitching. You climbed back up and laid on him, hands clutching at his shoulders from underneath, your warmth helping him calm his breathing before he wrapped his arms around you.

“Jesus fucking Christ,“ Jack breathed out heavily, eyes still shut and his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to calm his breathing.

You giggled as you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw before laying your head back on his chest.

“Think you sucked part of my soul out.” He laughed and you grinned into his skin.

You started to get off him but before you could shuffle back to your side, Jack flipped the two of you over.

“Jack, you don’t have to-“

“I don’t have to do anything, I want to though.” He hummed as he started trailing kisses along your jaw and down your clothed torso.

“Lemme take care of you, remember?” And you nodded and let out a soft sigh as you felt your shirt being pushed up your thighs ever so lightly.

He settled between your legs, lifting your calves over his shoulders as he got a better view of your pussy. You felt Jack’s breathing against your lower tummy, right on the cusp of your mound, making your shiver.

He chuckled before pressing a soft kiss to your panty-clad pussy.

“Missed you.” He whispered as he traced the skin with his nose, taking in the scent that was you.

“Missed your smell,” he continued, his teeth biting the fabric of your baby pink thong, slowly dragging it down and off your legs.

Jack saw how incredibly wet you were, and it drove him mad. He spread your lips, your arousal glistening in the light, clit begging to be touched. He let out a soft tuft of air in awe of the beauty before him. Every soft curve, scar, freckle, dimple splayed across your skin were the most beautiful brush strokes of the painting that was you. Every whine, moan, giggle that fell from your mouth were perfect melodies to him.

You whined at his breath on your clit, silently begging him to make a move.

“P-Please baby, do something.” You pleaded.

“I got you mama, I got you,” Jack promised before leaning into you and licking a fat strip along your entrance.

“Oh fuck-“ you cried out, your hands burying themselves into his hair.

Jack had eaten you out before, but there was something different about this time. He had a type of insatiable hunger, you could feel it in his aura; and in the way he devoured your pussy.

Your hips jerked forward as Jack pressed his nose against your clit, a delicious sound to your ears as he continued to lap at you. You were paralyzed, in the best way- unable to do anything but let out cries and moans of euphoria.

“J-Jack,” you cried.

“You taste so fuckin good, you know that? Fuckin’ delectable,” Jack rambled. His pupils were blown out, his gaze never leaving yours as his thumb rubbed circles into your clit.”

“Jack, I-I can’t, I need to cum, please let me cum,” you begged.

“You wanna cum, hm? Wanna cum for Daddy?” Jack smirked as he kept his rhythm, filling you with two of his fingers.

You let out a gasp, teetering on the edge of bliss; and Jack was fully in control. Your orgasm was legitimately in his hands, and you loved it.

The pads of his fingers reached to tap that perfect spot in you, and all it took was for Jack to mouth and nip at your nipple, and you finally succumbed to him.

You bit into his shoulder as you cried out his name, tears slipping from the corner of your eyes as you raked your nails down his back.

“Good girl, my girl is such a good girl huh? So pretty when you cum for me.” Jack cooed in your ear, fingers still pressed up against your walls, his thumb continued to relentlessly rub your clit.

You let out a deep sob at the overstimulation, finally clawing at his shoulder to end his delicious torture.

Jack pulled his fingers out from you and sucked your release off of them, humming in delight. He then turned back to you and laid his full weight on you, kissing your cheeks repeatedly and whispering endless praise.

“You did so well baby. My sweet girl,” he babbled as he held you close to his chest.

Your mind was on fire, unable to string together a single sentence. You weren’t super responsive except for a few sighs and groans; but Jack understood. He laid there with you, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, petting your hair as he hummed a soft tune; waiting for you to come back to him.

You let out a giggle when he kissed the crook of your neck, making Jack pull his face out from you, his soft eyes searching for your warm ones.

“Hi.”

“Hey. You okay?” A small smile on his face as he rubbed his thumb along your collarbone.

“Yeah. I’m good. Really good.” You smiled back at him.

“Good.” He kissed your swollen pouty lips.

“Breakfast?” Jack questioned as he got out of bed, finding his shorts and pulling them back up.

“Didn’t you just eat?” You quipped, eyebrows raised teasingly.

“I’m still starving, but I figured I’d let my favorite meal cool off a bit.” He bantered with a smile.

“Breakfast sounds great.” You answered, still cozily wrapped up in the white sheets.

Jack took out his phone and snapped a pic of you in the bed.

“Hey!” You exclaimed.

“Hey!” Jack said, copying you.

You laid there with a pout before he leaned over and kissed you.

“Y’look too cute, I had too.” He said grinning as he leaned back up.

“Breakfast in 10, out on the veranda?” He asked walking towards the door of the bedroom.

“Veranda? I didn’t think you knew that word.” You joked.

“Hey, I read!” Jack huffed as he went to pull at your ankles, dragging you closer to the bed as you let out a squeal.

“You don’t know what my vocabulary looks like,”

“Don’t act like I didn’t see The BFG on your nightstand at your place last week.” You smiled.

“Don’t trash The BFG! It’s one of our greatest pieces of literature.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You hummed, your loving gaze matching his.

Jack smiled before pressing a kiss to your cheek and getting up to go order food.

——

Your feet padded against the cold tiles, walking up to the veranda where Jack was sat; food and colorful juices spread out across the table.

Jack grinned at you as you approached the table, still wrapped up in your bed sheets, looking like a baby deer who just woke up.

The two of you ate and talked about nothing and everything. Jack pulled you into his lap after a while, the two of you picking at fruit and watching the waves slowly sway in and the sun rising, warming the two of you.

