#i called her painter to make sure this was right and he was like ‘yes and never question me again’

[aimfor-theheart]

to break first

|| mel medarda x reader, jayce talis x reader, viktor x reader || E/18+ || messy dynamics/hurt/comfort || wc: 6k || ao3 ||

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+

Your lovers are strange, demanding types.

a/n: idk man. but this revived my writing so. pls take it. dividers by @/cafekitsune

tags: messy dynamics, light smut/smut mentioned and implied, implied rough/hate sex, some hurt/comfort, ends on a hopeful note. not beta read/edited.

You've never liked Jayce much.

And you might just be the only person he doesn't like, either.

He plays nice, though, especially around Viktor. You think Jayce has teeth that he tries to hide, but you catch the flash of them from time to time. He smiles at you and it doesn't reach his eyes. It's just shy of contempt.

It makes your grin cheshire and sharp. You like watching him squirm. You like watching him wrestle with his distaste for you, try to keep his teeth hidden. Especially here, at this gala, all gold and sparkling and pristine, for all the world to see.

Bubbling rosé is bright and fruity on your tongue. You're shoulder to shoulder with Viktor, the two of you half-miserable together, stuffed into formal wear and ripped from your respective labs and studios. Which is why Jayce lingers; he's hovering in that annoying way of his. Bumbling a little. He's trying to make Viktor feel more at home but—

You have something Jayce doesn't.

Only you can do that.

You're Viktor's childhood friend, thick as thieves and twice as inseparable. You're an artist from the Undercity—a painter, a poet, a musician. An artistic genius, the world claims, an artistic savant. And one of the rare, lucky few who has been exalted and raised above your station to be paraded around Piltover like some trophy of success from their lowest. It's mostly Viktor's fault, you claim—the moment Heimerdinger found him, he also accidentally found you.

"Ah, if it isn't one of the most brilliant and groundbreaking artists of our generation." A smooth, easy voice floats through your thoughts. You turn your head to find Councilor Medarda, swathed in what could be a starry sky of silk and gold.

She's even more beautiful in person somehow; if you were to paint her, she'd be all easy, graceful lines, curved and long. A lily stem. The arch of a tiger.

"Just the person I was looking for." She muses.

"Me?" You balk, at the same time that Jayce gaps, "Them?!"

You swing your gaze to glare at him and even Viktor wrinkles his nose. Jayce tries to clear his throat, clear the mistake.

Councilor Medarda raises a brow at Jayce, but then her eyes flicker to you, honing in on you. Hazel and gold and reflective; a kaleidoscope of color. And with such—intensity. You feel it in her. Thrumming. "Yes, you." She says smoothly and she smiles in the elegant way of royalty; perfect and mysterious.

"Are you sure you have the right person, Councilor Medarda?" You joke, "you know I'm just—"

"I'm certain. And please—call me Mel. I'd love to commission you for several art pieces to be displayed in the council chambers."

Viktor whistles a little, impressed, though you can tell it's a little dry.

(He both rambles and rants about Councilor Medarda from time to time and you can never tell if he adores her or resents her.)

Jayce startles at this, but again, he tries to play it off. He places his hand on her lower back, "I didn't know the council chambers was looking to display art."

Mel allows his hand to remain, but she tilts her chin up and her eyes flash somewhat—quick, sharp. There's a silent conversation there that you can't decipher.

But you can tell there is something more than just coworkers happening between them.

"I'm looking to display art in the council chambers." Mel then says.

Jayce looks away, cowed somewhat, tail tucked between his legs in a way that makes you smile.

Mel drifts from Jayce's hands, offering her arm to you, "will you walk with me? I'd love to discuss what I have in mind."

If only to steal her away from Jayce, you finally peel yourself away from Viktor's side and the wall. Your shoulder, where it was touching his, goes cold. But Mel's arm is warm as you twine it around yours.

She draws you away from the scientists, into the fray of swirling, dazzling people.

You glance over your shoulder only once and catch Jayce's eyes, and let your smile curl into something a little smug, almost vicious; baring your teeth as if to gloat at his own, still tucked behind his lips.

***

"Mel's an artist." You say to Viktor, offhand. "A good one, too. You should see her paintings—"

Viktor sighs heavily, snatching one of the little tools that you'd been fiddling with out of your hands. "You sound like Jayce."

You wrinkle your face in disgust, reaching back for the tool and grappling with him a moment for it. You press all against each other, squabbling, before you win out and take it back from him. He stares at you, almost in some form of a glare and you stare back, watching his eyes, dark in the low light of the lab. He glances at the tool in your hands like he might try to take it back, and when he moves, you move faster, and hold it out of his reach.

"Are they together?" You ask.

He gives up on the tool.

Then, he lifts his shoulders in some form of a crooked shrug, eyes going skyward. "One can only assume."

"She's out of his league." You sigh, throwing your weight back in the chair in despair.

Viktor snorts at that, returning to his work, "I'm sure few are in league with Councilor Medarda."

His voice is dry. A little brittle.

"I don't know what you have against her." You then venture, speaking more to the ceiling, returning to fiddling with the tool. It twists in your fingers, the sound of metal whirling and softly grinding.

"I have nothing against Councilor Medarda." He says too evenly.

"You know, I've never been able to tell if it's contempt or adoration you have for her." You continue, as if he hadn't said anything to contradict you. "But either way, she gets under your skin."

"She does not—"

"Are you jealous? She took your big, dumb partner away?" You press, twisting and twisting away at the tool.

"No—" Viktor says sharply, but it rings with a note of truth. It's not quite that then.

You pause. And then.

You crack your eye open, "I think she likes me."

Viktor pauses now too, metal clinking quietly with the sudden stop of his work again. He knows that tone of your voice. His face pulls; distaste. Frustration.

(Jealousy.)

His speech is slow as he tries to parse through what to say, "Councilor Medarda is charming and—"

"She invited me to dinner." You say and now you're watching him carefully, "at her personal suite. Just us."

Viktor rounds on you, "you're going to get yourself into trouble."

You can't help but smile, slow and amused, "I feel like it's good for the art—fool around with a politician—"

"You know, I have always wondered if you would learn your lesson," Viktor continues over your monologuing about drama and passion and politics, "—maybe this time, you'll finally learn it."

He snatches the tool from your hands and throws it down on his desk.

"I love learning." You chirp innocently and he shakes his head, face flushed with passion.

He looks at you again when he can, shakes his head some more, some of the irritation fading from his features. He never stays mad at you for long; doesn't have it in him. Besides, he causes his own trouble. Doesn't learn his own lessons. And when the dust settles, the two of you are still here, beside each other. The artist and the scientist, making messes, breaking things—all for some higher purpose only the two of you have ever understood.

(You've loved him your whole life. Sometimes, you think you carry half of the other's ribs inside one another. He must have twelve of yours, and you must have twelve of his—)

You lift your foot, nudging his calf beneath the desk with it, then up to place it in his lap. An olive branch, of some kind. Your affection is unsurprising to him and he sighs. He drops his hand to your ankle. He squeezes.

"She's going to eat you alive." Viktor finally warns.

"One can only hope."

A laugh startles out of him, rough and raspy, before it dissolves into coughing.

You lurch up to give him water, sitting near you, and bring the glass to his lips on reflex, like you used to as children. And on reflex, he drinks—he doesn't try to take the glass from your hands right away or push you away. Instinctively, you care for him, and instinctively, he lets you.

(You think you're the only one he'd ever allow to do this, born out of years of pressed side to side in the same bed, listening to him weather the nights. Born out of years of your love and stubborn care for him.)

After a moment, he lifts his hand and slowly replaces yours.

You hover over him. He sets the glass down. The water is almost gone. You'll replace it for him before you leave the lab.

He settles back into his chair, eyes returning to the pieces in front of him; all the odd metal scattered like little silver stars in front of him against a vast, dark sky. He picks up one, and then another, and tries to fit them together.

Then another. And another.

You watch him twist and turn, put the puzzle together.

He says, "Lately, I feel as if—" his fingers are careful, almost shaking, as he tries to create something of the scattered, broken pieces, "everything is quite fragile. And it's all just going to—" he presses a little too hard, and the metal all splinters apart, clattering back to the desk, "break. At any given moment."

After a moment, he looks up at you, still hovering over him, "I fear you're heading towards a breaking point."

You hum a little.

"What is it you scientists say?" You ask, running your fingers through his dark hair, thick and tousled. You twirl a strand around your finger, let it fall;

"It has to break first, before you can discover anything."

***

You'd say Mel Medarda is a wolf in sheep's clothing, but she doesn't feign anything so harmless or lost as a sheep.

You do think she's—

A little like Jayce, where she hides her teeth. But where Jayce irritates you because he's certainly trying to seem better than he is, or more harmless than he can be, Mel does so with intention. Mel hides her teeth to lure you closer. She doesn't pretend she doesn't have them; she waits until you're in range before you catch a glimpse of them.

And by then, well. It's too late.

You realize this over dinner, as she laments about what art she'd like from you and she's adamant about not censoring you.

(You're known for you controversy; whether in your physical art, your poetry, or music. Once pulled to the light of the Upper City, you refused to let them defang you. Where Jayce pretends he doesn't have teeth, you bare yours proudly, and sometimes wish you could tear the tender parts of Piltover open.

You strive to do it with your art. And while applauded in some vague capacity, you are also kept on a tight leash. Your patrons are warily supportive of you. Your commissions are strict. You're treated the way you think a wild animal is; with utmost care and fear and awe.)

In fact, her only rule for you, is to not hold back.

Which, given the growing tension between the Upper and Lower Cities, you realize this cannot only be from the goodness of her heart or for the integrity of art but—

You tilt your head and consider her.

"Am I a political move, Mel?"

She smiles in that enigmatic way of hers, her teeth flash, "isn't all art?"

You narrow your eyes, "perhaps. I wonder of it's effectiveness when it's employed by the people it often critiques." You lift your chin and pretend to be hurt—or perhaps, mask your hurt within dramatics to make it seem ironic, "and here I thought you really liked me—"

"I do." Mel assures, "I've admired you a great deal from afar. And getting to know you, your mind, it's—" she considers her words, "it's been nothing short of mesmerizing. Astonishing."

She sounds sincere. But you wonder if she always sounds that way.

She can tell she hasn't convinced you because you've never been able to mask your emotions well, so she leans forward and says, "unfortunately, everything I do is a political move, whether I'd like it to be or not. Both can be true—" she says, "I can adore you. And I can also need you to make a public point, wield you like my own elegant weapon."

"Artists make for disobedient weapons, usually." You say.

She laughs a little at that and agrees, "True." And then she lowers her voice, looks at you through the fan of her dark lashes in such a way that seizes you—arrests you, holds you right there, caught, in her heady gaze;

"But I don't need you to be obedient."

"I can never tell if you're trying to seduce me or persuade me." You blurt out, the words running from your mouth like a rabbit from a wolf. Your desire bursts from you like frightened birds taking to flight, like most of what you feel does, all of it spilling out of you in a gush of rawness.

She stands gracefully and again, you think of how you'd draw her—how you'd capture her in a poem or a song. The sharp curve of her waist, the predatory grace she carries effortlessly. You think her song is a croon from the deep part of your chest. You think her poem looks like an hourglass on the page and she slips from your fingers as easy as time does, too.

She rounds the small table to your side.

You look up at her. Your heart kicks up into a quick dance.

She brings the back of her knuckle to your jaw and gently—with all the carefulness in the world, strokes you.

(She touches you the way one does a bird, as if they know it's fragile. Perhaps as if they know it might fly away.

Or maybe she touches you the way one does an animal they're not sure of; will you bite? Will you lean into the touch?)

"Both can be true." She finally answers.

When she kisses you, it's fiercer than you're expecting; a lightning strike, a blow to the heart.

Your teeth come up against hers.

She gasps when you drag her further down to you, greedier than she's ever known, meeting her fierceness with your own, like the clashing of blades, or the destruction of stars.

And you think, if you don't want obedience, then I'll show you.

I'll show you.

***

"What are you playing at?"

Jayce's voice is a vicious little hush in the caverns of the council chambers. Mel has just left you after peaking over your shoulder to view the preliminary sketches.

You lift your head and blink up at Jayce slowly, dragging yourself from your sketch; from your world of art.

(It sets his teeth to grinding because Viktor makes that same look, when he's so deep into his work and Jayce disturbs him. It's a face he finds endearing on both of you, unfortunately. He imagines your minds are in heaven and he's selfish enough to drag you both back down to earth.)

"What do you mean? For the art piece?" You ask, glancing down at your lap, at the series of gestures and lines that you've been lost in. Maybe you're feigning innocence a little. But you want him to say it, if he's going to pick this fight.

Jayce's eyes flash like the too-hot part of the flame.

You have to bite back a smile.

Come on, you think wildly, say it. Let's fight. Here in the chambers, where you try so hard to be their golden boy.

"What are you trying to get out of Mel?" He asks and it makes you laugh outright, because he's dancing around what he really wants to ask.

Your laugh echoes in the hall, bouncing off all this marble and gold. It's out of place here, too loud, too free.

"The better question is what she's trying to get out of me." You say, "do you think I have it in me to manipulate the Mel Medarda?"

He goes quiet at that.

"Are you doing this to get back at me?" He asks after a moment and it's so close to what he wants to ask, so close to what he really wants to talk about.

"She kissed me first." You answer. "Have you had this conversation with her?"

You can tell by the shadow of uncertainty that passes over his face that he hasn't. You stand, easily setting your sketches and pencils aside, and drift nearer to him.

"Oh," you hum, "you didn't know. She didn't mention some plan of seduction to you? Maybe she really does like me."

He rounds on you so sharply that you are genuinely surprised. You gasp when your back hits the wall and he's got you caged in, a snarl on his lips and you finally get to see those teeth of his—

"You just always have to push me, don't you? In all the years I've known you, you've only ever tried to get under my skin. I tried so hard, for so long, for Viktor's sake to get along with you." He says lowly and distantly, you think, does he cage in Mel like this? With his big arms and broad chest? Or does she have him on a tight leash, underneath her?

"This time, I didn't mean it. Surely, you understand—" you say slyly, "when she comes onto you like that, all honey-voiced and half-lidded. She's hard to resist, isn't she?"

The grip he has on your biceps tightens to a point of pain—he'll bruise you. You'll be tender there, where his big hands gripped you, and it only makes you smile.

"Stop it." He snaps.

But you can't help yourself now, because once you've got something between your teeth, you've never been able to let it go;

"I just want to know if she kisses me the same way she kisses you? Does she play nice with you? She's quite fierce with me—"

When Jayce kisses you, it's a crush of aggression.

You laugh into his mouth wildly as he shoves you harder against the wall, teeth mean in the tender part of your bottom lip so that your laughter melts into a groan of pain. Of pleasure.

You claw at his back and wonder if Mel does, too.

You fight and hiss and snarl, show him your teeth when he sinks his into the fluttering pulse at your throat. You try to draw blood. You think he tries to bruise.

And well, you always wanted to see his teeth—

Just never thought you'd end up with a ring of their mark on your neck.

***

You're not really sleeping—nights are long. Days are longer. You're in the studio too much. This art piece is strangling you, wrestling with you and you're losing. Your lovers are strange, demanding types. Jayce comes to you at his lowest, and Mel at her highest. She licks the wounds Jayce leaves on you, purrs about how good you're being for her, goads you into putting up more of a fight that she likes to quell. She asks, have I stolen your bite? Are you going soft on me? Until you try to wrestle with her, too.

Mel subdues you the way snakes do—constricts and tightens and puts all that pressure on you until you just burst.

Until you go slack in her grip.

Jayce takes his anger out on you and he's not so cunning or delicate as her. You think Jayce struggles with you the way he must with his hammers, with high heat and all his strength.

Your art is starting to look like pieces of them; brutal and brilliant and cunning and beautiful. Tricky to capture, even more difficult to mesh together.

You're covered in paint when Viktor comes to visit you, frustrated with the canvas in front of you, which you think you'll end up scrapping again.

(This is the fourth one. You've been trying to fit all the components and pieces together but none of it's working, all of it's a mess. Splintered apart on the canvas. It looks like a disaster on the page.)

"Have you eaten?" Viktor asks as he comes to stand behind you. He gazes at the canvas n front of you.

You sigh heavily. "Have you?" You return.

He snorts at that, "No. I'm coming from the lab and thought I'd check on you—Mel mentioned you were here."

He pauses and then, "that you'd been here. For awhile now."

You hear the layers in his voice; the worry, but then the—

Irritation? Disdain?

"Are you asking me to dinner?" You say instead, dashing the canvas with a sudden great, horrible X. It's your meager attempt at some sort of joke or flirting, but your voice is perhaps too thin for it. You stare at your canvas, now dripping with that great X, the paint slipping down and marring it further.

When you turn to look at Viktor, he regards you warily. He glances at the canvas you've just ruined, and then back to your face.

He takes in your appearance; your disheveled hair and the paint all over your clothes and skin. And then his eyes skip down to your throat, to your arms. All marked up and bruised, unhidden and worn proudly here, in the safety of your art studio.

"Should I be concerned?" Viktor asks instead and you've always loved his bluntness. His lack of tact is like coming home. It's a relief, when you're constantly with Mel and Jayce lately, who talk in riddles and niceties and flowered language that hides their intentions or feelings.

There is a bitterness in Viktor's voice that you know well, too.

"About?" You prod.

"I'm no fool." Viktor answers, "I know you're sleeping with Councilor Medarda."

"Is that all you know?" You return, tilting your head.

"Is there more to know?" Viktor asks, eyeing you.

"Jayce hasn't said anything?"

You watch a strange shadow pass over Viktor's face as he slowly comes to the natural conclusion that you've lead him to. He's right, he is no fool. And then you watch his eyes catch fire, catch jealousy.

"I warned you—" he starts, suddenly.

"And I told you, it's good for the art—" You joke.

"Obviously it isn't!" He snaps, gesturing to the canvas behind you, ruined and glaring at your back. And then he heaves out a rough, agitated breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "Do you ever think of consequences?" He demands.

"Sure," You say, "I'm exactly where I want to be."

"You know, they are my colleagues. What am I supposed to do if—?!"

You laugh at that, enough that it startles him out of his beginning tirade. He comes up short and his shoulders bunch with tension as he glares at you.

"Is something funny?" He hisses.

"Your colleagues?" You repeat, "that's all they are to you?"

"Well—yes, technically." He stumbles on his words here.

"Are you jealous, Viktor?" You ask. "You don't have to be."

"I'm not jealous—" He refutes, even as his cheeks grow ruddy. And for a moment, you could be twelve with him again, his face flush as he looks at you after you'd kissed him for the first time because he'd never kissed anyone before. Or twenty-two and drunk, kissing one night under the stars when you felt so lost and disorientated in the Upper City—just wanted to feel like yourself again.

Or now, at thirty-two, staring at the man you've loved your entire life and whatever mess you've made out of everything.

You reach out and touch his cheek, glowing with color, and at first he winces away, but when you persist, he relaxes. He presses his cheek to your open palm and looks at you; raw and frank and so Viktor that you can't help the faint smile that touches your lips. Even as he frowns at you.

"What are you meddling with?" Viktor murmurs, turning his face into your cupped hand. You feel the faint brush of his lips, a little dry, and soft. Warm.

"Apparently our political landscape." You respond and that at least gets a laugh from him. You feel it against you and some spark shimmers through you, shudders and opens itself to you.

(Your desire for Viktor is something always with you, ambient, perhaps dormant, that always resurfaces like the great fins of some horrible, huge monster in dark waters. Your desire for Viktor is a symptom of your love. You've never know what to call it except that, except his.)

"Have I upset you?" You ask now as his laughter fades, and with it his amusement.

He sighs deeply and you feel his breath against your skin. You draw nearer. He leans back onto his crutch only slightly, only for a moment, before he allows you further into his space.

"I don't—" He struggles for the words before admitting, "yes, somewhat. For some reason."

"Are you feeling neglected?" You ask and try very hard to keep your amusement out of your voice, lest you irritate him further. He's always had a jealous streak in him, even as kids. If you made another friend, he would pout until you draped yourself over him and showered him in your attention again.