That’s how the rest of the week went. Nothing but stolen kisses, soft moments of intimacy shared through cuddles, giggles and quality time (and a lot of fucking). You and Jack had made a pact to go skinny dipping every night, and every night one of you started to back out, only for the other to grab ahold and drag the two of you into the water. Jack would always try and tickle you while you swam, which you hated (loved), causing you to wraps your arms around his broad shoulders to stay afloat. He’d circle his arms around your waist, digging his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the intimacy of the moment every night, loving the connection that grew stronger between you two. During the day you’d build sandcastles together, sit in the sun (much to Jack’s dismay as he would get burnt if he sat outside too long; but he stuck it out so he could shamelessly ogle your glistening body in the tiny bikini you wore), nap together, play stupid drinking games among other things. Jack often snuck pictures of you; some of your reading, sleeping, random candids of you that he loved. One of his favorites was of you laying on your tummy at the beach, your skeleton spinal tattoo on display as you tanned your back, Jack’s hat partly covering your face as you napped. Of course he had others that were more… ‘cum splattered’ that he loved, but he loved this one particularly because of how relaxed you were. You trusted him, and he saw that.

You told him more about how school was going, and how you were soon ready to leave the nightlife and fully focus on your pediatric residency. Jack couldn’t help the warm smile from spreading on his face as he listened to you talk about working with kids. The unwavering light in your eyes as you told him about how the kids you encountered were silly and bright and curious, and how you loved to see them laugh as you used tactics to help get them through their checkups. He was in love with you, deeply so. He just didn’t know how to tell you yet; or if he should tell you. He needed a sign to show him you weren’t going to run from him. Little did he know, your feelings were more similar to his than he thought.

You couldn’t help but feel a childish joy with him, it was freeing. He made you feel free. So you made a decision, and you were gonna tell him about it tonight, the last night of your stay.

——

Jack told you he had made reservations at a restaurant in the area, and to be ready at 7. Though you slept in the same room and shared the villa, he wanted it to feel like a real date; one where he would pick you up at the front door with flowers, anticipation having been built leading up the date. So he got ready in a different room, and slipped out an hour before, leaving the place to you.

You dressed in a black silk knee length dress that perfectly accentuated your figure, the diamond tennis bracelet Jack had gifted you a while ago, and some black leather strappy heels. Your skin glowed against the materials, smooth and inviting. You took one final look before you heard knocking from the front door. You went to open it, and there stood Jack looking as handsome as ever. He wore a white button down, paired with a black blazer and his watch, along with the subtle diamond KY chain. His beard had been lined up, nails trimmed and glossed, and he smelled fucking amazing.

“Hi, beautiful.” His deep voice enveloping you in a euphoric hug, you swore you could feel your heartbeat in your clit.

Jack felt the same, unbeknownst to you. His eyes devoured you from head to toe, he almost didn’t want to blink, afraid he’d miss a single angle of you. He willed his dick to not get hard as his eyes roamed the plushness of your skin, the way your chest heaved as your own eyes studied him.

“These are for you.” He stretched his hand out as you accepted the bouquet of white lilies. You grinned and thanked him, and before you could even ask where to put them, you noticed there was a vase full with water on the table by the door. You grinned, biting your lip before letting a laugh out, as Jack had already anticipated your move.

He laughed along with you as you put them in the vase.

“Ready?” He grinned, offering his arm for you to take.

“As ever.” You beamed up at him, gently pulling a curl and watching it bounce back.

You arrived at the restaurant, and were in complete awe of the view. It overlooked the beach at a distance, the colorful flora and fauna leading from the mainland and slowly dispersed as it neared the water.

“Jack, this is so beautiful.”

“I know.” You turned to look at him, but he was already looking at you; a soft look on his face as he admired you.

He guided you to your table, pulling out your chair for you and kissing your cheek before he sat down in his own chair. You ordered drinks, and as the waiter left to fetch them and give you time to look over the menu, Jack intertwined your hands and rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.

He hummed as he flipped through the menu. The both of you sneaking glances at eachother, giggling like teenagers. You got your drinks and ordered food, sipping at your chilled wine as you embraced the last bit of warmth as the sun began to set. You ate your meals, continuing to share laughs and stories, it was like you’d known eachother for years. The waiter cleared your plates and you ordered a slice of chocolate cake to share.

“I kinda wanted to talk to you about something,” Jack started off. “Hold on,” he stood up and draped his blazer over you, having noticed you started to shiver as the wind took up slightly.

“Me too actually,” you told him as he returned to his seat.

“Oh?” He inquired, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, but you go first.” You told him.

“Oh- um, yeah okay,” he fidgeted with his PG ring, nerves taking over.

You took his hands in yours, giving them a small squeeze as you gave him a gentle encouraging smile.

That made his nerves disappear. Just a look at your face, the sound of your voice, the smell of your hair, the gentle touch of your palm, it made him calm. You made him calm. Fearless. Like he could do any and everything as long as you were next to him.

“This week has been one of the best weeks of my life. These past few months have been the best months of my life,” he started. Your heart began to swell as you anticipated what he was going to say.

“And I don’t wanna ruin it by saying something too… big, but I know it’ll eat me alive if I don’t tell you how I feel, Cin.” He exhaled, clutching your hands a little tighter.

“Wait-“ you interrupted him.

Jack’s heart stopped. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have even tried to bring it up, he should’ve swallowed feelings.

“Y/N.” You told him.

“What?” Jack questioned, confused by what you meant.

“Y/N. That’s my name- my real name. Y/N.” You peered up at him from your lap.

His heart started beating again, rapidly so, but in an anxious way, no - this time he felt ecstatic. He felt the electricity run through his veins, he felt fucking giddy. He felt like he was floating, he could’ve sworn you could see the warm ball of light radiating from his chest.

“Y/N,” he smiled, feeling the way your name felt in his mouth. He loved it. “Y/N.” He repeated, as you smiled back at him. He had asked for a sign, and fuck if it wasn’t the most perfect one.

“I want something with you, Y/N. Whatever you want, whatever you’re willing to give me, you can decide- but I know that I want this, I want you. I- I love you.” He exhaled.