Even your previous relationships had bred some sort of jealousy in him; he's never liked any of your partners.

(It's so endearing to you that you have to tuck your teeth into your own lip and hum a little.)

You lean towards him, ducking your head so that your nose dips to brush against the line of his jaw. You feel his body shudder more than you see it. His breath goes tight. Your eyes flicker, a flash in the sun-spun light of your art studio;

"Do you want me to kiss you the way Jayce kisses me?" You murmur, your lips hovering over his. You watch his face gutter, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His breath goes shallow.

"Or would you prefer Mel?" You murmur, just before you close the distance and kiss him with a certain fierceness, a meanness that you don't usually have with him. He stumbles back a little with the force of it and your hand that had been holding his cheek, slips into the hair at the nape of his neck.

A groan startles out of him when you tighten your hand into a fist and pull.

You part from the kiss, panting a little, and he looks down at you, eyes molten gold and burning.

You're about to kiss him again, when he murmurs, "I want—" he swallows hard, "I want you to kiss me the way you do—I want—"

You press back into him instantly, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought, with the notion that his desire, his jealousy—

You kiss him like you always have, overeager and desperate and messy. You urge him backwards, towards your workbench, all cluttered with paints. His crutch clatters against the ground uselessly as you grab for each other. You knock over a jar of brushes half-haphazardly placed on the floor.

You're overwhelmed with the thought that his jealousy might've been for you, too.

When he braces his hand against your work bench, he knocks over a cup of paint. You laugh into his mouth as you paw at his stupid, perfectly buttoned vest. When he touches you again, he stains you blue—and later red and violet. Burnished gold and paint so silver it makes the stars look dull.

A mess, he tsks, impossibly fond, as he looks at you and himself and the work space.

At all that you'd done.

***

"You've been pulling strings," Mel says as you lay in her lap, letting her pet and stroke you. Her fingers dance over the ridge of your brow.

You blink up at her slowly, eyes fluttering. "Shouldn't that be my line?" You ask.

"I'm not naive to the way you've been pulling our strings." She muses, fingers tumbling into your hair. She's gentle here, careful as she cards her way through your hair, her fingers nimble.

"Pulling strings is a far too sophisticated thing to call it." You snort and lean into her touch like a cat, preening a little.

"What would you call it?" Mel asks and the smile she wears is less of a mystery to you now, and you can tell there's a fondness to it.

(She does really like you—she is really being sincere, you've learned.)

You think about this for a long moment; you toy with saying a fucking mess. Or digging my own grave. But neither feel quite so full—while true, in many ways, there leaves little room for—

Well, this.

The way she holds you. The cat's curl of her smile, pleased and mischievous. Her fingers, gentle and coaxing, urging you to unfurl and bloom.

Or Viktor's rasping laugh that you can pull out of him. The fondness you hold for him like a pearl held inside a clam, growing and glowing. The way you drape yourself all over him, and he accepts it as easy as the day accepts the sun, or the night accepts the moon into its skies.

And even Jayce and the strangled back-and-forth that the two of you dance; it's still yours. It's still his. And the way he cups your cheek admist the violence or how he let's no one speak ill of you in front of him.

(Or the way Jayce and Viktor's minds work together, or how tactical Jayce and Mel can be; sharpened like daggers and twice as pretty. Or the creativity you pull out of Mel, allowing her to see the world like a boundless piece of art. Or the way Viktor's science influences your art; how your art influences his science. The fierceness you bring out in Jayce—the passion he brings out in you.)

It doesn't quite account for all the parts that make you burn and grow and shake out your great, big wings to fly.

Finally, you say, "it feels like I'm trying to find the melodies and harmonies and how they mesh—or the composition of a painting, or the feeling of a poem, but some of the words are still missing. It feels like when I chase art and try to break it open, to reveal what it wants me to learn—or show me."

"Have you figured it out yet?" She asks and she's genuinely curious, almost quiet in her desire to know.

At that, the door creaks open and there are several hushed whispers before Jayce suddenly strides into the room with all the false confidence in the world. Viktor looks sheepish behind him.

You sit up sharply, trying to detangle yourself from Mel.

"I told you they were here—" Viktor hisses to him, "and we shouldn't—we shouldn't be here."

Jayce isn't listening, though, and he's clearly inflating himself to get out, "I've come on important business of the council."

Mel raises her brows and throws you a sideways glance. She then says, "then come in, Councilor, since it's so important that you've come to my personal quarters. Unannounced."

Jayce at least has the good sense to look a little sheepish now, too. You can't help the laugh that springs out of you.

He throws you a dark look before clearing his throat.

"Councilor Haskel and Salo are seeking to strike down the art deal." Jayce announces and your heart drops a little, sinks in your chest.

You look at Mel. She purposefully keeps her face a mask of coolness. She rolls her shoulder briefly, which is your only tell of irritation or concern.

"Come in, Jayce." Mel finally says, "and you, too, Viktor. Shut the door behind you."

Both wander into the space and it's such a surreal moment, all four of you, for once, in the same room, that you can't help but laugh again.

Mel sighs in a way as if to say, I suppose this would happen eventually.

Jayce and Viktor can't quite look anyone in the eye and they both take uneasy seats int he living room.

Again, you feel like laughing—you're not sure what all the trepidation is for. Each of them have you seen you naked; you have seen them naked.

"What's their angle?" Mel asks, ignoring both Jayce and Viktor's shyness.

Jayce clears his throat, "they don't think it's worthwhile to support an artist from the Undercity at this time."

You wince and Jayce adds, "their words, not mine."

"Well, that won't do." Mel tsks and she suddenly moves to stand, graceful as ever, her robes trailing in a wave of silk and the smell of lillies. She likes to pace when she's thinking, and she pads over the window, to look out at the city.

Eventually, she says, "we'll need a grander plan. Something they can't refuse."

"What are you thinking?" Jayce asks.

She turns and all around her, she's doused in gold light, glowing in the evening sun as if she was born to it. "Perhaps combining some science with it." Now she looks at Viktor, "something symbolic to the current advancements with Hextech, perhaps."

Viktor looks at you, then back at Mel, "I can do that."

"Jayce, I need you to talk to the other Councilors and be sure they're not swayed by Haskel or Salo." She then adds, "and I want more publicity around it—and around our artist and scientist."

Our artist.

Our scientist.

"Ah—" Viktor starts, "I don't want to be in the public eye."

Our, our, our.

"It'll put pressure on Haskel and Salo if the people are behind you both, too." Mel presses gently, though her gaze has softened on him; she's sympathetic to his desires.

To assure him, you chirp, "I can do all the talking."

"Not sure that's our best idea." Jayce remarks.

"I am certain I can name several worse ideas of ours." You quip without thinking, and then you toss one of Mel's throw pillows at him; the beautifully embroidered one that's likely far too expensive and made from the rarest threads.

It hits him with a dull thud. And for a moment, he's shocked. The room is silent.

Still, your heart sings our, our, our.

But then Viktor snorts, before breaking out into his low, soft chuckle. And then the twinkle of Mel's giggles, coupled with your own laughter that bursts from your chest like a bird taking to flight.

And Jayce watches a moment, all of you laugh and smile, and if you could paint him in this moment, you would—

A little awe-struck. Tender around the edges, burnished gold. Breath stolen from him.

(Oh, he does really like you, too. All of you.)

But then laughter rumbles from him, too. And the tension slips from all of you, drains from your bodies with each bubbling sound.

And all of them together—finally together—are the melody you've been looking for, the words you couldn't place. The color on the canvas that finally brings it all together.

It's all the broken pieces like a mosaic, finally put together to create something whole.

And it's all ours, you think, the sun a flare of light and beauty bursting through the room, bathing all of your favorite people in it's gold and glory;

It's all ours.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 3 - The Figure Painter

Chapter Summary - Y/N visits a childhood friend to go over Seonghwa's odd invitation.

Series Masterlist

"And then he gave you a contract... Like from Fifty Shades of Gray?"

"I told you it's not a contract, he said it was an invitation."

"Honey, it literally gives you a place to sign at the bottom."

After Seonghwa had given me the envelope and left, I wasted no time in rushing over to my friend, Mia's, house to tell her everything. Mia and I had known each other since we were seven years old, hanging off of each other like leeches since. Her family was rich too, but unlike mine, they supported her artistic endeavors.

She was a painter, specializing in figure paintings and realism, and was also my voice of reason.

"I seriously don't know what to do," I whine, my head resting on her kitchen countertop.

"Well, what does it say? Like what does he want you to do?" She asks, her fingers twirling a teaspoon around her tea cup.

I glance down at the papers in front of me. So many rules were listed I struggled to even wrap my head around it.

"He wants me to move into their home," I say.

"Their home?" Mia clarifies. "As in other people?"

"I guess so?" I clear my throat as I continue. "I can remain as a dancer for the society as long as I don't practice for any longer than I need to be."

"Well, at least they're offering you some freedom." She mumbles sarcastically, taking a sip of her tea.

"Mia come on!" I cry out rather dramatically.

"I feel like there isn't much up for discussion here? Yes, it's weird and borderline controlling but when was the last time something exciting like this happened in your life?" She argues.

"I don't want to be controlled, Mia. This whole thing, it's just way above my pay grade. I had enough of it living with my parents, I don't need it in a romantic relationship too!" I point out. She lets out a sigh, nodding in understanding.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Mia runs a hand through her hair. "Okay, let's try a different approach. What things in there benefit you?"

"Uhm, I get to live in a big ass mansion free of charge," I say, my finger hovering over the bullet point. It sure would be better than the cheap studio apartment I live in now.

"You can never go wrong with a big ass mansion." She quips before I continue.

"It says... I have to be willing to, share myself?" I tilt my head with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh, don't tell me they're the type to want a girl to homey hop." She seethes, leaning over the counter to read the paper. "Oh god, they are!" She exclaims.

"Just because you're monogamous doesn't mean you can judge!" I scold.

"I'm not judging, I'm cringing 'cause it's not for me." She says defensively. "If you're into that, I won't judge."

"Sure you won't."

"I might make fun of you a little, but you know I'll get over it!" She laughs. "Besides it's a bonus if they're all cute. I looked up Seonghwa and that Hongjoong guy and woo!" She whistles.

"Poor Mark." I tease, she gasps. "Listen, I don't know if I'm up for that either. I mean I don't even know who the others are, for all I know there could be a serial killer among them."

"Then call him." She states. "Call him and demand him to rewrite it on your terms."

"Would that work?" I ask, placing the papers back into a neat pile.

"He's a businessman, right? Of course, it would! Hell, you might even get to meet the others if you play your cards right." She says confidently. "You like this guy right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then fight for your own morals and boundaries, and if he doesn't accept that then move on." She says, moving over slightly to place her mug in the sink. "And if they try something, Mark and I will come over and beat them up for you."

"You and I both know Mark Lee is not going to beat anyone up." I laugh causing her to let out a snort.

"You're right, he could yap their ears off and give us time to escape the country though." She jokes, a wide grin spreading across her face.

I glance back down at the documents, genuinely contemplating for a moment. I hated the idea of being controlled by anyone again, let alone a bunch of men who, aside from 1, I have never had a conversation with in my life. But on top of that, it would be really nice to stay somewhere that didn't charge me almost my entire weekly pay for rent.

Plus Seonghwa was really good-looking, but was I really going to risk my freedom just because a cute guy gave me a second of his time? Mia was right, I needed to call him and set up some kind of meeting and get this document altered to my liking also, not just theirs.

"You're doing that thing again." Mia's voice cuts me out of my thoughts. "You know it's creepy when you stare off into space like that."

"Sorry, was just thinking about everything," I say softly, stuffing the document back into the envelope it came in.

"It's a lot, I know, but once you put your foot down like I know you can it'll all even out. You'll see." Mia was often right about these things, then again she was always the one to come up with the ideas that would get us into trouble growing up. I trusted her with things like this because I knew it would never leave the two of us, but trusting her to convince me to do something that could lead to me signing my life away? I was going to be a little more cautious of that.

"I should probably go, I got another show tonight," I say, hopping off of the seat I was perched on.

"Oh! I'm coming to the show next Monday! Don't mess up for me okay?" She says, skipping around the counter to give me a quick hug before I leave.

"Of course I won't, you're my lucky charm." I joke, pulling away and waving. She waves back, knowing I could find my way out.

I contemplated calling Seonghwa as I walked through the city streets. I let out an annoyed huff at the constant tug-of-war going on in my head. My finger hovered over the call button as I stared down at his contact. He'd probably show up tonight, but did I really want to decline his initial offer in person?

Without thinking I pressed call, holding my phone up to my ear as I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. I felt a sick feeling of nerves in my stomach, the same feeling I felt before I went out on stage.

It rings 4 times before he picks up.

"I thought you'd think about it a while longer." He states, his voice rough. I take a deep breath before I speak.

"I'm declining your 'invitation'," I stated, making sure my voice sounded defiant.

"What?" He asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You heard me. This... Contract is far too controlling for my liking and I refuse to subject myself to signing my life away for a man who only graced me with his presence last night." I say, earning some looks from passersby.

"Doll-"

"I'm not done! Look, I like you. But the only way this is happening is if we rewrite this to include my own terms. And I want whoever the hell you expect me to share myself with to be there also. No way in hell am I agreeing to something like that without even knowing what they look like." I say, rather rushed. Silence follows, and I look at my phone screen for a moment to make sure the phone call didn't end. As I placed the phone back to my ear I heard laughter.

"My, I really underestimated you didn't I?" Seonghwa chuckles. "A real firecracker you are, so unassuming up until now." I could feel his grin through the screen, and it made my blood boil.

"If you're going to waste my time-"

"Hold on a second, Doll." He says, his voice still laced with amusement. "I'll organize a dinner, how does that sound? You, me, and the others who helped write the original contract. That way you can meet everyone and get your boundaries heard."

I blinked in surprise at his offer. Was it really that easy? "You're serious?"

"Of course I am! Honestly, it's refreshing to talk to someone as pretty as you about business exchanges." He chuckles. "You have a show tonight, yes? Are you free Saturday night?"

I clear my throat. "Uhm, yeah?"

"Excellent, I'll send you the details tonight with your Gardenias." He says, hanging up before I can get another word in.

I gape at the phone, staring at it as I stand frozen in the middle of the street. I look around for a moment before continuing on my way.

I had a sinking feeling that this dinner was not going to be as easy as he made it seem. The others were most definitely businessmen also, co-owners of ATZ Corp. Me, a broke ballerina versus 8 businessmen on their own turf.

Pray for me.

[vantetaes]

BIRTHDAY CRASHER🫧🥂

TEACHER NANAMI X BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! parent teacher part 2 (this was longer in reality but tumblr didn’t let me post up to a certain amount 💔) WARNINGS!!! passionate, romantic, pretty minimal smut, 18+!!

the flourishing backyard is a flurry of movement. the sun creeping higher in the sky as you and mrs. okoye rush to pull everything together before the first guests arrive.

the air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the sugary sweetness of the cake that was delivered just an hour ago, now sitting in the shade of the patio, waiting to be unveiled.

“madam, where do you want these balloons?” mrs. okoye calls out, already tying a bundle of red balloons to the posts near the pool. her accent lilts with urgency, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead from the heat and the frantic pace you’ve both been moving at all morning

you pause, scanning the massive backyard. the caterers are setting up the food stations, the bounce house is inflated and wobbling slightly in the breeze, and the small tables are covered in bright blue, red, and yellow linens. a mountain of gifts sits on a separate table, wrapped in colorful paper, some with ribbons, some just shoved in gift bags by last-minute shoppers.

and right behind the pool, the dinner table. a large, long rectangular table, able to fit your 150+ guests.

“spread them out.” you say quickly, adjusting one of the large banners that reads happy 7th birthday, yuji! in bold, playful letters.

“some by the entrance, some near the dessert table. oh, and a few around the game area.”

mrs. okoye nods, already moving, her hands deftly securing the balloons before rushing back to grab another bundle. you take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders.

your estate’s backyard is beyond massive. landscaped to perfection, with a sparkling pool, an outdoor lounge, and even a small garden section with a fire pit where the adults will likely congregate with their glasses of wine while the kids run wild.

“madam, did you check the cake?” mrs. okoye asks, brushing past you, her tone pointed.

“yes, it’s perfect. three tiers, just how he wanted. chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. he’s the pickiest seven year old i know.” you sigh, pushing your hair back.

she hums approvingly before glancing around. “where is he anyhow?”

“inside, getting dressed.” you say, shaking your head.

“probably making a mess.”

mrs. okoye chuckles but doesn’t pause in her movements.

you check the gold watch sitting on your wrist. less than thirty minutes before the guests start trickling in.

the face painters are setting up, placing their colors and brushes up. the dj is testing the speakers, playing some songs softly momentarily, and the scent of premium grilled meat wafts through the air as the chef checks on the mini sliders, steaks, and chicken skewers. everything is coming together, but the pace has your pulse racing.

“oh, madam, the piñata!” mrs. okoye gasps suddenly, eyes wide.

“shit- shit! go grab the giant bags of candy from the kitchen please, i’ll get it.” you mutter, spinning on your heel. the piñata.

yuji specifically asked for a giant one shaped like his favorite superhero, and you’d been so focused on everything else that you nearly forgot about it.

you rush toward the patio storage, throwing open the doors, scanning the shelves until you spot it, the oversized superman piñata grinning down at you.

“got it!” you call, lifting it down with a grunt. mrs. okoye rushes over to help you carry it, muttering something about how you need more staff for events like this, but you’re too focused on making sure everything is in place.

the sound of little feet pattering on tile makes you glance up just in time to see yuji bursting out of the house, arms flailing, excitement practically vibrating off of him. he’s wearing the superman outfit he begged you to buy. his face lights up when he sees everything.

“mom! this is so cool! i love you! thank you!” he shouts, rushing over to hug you. his smaller frame wrapping around your hips as he jumps a little in excitement.

“i’m glad you like it baby, everyone will be here soon so you can go play with your cousins but DONT get dirty, yuji! i’m not joking!” with the last few words coming out of your mouth, he sprung for the bouncy house preoccupied with his a few of his family members.

before you could take in deep breath, the doorbell rings. mrs. okoye stares at you for a second before giving you a slight tap on the shoulder.

“only for today.”

-

the outdoor space fills up quickly, the air buzzing with laughter and conversation as parents mingle near the cocktail bar and kids swarm the bounce house, the game stations, and the dessert table. many of them carrying treat bags too full for their own good.

the dj has the music at a perfect volume. upbeat but not too loud, blending seamlessly with the sounds of running feet and bursts of high-pitched excitement. the sun filters through the swaying trees, casting shifting shadows across the sprawling lawn.

yuji is in his element, darting from one group of friends to the next, his superhero cape flapping carelessly behind him. his cousins, already deep in an intense water gun fight, scream as they take cover behind the oversized bean bags scattered around the yard.

you barely have a second to breathe, moving between guests, making sure everyone is comfortable.

family members have set up in clusters, your aunties sipping from wine glasses while side-eyeing the younger parents who keep sneaking glances at the well-dressed fathers.

“no, that one showed up alone! he looks good in that tux.”

mrs. okoye, despite earlier exhaustion, is still moving like a force of nature, keeping the food stations stocked and ensuring no child goes without a slice of pizza or a handful of candy.

“i’m so glad to know they get along! brandon’s been going on and on about this party for weeks!”

“yuji loves brandon! gosh, you should’ve been here for the past four months, planning this party was like working a part time job! and i wasn’t getting paid.”

“we should plan a slumber party for his whole class! i wouldn’t mind staying in a house as massive as this for a weekend!” the mother tried to hint, laughing.

you’re mid-conversation with one of the moms from yuji’s class when a familiar voice cuts through the warm afternoon air.

“it looks like quite the party.”

you turn, and there he is.

nanami.

he stands at the edge of the patio, hands in the pockets of his neatly tailored slacks, eyes sweeping over the scene with quiet observation. he’s not dressed as formally as usual. no suit jacket, just a crisp button-down with the sleeves pushed up, revealing the lean muscle of his forearms. his tie is gone, the top two buttons undone. golden hair slightly tousled, whether from the breeze or the day itself, you’re not sure.

but what you do know is that his presence does something to the air around you, like the party itself shifts slightly, bending around the weight of his gaze.

“didn’t expect to see you here.” you joke, raising a brow, tilting your head. you break away from the other woman, moving closer to the man.

he steps forward, the corner of his mouth lifting in the barest hint of a smirk.

“yuji wouldn’t stop reminding me or the class about it.” he flashes a small red envelope with nanamis name scribbled across the top. yuji suggested doing it himself.

you exhale a small laugh, glancing over at your son, who is currently shrieking with laughter as he dodges a foam ball in an intense round of dodgeball.

nanamis mesmerized by you. you sported a blue ‘S’ corset and red pleated skirt to replicate superwoman. per your sons wishes. he couldn’t help but stare at how the deep blue corset was supporting you. a slight sheen of the days work making your skin glow in the sun. your gold jewelry shining.

“yeah, that sounds about right.”

nanami follows your gaze, his expression softening just slightly before he turns back to you.

“i didn’t want to show up empty-handed.” he says, lifting a sleek red gift bag in his right hand. yujis name in big bold black letters.

“i hope he likes it, he’s been stuck on it for a couple months now so i think it’s appropriate.”

you take the bag, glancing inside. a beautifully bound book on space, planets, and the universe, something yuji’s been obsessing over lately. it’s thoughtful. personal. more than you would’ve expected from the usually reserved man in front of you.

instinctively, you look up at the man, standing slightly on the tiptoes of your heels, placing a kiss on his lips. a faint red tint appears immediately as he scans the surrounding guests.

for the past half year that has been your normal, kissing the man whenever you felt. vise versa. from small planned dates at nanamis apartment to bigger dates also planned by the gentleman.

you’ve gotten to know a lot more of him. but yet, you remained ‘friends’.

although somehow you were forgetting everyone in your child class was attending a party in your backyard right now and anyone could’ve seen you.

something unreadable flickers across his face as he watches you close the bag back, but before either of you can say anything, a loud voice cuts through.

“mr. nanami!”

yuji, sweaty and out of breath, launches himself toward his teacher, grinning wide. nanami catches him easily, steadying him with a firm hand on his shoulder. hand ruffling his curly locks.

“you made it! did you see my cake? it’s huge!” yuji practically vibrates with excitement and a sugar rush.

nanami nods, amusement playing at the edge of his usually serious expression.

“i did. very impressive. im so jealous of how cool you are at seven.”

yuji beams, then grabs nanami’s hand, already pulling him toward the game area.

“you have to play at least one round of dodgeball. everyone has to play! mom even played!”

nanami glances at you, as if seeking permission, but you just fold your arms and smirk.

“i did. you heard the birthday boy.”

a rare, almost resigned chuckle rumbles from his chest before he lets yuji drag him toward the chaos, his sleeves already getting rolled up further.

mrs. okoye suddenly appears beside you, watching nanami get roped into the game with an arched brow. she clicks her tongue, arms folded.

“well, well. looks like mr. serious is not so serious after all.” she muses, eyes twinkling.

you huff a quiet laugh, watching as nanami effortlessly dodges a foam ball, barely breaking a sweat while yuji and the other kids launch an all-out attack.

despite his usual reserved demeanor, he plays along just enough to keep them entertained, occasionally catching a ball and tossing it back with calculated ease.

“he’s cheating! mr. nanami, it’s ’cause you’re tall!”

but the moment can’t last forever.

“madam, it’s time for the cake.” mrs. okoye reminds you, glancing at her watch.

you nod, smoothing your blue pleated skirt down, already stepping forward. raising your voice just enough to be heard over the noise, you call out.

“everyone! time to sing happy birthday!”

the shift is immediate. kids abandon their games, parents gather around, and yuji’s eyes go wide with excitement as he sprints toward the long table where the massive, three-tiered cake sits.

the dj lowers the music to a soft hum.

mrs. okoye is just about to light the candle, sparking the lighter, when the atmosphere shifts. you don’t even see him at first. you feel it.

the weight of an uninvited presence pressing against the warm, easy energy of the party. the adults, the ones who know, sense it too. a few of your family members exchange glances, tension rippling outward in quiet waves.

then you hear him.

“tch. all this for a seven-year-old? spoiling him already, huh?”

your jaw tightens before you even turn around.

ryomen sukuna.

he stands at the edge of the patio, the audacity of his presence alone sending a ripple of unease through the gathered crowd. despite the casual smirk on his face, his crimson eyes scan the scene with sharp calculation. the tattoos on his arms peek out from beneath the sleeves of his dark crewneck. his stance is lazy, almost bored, but you know him. you know him. nothing about this is casual.

yuji hasn’t seen him yet. he’s still grinning at the cake, bouncing on his heels, waiting for the candle to be lit.

but you? you’re already stepping forward, keeping your voice low and controlled.

“and what the hell are you doing here? how did you even get through security?”

sukuna tsks, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“c’mon, sweetheart. my own son’s birthday? you didn’t think i’d show? you look good in this lil thing.” he reaches for your corset, earning a swat on top of his hand. he pulls back, a smirk planted across his lips.

“no, actually, i didn’t.” you bite back, voice tight. catching a faint smell of vodka on the man’s breath.

“seeing as how you haven’t since i gave birth to him! you don’t get to just show up when it’s convenient for you.”

“relax. i’m not here to start shit. just wanted to see my kid.” his smirk widens, as if he enjoys the fire in your voice.

mrs. okoye and another staff is already by your side, her usual warmth replaced with steely disapproval.

“this is not the time for drama, sir.” she says, firm and unshaken, hands crossed in-front of her.

“there are children here.”

“exactly. my child is here.” sukuna slurring hums, tilting his head.

“so why don’t we just keep things civil?” his frame hovers over both you and your nanny. air of intimidation building.

you exhale sharply, gripping your wrist to keep from balling your hands into fists. your gaze flickers over to where nanami stands just a few feet away, silent but unmoving. his posture is rigid, jaw locked, golden eyes fixed on sukuna with something unreadable in them.

of course, he doesn’t say anything. not in front of yuji. but you can feel the weight of his stare, the quiet, simmering disapproval rolling off of him like a second skin.

yuji finally notices the shift in the energy, turning to see what’s going on. the moment his eyes land on his father, his face flickers through emotions too fast to catch. shock. uncertainty. then, a hesitant sort of excitement.

“daddy?”

your chest tightens.

sukuna’s grin softens just enough to look almost real.

“hey, kid. happy birthday.”

yuji hesitates for only a second before stepping forward. your stomach twists as sukuna crouches, ruffling his son’s curly hair as if he hasn’t missed years of his life. like he hasn’t been an inconsistent, looming shadow rather than an actual father.

“you made it.” yuji says, and there’s something fragile in his voice that makes you want to pull him back. shield him.

but this isn’t your moment. it’s his.

sukuna glances up at you, something smug in his expression, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“so? we cutting this cake or what?”

your fingers curl into your palm. you should kick him out. you should tell him to leave before he ruins everything. but one look at yuji. his hopeful little face, his wide, expectant eyes, and you know you can’t. not without breaking your son’s heart.

so, you swallow the lump in your throat, turn back to mrs. okoye, and nod.

“light the candle.”

“yes, madam.”

you shuffle back to your original spot beside yuji, nanami shifts beside you, just barely, but you feel it. the restrained tension, the silent question lingering between you two.

but this isn’t the time.

so, as the flame flickers to life and everyone starts singing happy birthday, you keep your back straight, your expression unreadable. even as sukuna’s presence lingers too close, even as nanami’s stare burns into your side.

“happy birthday to you! happy birthday to you!”

you can deal with this later.

“happy birthday dear yujiiiii… happy birthday to you!”

right now, this is still yuji’s day. and you refuse to let anyone ruin it.

-

the long dinner table stretches across the backyard, illuminated by the soft glow of string lights swaying in the evening breeze and seven tall white candles lit. plates are full, glasses clink, and laughter rings through the air as everyone settles in to eat.

the caterers have outdone themselves. platters of grilled meats, buttery rolls, and vibrant salads are being passed around while the kids dig into their plates with the reckless abandon of seven-year-olds who have spent the entire day running wild.

yuji sits at the center of it all with his friends, happily stuffing his face, his eyes still sparkling from the day’s excitement. barbecue sauce and cake icing smeared all over his cheeks and chin.

it should be perfect.

but then, he stands up.

“alright, alright!” sukuna drawls, casually wiping his mouth with a napkin before tossing it onto the table.

“if i could get everyone’s attention for a second.”

the easy flow of conversation falters. you feel it before you even look up. the ripple of hesitation, the tension stretching across the table as eyes flicker between you and him, as if waiting to see how you’ll react.

you set your fork down slowly, glancing up, already bracing yourself.

sukuna’s smirking, of course. one arm slung over the back of his chair, the other gesturing loosely as if this is just another casual moment he’s entitled to insert himself into.

“i just wanted to say a few words.” he continues, ignoring the way half the table is now visibly uncomfortable.

“about my son.”

the word is deliberate. heavy. a not-so-subtle reminder of his presence, of his claim, no matter how inconsistent it may be.

yuji looks up, mid-bite, eyes flickering between you and sukuna, uncertain but hopeful.

“first of all!” sukuna says, raising his glass. water, thank god, though you don’t doubt he’d make a spectacle even if it weren’t.

”happy birthday, kid. seven years old. damn, you’re getting big.”

yuji grins, swallowing his food. “i know, right?”

“watch your mouth.” your aunt bites.

some chuckles scatter through the table, mostly from the family members who have long since stopped trying to challenge sukuna’s presence. you, however, remain silent, watching him carefully.

“now, i know i haven’t always been around as much as i should.” sukuna continues, shifting his weight slightly.

a sharp scoff comes from your aunt down the table. she doesn’t even bother to hide it. you have to fight the urge to smirk.

sukuna ignores her.

“but, y’know, life’s crazy. things happen. doesn’t mean i don’t care. doesn’t mean i don’t—”

“that’s enough.”

the voice isn’t yours.

it’s nanami’s.

the quiet clinking of silverware ceases entirely as all eyes snap to him. he hasn’t moved much. still sitting straight-backed, his plate half-finished, but there’s something dangerous in his expression. something measured.

his gaze is locked on sukuna, sharp and unwavering. not aggressive, not loud. but firm. final.

sukuna raises a brow, slow and mocking. “oh? got something to say, teacher?”

nanami sets his napkin down neatly beside his plate before exhaling through his nose, as if he’s debating whether this is even worth his time. when he finally speaks, his voice is calm. level.

“with all due respect to ms. ln. this is a child’s birthday dinner. not an opportunity for you to soothe your conscience.”

the words land like a knife. clean. precise. cutting straight through sukuna’s flimsy performance.

the tension tightens. someone at the table mutters.

“oh, shit.”

sukuna’s smirk twitches, just slightly, something unreadable flickering in his crimson eyes. then, in the span of a breath, it smooths over, turning into something even more smug. he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“you got a lot to say for someone who’s just a teacher,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

“or is that not all you are?”

you stand up, not bothering to look at either of the men, making your way to your son who was stunned to say the least. eyes darting from his dad to his teacher. bending down, you take the red cloth, ridding his face and hands of the sticky residue.

“let’s go open some presents hm?” the boy looks at you a little concerned, eyes glinting with confusion.

“everythings okay baby, go with your friends okay?”

-

as soon as the kids are distracted with gifts and the adults busy refilling their cocktails, you move.

without a word, you push back from the table and grab sukuna’s wrist in a tight, unyielding grip. digging your freshly done acrylics into his skin. his smirk deepens, as if he was waiting for this, but before he can open his mouth, you reach for nanami too, your fingers curling gently around his forearm. he tenses under your touch, but he doesn’t resist.

“inside. now.”

there’s no room for argument in your voice.

the two men exchange a look. sukuna’s is smug, nanami’s is unreadable. they let you lead them inside, away from prying eyes, into the cool quiet of the house. the moment the door clicks shut behind you, you let go of them both and whirl around.

wasting no time, you kick off your heels, snatching your earrings out before fully lunging at the smug man. nanami quickly steps up, placing his arm around you.

“it’s not worth it, yn.”

“just what the fuck was that?”

sukuna leans against the nearest wall, arms folding over his broad chest, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes.

“relax, sweetheart. just giving a little speech.”

“don’t you fucking start with me. you lowlife, bottom of the barrel scum.” you snap, pointing a sharp finger at him.

“you knew exactly what you were doing. you’re fucking drunk! why come here and ruin a perfectly good night for your son? MY son? who in the fuck do you think you are?”

“ruin? yours? i helped make him, in case you didn’t remember.” he repeats, mockingly tilting his head. eyes searing deep into yours, he’s always been the one to try and intimidate you.

“hell, seemed like the kid was happy to see me.”

“his name is yuji.”

you feel nanami shift beside you, his presence steady but tense. his voice, when he speaks, is controlled, but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath it.

“he was happy for a moment.” nanami says, his golden gaze locked on sukuna.

“until you made it about you.” sukuna scoffs, pushing off the wall.

“oh, and you’re any better?” he steps forward, eyes narrowing.

“let’s not pretend you don’t get off playing the good guy. the stand-in. step dad. replacement.”

nanami doesn’t flinch. doesn’t blink. just stares at him, unshaken.

“there is no replacement for a father. but there is a choice. you chose to leave. i chose to stay.” he says quietly.

the words hit hard enough that you feel the tension snap between them. sukuna’s smirk twitches, just slightly.

but he recovers, rolling his shoulders back, his expression twisting into something nastier.

“you think just showing up makes you a good man? makes you better? you don’t know this conniving woman. keeping my son away from me this long while making this much money? has she told you what his savings fund looks like? the kid could buy ten different houses and still have money for his great grandchildren! ” he lets out a sharp chuckle, shaking his head, motioning to the large home you stood in.

“you’re just here because it’s easy. because you get to be the safe option. you wouldn’t last a day in my shoes.”

“my son has everything has does because i worked my ass off to get us away from you. i’m conniving? yet you’re two times my age and still live with your girlfriend sukuna!”

“you’re right. and not that it matters what a seven year old has in his bank account, i do know how much. this woman works her ass off for him. so yeah you’re right.” nanami exhales through his nose, gaze flickering with something unreadable.

sukuna blinks. “what?”

“i wouldn’t last a day in your worn out shoes.” nanami repeats, voice quiet but firm.

“because i wouldn’t choose them. i wouldn’t walk away from my son or a woman like yn.”

the silence that follows is thick. charged.

sukuna’s jaw flexes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. for a second, just a second, you almost think he might actually lose it. you cautiously step in front of nanami, peering out the patio door at mrs. okoye and a backup helper. her hand hidden in her concealed apron pocket, the other man proceeding up the patio steps. you just shake your head.

but then, he huffs out a laugh. bitter. sharp.

“cute.” he mutters, shaking his head. pointing finger bouncing back and forth in the air at you and nanami. “real fucking cute yn.”

he turns to you now, something smug and unreadable behind his eyes.

“careful, sweetheart. keep playing house with him, and you might start thinking this is real. you know how you can get.”

your blood runs hot, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of reacting. instead, you inhale slowly, tilting your chin up.

“get out, sukuna. i won’t ask again. if i have to, im afraid you’ll leave with a lot less than you showed up with.”

he clicks his tongue but doesn’t argue. just turns on his heel, heading for the back door.

but just before stepping out, he tosses a glance over his shoulder, eyes glinting.

“happy birthday to the kid.” he says. “hope he doesn’t grow up too soft.”

you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, exhaling slowly, trying to shove down the frustration clawing up your throat. spikes poke at the back of your eye, threatening to open the dam of tears you had saved.

then, nanami speaks.

“hey, he says things just to hurt people, yuji is yours.”

his voice is calm, level. but when you open your eyes, his gaze is intense. steady. like he’s waiting for you to look at him.

you exhale a short, humorless laugh. “i know.”

a pause.

then, nanami shifts, lowering his voice just slightly.

“do you?”

your breath catches. you don’t answer right away. can’t.

because the way he’s looking at you, it’s not just concern. not just patience.

it’s something more. something you aren’t ready to name.

he steps up, wrapping an arm around you, only to be met with you removing it swiftly.

so you swallow hard, sniffling the tears away. straighten your shoulders, and turn back toward the backyard. hands balled up into fists at your sides, your voice trembling.

“we should get back.”

nanami watches you for a long moment. then, with a quiet hum, he nods.

“yn. it’s okay to let it out for a second if you need it-”

“no. i don’t have time to cry about something so stupid, who do you think i am? i have shit to handle.” you scoff at the man who’s now standing a little dumbfounded at your tone.

“i have to go back out and make sure everyone is good.” nanami just grimaces at the treatment you were subjecting yourself to. having no choice but to give into your wishes to make sure the rest of the night was amazing for yuji.

“after you.”

-

your office is quiet. too quiet.

the kind of quiet that hums in the spaces between keystrokes, the shuffling of papers, and the sharp click-click-click of your heels against marble as your leg jumps under your desk.

it’s been like this for two weeks on end. just you, your work, and the deliberate effort of becoming a machine.

because work is manageable. work makes sense. there are no surprises, no emotions clawing at your throat when you’re buried in contracts and meetings and back-to-back calls.

there’s no lingering weight of sukuna’s words. no echo of nanami’s voice, the warmth of his presence when you almost almost let yourself fall apart.

so you don’t think about it. you don’t think about any of it.

you just work. sending off emails to business partners and clients, scanning portfolios for potential extra assistance.

everything progresses with speed until the knock at your office door pulls you out of it.

you glance up, brows furrowing, before calling.

“come in.”

the door swings open, and you barely have a second to school your expression before nanami steps inside.

your stomach tightens.

he looks the same as always. calm, composed, the picture of quiet steadiness. but his gaze sharpens the moment it lands on you, taking in the paperwork sprawled across your desk, the untouched glass bottle of water at your side, the tension in your shoulders.

you brace yourself, going back to flipping through the many white sheets of paper.

“mr. kento.” you say, carefully neutral.

“what are you doing here?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just closes the door behind him before stepping closer.

“mrs. okoye is worried about you.” he says, voice even.

“so is yuji. so am i?”

you swallow. keep your expression unreadable.

“i’ve been busy.”

“um, yea, yn.” nanami says. “i can see that.”

you glance away, focusing on a stray document, as if you can will the conversation away with sheer force.

“is that all?”

a pause.

then, nanami exhales through his nose, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“you do this.” he murmurs.

your eyes snap back to him, narrowed. “do what?”

“this!” he gestures around. at the desk, at the paperwork, at you.

“you bury yourself in work whenever something happens. whenever something hurts or makes you feel.”

“i handle things, nanami.” you bite the inside of your cheek, irritation curling up your spine.

“you avoid things. you think i haven’t noticed in the whole year of us being in this, that i wouldn’t?” he corrects, tone gentle but firm.

“there’s a difference.” your jaw clenches.

because the worst part. the most infuriating part, is that he’s right.

but you can’t afford to fall apart. not now, not ever. you don’t get that luxury.

you exhale sharply, shaking your head.

“i don’t have time for this conversation.” nanami watches you carefully. then, after a moment.

“are you at least going to yuji’s game this weekend?”

your breath catches.

your fingers tighten slightly around the edge of a file.

because you knew about the game. of course you did. yuji had mentioned it before, all bright-eyed excitement, telling you about how he wanted you there, about how he’d been practicing with nanami after school.

but you had meetings scheduled. calls lined up. things that needed handling.

so you had pushed it to the back of your mind. told yourself that yuji would understand. that he wouldn’t need you there.

but now.

you glance at nanami, and his gaze is steady. waiting.

“i don’t know, i have a lot to do.” you say, quieter than before.

he nods, as if he expected that answer. but then he says, just as quiet.