“A-And don’t feel pressured to say it, I just wanted you to know-“ Jack babbled before you cut him off.

“I love you too, Jack. I love you.” You told him, eyes welling up with tears that threatened to fall.

“Yeah? For real?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, forreal forreal,” you chuckled, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Think I’ve known for a while now. I was scared of how I felt, all the feelings were so… big.” You continued. “But I know that I love you. You make me feel light, and safe, and free. And I haven’t felt that in a really long time.” You laughed, a tear finally falling.

Jack smiled and stood up, walking up next to you and leaned down, bringing you into a loving kiss, wiping the stray tear away.

“So you’re mine?”

“I’m yours.” You replied.

“Fuck yes.” He whispered, pulling you up and bringing you into another passionate kiss. He twirled you around, making you giggle before he brought you into a hug.

“I love you, so so much Y/N.” He took your face in his hands.

“I love you too Jack. So much.” You voice hitched as he kissed you again.

-

Jack had never hated keys as much as he had in this very moment.

He was struggling to get it into the lock, as he was heavily distracted by you tugging at his earlobe with your teeth, your legs tightening around his waist as your hips rutted against him.

He was painfully hard, his cock begging to be released from the constraints of his dress pants. He almost wanted to throw all caution to the wind and fuck you in the doorway, he was so desperate to be close to you in this moment, but you deserved a proper bed and the right setting for your declaration of love.

He finally got the door open, dramatically huffing and you giggled in his ear, your hand finding solace in his hair, raking your nails against his scalp which made Jack moan into your mouth.

He kicked the door closed behind him, stumbling into your shared room, gently laying you down onto the bed. He stood back up, the two of you panting hard, eyes never leaving eachother. The tension, although thick, dissipated from pure raw lust, to a comforting, softer, loving need.

It was silent, but both of your smiles made the room loud. The wine you had warmed your cheeks up, and you couldn’t contain your childish giggles, which made Jack chuckle himself. He thought you looked so unbelievably adorable, his blazer too many sizes too big and swallowing you up. But you looked at him with what he could only imagine his own face looked like; in love.

Jack crawled on top of you, holding his weight off by balancing on his forearms as he hovered over you.

“My pretty girl.” He hummed as his thumb caressed your face.

He brought his forehead to yours, noses just barely brushing against eachother.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You whispered back.

Jack smiled before standing back up as he began to unbutton his shirt, discarding it on the floor.

You shucked his jacket off, and reached to fiddle with the zip on your back before Jack’s voice stopped you.

“Can I-“ he uttered. You looked up at him, eyes urging him to continue.

“I wanna do it. Let me do it, please?”

You nodded, laying back as he got undressed down to his briefs, took his and your shoes off, and then came back to hover over you.

He kissed you tenderly, savoring every second, and kissed down your neck. He licked and sucked on that sweet spot on your neck, a moan falling from your lips as you arched into Jack.

“So beautiful…” Jack mumbled against your neck, his arms reaching around your back to unzip your dress. He pulled the straps down your arms, shimmying the dress down your legs.

His eyes practically rolled out of his head when he saw you were only wearing a red thong.

“No bra?” He managed to ask, his hands wandering on their own, brushing up against the underside of your breasts.

“The dress looked better without it.” You shrugged.

“I’m gonna burn all the bras you own, no need for ‘em.” Jack mumbled as his thumbs rubbed into your nipples. “Gotta have easy access, right?” He coaxed, his mouth latching on to your soft breast.

“Oh fuck-“ you gasped. His mouth was glorious, sucking and mouthing at your tits, switching on and off from one to the other, one nipple always being pulled on or pinched between his index finger and thumb. Jack swirled his tongue over your nipple, his teeth lightly grazing it before he went to create more hickeys along your chest.

Jack kissed down your torso, biting and nipping at your skin here and there, before his fingers tugged at the waistband of your thong.

“Please.” You nodded at him, giving him the all clear to which he leaned down and plucked the fabric with his teeth, pulling them off your body.

Jack lifted your leg, resting your ankle on his shoulder as he kissed up your calf, licking up your inner thigh before he was met with your glistening pussy.

“Mine.” He growled.

“Yours.” You confirmed with a breathy whine.

Jack nudged his nose against your puffy clit, inhaling the sweet scent that was you.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, a puff of air landing hot on your lips, making you clench your core.

His tongue delved into your wet hole, the feeling of his wet muscle against your pussy making you cry out in pleasure. You bucked your hips into his face, making Jack chuckle, the vibration making you gasp. His muscled arms wrapped around your thighs, holding your hips down as he continued his pleasurable assault on your aching pussy.

“Fuck Jack, yes! Oh my god-“ your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape and unable to close. Your toes curled and you dragged them up his back as you writhed into the sheets.

Jack replaced his tongue with his fingers, wanting to reach that perfect spot in you. “You taste so fucking good, peach.” He gnawed at your hip bone before pressing a kiss and returning to your clit.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck- I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, eyes furrowed shut, awaiting the crash of your orgasm. But it never came.

Your eyes shot open and you lifted yourself up on your forearms.

“Jack? What the hell.” You pouted. “I was about to cum.” You narrowed your eyes.

“I know baby, but I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He hummed, the raspiness in his voice more prominent. He climbed back up to you, face covered in your slick. You moaned as you kissed him, tasting yourself on him, with him, you tugged at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Wanna see you lose yourself on my cock for the first time, as my girlfriend.” He groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, your slick creating a damp patched against his clothed hard-on.

“Off, take them off already Jack.” Your foot attempted to push his briefs down.

“Okay baby, I got you.” He kissed you a few times before bending down to slide his briefs off. Jack settled between your legs, sliding his cock up and down, between your folds, his creamy tip bumping against your clit each time.

Jack felt your nails dig into his back and he hadn’t even slid into you yet, but he couldn’t blame you, he was aching to be inside you.

He tapped his cock against your clit a few more times, making you mewl and curl further into him. He finally pressed his thick head at your entrance, slowly thrusting into you, inch by inch. He felt you exhale and relax into his arms as he bottomed out, a dazed look on your face as he kissed your cheek. He laid there, balls pressed against your ass, still, enjoying the intimacy. Quiet except for eachother’s breathing, he felt your energies intertwining, like you became one.

“I love you.” You whispered, pressing a kiss beneath his ear.

He smiled into your neck.

“I love you.” He said whispered back, before beginning to move, slowly thrusting in and out, working you open.

“Fuck you feel so good,” He grunted, your walls tightly sucking in his cock. You clenched, tightening your hold on him, and he moaned, biting your shoulder.

He felt your essence leak down your ass, the shlick! sound created by the two of you amplified, and Jack picked up his speed a bit.

“Jack! Oh my fucking god,” you cried out, his thrusts harder and more intentional now, his yummy damp matted coarse curls rubbing against your clit had you raking your acrylics into his back; any concerns about bleeding or scarring left for tomorrow’s worries.

“You take me so well baby, doing so good,” he praised as he pressed your knees to your chest, your calves on his shoulders, thus allowing his tip to kiss your cervix, which made you drool.

“Does that feel good, princess? Yeah?” Jack talked you through it. His pace never faltered, keeping steady, his thumb inching back to its home on your clit as the sound of skin slapping and moans filled the hot room. You cried out his name in response, your mind a hazy fog, you were enveloped in him. His smell, his feel, his voice, you were intoxicated and never wanted to get sober.

“Ja-Jack..” your voice hitched, letting out a pleasure filled sob.

“What do you want? Tell me, use your words baby,” Jack encouraged, his mouth back on your neck, slowing and grinding his pelvis into your clit.

“W- want,” you shuddered in euphoria.

“Hm? C’mon you can do better than that, come on,” he urged you, mouthing at your tits, spreading his saliva across your pebbled nipples, nipping at them slightly with his teeth.

“Want you to cum in me,” you groaned, rutting your hips against his.

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, his thrusts slowing to a stop.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want it so bad, Jack.” You pouted, writhing against him, bringing him back for a sloppy needy kiss.

“Please give it all to me, wanna be filled to the brim with you.” You whined, and Jack nodded, fucking into you at a determined speed.

“I fucking love you, Y/N.” Jack growled as he reached the edge of his orgasm.

That broke the dam that held your orgasm. The grip your legs had around Jack tightened as you brought him deeper into you, and Jack pinched and pulled at your nipples, biting your neck as he grinded against your clit, maximizing your pleasure.

“I love you, I fucking love you Jack, I love you,” you babbled, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you pressed him closer against your chest. The connection you felt was overwhelming, but so warm.

Your walls twitched, suffocating Jack’s cock in the most delicious way, making his hips stutter into yours as he came.

“Fuckfuckfuck, oh god-“ he moaned as ropes and ropes of cum filled you excessively, leaking from your tiny hole. Jack relaxed into you, resting his full weight against you, pulling your legs down to the side so he could lay on you. You laid there breathing in eachother, silent again, no words necessary as everything that wanted to be said, was felt by the both of you. You nuzzled into his neck, your hands returning to their righteous home, Jacks curls. He groaned as your nails raked at his scalp again, making him twitch in overstimulation in your hold; the last drop of cum spurting into you as he pressed his pelvis against yours one last time.

You stayed like that for a while, neither of you wanting to move just yet. This time it was you humming a soft tune as Jack had done for you a few times before, helping you ground yourself back to him.

After a few minutes you felt him turn his head to lay on your chest, his hands clutching at your sides, having wrapped his arms around you to keep you close to him.

“Hi, pretty.” You said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Hi, baby.” He responded contently, exhaling a deep sigh.

“You good?”

“Never felt better in my life.” He let out a chuckle.

“You?”

“Same.” You smiled.

“Wish we could stay like this forever, feels so right being with you like this. In you, like this.” He spoke. “But, I gotta pull out now, okay?” You nodded, pressing a soft peck to him before he got up. Jack slid out, and his cum leaked out onto your ass, all over your inner thighs, and down to the sheets.

Jack couldn’t help himself but to smear some of the cum against your sensitive clit.

“Jack..” you whined, your legs folding in on eachother.

“Couldn’t resist, sorry baby.” He kissed your tummy before getting up to get a warm cloth to clean you up. He came back and wiped you up, before holding his hands out for you to take ahold of.

“Legs don’t work.” You told him, refusing to even attempt to get up.

“Okay, Angel. No problem.” He laughed as he took you into his arms, carrying your to the bathroom. He let you pee in private as he called room service for fresh sheets. The quickly arrived and Jack took the fresh ones as they took the soiled ones in a laundry bag. He came back to you and carried you back to the bed, fresh sheets now on.

“I feel so bad for the people who have to clean our sheets.” You groaned in embarrassment while Jack laughed.

“They’ll be fine, I’m sure they’ve dealt with this plenty times before.” He assured you, pulling you to lay on his chest, kissing your hair and tracing aimless patterns on your back.

You hiked your leg up and around Jack’s waist, nuzzling into his chest before letting out a deep satisfied sigh.

“Sleep, baby.” Jack hummed, and you nodded.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.” You mumbled.

He smiled. He couldn’t believe he was here with the girl he dreamed of, with her telling him she loves him. That electric giddy feeling flooded his veins again.

“Love you too Y/N.” He told her. He felt her smile into his skin, before her breathing evened out, falling asleep, with Jack not far behind her.