“he just keeps looking for you.”

your heart stumbles.

you press your lips together, fingers curling into your palm. small red crescents forming from your undone nails.

and for the first time in weeks, the work in front of you doesn’t look so manageable anymore.

the words settle deep in your chest, heavier than you want to admit.

he keeps looking for you.

you swallow, eyes dropping to your desk, but the words are already lodged in your head, looping over and over again.

because you know exactly what nanami means. yuji, searching the crowd at school pickup. yuji, glancing at the door whenever mrs. okoye drops him off. yuji, hesitating before he tells you something, like he’s waiting for you to really hear him.

guilt creeps up your spine, curling its fingers around your ribs.

nanami doesn’t press. doesn’t push. he just waits, steady and patient. and that, more than anything, makes something inside you crack.

your fingers tighten around the edge of a document before you let out a slow, measured breath.

“i don’t know how to do this,” you admit, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

nanami watches you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“do what?” your throat tightens.

“balance it all.” you gesture, vaguely, to everything. your office, the work, your life.

“be enough. be the mom who’s there while also being the person who keeps everything running. because if i slow down, if i stop, then everything falls apart.” you shake your head, exhaling sharply.

it’s the closest you’ve come to admitting it out loud. the fear that gnaws at you, the weight of everything you carry.

nanami is silent for a moment. then, quietly.

“you don’t have to do it alone.”

your eyes snap up to him. his gaze is steady. firm.

“you’re not the only one who loves him. who wants to show up for him.” he tilts his head slightly.

“and you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. not to me, not to sukuna, not to the world. yuji already thinks you’re enough.”

something in you aches.

because you want to believe that. want to believe that just being there, just being his mom, is enough.

but it’s hard.

you exhale, shaking your head.

“i just… don’t want to mess this up.”

“you won’t.” nanami says simply.

“because you care. because you try. that’s more than most people can say.” his voice is so sure, so certain, that you almost let yourself believe it.

you blink, glancing away, before inhaling deeply.

“i’ll be at the game.” you murmur.

nanami nods once. no surprise, no i told you so. just quiet understanding.

then, after a beat.

“good, now come over here i miss you.” he says, lips curling into a small smile, pearly whites peeking through as you stand from your desk, basically leaping out it into his arms.

-

after yuji’s game, the two of you stand on the sidelines, packing up yujis belongings. watching as the kids run around, their energy boundless. yuji’s grin is wide, his eyes scanning the crowd, and you can see the brief moment when his gaze flickers to you, hoping you’re looking.

you smile softly, waving at him, but your attention is split between him and the growing pile of messages on your phone. nanami stands beside you, arms crossed, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, watching you with that quiet concern you’ve come to expect.

after a few moments, nanami speaks, his voice low enough so only you can hear.

“you’re thinking about work again.”

you glance at him, trying to keep your tone light.

“just checking in on some things. nothing urgent.”

“nothing urgent, huh?” he says, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“because you’ve been saying that for weeks, and I think we both know it’s not true.”

“I can’t help it. there’s always something to handle.” you sigh, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

nanami’s gaze softens, but the firmness is still there.

“yuji misses you, yn. he wants you here. really here. not just physically.”

your heart sinks at his words, and you glance at yuji again, watching him run past, laughing with his friends. for a moment, he looks so carefree, so happy. the weight of the guilt you’ve been carrying sneaks up again. you’ve been too caught up in everything else to give him the attention he deserves.

“he doesn’t need a perfect mom. he just needs you.” nanami’s voice is quieter now, but just as steady.

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know. I just… it’s hard to let go of everything for a little while.”

“and that’s exactly why you need to.” nanami pauses, his expression thoughtful.

“you’ve been pushing yourself for so long, trying to hold everything together. but you don’t have to do it alone.”

you glance at him, the quiet sincerity in his words making something inside you tighten.

“what are you suggesting?” you ask, your voice hesitant, almost afraid of what he’s about to say.

nanami doesn’t hesitate.

“a trip. a few days, just you, me, and yuji. Out of the country. no work. no distractions. a chance to breathe. a chance to be with him, without everything else clouding your mind.”

you blink at him, the idea hitting you in a way you didn’t expect. it sounds perfect. but also impossible.

“a trip?” you repeat, still unsure. “I don’t know, nanami. I haven’t taken time off in forever.”

“and that’s exactly why you need it.” he says again, quieter this time.

“yuji needs you, and you need time to be with him. Just to focus on him for once, instead of all the noise.” he pauses, watching you carefully. “what do you think?”

you stare at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. a trip. a chance to step away from everything. you could focus on yuji, be the mom he deserves, be present in a way that you haven’t been in a long time. maybe you could do this.

“i’ll think about it.” you finally say, the words leaving your mouth with more conviction than you expected.

nanami nods, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“that’s all I’m asking.”

as yuji runs by again, this time with a huge grin on his face, you feel a small spark of something. hope, maybe, just maybe, it’s time to give yourself permission to take a break.

you watch yuji for a moment, his laughter carrying over the field as he races after a soccer ball. the smile on his face is bright, unburdened by the weight of anything. it makes something tight in your chest loosen just a little.

nanami’s gaze shifts between you and yuji, a quiet understanding in his eyes. you can’t help but feel the pull of his suggestion, the possibility of just stepping away for a while, away from all the demands and expectations.

a small part of you feels guilty, as if taking that time is some form of betrayal to everything you’ve worked so hard to build. but another part. the quieter, more hopeful part, wonders if nanami’s right. if it might be just what you need.

yuji spots you then, his eyes lighting up when he sees you, and he waves enthusiastically, his feet carrying him towards you in a blur of energy.

“mom!” he calls out, his voice full of excitement.

“did you see that? did you see my goal?!”

you laugh, bending down as he skids to a stop in front of you.

“i saw, i saw! it was amazing!” you scoop him up in a quick hug, kissing the top of his head as he giggles.

“you have to come to my next game, okay? I want you to be there for all of them,” he says, holding onto you a little tighter than usual, his arms around your neck.

you feel a pang in your chest at how simple it all is for him. all he wants is you. just you, present, in a way that has been slipping through your fingers lately.

“of course, i’ll be there,” you say, holding him close and feeling the weight of that promise.

when he pulls away, nanami watches the interaction, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. you turn to him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you feel the weight of everything ease, just a little.

“maybe a trip wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” you say softly, the thought becoming more real with each passing second.

nanami’s expression shifts slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“good. i’ll start making the arrangements. you won’t regret it, i promise.”

yuji bounces excitedly at your side, clearly unaware of the conversation between you and nanami.

“can we go to the beach? or maybe a mountain? I want to go somewhere fun!”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing.

“we’ll figure it out. somewhere you can run around and have fun.”

he beams at you, his enthusiasm infectious.

as nanami watches the two of you, you realize that for the first time in a while, you’re allowing yourself to consider something that isn’t just about surviving. for the first time in a long while, you’re considering living for yourself, for yuji, for the space you’ve been craving.

and it’s terrifying.

but it’s also exactly what you need.

-

“yuji! don’t run so fast, you’ll get hurt!” peering from your straw beach hat, your voice radiates across the sandy beach, carrying with the crashing waves and squawks of seagulls lulling around your picnic basket.

“he’s fine. hes still on land.” nanami reassures, finishing his application of sunscreen to his arms.

the salty breeze rolls in with the tide, warm and thick with the scent of the ocean. waves crash against the shore in a steady rhythm. the sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re relaxed.

yuji is already knee-deep in the water, shrieking with laughter as he tries to outrun a wave that inevitably catches him, sending him tumbling into the foamy surf. he pops back up immediately, shaking water from his curly hair, his grin impossibly wide.

“momma! did you see that?” he calls out, looking between you and nanami.

you laugh, standing at the shoreline with your feet sinking into the wet sand.

“i saw! but i told you not to turn your back on the ocean!”

“yeah, yeah!” yuji waves you off, already running back in for another round, grabbing his pool floatie before launching his body back into the crystal blue waters.

“did he just?” you gasp a little, looking over to nanami who just laughs.

nanami, standing beside you, watches him with a quiet amusement, one hand tucked into the pockets of his linen pants while the other adjusts his glasses onto his blonde head. the usual tension in his shoulders has eased, and there’s a softness in his expression that’s rare, but not unwelcome.

“it’s okay, baby. he’s going to tire himself out by dinner.” nanami says, tilting his head slightly as yuji dives into another wave, laughs spilling from his lips.

you shake your head, smirking.

“oh, you think that, but he’s like a machine. he’ll run circles around us before he even considers taking a break.”

nanami exhales through his nose in a way that might be a laugh, and you glance up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“you having fun, nanami?” you nudge him lightly with your elbow.

he looks down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he says.

“i am. how are you though?”

“nothings changed. sukunas still a deadbeat, yujis still the light of my life, and i really enjoy having you around.”

after a beat, nanami untucks his hands from his pockets and starts removing his shirt. the sweat building on his torso creating a glow across his toned abs. you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re actually getting in?”

he gives you a small, knowing glance.

“yuji’s going to get too bold eventually. someone has to be close enough to keep an eye on him.”

“so, you volunteered yourself? he might drag you down.” you smirk.

“well, you certainly weren’t moving.” nanami steps into the water, letting the waves lap at his ankles.

you laugh, placing your phone down of the beach chair. shaking your head as you follow him in, the coolness of the ocean a welcome contrast to the heat of the sun.

yuji, spotting the two of you, lights up. “finally! i was waiting for you guys!”

“yuji, don’t you dare—” but it’s too late. a wave crashes, yuji kicks up water, and suddenly you and nanami are both caught in the splash zone. drenching your cover up and freshly done braids.

you gasp, and nanami exhales sharply, wiping the salt water from his face with one hand. yuji cackles, triumphant.

“okay, you wanna play dirty then huh?” you point at your son.

yuji’s eyes widen, and in an instant, he’s running, laughing hysterically as you and nanami chase him through the surf. the three of you move with the waves, laughter mixing with the sound of the ocean. nanamis arms wrap around the boy, pulling him out of the water as yujis tiny voice yells.

“mom! tell him to stop tickling me!” he cries, now being cradled by the older man, giggling as they make their way out of the water.

“let’s go get some food in us before we turn into some skeletons!” nanami shouts, still carrying the boy to the chairs.

“let’s go then!”

-

the beach house is quiet, the only sounds coming from the distant crash of waves outside and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet. the night air drifts in through the open window, carrying the scent of salt and sand, making the whole room feel calm, weightless.

the room dimly lit with a seashell shaped night light, yuji is already tucked beneath the blankets, his skin still warm from the sun, but he’s not asleep yet. his eyes low, heavy with exhaustion, linger on you as you smooth the blanket over his shoulders.

just when you think he’s finally drifting off, his small voice breaks the silence.

“mom?”

you pause, fingers still brushing over his damp shower hair.

“yeah, baby?”

he shifts slightly, staring at the ceiling for a second before looking back at you. there’s something hesitant in his expression, something unsure. his tiny frame being swallowed by the thick light blue duvet.

“why was dad so icky at my birthday? he even smelled icky.”

your breath catches, the question hitting harder than you expected. you should have known it would come eventually. yuji is too smart, too observant, to just let something like that pass without thinking about it. still, hearing it out loud makes your stomach twist.

you take a slow breath, choosing your words carefully.

“sometimes, grown-ups don’t know how to handle their feelings the right way. your dad loves you, but he doesn’t always show it in the best way.” you say gently, rubbing your hand gently over his tanned cheeks.

yuji frowns, clearly thinking it over.

“but he made you mad. and he made everyone uncomfortable. even my friends.”

a pang of guilt courses through your arms. you press your lips together, brushing a hand through his hair. “i know, baby. and i’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“is mr. nanami my new dad?” he watches you for a moment, your heart stops. you blink a couple of times at him, caught completely off guard.

“what?” yuji shrugs, rubbing his eyes.

“i mean, he’s always around now. and he helps with stuff. and he’s nice to you. he doesn’t make you mad like dad does.”

you exhale slowly, forcing yourself to stay steady.

“nanami is someone who cares about us, a lot. he helps because he wants to, and because he’s a good person. but no one could ever replace your dad, yuji.”

yuji stares at you, then glances toward the door, like he expects nanami to be standing there.

“but if i really wanted him to be, could he?”

the innocence of the question makes your chest ache. you brush your thumb over his cheek, giving him a soft smile.

“you don’t have to worry about that, okay? all you need to do is focus on being a kid. let me handle the rest.” yuji seems to consider that for a moment, then nods sleepily.

“okay.” he murmurs, letting his eyes fall shut. “love you, mom.”

you swallow past the lump in your throat, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “love you too, baby.”

as you step out of the room, you find nanami standing in the hallway, his face unreadable. you don’t know how much he heard, but the way he looks at you, steady, unwavering, tells you it was enough.

neither of you say anything for a moment. the weight of the conversation lingers in the air between you.

finally, nanami speaks, his voice quiet.

“are you okay?”

you hesitate, then nod. “yeah.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. instead, he just tilts his head toward the living room.

“come sit for a bit before we go to bed.”

you think about saying no, about retreating to your room to sit with your thoughts alone. but then you glance back at yuji’s door, the ache still lingering in your chest. so you follow nanami down the hall, letting the quiet of the night settle around you both. flickering off lights and picking up random toys yuji left sprawled out.

the living room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a nearby lamp casting warm shadows against the wooden walls. outside, the waves roll in, steady and rhythmic, filling the silence between you and nanami as you sink onto the couch.

nanami walks to the kitchen, pouring small glasses of red wine before recorking the bottle and shuffling back to the open living room.

he doesn’t sit right away, just watches you for a moment, like he’s still gauging where your head is at. then, with that same quiet steadiness, he takes a seat beside you, placing a gentle hand on your thigh.

you lean back against the leather cushions, exhaling slowly, running a hand over your face.

“asked about sukuna. also asked if you were his new dad.” you murmur, the words still settling on your tongue.

nanami doesn’t react immediately, but something shifts in his expression. not surprise, not discomfort. just quiet understanding. he takes a quick sip of the red liquid before refocusing back on you.

“and what did you say?” you turn your head slightly, studying him. the moonlight and lamps warmth combined out him in a different perspective.

“that no one could replace his dad, obviously. what else could i say?”

“it’s a fair answer, yn.” nanami nods, as if he expected that.

“but it still made my chest hurt. how do you explain to a seven year old that his dads a drunk piece of shit, who’d rather fuck strippers than actually support someone he brought onto this planet.” you sigh, rubbing at a spot on your temple.

“it hurt because it caught you off guard?” he watches you, patient as ever.

“because he even had to ask. because his dad, should’ve been someone he looked up to, not someone he’s trying to replace in his mind.” you say, shaking your head.

nanami is quiet for a beat.

“children understand more than we give them credit for. especially well rounded ones like yuji.”

“he’s seven, nanami.” you huff out something that isn’t quite a laugh.

“yes. but he’s also perceptive. he knows when someone is good for you. he knows when someone isn’t. he knows sukuna isn’t necessarily bad to him, but he also knows his mom is really good.” he says simply, sipping more. you take a swig, letting the wine run slowly down your throat.

you glance at him then, searching his face for something, anything. but as always, nanami is unreadable in a way that should be frustrating but isn’t.

“he really likes having you around.” your voice is quieter when you speak again.

“i like being around.” nanami’s eyes soften, just slightly. watching your expression lift as the words leave his mouth.

“sometimes i wonder if i’m doing enough. if i’m protecting him the way i should be.” you swallow past the warmth creeping up your throat, dropping your gaze to your hands.

nanami shifts then, leaning forward just enough to where you smell the fresh wine and cologne.

“you are.” he says, firm in a way that makes you want to believe it.

“he’s happy. he’s loved. and that’s because of you.”

your chest tightens, the weight of the day, of the weeks, pressing down all at once. you inhale sharply, blinking up at the ceiling as if that’ll keep the emotions at bay.

“ugh, why are you so good at that.” you murmur.

“at what?”

“saying exactly what i need to hear.” you glance at him, eyes locked on each others. lips pressing together before you admit.

“it’s just the truth.” nanami studies you for a moment.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe it.

“let’s head to bed, hm?”

the soft white duvet sheets peeled back to reveal a bead of ivory silk sheets and pillowcases. nanami stood shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth and reapplying lotion to his skin.

you quickly slipped out of the cotton clothing into a deep blue silk slip dress.

you crawl into bed, slipping beside nanami. his arm wastes no time wrapping around you, large hand cusping your back.

“you’re such an amazing woman yn.”

“oh shut up.” you sigh, shaking your head a little.

“im serious. you’re the strongest woman i know. you’re smart, you’re caring, especially to yuji. i’m glad i got to meet you.”

your eyes shoot up to meet his, the only source of light stimming from the beside lamp. his blue eyes lock onto yours, a smile forming across his lips.

“since you wanna be all sappy. you’re the best man i’ve ever met. and i hate men.” you both let out little chuckles, still staring at each other.

“but im so glad you came into our lives. yuji enjoys having someone around to be a nerd with and i enjoy having someone who’s not- well, anyone other than you. i really love how you make me feel.”

you could barely read the expression on nanamis face before he’s lifting you to straddle him.

“yn, i want you. only you. i want to be here for yuji. if you’ll let me be?”

you open your mouth, then close it again, studying him.

“is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“yes, yn. i’m asking you to be mine.” you giggle a little, finally placing a smile across your lips.

“nothing could make me happier, nanami.”

nanami doesn’t waste time. as soon as the words leave your lips, his hand tightens around yours, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. the warmth of his skin seeps into yours, his presence steady, grounding, but the way he looks at you now. like he wants you. sends a slow shiver down your spine.

his free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers tilting your chin just enough to make you meet his gaze. his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, searching, waiting, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind.

but you don’t. you won’t.

so you close the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that starts slow, deliberate, like the both of you are memorizing the feel of this moment. but nanami doesn’t stay patient for long.

he exhales against your mouth, his grip shifting, firm but careful as he tilts your head just right, deepening the kiss. his lips move against yours with intent, warm and unhurried, but there’s a weight behind it now. like now that he has you, he’s not letting go.

you shift, pressing closer, your fingers sliding up his chest, tracing over the firm lines of muscle, nails running across his soft skin. he makes a low sound in his throat, something almost pleased, before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you further into him.

you feel his hardening member pressed against your throbbing cunt, gently rubbing against him to create friction.

the kiss turns heavier, heat coiling low in your stomach as his lips part against yours, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip before slipping past.

you’re breathless when he finally pulls back, his forehead pressing against yours. his fingers trace slow, lazy circles at your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

“please, nanami.” you whine, feeling as the pad of his thumb presses into your hips. underwear soaked, you continue to grind on the man, watching as his eyes darken in pleasure.

you don’t know if it’s the wine or just him, but you feel lightheaded, heat spreading through you as you press down just a little harder, rolling your hips against his in a way that makes both of you inhale sharply.

he wastes no time pressing your bodies back together, lifting carefully to remove his only item of clothing. eagerly you slip off your cotton panties, throwing them across the room.

nanami exhales, his hands tightening their hold before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion, his body pressing down against yours, his weight warm and solid and everywhere.

your breath catches, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as he leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

“my pretty lady”

reeling back, the man carefully spreads your legs, eyes focused on the glistening liquid covering you. his hand shoots down, grabbing ahold of his length.

you feel his fat warm tip press against your entrance, tracing random shapes to collect the slick. nanamis eyes deepen was he watched yours roll to the side, trying to focus on something other than the pleasure rapidly building in your core.

“she’s so wet for me. hm, i missed her.” without warning, nanamis hands pry your legs fully open, using his core strength to push his length fully into you.

mouth wide, gaping in pleasure as the man slowly pulls out, lowering his body onto yours. he presses your foreheads together, offering you a small smile. your eyes dance across his face, watching as his eyebrows furrow at the warmth gripping him.

“wrap your legs around me.” as if you were a robot, you immediately swing your legs up, trapping the man in a hold above you. the motion forces him down, length sliding into you without force.

“fuck you feel so good.” he moans, stroking slowly. sex sounds fill the master bedroom, warmth building in the atmosphere as your nails dig into the man’s back.

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Zayne x Lemurian! Fem! Reader: Ebb Day ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝔻𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣 ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 040 ✦ ┆・

[ Reader is Related to Rafayel because I said so<3]

╰��➤ ❝ [ My Ocean Belongs To You ] ¡! ❞

"Zayne, do you like art galleries?" "Yes. How come you're asking?" "My big brother is hosting an art gallery<33. Wanna come with me:0?" "When is it?" "Saturday in the afternoon!" "Sure."

And that was how Zayne found himself in this situation, while you sported a pretty little frilly long dress— He was simply wearing his typical black dress shirt and trousers. Of course, he was secretly staring at you the whole time, he's always been interested in you but never had once vocalized it nor has he ever openly made it obvious or even drop hints.

Besides, he had been a little stressed from work as of late. He had to deal with a lot of troublesome patients during the weekdays and there were too many close calls on his surgeries as of late so he badly needed to take his mind off of the hospital even just for a bit.

And you are his favourite kind of cure.

Zayne followed behind you as you pranced in your steps, guiding him to the location of the art gallery. it didn't take the both of you too long to arrive to the place.

Fine and extremely detailed canvases were attached to the walls, each one unique on their own.

Zayne wasn't much of a painter, he could only sketch since he had to draw a lot of anatomical diagrams back when he was still in medical school.

"Your brother is very skilled" Zayne says as his gaze landed on the different pieces.

"Right?" You beam, hopping in your steps even more happily as you admire your cousin's works. "He's always working hard on his paintings."

He follows behind you, admiring the image of you more than he does admiring the pretty paintings around the both of you.

"Ah, there he is!" You spring into happy little skips as you made your way towards a man with deep purple hair boredly leaning on the wall and fiddling with a pen in his fingers. "Oppa!"

"Geez, pipe down, I can hear you just fine" He says in a sarcastic but gentle voice as his bluish-pink eyes similar to yours land on you. "I thought you were joking when you said you'll visit"

"Oppa will be disappointed if I didn't" You grin, making him roll his eyes.

"Who is this?" His gaze falls on Zayne, pushing himself off of the wall.

"I'm Zayne" He introduces himself.

"Zayne..." The name rolls off of the painter's tongue, pondering as he tries to remember where he has heard it before. "Ah yes, you're my sister's doctor, right? She wont stop yapping about you I almost went deaf from it. I'm Rafayel"

"Oppa!" You protest, smacking his arm.

"Hey, ow!" Rafayel fake winces, a dramatic expression on his face as he gasped. "Guppy, that is not how you treat your older brother! Isn't family supposed to love eachother?"

"As if!" You stick your tongue out at Rafayel and Zayne stood awkwardly in between this little banter.

"Pfft," He scoffs, rubbing the spot you had hit. "Still as feisty as ever like a sea urchin."

"You're as round and ridiculous as a puffer fish" You bite back.

"...." Zayne felt like he really shouldn't be here at this moment.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go off there and greet Thomas" You say in a childish, high pitched voice as you point at a direction and storm off.

Zayne shook his head, wanting to follow you but found it rude if he left your brother all alone without a proper conversation. Besides, he could see you in his peripheral vision.

"I meant it though." Rafayel starts, humming as continued playing with the pen absentmindedly. "She speaks very highly of you like a little baby dolphin learning how to jump off of water for the first time."

"...I'm glad she thinks so, but I'm only doing my job as her doctor" Zayne answers, pushing his eyeglasses back.

"Isn't that what every doctor says?" Rafayel scoffs, crossing his arms as both men overlooked you who is happily chatting with Thomas and asking about some paintings. "My little sister is a handful, isn't she?"

"Well," Zayne hums, deciding to play along with Rafayel. "She often doesn't listen to her doctor's orders and is somehow scared of staying in the hospital at night believing ghosts might swallow her."

"...Did she actually say that?" Rafayel cocks up an eyebrow.

"She did." Zayne simply confirms while watching you prance back to them and tug at Rafayel's arm.

"Oppa, oppa, I want the pretty puzzle piece music box, get it for me!" You say childishly, pulling at Rafayel's hand.

"Hey, I'm not a wallet" Rafayel groans but allows himself to be dragged over to the gift store area.

Zayne followed you both, watching as the two of you bantered on and on. He could tell that Rafayel spoiled you a lot, watching as he keep saying sarcastic remarks and marine related insults while letting you pull him around.

"You're a grown woman now and a hunter, why exactly do you need a music box puzzle?" Rafayel rolls his eyes.

"Because it helps!" You reason out, shooting a hopeful look at Zayne. "Right doctor Zayne? Right?"

"Puzzle making and achieving to finish it can certainly boost dopamine production," Zayne replies, sighing as he realizes what you are using him for. "As for sleep, well, music boxes can certainly help lull you to sleep."

"Ugh, using your doctor card on me, really?" Rafayel groans, but pays for the puzzle piece anyway. "Now shoo, there's an ice cream store at the front. Your brother is buisy doing grown-up stuff so children should behave."

"I'm not a 2 year old!" You say as you hold the now packaged puzzle piece before storming off.

"...." Zayne was about to follow behind you until he heard Rafayel's voice again.

"Do you know about Lemuria? There's a secret rumour amongst their merpeople" he says, "Every year there's a day when the tide is low, and it flows in the opposite direction. It's on that day that Lemurians are at their weakest hence why they keep it a secret. Even the weakest humans can end them if they so please."

"Then how come you know of this?" Zayne inquires.

"Well, it's a fairy tale" Rafayel dismisses his question. "She's waiting for you"

Zayne nods his head politely before going towards your direction.

Throughout the whole time on the ice cream shop, he keeps thinking of what Rafayel said. And for some reason, he can;t take it off his mind.

Despite that, he chooses to just focus on the you who is busily munching on the ice cream he had bought for you earlier.

"Slow down, it's not going anywhere" He says, picking up a napkin and wiping the cream off of your cheek.

"But it's just so yummy!" You protest.

"I know," Zayne nods his head, "But still, eat a little more slowly.

"...Okay" You pout.

Zayne shakes his head, smiling faintly as he found the whole situation a little ridiculous. He could tell Rafayel thought that he spoils you too. After all, he's putting up with your childish antiques and scolds you as if you were a small child.

Overall, this litle... Outing turned out well since he met your older brother.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

For the past two weeks, Rafayel's words bothered Zayne over and over. It kept repeating in his mind and it even echoes in his ears whenever he woke up. It's a miracle he didn't have any surgeries these days and managed to keep a proffesional act despite it high bothering him.

To add to that, you havent texted or called him a single time.

Sure, you're not required to talk to him all the time but today seemed particularly different as it nagged him.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration as he finished up the last of his reports.

He then reached for his phone and instantly dialed your number.

Thankfully enough, you picked up.

"Hello?" You voice was horrible, making Zayne immediately alarmed.

"Are you alright? your voice is a little rough" He inquires, taking his doctor's coat off. and grabbing his keys.

"No... Fever"

"A fever?" He sighs, storming out the hallways and into the parking lot. "You're home, aren't you? Have you taken your temperature and drank medicine?"

"Cant..." You breathe heavily. "Too weak."

"Stay in bed." Zayne said as he hopped into his car and brought life to the engine. "I'll come."

He then dropped the phone call as he drived out of the hospital and towards your apartment.

Zayne knew deep inside it was probably just as a normal fever, but there's a surge of panic in him as he hurried over. The moment Zayne parked, he hurriedly went upstairs. He was irrational with the way his mind is overthinking things.

Surely it's just a fever.

A fever.

Zayne opened the door to your apartment and quietly locked it behind him then going to your bedroom where he found you curled up in your bed.

"I'm here" Zayne says with a gentle voice, his tone a little lower than usual as he gently pries off the blanket off of your face and placed a palm on your forehead.

"Ngh... Zayne" You whine a little.

"Ssh," He said, removing his palm and reaching for the bedside drawer and pulled out the thermometer.

Zayne took your temperature and cocked up an eyebrow at the results.

You're burning up and yet you have a normal temperature. He aimed it at himself and gave back a good result too, meaning it's not broken or playing tricks.

"???" Zayne looks at you, wanting an explanation.

"Water... Please." You whisper.

He rescinds in demanding an explanation, your voice isn't fake and neither is that glazed over look on your face.

"Stay here, don't pull the blanket over your head" Zayne said, getting up from his seat.

He was running a number of possible explanations on why you're feeling the way you do. Maybe it's stress induced, or something. Perhaps a better option now is not to ponder but take you to the hospital because it might be a dangerous situation.

He walks back into the bedroom and sat paused,

"...." Zayne places the glass down, crouching down towards you and observes the glittering blue things on your face.

'That wasn't there earlier' He thought, his forehead knitting as he reached to brush a finger on your cheek where the crystal like things glimmered.

The touch caused you to whimper a little and he pulled his hand back immediately.

"Every year there's a day when the tide is low, and it flows in the opposite direction. It's on that day that Lemurians are at their weakest hence why they keep it a secret. Even the weakest humans can end them if they so please."

Rafayel's words repeat in his mind.

"Zayne..." You mumble, curling over to him before trying to get up.

"Your face,..." He inquires, helping you sit up while another hand reached to place pillows against the headboard and laying you against it. "Lemuria?"

He hesitated at the question, watching your expression droop.

"...Sorry." You apologize.

"There's nothing to be sorry for" He said, reaching up to fix the blanket on your lap. "Are you feeling like this because of ebb day? The tides being low and the water flowing backwards?"

"..." You look up at him, alarmed. "How? Who? Y-you're not supposed to know those."

'Ah..' Zayne mentally curses at himself for being too brash on his approach.

"Your brother, Rafayel, he told me" He said, and felt relieved as you calm down.

"...That's funny" You mumbles. "He told me to never tell anyone and yet he told you. Big brother trusted you with a secret depsite just meeting."

Zayne didn't answer, wondering too why the painter would do that but froze as he felt you nuzzle his shoulder.

"..."

"You're not mad... Or weirded out?" You ask.

Zayne shakes his head, reaching up and gently stroked your head. "Why would I? Just because you're not... Human?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not" He shakes his head, gently pulling you over to his lap so he can hold you more properly and you can rest more comfortably on his shoulder. "There's no reason to. It just makes me a little concerned that maybe my treatment plans on you dont work or worst, it could be detrimental to you."

"We're the same as humans" you explains. "Just... Different in a lot of waya. I get hungry and get sick like humans. So it's fine."

"I see." He hums, stroking your head.

He almost wanted to nuzzle his nose on your head but stopped himself.

"You won't hurt me, right?" You ask, fidgeting. "Brother said that humans would abuse a creature's weakness once they find out."

"Never" He said, pausing in his ministrations on your strands. "I would never hurt the person I like. If anything, I wish to protect you"

He brings your hand up to his lips, and kisses the inside of your palm.

"I would never, ever hurt you." He shakes his head, those intense amber-green eyes. "Not now, not in the future, never in my lifetime nor in the next ones. No matter who or what you are, I will never hurt you"

꒰ A/N: I'm just so weak against Zayne pls sniffsniff. I love him sm I just want to hold this silly man. I wanna cuddle this precious man qwq!!! My precious Zayne TT. This man is fr one of my biggest comfort character. I can't wait for his birthday event in september. Also I'm srry if u cringe at the feesh insults its my kind of humor xDD!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[rascalentertainments]

Wish Granted 🌟👩🏾🎶 (Wish Reimagined)

Chapter 13: Poor Unfortunate Souls 👸🍪🐂

Chapter 12

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Rosas is bustling more than ever as the citizens prepared for the ceremony. On one hand, everyone being distracted allowed Asha to hide in plain sight. On the other, it was risky that someone could recognize her out of the crowd. Asha realized having the teens around as a group wasn't such a bad thing after all, as they kept eyes off her and Star.

Both Dario and Hal were rambling on about all the wonderful things Rosas had to offer, while Gabo and Simon sort of acted as her personal bodyguards. Though Gabo didn't look all that intimidating holding a young goat. 😅

"And this is where the band comes through during the welcoming song!" Dario explained as he pointed in front of the statues of the royals.

"This is where some of our best artists create portraits of our rulers!" Hal gestured to a small corner where a group of painters were already at work on making several artworks in honor of tonight.

"Oh and can't forget Bazeema's family flower shop over there!" Dario excitedly pointed to a small shop filled to the brim with vast colors of roses. "They have the best flowers, as long as its only roses. King's orders."

"The amount of narcissism in this place is disturbing..." Asha commented, walking past the statues.

"Come on, its not all bad! At least if you ignore the royals stealing our wishes part." Hal said, trying to find the upside to this.

"Allegedly." Dahlia corrected her. She clearly was still standing her ground on the royals. "I'm still going to need proof about all this."

Mouse!Star poked his head out. "Well, the king kind of stabbed me. Is that enough?"

"Look, what I'm saying is that unless I see them doing something so horrible that's its impossible to deny it, I'm not buying it." Dahlia continued as she kept a close eye on both Asha and Star.

"They threw Flazino in a dungeon for pete's sake! Doesn't it bother you that he's missing suddenly?" Asha argued. "There's seriously proof all around you with the people themselves. Do they look happy to you?"

Dahlia looked at the few painters still working, and noticed that a few of them were looking a bit drowsy. One of them had nearly fallen asleep as she was painting and had to wake herself backup. She oddly reminded her a lot of Simon...

But then, lots people get tired during the day from working or other logical reasons, it couldn't possibly be a conspiracy!

"Okay, they do look a little tired, but that's not a reason to think there's something evil going on!" Dahlia stood her ground. "Besides, I'm sure Flazino is fine. Maybe he just went on a secret errand for the royals."

Asha groaned. "This is getting us nowhere. Just forget it." She walked away from the baker and continued onwards.

"And here I thought you cared about your boyfriend." Gabo said in pretend disappointment as he shook his head at Dahlia.

"Of course I care about-" she slightly faltered when she realized what the annoying pipsqueak had said. "He's not my boyfriend! Who even said I even like him that way?" she couldn't even look them in the eye.

"Well, you do talk about him a lot." Hal pointed out as she pulled a set of chalk out from a box and showed it to Asha. "Whenever I'm just passing by, you're usually all 'Flazino' this and 'Flazino' that. Ha, you talk about him even more than the king!"

"All right, it was wasn't that much... " Dahlia grumbled, as she didn't really like being called out.

"And you also swoon over him a lot when he's not looking!" Dario added as he carefully walked on the rim of the water fountain.

"Yes, there's definitely lots of swooning." Bazeema confirmed.

Simon had accidentally fallen asleep after he took a break to sit down, but even he was conscious enough to respond with a yawn, "Yeah, it's true."

That was enough embarrassing Dahlia for today. "Look, none of that is important-or true-right now. What can I do to convince any of you that this is all crazy?"

As the rest of the group was talking Valentino was walking behind Gabo when his ear perked up. He heard a growling sound and assumed it was his own stomach. The goat looked around the sea of people.

Everything looked normal, expect for the African lynx stretched out on a nearby windowsill. He was covered by the large shadow of the awning above him, with only his green eyes and sinister grin shining through.

This made Valentino panic and start bleating like crazy, "MAAAH! MAAAH! MaaaAAAaaaAAAA!" he jumped up and down trying to get their attention.

Asha was too far away to hear, but Bazeema took notice immediately. "What's wrong, little guy?"

Valentino stomped his hooves and pointed over to the windowsill, only now it had a small vase of roses on it. His jaw dropped at how quickly the feline had moved.

"Did you want to see the flowers that badly, or is something else?" Bazeema pondered. Something told her it wasn't just random.

"Or maybe he's just hungry for some roses!" Dario suddenly popped in. "I don't recommend eating the thorns though..."

Valentino gave him the same "are you an idiot?" look he gave Star back in chapter 3.

Dahlia glanced over her shoulder and for a brief moment she thought she saw a slinky cat's tail turn a corner towards her bakery. While Rosas had no shortage of animals or pets roaming around, there was only one pet that was allowed to do as a he pleased.

"I...I just remembered something, I left my spinach puffs in the oven, I better go get them," she said quickly and slowly backed away from the group.

"Oh, I can help with that!" Safi volunteered as wiped his nose with his sleeve.

Dahlia flinched. "Nononono, that's okay!" she exclaimed. "I'm not totally helpless..." she slightly gestured to her crutch. "You guys keep going and I'll just catch up. Besides, the last time you handled the food you sneezed on the Magnifico cookies I baked."

With that, she turned and walked away.

"That was one time, Dahlia! One! Time!" Safi said defensively, then let out a loud sneeze.

Gabo patted Safi on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad. She still mad that I stepped on her cookies a while back. In my defense, it was an act of rebellion." He smiled as if it was a good memory.

Hal waved them all off. "Don't worry about Dahlia. She'll come around, I think she just needs some time to think."

"I wish she had the same optimism like you or Star. We could really use that right now." Asha responded.

Both Hal and Star said in unison. "Thank you!"

"Now come on, while we wait for her, let's continue the real tour!" Hal cheerfully replied as she dragged Asha to another both to look at other art supplies.

She noticed that Asha had an interest in all the artistic items and wanted to show her all the variations of paints, pencils and chalk on the table.

Soon the screen fades to a montage of the teens having fun in the city showing Asha the things they found to enjoy in Rosas.

Dario showed how fun the puppet show could be when its not part if the "Welcome to Rosas" song.

Hal showed her musical skills with a nearby guitar. Thankfully she could actually play. 😅

Simon briefly told the others how his father inspired him to become a knight himself and admired the various kinds of shields the blacksmith made for the soldiers.

Gabo playfully stabbed one of the empty suits of armor to show how well he could handle his father in battle. Everyone took a step back at the sight, but Hal appreciated his enthusiasm.

Both Safi and Bazeema showed their love of animals (Safi leaned more towards chickens, but he was trying) by visiting the petting zoo. Valentino really loved that one as he ended up playing with some of the sheep in the pens.

Asha laughed as her little furry friend was having fun, and she realized that she was doing something that she thought would never happen: She was having fun in Rosas.

Lastly, Hal convinces Asha to show her art skills by buying the chalk from earlier. Asha soon created a mural of Magnifico that looked exactly like him, only more friendly instead of evil. The people nearby looked at it in awe.

Star could see the pure joy on Asha's face as she laughed. Seeing her having fun always made him smile, but it was a different smile than usual. He was slowly feeling something different lately when it came to Asha.

He always had a love for Earth and the people on it, and it brought him joy to see them happy.

But lately he was feeling a different kind of love. Something stronger that he felt for Asha more than he did for Earth. Something that made him want to stay forever.

After the montage ends, the sun is seen slightly going down, showing they had been out all morning. The group seemed more comfortable with each other than they did in previous chapters. They all were incredibly different from each other, but they ended up having fun as if they'd always been friends.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you guys aren't half bad!" Gabo admitted he bit into an apple he "borrowed" from a fruit stand.

"And I can't believe my allergies haven't acted up all this time!" Safi realized and was relieved to finally be out in public without concerning himself with his sneezing problem.

"Yeah, even Bazeema's more outgoing than I thought!" Hal laughed. She looked for Bazeema but didn't see her in the group suddenly. "Wait, where'd she go?"

The others looked around but didn't see her anywhere.

"How does she do that?" said Dario, who was both impressed and scared. "Bazeema! If you're nearby, say 🎶Heigh Ho🎶!" He shouted in case she couldn't hear him. He got a few strange looks.

Simon staggered up and shake off his drowsiness. "I'll find her, just give me a minute. She couldn't have gotten far."

"I hope she's okay..." Safi whimpered as he wrung his hat in his hands with worry. "AAAAACHOOO!" He sneezed into his hat. "Oh no, not again..."

Asha couldn't help but laugh (which she's been doing a lot of lately) the teens were certainly a lot to handle, but they had their own way of having fun.

Mouse!Star poked out from under the hood with cheeky smile. "Looks like your finally making friends! I knew you had it in you. You just needed to bring out your fun side!"

Asha raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not exactly unpredictable as you are." She noted as she folded her arms.