To be continued…

———————————

Tag list: @hoodharlow @moody4world @watercolorskyy @lcandothisallday @harlowthot @triplexdoublex @thinkingaboutjharlow @bbyharlow @primadxna-girl @curlyhairclub @inluvwithladybug @babyharleezy @harlowcomehome @rebelxsun @jackharloww @harlowsbby

[adorkablecringeworks]

Inspired by a scene from chapter 16 of @afreakingdork ‘s rottmnt villain!donnie x reader fic “Weak Spot”

She’s got me in a freakin’ chokehold since she first posted “A Crush Too Much”. Seemingly at first that it would be a sweet short story but was instead I slapped with feels and taken for a ride. I have a hard time putting my though into words so I’m usually a lurker until I read this scene. It was so vivid that I had to draw it. This also gave to the courage to post my first fanfic fanart.

Sadly it’s not fanart for Donnie… the only one I can draw at the moment is Mikey 👉👈

Links to the fics mentioned. She has more rottmnt donnie x reader fics that deserve more love.

[havecouraqe]

I can’t help but feel a little loss that Dae wasn’t the one for Kitty. Maybe it’s just me being biased but it seemed like one of those nice guys finish last tropes which I don’t always like. Dae is such a sweet, kind, and caring character. He never wanted to hurt Kitty but due to his financial situation, he felt like he had no choice but to go along with Yuri. You can see the pain in his eyes whenever Kitty was around them. He even slept on the floor outside her door just to make sure he wouldn’t miss her when she left.

His relationship with his family tells so much about who he is. As a son and as a big brother to Bora, you can see he loves his family a lot. The shock on his face when she tells him kids bully her anyway despite how her shoes look. He never wants anyone to be hurting. But then he saves enough money to surprise her with new shoes and buys the pears in remembrance of his mom. And then theres Kitty giving him her Mom’s necklace only a year into their relationship, it really shows how much she cares for him and knows how hard of time Dae was having with his loss because she can relate. I really wish we could have seen Kitty interact with his family because I’m sure there would have been cute moments but I know Kitty’s Korean isn’t good yet.

It also really sucks about Dae and Min Ho’s fallout because along with Q, they are such an amazing trio of friends. They support one another and protect each other, especially when they think Q is being cheated on. The death glare Min Ho gives Florian when they confront him is priceless. Dae never brings up to Min Ho about his suspicion that he might have a crush on Kitty because maybe he doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to believe his best friend would do that to him.

But then we get to the final episode and when I tell you I cried, I cried. Kitty looked so afraid when telling Dae about having feelings for somebody else. Not only does she have to deal with the almost fight between Dae and Min Ho but she’s also so scared coming out to Dae. They are all each other knows and to Dae, this is sudden even though Kitty has had some time to think about who she is and is still figuring things out herself. Could he have handled it better? Yes, majorly he could have.

If they do come out with season 2 who knows if Dae will appear since he lost his scholarship. Suppose this is the end of the chapter for Kitty and Dae, it’s the best first love because they were so freakin cute. I wish they would have made the scene longer with them at the love locks since that is where they first met. All I know is Kitty and Dae will always be my otp.

[allandoflimbo]

C H A P T E R S I X

Pairings: Popular Girl!Reader x Outkast!Bucky

Explicit Content - Smut - NO MINORS

Summary: 

Bucky Barnes is the quiet boy who gets picked on. 

The Reader and her friends run with the popular crowd at Stark High. 

As the Winter Ball approaches, she is partnered with Bucky Barnes for a class project. They grow close in an inadvertently secret friendship, which later turns into love.

Only catch is…she’s Steve Roger’s ex girlfriend, and before she was partnered up with Bucky, her friends had planned to use and turn Bucky into Stark High’s new it boy to try and get back at Steve; a disgusting bet. 

Another catch: She’s a figure skater at the town’s arena every Tuesday and Thursday nights. Bucky works part time at the rink resurfacing the ice. The other doesn’t know.

Modern AU High School fic - later goes into adulthood.

M A S T E R P A G E - FULL SERIES

Warnings: This story will have a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lot of cursing, and a lot of sex. Oral, praise kink, body worship, overstimulation, etc. you know me. There will also be loss of virginity in this. 

Please support your content creators and writers and leave a review.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

TUESDAYS were your favorite day of the week. You didn't want that olympic dream your parents wanted for you, but you loved skating nonetheless. Tuesdays were your venting days. It would be just you and the ice.

"Would you stop daydreaming so much?" Carol says from next to you. You look over to see her smiling at you, playfully, "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Just a good day is all." You say.

"Sure." She replies.

"Did you end up talking to Steve?" Sharon asks, leaning her shoulder against the locker next to yours.

"I did," you look at Carol and Sharon who looks at you with waiting eyes. You sigh, "We're not getting back together guys. Time to move on." You add softly. You were alright with your decision you made with Steve, but it still hurt.

"He's really staying with her?" Carol asks.

"Yes. Let him be." You say with finality.

You're grabbing your AP chemistry book when you see a familiar shape walk behind you.

"Oh, wait here." You tell the girls before closing your locker and walking up to Bucky before he's too far. "Bucky!" He stops quickly and spins around to face you. You can see the shock on his face as he looks up at Carol and Sharon, who look equally as confused and surprised as him, and then back at you.

"Uh, hey." He says slowly and cautiously as you approach him even closer. Your bright smile is contagious and he tries to ignore it.

"I have to leave earlier today, around fifth period, so I'm going to miss psych," He frowns, "So if you'd like we can do what we did last week. You can come over around six and we'll catch up then."

He silently debates with himself in his head before he responds.

"Sure," he says quietly, "I can't stay as long this time though. I need to be out by seven, the latest. I have to work tonight."

"That actually works out, because I need to leave earlier, too."

He nods and then looks over at Carol and Sharon. He gives them a greeted nod and then tells you he'll see you later.

"Yeah, see ya!"

You know you're smiling when you go back to the direction of your locker. Carol and Sharon are giving you an amused grin.

"No freakin way." Carol says it slowly.

Your brows furrow in confusion.