Star chuckled. "I can tell you wanna have fun yourself, but you keep holding back. Who's the one that came with up the idea of bringing those knights to life when we were escaping? Or got excited over those Earth magic things that I had no idea about? And you finally made some friends to talk about all that stuff with! That wasn't me, Asha. That was you."

Asha thought about it. She never really made friends in the Hamlet because she had trouble trusting anyone long term outside her family or Flazino. The seven teens could be loud and slightly annoying, but it was clear their hearts were in the right place, even if they didn't fully believe her.

Could she actually be making friends? Even with the stubbornness of Dahlia or Gabo's desire for anarchy or Dario being.... Dario? It seemed strange, but she was having fun with a group again.

"I'm sure you had lots of friends back home too, right?" Asha laughed. She imagined Star being the center of attention and chatting all the time with the other star nomads. "Had to be lots of fun getting into trouble with them."

She quickly noticed that Mouse!Star's tiny expression changed. He wasn't laughing at all. In fact he looked rather uncomfortable at the mention of his life before coming to Earth.

"I...rather not talk about that." His voice sounded slightly depressed and he looked away from the girl.

Asha had seen the star act like this before. When she mentioned about Star having freedom in the sky, he mentioned that he was actually alone and preferred Rosas over it. It seemed impossible for him to be such since there are countless stars in the sky, yet he never seemed to like talking about his own home.

"Star, you know...you can talk to me about anything, right? We're friends too, aren't we?" Asha gently brushed her finger underneath his furry chin to comfort him. She couldn't exactly hold his hand (or paw) in that form.

The star looked up at her, and said, "Well....you ain't never had a friend like me." he gave her a small smile.

But she could tell he was having a hard time deciding if he wanted to tell her what's upsetting him. As if she could feel something uneasy in him.

However, that would have to wait for a later chapter...

"There she is! We've got the traitor!" A voice boomed from far away. Asha turned and saw a group of guards came charging for them.

How did they know? How did they know?!

Simon stepped in front of the guards. "Guys, wait, wait. I can explain-"

"Quiet, Simon! You're not going anywhere either." One if the guards gruffed at him and pointed his spear at the boy. Simon was surprised he was even being treated like this, but he didn't argue. He simply stepped back with the other teens shielding Asha.

Valentino scrambled back and hid behind Asha, now scared to move from her side.

Asha could slowly feel the fear in her building up again. She couldn't figure out why or how Magnifico knew they were back. Had they lost so much track of time that he was able to find them while distracted?

Star wanted to help Asha, but with too many people around, he could put everyone in more danger by exposing himself to the citizens. He saw Amaya emerge from the guards and his fear started to turn to anger.

"At last, you've finally decided to return to us." she spoke in a firm tone and gestured to the teens surrounding her. "And I see you're not alone this time. You've managed to trick even more people under your spell. Trying to grow yourself an army to attack us?"

"Your highness, I think we can just talk about-" Hal started only for the queen to swiftly raise her hand to silence her.

"No need for excuses." She said coldly. "It would seem that we've had several traitors under our noses the entire time. This simply cannot continue."

The rest of teens looked surprised. The queen wasn't even going to listen? It was looking like Asha waa right after all...

Gabo pulled out his dagger, making a couple the guards aim their spears at him now. "We ain't scared of you! Well, maybe Safi is, but aside from him, we ain't scared of you! I knew you guys were evil this whole time!"

Amaya laughed at his pathetic excuse for bravery. "Oh please, spare your theatrics. We all know who the real villain is here. But luckily for me, someone was brave enough to come forward and bring you to justice."

Asha noticed that two of the teens were still missing. "Oh no..." she whispered in horror.

Safi seemed like he caught on. "You don't mean that...there's no way that Bazeema would do this!" for the first time he finally spoke up without sneezing.

"I'm actually right here." Bazeema whispered as she popped up from behind Safi as if by magic. She actually managed to spook the guards.

"Would you stop doing that?" Gabo grunted, grabbing his chest. "You're gonna give some of us a heart attack! Shy girls... Oy..."

From behind Amaya, someone else stepped forward. Someone with a familiar crutch: Dahlia.

"I'm sorry, Asha. I just want to protect the people I love too." the baker said, with a hint regret in her voice. She hoped that Asha would understand and it wouldn't result the kingdom's destruction. "We can help you too."

Asha didn't answer back, but her eyes were filled anger towards her former friend. This was why she didn't trust others.

"I thought it was always the quiet ones you had to look out for." Dario glanced at Bazeema hiding behind Safi. "No offense, Zee." he sheepishly replied.

"None taken." the shy girl whispered.

Amaya stepped forward. "So what will it be, my dears? Hand over the traitor, or join her as accomplices?" Her tone shifted to make clear the of the consequences.

Upon on the queen's shoulder, the lynx could see Mouse!Star poking out from the inside of Asha's hood. He was ready to pounce as soon as his master gave the signal.

The air grew tense as everyone waited for an answer.

Asha looked around, all eyes on her now. The people looked scared. They had no idea what was coming, nor the influence they were under. To them, she was the threat.

She heard a noise from Gabo. "Psst. When I make the signal, you run with the rest of the guys."

Neither Asha or Star knew what he was planning to do, but went along.

"All right, you asked for it!" Gabo stomped over to one of the guards and put up his fists, looking ready for a fight. "COME ON, I'LL TAKE YOU ALL ON!" His voice was so high and raspy that he sounded like an angry duck.

At first Asha wanted to hold Gabo back, but then quickly realized that this was the distraction. She let a small smile show before she quickly ran off, with Valentino right behind her.

"I like your confidence and all, buddy," Hal commented. "But, uh, I'm pretty sure that even you can't beat all these guys." She looked on at the guards, beginning to inch closer.

"Your highness, please show...." Safi started, but then felt a twitch in his nose. "show....AAAAACHOOO!!" he sneezed so hard that he nearly fell over.

"For goodness sake, cover your mouth." Amaya scoffed. "We don't need a plague to break out."

Sabor noticed Asha suddenly was gone. He looked over the teens and saw her getting further away.

"RRRAWRRR!!" Sabor roared as his fur bristled.

Amaya was concerned something was bothering her sweet pet when she realized he was warning her. The queen quickly noticed Asha had vanished.

"The girl is getting away!" She clenched her fist. Obviously these other bothersome teens were covering for her and the star. How many more traitors were running around this place?!

Sari scrambled to his feet and ran after Asha in fear and Bazeema quietly followed. Simon jerked himself awake and grabbed Gabo, carrying him under his large arm. "Thanks, for a second there, I thought I was going to the dungeon!" the grumpy teen said, relived.

"You four, go after Asha. The rest of you take these remaining traitors away. They'll answer to the king for their crimes." Amaya ordered without hesitation.

The guards split into two groups and did as instructed. The remaining ones closed in on the remaining teens.

"They're not going to get hurt, right?" Dahlia asked, earnestly. "You promised you wouldn't treat them like criminals."

Amaya smiled at the poor trusting girl. "Of course, dear. I just need to use a little force to remind them who's in charge here. Everything will be taken care of before the ceremony."

The queen would prefer that the star is captured in secret, but things were getting rather complicated and more people were getting involved. Perhaps more drastic measures must be made...

While the queen was talking with Dahlia, Hal and Dario attempted to slip away, but the dopey teen had an idea to stop the other guards from getting Asha.

Dario jumped in front of the guards path. "Hey there, gentlemen! You want to see a trick? I've been working on it all week!" He took five colored balls out his pocket and started to juggle them like a circus performer.

The guards ran passed him as if he wasn't even there, kicking up a cloud of dust. "Come on, I barely got started!" Dario shouted to them, disappointed.

"You can sulk later, we gotta go!" Hal told him as she raced behind the guards. Dario soon followed after.

As the guards started to get closer to the rest of the group, an idea sparked into Asha's head. "Star, I know its risky, but can you-"

As if reading her mind, Mouse!Star grinned. "Go for it!"

Asha turned to face the guards, let Star crawl into her hand and swiftly tossed him forward. Before he landed on the ground, a blinding flash appeared and in place of the yellow mouse, the star had become a large grinning bull. And he was CHARGING TOWARDS THEM.

(Fun fact, Disney made a Ferdinand short in 1938, they own two versions of the character now! 😆)

The guards screamed and scrambled over each other trying to get away from him, only for a couple of them to get bucked clear back where they came from. Dario and Hal jumped out of their way just in time, and could see the poor guards soaring over their heads.

When the rest of the guards were far away enough, Bull!Star skid to a halt. "Ha! That's right, you mess with the bull, you get the-gasp-" His attention turned towards a pot of flowers sitting on a nearby windowsill. "Are those daisies?" He trotted over and took a big sniff of them.

He hadn't been able to take much more of the beauty of Earth for a little while and got distracted.

"STAR, STAY FOCUSED, WE GOTTA GO!" Asha's voice echoed to him as the others started to get farther away.

Star was shocked back to reality. "Right, right. Sorry!" He ran back towards Asha and the others, with Hal and Dario finally catching up.

That bought them some time, but Simon looked over his shoulder and saw a new batch of guards-now even bigger looking-coming for them. One of them was his own father.

"We can't keep running forever!" Simon told them, now he was beginning to get tired himself. He normally didn't run this long outside of knight training. "We have to find a place to hide and fast. This whole place like a maze!"

"You all are not going to fit inside my hideout. Especially not Simon." Gabo warned them. Asha and Star seemed to be his exceptions to staying there.

"I'm pretty sure they've raided your place now thanks to Dahlia." said Asha, still bitterly reminded of her betrayal.

Gabo's eyes widened in horror. "THEY'RE GONNA TELL MY MOM ABOUT IT, AREN'T THEY?! She's gonna kill me!" One of the rare times he remembered he's only fifteen years old.

Dario attempted to reassure him. "Nah, I think the king will kill you first before she can even be mad!"

"SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!" Gabo shouted back, hitting him in the arm.

Bazeema looked nervous, but she had an idea. "Um, I have a place we could-"

"Wanna try just skipping town?" Hal suggested as they came across a two way path. "If star can move fast enough like he did before-"

"He nearly destroyed half the city yesterday." Asha cut her off as she signaled them towards the left route.

"I said I was sorry!" Star defended himself. He was a bit slower since he in a rather large form and the path was getting narrow.

"Don't be, that was glorious!" Gabo laughed, reminiscing about that day of terror.

Eventually, they turned a corner down the alley and were met with a stone wall.

"Oh great! The biggest cliché that could ever happen, A dead end!" Gabo exclaimed as he kicked a rock that hit the wall.

"I'm too young to go to jail, man!" Dario panicked, pulling on the ends of his hat in fear.

"I knew this was going to end bad- AAACHOO! AAACHOO! AACHOO!" Safi sneezed uncontrollably.

The impact budged the wall slightly. Gabo didn't notice, but Valentino did and walked over to it. While the others were arguing, Bazeema noticed him getting curious and followed him.

Valentino followed the scent on the ground all the way to the wall. There were several planks of mahogany wood in front of it. The scent was coming from behind the wood, so the goat tried to move the wood himself, but it was too heavy.

(Yes, I had to change the literal ass scene, who even approved of that-)

Bazeema realized he found her secret entrance. Now they could escape easily! "Good boy, Valentino! You just saved us!" She praised him as he patted his head.

"Maaaa!" He replied, his tail wagging happily.

The shy girl turned to her arguing friends to tell them the good news, "Asha, your friend found my-"

"I'm telling you, I can just take my dagger and-" Gabo began to pull out his weapon.

"Gabo, for the last time. You're not stabbing anyone!" Asha's scolded him.

Bazeema tried again. "Um....its okay, really. Valentino found-"

"I could throw my balls at them! They didn't even stick around to watch my juggling trick." Dario chimed in.

"Oooh, you're doing your magic trick again?" Bull!Star perked up.

"Now's not the time, fellas..." Hal attempted to get them to focus again.

Clearly they weren't getting anywhere and for the first time in her life, Bazeema was getting frustrated. Everyone could be caught at any moment, and they were all busy arguing (or sneezing in Safi's case). So she did something she thought she would never do...

"PLEASE BE QUIET AND LISTEN!" she shouted. Yes, actually shouting!

That finally caught everyone's attention and silenced them.

Bazeema immediately coveted her mouth and returned to her softer voice. "Valentino found another way out. Its behind this." she gestured to the blockage. "But I can't move it."

Asha could hear the sound of horses approaching, followed by a man shouting orders. "We need to hurry. Simon, can you break that down?"

Simon wondered why the literal bull couldn't do it, but there was no time.

Bazeema took Valentino away as Simon stomped over to the wood. He cracked his knuckles and raised his fists over his head. "Better stand back, I'm gonna wreck it!" He warned them.

With a loud grunt, he smashed the area with ease. Simon gestured for everyone to get inside, quick.

Star transformed back to his human form and used his glow to light the way in.

As the teens made their way inside one by one, Bazeema gingerly apologized to Asha. "I'm sorry I yelled."

Asha smiled. "Don't be. You found your voice after all."

Bazeema returned the smile and was the last to enter the hole.

Gabo's voice echoed from inside. "By the way, how are we going to cover our tracks?"

"Oh, I got it!" Star replied.

A small wave of golden dust swirled around the fallen debris and everything put itself back into place, right before the guards passed by.

Back in the heart of the city, some of the people were murmuring amongst each other. They were in shock of not just one, but several traitors were right under their noses. The Queen calmed everyone down with a soothing spell. Soon, they were back under control and carried on about their business as if nothing happened.

Dahlia did feel a bit bad about scaring everyone, but at least it was only temporary. Everyone would be at ease again. Sure, she ousted the traitor, but made it clear to the queen that she didn't want Asha's hurt. If she could see Magnifico really was a generous man, Dahlia knew she could help both sides.

Amaya gave Dahlia an assuring smile. "Don't worry, my dear. You've done a great service to Rosas and the people." She said in an almost motherly tone. "Thanks to you, the traitors will be brought to justice. Magnifico will be delighted to meet the hero of Ross and give you what you deserve." The last sentence sounded rather odd to phrase, but maybe Dahlia was slightly put off by the way Sabor grinned at her.

Dahlia had mixed feelings about this, even though she shouldn't. The baker was absolutely certain that bringing Asha to the royals would not only keep Rosas safe but also clear up a misunderstanding and Magnifico could help her family. If she really was helping her friend, why did it feel...bad?

Perhaps the king would ease her mind...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

FINAL THOUGHTS

IT'S FINALLY DONE, HOORAY!! 🙌 I know it took me forever to make this, I'm glad it was finished! One part was because I was really busy with work and this chapter wouldn't leave me the hell alone to finish, and the other is that its been pretty difficult to write all the teens lines. As someone who grew to like the idea of a Seven Drawves styled group, I thought they were pretty bland in the movie. And from the art book and deleted scenes showed, they were meant to be much more but got cut down. So I really wanted to show them all having distinctive personalities, could banter with one another, and actually grow in their friendship with Asha and each other. Which brings me to my next thing...

YES, THE TRAITOR IS FINALLY REVEALED IN HERE, AND I CAN TALK ABOUT IT, I'M FREEEEE!!!!!

So yeah, instead of Simon, its Dahlia! I've been keeping this plot twist a secret for almost a year because I really wanted to do something different with the traitor idea. I chose this because during one of the deleted scenes, Dahlia was sent to work in the dungeon, while everyone else sneaked in. Simon was with the group, so that means in the original film, he wasn't a traitor. He was helping Asha. Dahlia mentioned she saw Magnifico's true nature and that she was being punished "for what they did". Which got me thinking, what if Dahlia was the traitor in the original movie? She's the one that believes in Magnifico the most and refuses to see the truth, so what if she ratted them out, thinking she was doing the right thing? What if Asha was betrayed by her best friend? From there, I rolled with it.

As for the story itself, strap yourselves in, because the next few chapters are gonna be WILD! And I'll finally get to the juicy stuff I've been wanting to write for months!

And yes, the poster is nearly done, ITS JUST TAKING FOREVER-

Thanks for reading!

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[deliciousangelfestival]

My Problematic Girl - 12

Character: College!Steve Rogers x Rich!Female Reader

Summary:  Steve's mundane life in university, focused on graduating and funding his mother's surgery, is shaken by a mysterious new student who brings danger and surprises.

Author's Note: I decided to stop using "Y/N." Starting from this chapter, I will use the second-person point of view instead.

My Problematic Girl - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Your heart was beating fast as you approached Maximus, the patriarch of the Solomon family and the man who held the key to uncovering the truth about your mother's death.

Maximus, sitting in his wheelchair like a king on his throne, smiled at you. But you knew there was a hidden meaning behind that smile.

“You’ve made your way back. I’m impressed,” he said.

You bowed deeply. “I will do anything to impress the king.”

“Hahaha.” His laughter echoed through the grand hall, drawing the attention of the guests. Even those who had worked with Maximus for years rarely heard him laugh.

But you, the outsider who was thrown out for staining the Solomon name, were welcomed back.

Your father, Brian, stood nearby. His expression was neutral, but you could tell he was impressed that you had managed to gain Maximus's favor. He just hoped you wouldn't mess up this chance again.

Shara, your step-sister with no blood relation to you, stood between her grandfather and your father. To outsiders, she looked like your father's daughter. She had successfully stolen your father's affection, and you had willingly let her. She smiled at you. “Our house felt empty without you.”

You returned her smile with a fake one. “Hmph.”

This was the first time Steve had seen your step-sister. The difference between the two of you was like fire and water.

“It’s exciting, right? I heard the battle of succession will happen soon.” Steve nearly jumped when someone suddenly spoke to him.

“Why do you act like you’ve seen a ghost?” The stranger laughed. “My name is Derick. I saw you talking to Sophia. Does your company work with her?”

Steve quickly tried to remember the guest information you had given him. Derick was an elite from a wealthy family who owned an oil company.

“She’s interested in my painting,” Steve replied.

Derick gasped and covered his mouth with his hand in mock surprise. “Oh shit. You’re that painter.” He tilted his head, a mocking smile on his face. “So you’re just extra baggage, huh?” Then he walked away.

Steve didn’t know whether to feel offended or not. He wasn’t entirely sure what 'extra baggage' meant in this context.

'Ding.'

A small ring from the butler's bell silenced the room, drawing everyone's attention. “The dining room is ready for the guests,” he announced.

The guests began to make their way slowly toward the dining room. Steve hesitated, unsure if there was a seat prepared for him.

“Steve,” you called, nodding your head for him to follow you.

The dining room was immense, decorated with the opulence of a five-star French hotel. The elegant table settings and luxurious interior reminded Steve of scenes from the magazines he used for drawing references. It felt like a feast fit for a king.

Now, he regretted following you. He was seated beside you, directly in the circle of the Solomon family. He felt terrified, especially under the scrutinizing gaze of Maximus. The intensity of it made him want to crawl under the table.

“So you’re the new rising artist?” Maximus asked, his voice cutting through the chatter.

“Yes… sir,” Steve replied, his voice trembling. His nervousness almost made Sophia and Shara chuckle.

“You found an obedient pet,” Maximus remarked to you. You sipped your champagne before responding, “I need something to rid me of my boredom.”

Steve rolled his eyes. The conversation between you and Maximus sounded almost familial. Despite the initial fear, he started to see Maximus not as a terrifying patriarch but as an old man with a sharp tongue and a certain charm.

But Steve spoke too soon. He soon saw the true nature of Maximus—a sadistic man.

When the food arrived, everyone began eating except for Maximus. He never moved his hands from the armrests of his wheelchair. Three servants attended to him: one cutting his food, one feeding him, and one providing water whenever he asked for it.

“Water,” Maximus demanded. If the servant was too slow, he would slap the glass from their hand and say, “Too late.”

'What the fuck? This old man can use his hands. Why is he acting disabled?' Steve thought, trying to hide his shock. But Maximus could read him easily. His old age had taught him to read people like a book.

“You wonder why?” Maximus asked, his piercing eyes locking onto Steve's.

Steve stiffened, unsure how to respond. He glanced at you for some guidance, but you were calmly sipping your champagne, seemingly unbothered by the tension.

Maximus leaned forward slightly, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Power, young man. It’s all about power. I don’t need to lift a finger because I’ve trained everyone around me to cater to my every whim. It’s a demonstration of control.”

Steve swallowed hard, nodding slightly. “I see, sir.” The answer is the same as you. Turned out you learned from him. No wonder why you mind fucked up some time.

Maximus chuckled, the sound sending a chill down Steve’s spine. “Do you? It’s not something you see, it’s something you feel. The weight of authority, the expectation of obedience.”

Sophia leaned in, her gaze fixed on Steve. “You must understand, in our world, appearances are everything. Power is maintained not just through actions, but through the perception of those actions.”

Steve nodded again, his mind racing. He could feel the eyes of the entire table on him, judging his every move.

“Eat, Steve,” you said softly, breaking the tension slightly. “Enjoy the food.”

Steve picked up his fork and began to eat, his hands still shaking slightly. The food was exquisite, but he could barely taste it over the anxiety roiling in his stomach.

‘Ding. Ding.’

One of the guests stood up from his seat. Steve recognized him as the country's economic minister. Silently, he marveled that someone of such importance was among the guests. The minister raised his champagne glass, and everyone followed suit. “We’re here to celebrate a genius businessman who has made us all rich.” His remark made the guests laugh. “We wish you a long life, Mr. Solomon.”

Maximus nodded his head and made a hand motion for everyone to sit. He didn’t say a word, yet everyone obeyed him. He was right; money and power could command such respect.

“I did. I made everyone in this room fucking rich,” he said, his voice filled with authority.

Everyone laughed and agreed with him.

“I’m grateful that all of you are here, wishing me a long life. But I have decided to retire,” Maximus announced.

‘Clink.’

A fork fell to the ground, the sound echoing in the room. Silence followed as everyone processed the announcement. Even Sophia, Brian, Shara, and you were shocked; Maximus had never mentioned retiring.

“Father…” Sophia tried to intervene.

“Be quiet, Sophia. I’m trying to talk here.” Maximus slapped her hand away, embarrassing her but remaining unfazed.

“Everything changes as I grow older. My generation is slowly dying, and the new generation must take over,” he continued.

The guests started murmuring. ‘What does it mean?’

‘Is he going to give the company to Sophia or Shara?’

“There are two people I see as my future heir. Shara, my granddaughter.” Maximus looked at Shara, who turned pale, anticipating the next words her grandfather would say.

“And my step-granddaughter, Y/N,” he declared.

The room erupted in noise. Everyone began talking at once. He skipped his daughter Sophia from the list and chose his granddaughter instead. Sophia turned pale as snow, her father not even considering her worth it.

“Sir, you’re going to give the company to someone not related to you?” one of the guests asked.

“It’s my fucking company. I can do whatever I want,” Maximus screamed, punching the table.

Steve flinched, realizing just how terrifying the old man could be.

“Besides… she has my blood,” Maximus revealed, dropping a bombshell.

You looked at him, confusion and questions etched on your face. What was he talking about?

Maximus smiled at you. “Eight years ago, when you needed a blood transfusion, I gave you my blood. So my blood is running through your veins right now.” He said it like he gave you a wonderful gift.

You were shocked, looking down at your arms. You had no idea. Confusion and disgust washed over you at the thought of having Solomon's blood.

Brian glared at his father-in-law. “You’re a prick.”

Maximus smirked. He slowly stood up from his wheelchair and opened his arms wide. “Like a king in the old days, he would choose a successor from his descendants. He would pick the best.”

Shara gasped, unable to believe her grandfather was serious. She looked at you, who was smiling at her like a joker. You were excited for this. You couldn’t wait to bring down this kingdom.

“Let the battle for succession begin!” Maximus proclaimed.

The tension in the room was palpable. Guests whispered among themselves, their faces a mix of shock and intrigue. Maximus’s declaration had set the stage for a fierce and ruthless competition.

You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. The prospect of this battle excited you, the chance to prove yourself and to upend the established order.

Steve, still reeling from the announcement, tried to maintain his composure. He glanced at you, noticing the fire in your eyes. You were ready for this challenge, ready to face whatever came your way.

Maximus returned to his wheelchair, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “This will be a test of strength, intelligence, and loyalty. Only the best will inherit my empire.”

Sophia and Brian exchanged worried glances while Shara’s face twisted in fear. The room buzzed with anticipation, the air thick with unspoken rivalries and ambitions.

The murmurs of the guests could be heard, expressing a preference for you instead because you already have experience and started from the bottom, while Shara is still learning to become a doctor.

The guests couldn’t stop discussing the impending battle as the evening continued. You and Steve found yourselves at the center of attention, every move scrutinized, every word analyzed.

Maximus watched from his wheelchair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He had set the stage for a power struggle that would test the limits of everyone involved.

The night ended with a sense of foreboding and excitement. The real game was about to begin, and in the world of the Solomons, only the strongest would survive.

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A:n- 𝘴𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘰...

𝘌𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦.

𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 from 𝘰𝘧 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘴

(Slight yan) Sherlock Holmes x male reader

.

.

.

.

It wasn't the fact you were too quiet. No, he is fine with people been quiet.

And there are many artist.

Illustration, architect, and... Good in chemistry and painters.

Nor he should bother himself to name all of them.

But something was different about you.

You have knowledge he knows but you pretend you aren't compatible in intellect.

He doesn't get you at all.

Not even one bit.

He doesn't.

Perhaps he was annoying you often.

Perhaps...

But you don't seem to bother much so it's fine right?

Confining yourself in the room he had to unlock it because you make Miss Husson worry perhaps... Even him.

Friends... Were you even his friends can you both call each other that? He wonders.

People will lose interest in silent people who barely talks but he couldn't.

He never understands you or perhaps he does but never really takes into consideration that he may over bothering you.

Right...?

You were so unbothered... So blank with poker face of sort.

Not even a smile.

And the fact he gets annoyed that you can't even draw him unlike how you drew the others.

He wonders why you often hang out with Madeline either.

Yes she is pretty but isn't she overbearing sometimes? Like often hog your attentions?

Hugging you as if you both are couples.

Trying to swoon you with her smile and.. And.. He doesn't know why.

He felt irritated that you never told her to keep distance but to him.

Hey both of you were boys either way it wouldn't bother you to hug you... Will it?

Even John and you hang out quiet well.

you spoke more with John than... Him.

And whatever he does it never... Get your attention.

Like... He never caught your attention.

He doesn't know why he is feeling this way.

Frustrated he was and annoyed.

But... He just want to hug you is it... Weird?

Or will it bother you if lean closer to you more?

I mean... Okay you are irritated by the cigarette smell... Which he try not to smoke often around you.

He doesn't understand you at all.

He felt his mind been consume constantly... By either the case he should do as a detective or... Try to...

Why were you so... Difficult.

His brother said women's are hard to tell but for him it was you.

He... Just want to see... Your smile.

Once.

That's all he ask.

And perhaps... He will crack you open more.

He doesn't understand why you talk to William well too.

Like you both knew each other well.

He knows Liam also is interested on you.

He is too he admit.

You were strange.

But perhaps that's the strange thing he find himself lured to you.

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But he isn't going to ignore some who try to break your boundaries.

Clients or not if they make you uncomfortable to even approach him he will make sure they won't come again.

No no he won't resort to anything threatening yet. if the person knows and backs away.

Is it wrong to get know something that perk your interest no right?

After all... You and him are not far of to get to know each other more and more.

And perhaps... Something more.

After all... He can let himself be slight greedy can he?

He doesn't know... And he will try to know.

Whatever is it about you that make him feel so connected and lured he will... Find it.

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A:n- that's all take care good day/night to all

[mikareo]

⌗ ROMANTICISM ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ there are so many words he wishes he could take back, and he realizes now that he loves you. he loves your colorful laugh, beauty, and passion - all he needs now, is to tell you...and say those three little words. (part two of rationalism - must must read first!!!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, rin hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, swearing, immense fluff, , kissing, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, happy ending!!! author's note; this was originally supposed to end with reader getting into a car accident and d-wording the day of her art gallery...but i changed my mind :D

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does. 

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Rin wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers. 

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Sae’s call is distant from the turning gears within Rin’s brain. He’s sure that his brother has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Rin feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk. 

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Rin had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Sae continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Rin hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Rin care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Sae scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Rin stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Sae holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his older brother chuckles, causing Rin to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Sae continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Rin takes his brother’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him. 

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Rin’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other. 

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears. 

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth. 

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Rin doesn’t even know. 

It could’ve been when you showed up to his game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Rin!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Isagi - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rival from that day. Rin was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good. 

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things. 

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Rin’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Rin, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard. 

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Rin! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Rin’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Rin feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Sae to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Rin on the back. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!” 

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Sae eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Rin knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along. 

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Rin’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing. 

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Rin knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you. 

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Rin can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago. 

Rin has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you. 

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back. 

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Rin hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him. 

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before. 

“Rin?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Rin, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?” 

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Rin Itoshi.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Rin fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you. 

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Rin relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Rin’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right. 

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Rin can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls. 

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Rin almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful. 

Rin brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it. 

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay. 

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it. 

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they're a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own  - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him. 

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel. 

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Rin cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss. 

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

read the final part here. THANK UUUU

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[wanderingaldecaldo]

Tagged by @gloryride, @gamerkitten, @chevvy-yates, and @aggravateddurian to share something I'm working on. Thanks, chooms! Still leaning into the ADHD, so there's several things I'm working on simultaneously. Most recently it's been...

Modding

The cutoff vests are 95% done, just need a few touches before I can make them live on Nexus, so what better time to start a new modding project? 🙃 A friend mentioned wanting Vik's pants and I'm always looking for more butch clothes for Val especially ones that ride low on those hips but also the belt & tools seem like a fun project.

Unedited. Not bad for an hour's work ☺️

Both the pants and belt are simple replacers to start while I test. I have some clipping to deal with on the pants, but so far the weights look okay. 🤞

As for the belt, I lost the tools somewhere between Blender and Wkit lol. I wanted to take a go at texturing them in Substance Painter so I split them off into their own submesh. Not sure where I lost them but I'm sure they'll turn up again.

Writing

It's fitting that Durian tag me because my latest writing was incited by a scene in his fic "The President's Lady" in which Myers invites Sol and V to lunch at the White House. I'm going for a more, uh, traditional take on The Tower ending than he is, using my fave angst, combined with some good ol' longing and probably some flashback smut. I've been canoodling on this in my notebook since Durian's chapter came out, writing a bit each night before falling asleep. I started transcribing it just for this post, so here are 315 of 338 words, hot off the Google Docs.

Some backstory: The second time I played Phantom Liberty I beelined to Dogtown, and skipped meeting the Aldecaldos and doing pretty much anything past finishing the VDBs quests. Vik was the only one who called, and she decided to take Sol up on his offer of a job at Langley. Soon after she's back in DC, she gets an invite to lunch from President Myers.

“Thank you, Madam President.” “V, please. No need to be so formal. I believe we’re well past that now.” “Heh, just a few weeks ago, told you—” “Yes, V,” she cries out, breath hot against her neck— Stopping, Rosalind turns to look at her, eyebrows and lines of her forehead drawing to a point, as if finally she recognizes V for who she still is. “I suppose that really was like yesterday for you.” The lines soften and she leads V to a sofa across the room, gesturing for her to sit first, then sits close and takes her hand. Long, graceful fingers teasing her skin— V stares down at her hand in Rosalind’s, her arms blank of cyberware still a disconcerting sight, but she doesn’t pull away. “How are you feeling? I can’t imagine the news was easy to hear.” “No, wasn’t,” she says with a shake of her head. “Thought I was gonna die a merc but now....” “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to tell you myself. Solomon suggested it would lead to too many questions among the staff. He’s right of course, but I still feel I let you down.” V frowns. “Ma’am?” “You weren’t my agent for long, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t important. What you did...” Rosalind trails off, eyes dipping to her mouth before she drops her gaze to their hands on her lap. Her nails are still perfectly polished, buffed to a shine. She looks up and says, “I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you did for me.” V down looks at their linked hands then, heart pounding, she leans forward to kiss her, as if she’s just any other woman, not the most powerful in the world, and Rosalind tilts her head and parts her lips and— She swallows and shakes her head. “You did, though. Least as far as I’m concerned.”

Tagging with the usual no pressure disclaimer: @medtech-mara @breezypunk @streetkid-named-desire @peaches-n-screem @rosapexa @luvwich @merge-conflict @steelscorner @ghostoffuturespast @byberbunk2069 and YOU!

Take this as an invitation to share something you're working on and tag me! Doesn't have to be Cyberpunk, or anything fandom-related!

[randomgentlefolk]

CPC CHAPTER 167

YO PROPS TO WITCH!!!

Hm, I wonder how Leelathae writes in her diary? I mean, does she write them in just dialogue, or narrative, or what? Either she is writes in dialogue, or she described the witch pretty well for Gwen to recognize who the witch is.

I mean, I didn't expect these ingredients, but sure. Does this imply there's a cemetery near The Pastel Kingdom? Cause Leelathae isn't allowed to be far from home, right? And I doubt she would ask someone to get dirt from cemetery for her...

I wonder what Leelathae plan was? Cause she didn't get the chance to execute it since her portrait was stolen by Leland. Or maybe she did execute it while in the Plaid Kingdom?

I agree with the witch so much. The painters fr did Leelathae dirty 💀

THE WITCH WASN'T LYING. SHE DOES LOOK COOL AF. LIKE. BRO?? HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO FALL IN LOVE.

Huh. How does the ingredient turn into a paint-like liquid?? None of the ingredients are liquid based. Maybe the dirt?

This whole spell thing is sick man. It's so dang cool!! I wonder if anyone notices Leelathae sparkling?? I mean, one of the maids has got to notice right?

Also I've never knew there's tea inside snickerdoodles (chai is tea, right?). Well, it's not like I've ever tried snickerdoodles, but last time I read the recipe, I don't remember tea being in the recipe. But that was years ago so it might just be my memory.

Well, the mystery of the portrait is finally solved! And yet there's another mystery.. what writing did Leelathae put behind her portrait? Yes, the diary is one of them, but there are other things too. Like those brown and green papers. I'm guessing it's a message toward her kids?

Ohh, that's why!! Leelathae was glowy because of the spell!

BRUH SO WAS IT LIKE, A MISUNDERSTANDING THIS WHOLE TIME?? I did kinda predict it in my really old post, but I was joking T_T

Something's kinda bothering me about what Leelathae said in her 3rd wish. Why is she only talking about her daughters? What about Jamie? Or is there a hidden meaning that I am not getting here? If someone would enlighten me, that would be nice.

Aw. It's actually pretty sweet when you think about how they didn't even know how to speak to each other at first, but they still fell in love with each other <3

Oh. Oohhh....okay. This doesn't justify what Leland is doing right now, but it sure give a big reason for it. Yikes. Damn. That must've hurt.

Okay okay, let me just remember the past episodes to realize all the causes here.

Leland's parents died due to tragic carriage accident (didn't a carriage accident happen more than once? Tho I can't remember to who besides Leland's parents)

His best friend, Jack, didn't arrive to Leland's parents' funeral, which is the moment he needed him the most (not Jack's fault though, since he was literally stranded in an island)

Leland obviously has a little crush on Jack, which is why it hurts him when he found out Jack brought Leelathae to Pastel Kingdom (again, not Jack's fault). I think this is where he jealousy starts, the point where Leland thinks he has to be better at every love things than Jack.

He overheard Jack saying he didn't need him, which is probably the nail in the coffin for Leland. I mean that monologue Leland has? That's kinda internal mental breakdown right there. (I gotta say, this scenario is kindaaa similar to Gwen overhearing Frederick calls her ugly. I wouldn't say it's the exact same thing of course. It's just the overhearing that makes it similar)

So! Looking at these 4 reasons, it is highly likely that Leland has some problems (no shit sherlock). HEAR ME OUT. I don't know what it is yet. I was thinking of abandonment issues, but I have yet to read much about it, so i'm not sure yet.

HAH! Glad Leelathae decided to haunt his dreams tho!

OH SHIT OH SHIT. NAH LELAND NAHHHH. HE BETTER NOT. ....well at the time i'm writing this the next episode is already out so.. guess we're gonna find out...IN THE NEXT REVIEW!!

Yeah I haven't read the episode yet lol. I bet it's gonna be chaotic though.

That's it for now, until next time.

Mono out! (But still in to hear your thoughts)

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [25]

chapter twenty-five, act three: so far (it's alright)

masterlist

March 3rd 2015

“No, no, no, no. No.”

Tommie groans rolling her eyes a she yawns loudly, “Rod-”

“No, please don’t lecture me right now, just- just let me rant.”

She doesn’t argue, just falls back onto the cushions behind her as he turns to Adam, “I need more… more emotion.”

“More emotion?” Adam asks, rubbing his hand from how long he’s been holding his guitar. This is the eighth time in the last three hours (yes, he has been sitting in the booth for three hours with no break) that Matty has interrupted his guitar solo in their new song they’re recording.

Adam runs his tongue across his teeth, “I have some emotion for you, Matty-”

“If you say anger-”

“It’s anger, that’s the emotion I have right now.”

Matty sighs, hands clasped in front of him, lips pursed as they rest on top of his fingertips like some sort of painter studying their muse.

His hair is tied up and his glasses are on his face, “Okay, yes, channel the anger, it’s a song about the patriarchy-”

“Pretty sure it's a song about your narcissism.” Tommie pipes up from the floor and he kicks at her foot as he passes, slapping an asleep George on the shoulder causing him to jump awake.

Tommie rolls over, head propped up on her hand to look over at Ross who's lounging on the only settee in their little makeshift studio in London.

“You relaxed over there?”

He grins, “Very, might just have a nap.”

“Yeah, have one for me.” She groans getting up and grabbing the guitar from Adam to take his place, “What if I do the solo?”

Everyone looks at her slowly and she shrugs, “What?”

“You never want to do solos.”

“I believe you said, ‘why would I solo when I don’t feel yolo?’.”

“That’s such nonsense, why would I say that?”

She did say it. Yesterday. After Adam begged her to do it since Matty had already been on his arse about it.

Matty sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine, whatever, I don't care, just someone do it.”

She shoos him out of the studio and puts the headphones on, they push her hair up awkwardly and when she catches sight of her reflection in the window she pats down the little Elvis styled quiff. She listens to the drum beat they’ve been working on the past week through the headphones, her head bobbing along to the beat.

Her fingers make quick work, instead of playing what Adam had been doing she lets her mind wander, moving with the beat of the drum line instead of the bass where she thinks is maybe what Adam was struggling with.

Matty swings open the door running over to her, she barely has time to put the guitar down before they’re on the floor and he's peppering kisses all over her cheeks and forehead, “You are my favourite person in the studio right now. That’s exactly what I imagined.”

She pushes him off of her and lifts herself up, smiling at Adam who mimes, ‘thank you’ through the glass.

She checks her phone for the time, 3:33 am, sighing as she stretches until her back pops, Ross distantly yelling his annoyance at her habit, “Call it a night?”

“No, wait, we have to finish-”

“Matty,” She says, turning to him and taking his hands in her own, “Everyones exhausted, it’s only been three days and we’ve almost finished the first song on the list, we’re on track, we’re not going to fall behind. And if we don’t all have a good night's sleep, in an actual bed, then we’re not gonna go much further than that.”

He sighs, head falling to rest on her shoulder as she moves her hands up and down his arms, tracing over his tattoos, “Yeah?”

His voice is muffled into her top as he repeats the word back to her.

“You tired?” She asks softly.

“No-” His word is broken off by a yawn and he brings a hand up to cover his mouth as he watches the rest of the guys start packing up.

“Come on, I’ll drive us back.”

“I’m okay.”

“If you fall asleep at the wheel and we die, I’ll kill you.”

She snatches the keys from his hand, collecting only her phone and jacket, leaving her bag here for tomorrow as she collects the boys one by one.

She drops Adam off at his place, promising to pick him up later than scheduled so he can have a nice lie in, then she drops Ross off at the end of their street before parking in the car park.