"What?" They are giving you that knowing stare and you find yourself already seething, "Look, you guys need to stop being mean to him. He's a nice guy, okay? Just stop. "

"Oh, it's not that." Sharon says, a smile on her lips.

"It's that smile on your face when you were talking to him and when you walked back here." Carol adds.

"What?"

Carol and Sharon look at each other, grinning.

They turn back to you.

Carol shrugs.

"He's really cute. If you're into him, go for it."

"Yeah, especially if you want to get back at Steve."

This time your blood runs hot.

"I'm not doing anything to get back at Steve. We're friends, we're okay. Also, no, I don't have a crush on Bucky. He's my psych partner. We're studying after school together. He's nice and I'm trying to be kind to him, maybe even be his friend if he lets me."

"Uhuh." Sharon says.

You don't like this. The concluding. But more than that, you don't like the confusion that warps your brain. You know why you had been oblivious for so many years, but your so called friends?

"Can I ask something?" You ask slowly and gently. The both nod, "Just last week you guys were being so mean to him. Apparently, you have been mean to him for years when I wasn't even around to see. Now all of a sudden, you are calling him cute? Being nice?" You could kind of start to see now where Bucky's hesitancy was with you, "When we all became friends, we had a code. We were always so nice to everyone. I didn't even know of this bullying crap until earlier last week. We weren't supposed to be those kind of people. Is there an explanation?" They both look at each other, and for a second you can see a linger of fear in there. This concerns you, "Guys?"

"You're right, we aren't those kind of people. We never bullied anyone, ever." Carol says, her eyes on the ground.

"That's a lie. Bucky told me, and I saw it last week—"

"Except for Bucky and because Matt was there."

You confusion is out the rough now. What were they talking about?

"That still doesn't make it okay. You're not supposed to bully people. It's wrong. It's disgusting. And Matt? What does he have to do with it? And specifically Bucky?" You ask suspiciously.

Sharon is about to speak when the bell rings, piercing their tension like a hot knife.

You look between your so-called friends.

"I want an explanation later. I know you two aren't the kind of people Matt wants you to be, if that's what you're talking about. Even Sam, the biggest sweetheart, and Steve the most popular guy in this school who also happens to be really nice and has never hurt a fly in his life, has stuck with you two for a reason. We don't need to change face because of Murdock."

You walk past them, heading to class.

What didn't you know?

You just about place the cookies on the cooling rack when your doorbell rings.

Walking towards the door, you tug on the hem of your black and oversized sweatshirt a little further down your tights-clad thighs.

You swing the door open to see Bucky standing there, his black bag swung over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You offer him a small smile and open the door more, "Come in."

He walks in and then stares after you as you close the door and then run into the direction of what could only be the kitchen, judging by a corner of a silver fridge that he can see.

"I made us cookies! I literally just took them out so give me like two more minutes and then I'll put them on a plate for us."

Oh, that's what that amazing smell was.

"Okay." He says.

He doesn't know what else to say. He feels awkward? Nervous? He's so used to always picturing you in his head as the girl he despised, but now after your recent chats, he looked at you a little differently. Not in disdain but...wonder?

You definitely were a little strange.

"You can come in here, you know." You say. He clears his throat and then retraces your steps. When he steps into the kitchen you're wafting the steam of the cookies up to your face and grinning, "I hope you like the classic." You reach down to grab one of the cookies and then you take a piece of napkin. You hiss as you break it in half, the steam burning you.

"Careful." He says quietly, "Shouldn't you let them rest more?" He asks.

You watch as a big string of chocolate lingers between the two halves you broke off.

"Nope. It's perfect."

He frowns at you. You really were an interesting girl.

You grab the plate that was already ready on the island and start to put the cookies on them. When you're done you hand it to him.

"You're carrying them."

He raises a brow at you.

"To your room?"

"No. To the post office. Yes, to my room." You chuckle.

He glares at you, a smile finally wanting to break over his face. But he holds it down.

"I never would've pegged you for being so sarcastic."

You walk around him, making your way into the foyer and up the stairs.

"Ha. Pegged."

He rolls his eyes as he follows you like a little puppy, plate in hands. Plural, because you decided to make a batch of about thirty cookies.

"You can put them on my desk. We'll eat them while we watch that video that's suggested on page five of lesson four. I even pulled out a second chair for you."

You really did do your homework.

It's not that he expected any less of you, that wasn't it. You impressed him, is all.

He didn't even know there was video in today's lesson.

He puts the plate on your desk and then goes to sit next to you on your bed, his back closest to your plush pillows. The same place he sat last time.

You both pull out your things and get started. Not even five minutes in, he notices your lack of concentration and the way you keep looking at him, distracted.

"Okay, is there something on my face?" He asks.

"No." You shake your head.

"Then what is it?" He snaps, putting his notebook on the bed, "Because I've asked you question three four times and instead of answering you're just staring at me with this confused look."

"You know you don't have to be tense around me, right?" You ask so left field and randomly that his mouth gapes for a few long seconds instead of saying anything, "I'm over here, legs criss cross, poking at my socks and resting my chin on my hand, and you've been in the same stiff position for almost ten minutes. Looking like a damn four by four from Home Depot. All that's left is for you to cross your hands in your lap and cross one leg over the other." He lifts a brow at you and your smile, "I get it. It's my home so I'm naturally more relaxed, but I don't want you to always feel like this is a prison or something. Or, god forbid, school. You're in my room, on my Anthropologie comforter, and there's a hot plate of cookies waiting for us to just devour. I invited you here because I trust you and I think you're a nice guy and because I want us to get along. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable forever."

He narrows his eyes at you and then rolls them. He reaches down and starts to slowly pull off his sneakers.

"You sure talk in essays, that's for sure. You could literally sum that all up by just saying make yourself at home." There's a sweet tone to his voice you never heard before. He was joking with you. It made you smile even wider.

You can't help the way you rejoice inside when he scoots farther onto your bed, this time bringing his own lips entirely on top of it. He even removes his jacket and then runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it.

"Better?" He asks.

"Much." You say.

He hums a response, picking his notebook back up again.

"I didn't peg you for being so into hospitality." He emphasizes the word purposefully.

"You didn't peg me at all." You say with a shrug.

A sound that seemed to make everything click into place, reverberates around the room. It was heartfelt and sweet. Bucky laughed.

You can't help but chuckle in response.

"Alright, let's do this, come on. We don't have a lot of time." He says, this time giving you possibly the sweetest smile you've ever received in your eighteen years of life.

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for you to finish the written and verbal lesson. Before either of you know it, you're already setting up your laptop for the YouTube video.

You're glad to see Bucky swinging back in his own chair, munching on a cookie.

"Our wifi has been a bit crappy the last few days so it might take a few minutes for it to buffer."

"That's cool." He says.

"What time do you have to be at work?"

"Seven thirty, but I have to stop by at home and then till I get there it'll already be time."

You nod, leaning back in your own chair.

You take your own cookie and start eating it.

"I think I might've gone a little overboard, huh?" You asks, gesturing to the plate.

"A bit." Bucky says with a chuckle.

"I'll fix you a container. You can take some home with you." You add quietly.

He looks at you, his face softening.

"That's okay, you don't have to." He says.

"You're taking some with you and that's the end of that discussion."

He doesn't fight you on it. He knows you saw his mother that day. It was on her appointment day.

If this was either an action out of kindness of your soul or even a little bit a pity, it was still really sweet of you.

His eyes are lingering over your desk as you wait for the video to finish buffering. He doesn't even think before he asks.

"Who's the guy?" He asks, gesturing to the photo. He knows you and Steve Rogers had been dating for years, and that obviously wasn't him.

There's a silence after his question and he looks over at you from his half eaten cookie. When he sees your reaction and face he regrets asking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. It's fine." He sticks the rest of the cookie in his mouth and chews, "These are delicious by the way. Thank you. I realized I forgot to say it." He says when he's done swallowing.

You nod looking down at your hands.

"You're welcome," your eyes go back to the photo, "That's my brother. He was a few years older than me. He died six months ago. In a car accident."

Bucky opens his mouth and then closes it again. He feels terrible. The tremble in your voice is evident.

He feels something hollow in his chest and he also remembers what you told him recently about the change that happened half a year ago and he wonders if this had something to do with it.

He didn't forget.

"I was in the car with him." The way you say it was like you were remembering that day and playing it back to yourself.

"I'm sorry." Bucky says.

You simply nod.

He's in a trance as he watches you brush a lonely tear from your cheeks.

This girl was so different than the happy cheerful one from a few minutes ago. He can't help the jolt he feels inside of his chest at the need and want to bring her back.

You just about place the cookies on the cooling rack when your doorbell rings.

Walking towards the door, you tug on the hem of your black and oversized sweatshirt a little further down your tights-clad thighs.

You swing the door open to see Bucky standing there, his black bag swung over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You offer him a small smile and open the door more, "Come in."

He walks in and then stares after you as you close the door and then run into the direction of what could only be the kitchen, judging by a corner of a silver fridge that he can see.

"I made us cookies! I literally just took them out so give me like two more minutes and then I'll put them on a plate for us."

Oh, that's what that amazing smell was.

"Okay." He says.

He doesn't know what else to say. He feels awkward? Nervous? He's so used to always picturing you in his head as the girl he despised, but now after your recent chats, he looked at you a little differently. Not in disdain but...wonder?

You definitely were a little strange.

"You can come in here, you know." You say. He clears his throat and then retraces your steps. When he steps into the kitchen you're wafting the steam of the cookies up to your face and grinning, "I hope you like the classic." You reach down to grab one of the cookies and then you take a piece of napkin. You hiss as you break it in half, the steam burning you.

"Careful." He says quietly, "Shouldn't you let them rest more?" He asks.

You watch as a big string of chocolate lingers between the two halves you broke off.

"Nope. It's perfect."

He frowns at you. You really were an interesting girl.

You grab the plate that was already ready on the island and start to put the cookies on them. When you're done you hand it to him.

"You're carrying them."

He raises a brow at you.

"To your room?"

"No. To the post office. Yes, to my room." You chuckle.

He glares at you, a smile finally wanting to break over his face. But he holds it down.

"I never would've pegged you for being so sarcastic."

You walk around him, making your way into the foyer and up the stairs.

"Ha. Pegged."

He rolls his eyes as he follows you like a little puppy, plate in hands. Plural, because you decided to make a batch of about thirty cookies.

"You can put them on my desk. We'll eat them while we watch that video that's suggested on page five of lesson four. I even pulled out a second chair for you."

You really did do your homework.

It's not that he expected any less of you, that wasn't it. You impressed him, is all.

He didn't even know there was video in today's lesson.

He puts the plate on your desk and then goes to sit next to you on your bed, his back closest to your plush pillows. The same place he sat last time.

You both pull out your things and get started. Not even five minutes in, he notices your lack of concentration and the way you keep looking at him, distracted.

"Okay, is there something on my face?" He asks.

"No." You shake your head.

"Then what is it?" He snaps, putting his notebook on the bed, "Because I've asked you question three four times and instead of answering you're just staring at me with this confused look."

"You know you don't have to be tense around me, right?" You ask so left field and randomly that his mouth gapes for a few long seconds instead of saying anything, "I'm over here, legs criss cross, poking at my socks and resting my chin on my hand, and you've been in the same stiff position for almost ten minutes. Looking like a damn four by four from Home Depot. All that's left is for you to cross your hands in your lap and cross one leg over the other." He lifts a brow at you and your smile, "I get it. It's my home so I'm naturally more relaxed, but I don't want you to always feel like this is a prison or something. Or, god forbid, school. You're in my room, on my Anthropologie comforter, and there's a hot plate of cookies waiting for us to just devour. I invited you here because I trust you and I think you're a nice guy and because I want us to get along. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable forever."

He narrows his eyes at you and then rolls them. He reaches down and starts to slowly pull off his sneakers.

"You sure talk in essays, that's for sure. You could literally sum that all up by just saying make yourself at home." There's a sweet tone to his voice you never heard before. He was joking with you. It made you smile even wider.

You can't help the way you rejoice inside when he scoots farther onto your bed, this time bringing his own lips entirely on top of it. He even removes his jacket and then runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it.

"Better?" He asks.

"Much." You say.

He hums a response, picking his notebook back up again.

"I didn't peg you for being so into hospitality." He emphasizes the word purposefully.

"You didn't peg me at all." You say with a shrug.

A sound that seemed to make everything click into place, reverberates around the room. It was heartfelt and sweet. Bucky laughed.

You can't help but chuckle in response.

"Alright, let's do this, come on. We don't have a lot of time." He says, this time giving you possibly the sweetest smile you've ever received in your eighteen years of life.

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for you to finish the written and verbal lesson. Before either of you know it, you're already setting up your laptop for the YouTube video.

You're glad to see Bucky swinging back in his own chair, munching on a cookie.

"Our wifi has been a bit crappy the last few days so it might take a few minutes for it to buffer."

"That's cool." He says.

"What time do you have to be at work?"

"Seven thirty, but I have to stop by at home and then till I get there it'll already be time."

You nod, leaning back in your own chair.

You take your own cookie and start eating it.

"I think I might've gone a little overboard, huh?" You asks, gesturing to the plate.

"A bit." Bucky says with a chuckle.

"I'll fix you a container. You can take some home with you." You add quietly.

He looks at you, his face softening.

"That's okay, you don't have to." He says.

"You're taking some with you and that's the end of that discussion."

He doesn't fight you on it. He knows you saw his mother that day. It was on her appointment day.

If this was either an action out of kindness of your soul or even a little bit a pity, it was still really sweet of you.

His eyes are lingering over your desk as you wait for the video to finish buffering. He doesn't even think before he asks.

"Who's the guy?" He asks, gesturing to the photo. He knows you and Steve Rogers had been dating for years, and that obviously wasn't him.

There's a silence after his question and he looks over at you from his half eaten cookie. When he sees your reaction and face he regrets asking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. It's fine." He sticks the rest of the cookie in his mouth and chews, "These are delicious by the way. Thank you. I realized I forgot to say it." He says when he's done swallowing.

You nod looking down at your hands.

"You're welcome," your eyes go back to the photo, "That's my brother. He was a few years older than me. He died six months ago. In a car accident."

Bucky opens his mouth and then closes it again. He feels terrible. The tremble in your voice is evident.

He feels something hollow in his chest and he also remembers what you told him recently about the change that happened half a year ago and he wonders if this had something to do with it.

He didn't forget.

"I was in the car with him." The way you say it was like you were remembering that day and playing it back to yourself.

"I'm sorry." Bucky says.

You simply nod.

He's in a trance as he watches you brush a lonely tear from your cheeks.

This girl was so different than the happy cheerful one from a few minutes ago. He can't help the jolt he feels inside of his chest at the need and want to bring her back.

Bucky walks into his living room to his parents sitting there and talking. The television is on, but the volume is low.

They politely greet him, but he can't help but notice the tension in the air. Whatever they had been talking about was serious.

He looks between them but their eyes are on his hands.

"Y/N, made cookies for you." He tells them, "I need to get to work. I'll leave them in the kitchen. I'll help you switch tanks before I go, mom."

"Tell her I say thank you." His mother says. Bucky overhears his father asking his mother who you were. "His study partner." She tells him.

Bucky grabs one more cookie before making his way to his parent's room to grab his mother's things.

Then it was off to the rink.

You could already feel the emotions running through your veins as the first note of the song started.

Once last glance at the ice beneath your skates and you were brought back to that day six months ago.

Ice.

Your biggest enemy and your biggest defeat.

You carved lines into where she hurt the most, and you created circles and hearts into her deepest imperfections. You took from her what she took from you.

And you took it from her over and over and over again.

__

Bucky's there a half hour early but he doesn't care. They knew everyone had been out of there for at least an hour.

At least he had thought so.

He's grabbing the main arena key and his ice shoes when he hears the beginning of a song, coming from the arena.

He frowns, not had expecting someone to still be there this late.

He walks down the long hallway and then makes a right, the shortest entrance to the ice rink.

Opening the door and walking in, he catches sight of a girl, twirling gracefully in the middle of the spotlight.

Because of her angle he couldn't make out her face, but her hair was in a tight bun.

He had seen figure skaters before, but there was something so different about this dance.

It was heartbreakingly passionate. The music is loud around them and he decides then that he shouldn't be intruding as such a private moment.

He lets the door close behind him and decides to wait in the main office until the girl is done.

At the end of of your axel jump, you think you see a movement from behind. It nearly startles you and you almost lose your footing.

But as you keep yourself steady and look at that spot, you notice there was nothing there.

—

Song reader is skating to in this chapter is Crashing by ILLENIUM (feat. Bahari)

N E X T C H A P T E R

[arminsumi]

potential poly satosugu ending?? sis my ears are OPEN😗😋🤭

no but fr no matter which way you take it (satoru endgame or poly) i'm going to eat it up- like this series is so freakin cute! its seriously so good i love it so much😭❤️

thank u so so so much!! 🙈🩷

hehe we will see about poly satosugu ending... 😌 my brain needs to compute the next chapter, which i think will be the last?

i have problems with ending stories lol so i just tend to treat them like glimpses of memories that never have a definite end, like it's just an experience and the ending is open for daydreaming

(i'm just not skilled enough to end stories let's be real lol)