She’s staying with George and Matty for the next couple weeks as they record, it saves for the journey up and down, and she's hoping they’ll finish earlier than planned so she can go home to her own place.

When she gets in, George goes straight to his room, placing a kiss on her head and thanking her for driving before disappearing.

Matty comes up behind her as she's kicking her shoes off to wrap his arms around her and lazily lean himself on her. She pushes him off for long enough to line her shoes up with the skirting boards that are lining their flat walls. As soon as she’s standing upright again, socked feet on the cold floor, Matty’s arms are around her again.

“Go to bed.”

“Okay,” He whispers quietly, letting her go to walk to this room, “Do you-”

“Bed.”

He nods and closes his door making sure not to close it completely like George had as she lies out on their settee.

It probably takes her five minutes after her head hits the pillow to fall asleep, she’s not sure how long it is when her name is whispered and she’s shaken awake from her dreamless slumber.

It's still dark, and she feels groggy. That's how she knows she hasn’t been there long.

“Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Watch a film with me?”

“It’s like four in the morning.”

He shrugs, “It’s four thirty.”

“Go back to bed.”

“I can’t sleep.” He whispers, then when she looks up to see him, where he’s sat on the coffee table watching her, she sees the desperation in his eyes, “Please?”

He picks at the skin on his hand and when her eyes drift down to it he notices, pulling the sleeves of his crew neck over his hands to stop himself.

She nods and goes to pull herself up but he shakes his head, “Don’t, don’t get up, it’s okay. I’m sorry, shouldn’t have woken you up-”

He stands and she reaches for his hand, turning onto her side she pats the cushion and he sits there beside her. Her stomach is pressed into his side and she lifts one leg to slide under him.

“It’s fine. What movie?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know.”

She’s still holding his hand, thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of it. She looks up at him, his long curly hair falling over and covering his eyes.

“Okay, you pick one and I’ll-”

“Stay right here, it’s okay, you don't have to move.”

He moves to get the remote, putting the volume right down as George is sometimes a light sleeper.

Then he slides down to sit on the floor but she tugs at his collar, “Come up here.”

“I won’t fit.”

“You will, come on.” She pushes herself back into the cushions and he awkwardly lies in front of her. She wraps her arms around him pulling him back into her chest, her legs fitting in between his.

Button perks up from the armchair she’s been sleeping on and jumps up with them, curling herself up behind their slightly bent knees.

Matty lifts the remote, looking through the channels until he settles on some old American war movie on the history channel.

Tommie yawns, forehead resting against his neck as she plays with his long hair.

“Any reason you can’t-” She breaks herself off with another yawn, “Can’t sleep?”

He shrugs a little, his hands falling to where hers are on his stomach, “I don’t know. My head is going too fast.”

She unlaces one hand from his to lift it up to his forehead, rubbing slow circles into his skin until his eyes are fluttering shut.

“I feel like,” He shrugs a little, trying to find the right words, “Like we’re running out of time. Metaphorically, I mean we’ve completed three songs already last year, this new ones almost done, we have plenty of time. But I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“People. What they’ll think when this new one comes out, I mean they reacted-mostly- good to the first one. What if they’re disappointed. You know, what if their expectations are so high-”

“Are you happy with what we’ve done so far?”

So far they've completed UGH!, Paris, The Sound and are half way through Love Me. A few others songs are written, he also has some he won’t let any of them see yet.

“Very, it’s all gre-”

“So am I. And Ross, George, Adam, we all are. That's all that matters.”

He sighs before awkwardly twirling so they’re face to face, his nose brushes her, and when she yawns, bowing her head a little, his lips brush against her forehead, “Do you have any fears?” He asks, “About the album?”

She gives a playful scoff and nods, “Of course I do. I’m a right Anxious Annie, you know that.”

He lifts his hand, slowly tracing his fingers up her arm until they reach her face leaving goosebumps and a warm trail behind. Then he moves just his pinky finger across her cheek bone, dragging along until he pulls the stray strands of hair behind her ear.

She’s silent, holding her breath as her eyes stay on him, only him, and he whispers, “Show me yours, I'll show you mine.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

March 29th 2015

“Thanks for doing this.” Tommie says as they collect their luggage from the carousel.

Matty lifts his head in acknowledgement, “Yeah, I wanted to record out here anyway.”

She nods, “Still, thank you. It means a lot.”

“Tommie!”

She turns, smiling as they see Caleb through the crowd waiting for her. Matty watches the smile brighten just a little and he takes her suitcase nodding for her to go ahead.

She walks over to Caleb, letting his arms swallowing her into a hug as he sways them back and forth, “We finished it,” He tells her, “The EP, which means that for the next, however long , that you’re here, you and I-”

“Caleb, I’m here for work too, not just pleasure.”

“But, I’m done now, we can spend a little more time together.” He sighs taking her hands, “I know things between us have been… rough lately, but-”

“I know, and I’m happy for you guys, can’t wait to hear it, but I have recording to do too. We have to go straight there right now, you can come if you want.”

He steps back, “Uh,” He glances up at the rest of the band as they approach, eyes meeting Matty’s who's staring right at him, “I’m good, got plans with the guys, see you for dinner tonight?”

She nods, leaning up on her tiptoes, instead of letting her meet his lips he turns his head so she kisses his cheek.

She purses her lips, trying not to allow her annoyance to show and clears her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I get it, we’re in the same industry, remember. I understand.”

“Same industry, different levels.” Matty says as he walks on ahead, sunglasses on ready when he sees the distant flashes outside of the airport.

Tommie pauses for a few seconds as Adam comes up beside her, “Let him go out and distract them, we’ll sneak on past quickly then.”

She nods watching Matty lift his hand to wave at the fans and paparazzi waiting, she goes to turn and grip Caleb’s hand but sees he's walked ahead already, slipping out unnoticed with no attention on him.

She groans and turns to Adam who holds his hand out for her to take, Ross pulls her hood up and covers her face making her giggle as he tightens the strings. “See?”

“No.”

“Exactly,” He grins, “You can’t see them, they can’t see you. Logic.”

George shakes his head, sliding his glasses on, “That is awful logic.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

Tommie winces as the door is a little too loud as she closes it, she glances around the dark apartment, her backpack still on her shoulders and aeroplane clothes still being worn.

She yawns, checking the time on her phone, 5:32.

She drops her bag by the table and creeps towards Caleb’s bedroom, only he’s not there, the bed is empty, it’s been made and his bag and phone aren’t in their usual spots.

She blinks, trying to get rid of the jet lag she still feels from their long flight, never mind the added fourteen hours in the studio.

Taking her phone out she sends him a text.

To: Caleb

Where are you? X

Delivered 5:36

She sighs and looks around his room, it’s plain. White walls, three photo frames, one for each of his family members on the wall, a little wardrobe and a bed with a total of two pillows.

A noise in the kitchen startles her and she gets up quickly to go out into the kitchen.

She creeps out quietly, peeking through the little window, suddenly a head pops up and she jumps with a frightened gasp.

“Jesus!”

“Nope, just me.” James grins.

She holds a hand over her heart and shakes her head, “Scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, OJ?”

“No thanks.”

She leans through the opening to look at him, “Uh, where’s Caleb?”

“Oh, he tried calling you, did you get his message?”

She shakes her head slowly, “Friend of ours from back home, well, his childhood best friend is out here visiting, so he’s gone to see them, said something about staying at their hotel with them.”

She nods with a sigh and purses her lips heading for her bag, “You can just stay here, sleep in his room.”

“Gonna go back to the studio, left early anyway.”

James nods, “See you later then.”

“Ta-ra.”

“Who’s Tara?”

She sighs, closing the door behind her and getting her phone out. The line rings three times before he picks up.

“Can you come pick me up? Please.”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?”

“Caleb’s place, he’s not here.”

“On my way.”

She smiles to herself as she heads downstairs, “Thanks, Matt.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[wandaluvstacos]

SEASON OF BLOSSOMS

CHAPTER 13 IS UP! ($5 TIER)

Genre: Fantasy Romance Rating: 18+ Elevator Pitch: Bridgerton, but gay and with tieflings. Check out this story’s art under the tag Season of Blossoms

Includes: Mxm, mxf, and nbxm romance, sibling rivalries, romantic drama, fun sexy hijinks all around. This one’s lighter than most of the stuff I write, lol. There is a scene that takes place after an attempted suicide, but I think that’s the only thing that needs to be warned for.

In the nation of Tithly, it is custom that those of marriageable age travel to the city of Philsia for the yearly Season of Blossoms– four summer months of parties meant to provide youth the opportunity to find their spouse. This year will be the first year that all three of the Tsylgahra siblings attend: Mithleem, Anli, and Lisanth.

Three years after his wife’s tragic death, Mithleem has finally decided that he’s ready to start his search for someone new. As one of the top people in his class at the Academy and a successful doctor during his time in the army, he’s a household name and a hot commodity at parties, including one thrown by Tithly’s most renowned painter. There Mithleem is called to the bedside of the painter’s equally famous spouse, Ysaika Talorilau, and it may take someone of Mithleem’s skill to save their life.

Anli’s been to Philsia three times for the Season, but she hasn’t had much luck. This time she meets a young man above her station who shows interest, and despite her misgivings, she’s willing to give him a shot, even if the family’s new steward, Thyla Daschanhildi is quite insistent that Anli deserves better. Anli’s not sure about that, but she knows that Thyla’s only ever been supportive and loyal, sometimes to such a degree that Anli wonders if there’s more to it.

As the youngest Tsylgahra and wild child of the family, Lisanth is interested in racing horses, starting squabbles in the local tavern, and worrying his parents on the nights he doesn’t come home. However, he knows he can’t put off Philsia forever, and at the insistence of his mother, Lisanth grudgingly makes the journey with his siblings to the City in the Sky. There he meets a stranger who wields charm with just a hint of danger. Only later does Lisanth come to realize that the stranger is in fact a prince– Prince Jafkar A’nesh to be exact.

EXCERPT:

     “I’m sorry,” Lisanth blurted, trying to sort through a jumble of emotions that were in no way helped by his lingering inebriation. “I should have—I didn’t think I’d—”

            Rakfa pulled him into a firm kiss to shut him up, one that tasted decidedly of himself. Lisanth would have thought such a thing might disgust him, but he was just happy to have Rakfa’s mouth back on his.

            “A thank you should suffice,” Rakfa murmured when he pulled away, eyes glimmering with humor.

            “Thank you,” Lisanth replied dumbly.

            “Good boy.” Rakfa patted Lisanth’s cheek like one might a child. “Let’s get you a bed for the night, yes? Unless you want to sleep with your horse.”

            “Oh. Right.” Lisanth cleared his throat sheepishly. “Of course.”

            Rakfa stared at him fondly for a few seconds before cupping his jaw with a hand. “Spirits, you are lovely. I shall resist the urge to have you again tonight, as I think you’d benefit from sleep. And we don’t want your mother worrying.”

[mercysimming]

Welcome to the inciting incident the beginning!

Prev / Next.

Transcript:

Candy: It just feels like it’s time. The kids are getting older, we have more free time.

Mikhail: You’re sure? I know we’ve talked about opening a cafe for years, but it’s a huge step.

Candy: We finally have some money set aside. . .

Mikhail: What about college?

Candy: You know the college funds are good. Besides, I hear that Villareal guy is opening up a new scholarship fund.

Mikhail: The guy who offed his wife?

Candy: That’s just a myth.

Mikhail: My mom said the same thing about vampires.

Candy: It’s just something to think about.

Mikhail: . . .You’re not mentioning something.

Candy: Okay, okay. Chaya said that she and Raina would be early investors.

[info: Candy Banks. she/her. adult. very goal-oriented. from Sulani. has 3 kids with Mikhail. relatively well-known painter in Copperdale.]

Mikhail: Candy—

Candy: I know you don’t like relying on people, but they’re family. And you know they won’t miss the money.

Mikhail: Very funny.

[sound: phone vibrating]

Mikhail: [sigh]

[info: Mikhail Banks. they/he. adult. named in honor of their grandmother's Russian heritage. (did not continue that trend.) has two vampire siblings. incredibly human. don't ask them about it.]

Mikhail: Speaking of—it’s Raina.

Candy: Put it on speaker.

Raina: Hi, baby sibling!

Mikhail: Hey, Rain. Is this about the investment I’m just learning about?

Raina: Um. [awkward laugh] No, it’s actually not. I think I’ll let you two discuss that more before we talk about it. I actually was calling because, well, it’s summer break, isn’t it?

[info: Raina Banks. she/her. one of the aforementioned vampire siblings. has two kids. (also didn't continue the naming trend.) world-renowned investor. in other words: rich.]

Candy: Oh yeah, the kids are ecstatic.

Raina: Candy, hi! Well, I had a fun idea. I know you two can’t come visit Mt. Komorebi this summer, but I was wondering if the kids could fly out.

candy: Alone?

Mikhail: Julien is turning 18 this fall, love.

Raina: We would keep a close eye on them—swear. I just thought they could spent their summer break on a trip out of the country.

Mikhail: You miss them, huh?

Candy: They definitely miss you guys.

Raina: The added benefit is getting to see them. So, how does it sound? It’s fine if you guys want to talk about it first. And make sure the kids actually want to come too, of course.

Candy: Oh, they will. Yeah, let us discuss it some, though. We’ll get back to you.

Candy: Take this as a tentative probably-yes. Right?

Mikhail: Right.

Raina: Great!

Raina: Looks like we'll probably be having some guests, darling!

[info: Chaya Banks. she/her. stylist. Raina's wife. turned by Raina. (Caleb did not approve.) father is from Mt. Komorebi. moved back with Raina after becoming empty nesters.]

Chaya: Really? We've got to start getting ready for them, then!

Raina: They're going to have the best summer of their lives.

[smokinholsters]

The Lucky Horseshoes - A Heartland Season 16 AU - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Finn stood back and inspected his work. He had just finished the first coat in the kitchen and was checking to make sure he hadn’t missed anything or inadvertently smudged the ceiling where it met the walls as the ceilings were freshly painted in the renovation and were fine as they were.

This was the easiest room he was doing today since there were no encumbrances; cabinets, countertops and kitchen fixtures were being installed new over the next few days. All it would need after that was the table and chair set that Amy had ordered having decided to leave the set she and Ty had bought for the loft. She was taking her loft dishes but Lisa and Jessica had ordered her a new set of pots and pans. She’d fill in counter appliances during the next few weeks as she decided what she wanted.

Finn switched off his small speaker, grabbed one of the five-gallon buckets they were using as seats and moved into the hallway along with his thermos, a small bag and phone and poured himself a hot cup of coffee just as his phone rang.

“Hey you.” He said as he took a sip and noticed the time. It was 7:30.

“Good morning.” Amy said “How’s it going over there?”

“Good morning to you too. It’s going great, just finished the first coat in the kitchen and stopped for coffee and my breakfast bagel.”

“Wow, what time did you start?”

“Not sure exactly, maybe a little before six, I’m an early riser and I’d rather get done before dark, what’s your schedule like today?

“I have a client horse coming here because I need the jumps so I’ll spend some time with him first thing.”

“Hmmm, feel like bringing and having lunch with me?”

“I think that can be arranged, burger and fries OK?”

“And coffee would be perfect.”

“Coffee it is, not sure when though, I’ll text?”

“I’ll be here, hey, uhm, I’m not sure if I mentioned that I love you yesterday.”

Amy smiled to herself “hmmmm, well, do you?”

“I do actually.”

“Excellent then, all is forgiven, I’ll text you later.” She said with a chuckle and cut the line.

“Hey.” Finn said to himself “what am I chopped liver?”

A second later his phone rang again. “Forget something?”

“I love you too Finn.”

She cut the line then and he smiled putting down the phone and bringing the bagel to his mouth.

Later, Amy came up the stairs and followed the music into the master bath where she found Finn standing on a small step ladder just finishing the last wall.

“Nice butt for a painter.” She said which stopped him cold.

“You scared the hell out of me Amy and thanks, I’ve ways thought so.”

“You have huh, I texted and called.”

Finn smiled climbing down his two steps and reached into his back pocket. “I must have left my phone out there somewhere, sorry.”

“No matter, lunch is on the porch, is that Ok, I figured you could use some fresh air.”

“Yup, give me a minute in the other bathroom to wash up.”

“How’s your burger?” Amy asked after they’d settled on one of the porch benches and Finn had taken a bite.

“Still hot, how’d you manage that?”

“Thermal saddle bag, I threw it in the truck before I left.”

“Well, thank you for that, this is great.”

Amy smiled while chewing.

“You staying for the afternoon?” He asked.

“Yes and no. Yes I’m staying but no, not with you, I’m taking the kids out.”

“Trail ride?”

“More like a progress evaluation, see how they’re riding.”

“For whatever reason, a trail ride is a trail ride.”

“True enough, nice day for it too.”

Finn nodded while chewing and looking out at the mountain view from the porch. “Nice view, I guess most porches down here face that view huh?”

Amy smiled “They all seem to, it is a nice view, I love the mountains.”

“Bring dessert?”

“Apple pie.”

Finn smiled “one of my favorites, thanks.”

“Is there pie you don’t like?”

“Honestly, not too fond of the cream pies, doesn’t seem right, like not really pie, y’know?”

“I guess, not too fond of those myself. You uhm, wouldn’t want to skip the afternoon’s painting and come along?”

“Wouldn’t that distract you from your task?”

Now Amy couldn’t help her smile “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Yes, probably Finn Cotter, I’m not wholly enamored by you yet.”

“Yet is good, I’ll take yet.”

“Ready for the pie?”

“Yup.” He answered shoving his garbage into the paper bag they were packed in.

Finn took the time to fill their coffees while Amy packed away the garbage and pulled out the two slices of pie.

“I really think I’d feel more comfortable getting most of this painting done and ready for the next step. You and I both know things can come up that we have to deal with and right now I’m open for the afternoon.”

“No, I get it and you’re right.”

“Besides, we’ll get back and you’ll have to go fetch Lyndy and get her settled and I won’t want to paint after being out riding for a couple of hours, this is better.”

“Later?”

“How about you, me and Lyndy meet up later and grab dinner together?”

“I’d have to check back at Heartland but I can’t imagine Lyndy wouldn’t love the idea.”

“I’ll just need to head home, shower and change out of these coveralls. I’ll let you know when I’m heading out and you let me know when you’re leaving the center later.”

“Sounds like a deal though I may stop up if I have time.”

“That would be a nice surprise.”

Amy smiled as she stood and grabbed the empty bags and Finn followed her inside to the big garbage can in the kitchen. She turned into his arms and he pulled her close as he wrapped them around her waist.

“Hey, do I know you?”

Finn smiled and leaned over catching her lips which turned into a deeper kiss as Amy wrapped her arms around him.

“Are you two necking in my kitchen?” Renata asked coming in through the mud room entrance which let to the door to the back utility porch.

“Sorry Renata.” Amy said shifting to stand sided by side with Finn.

The older woman smiled “Nothing to be sorry about Amy, have you both eaten?”

“Amy brought lunch and we ate on the porch.”

“They all voted on pizza for lunch and Clint obliged them, Chicken and rice for dinner if either of you are interested.”

“We were just discussing dinner out with Lyndy but thanks anyway.” Amy answered.

“Just mind that there will always be enough for you three to join us.”

“One of the many things I’ll be looking forward to Renata, less than a month to go I’d say.”

“I guess you’re off to ride with them.” She said nodding to the outside and meaning the kids.

“I am and Finn here’s getting back to painting.”

“And how’s that all coming Finn?”

“Second coats in the kitchen, and the two bathrooms today, touch ups tomorrow and then the craftsman come in for a few days for cabinets, fixtures and hook ups. Hopefully we can finish painting the rest over the weekend. After that the furniture will trickle in.”

“Well if you need me to look out for something or any help just let me know.”

Amy nodded “We sure will Renata, thanks.”

“No need, I figure my real job is just that, to be where I’m needed.”

“Just like a mom.”

“Lot of kids around here to not have a mom.”

“Then you’re perfect Renata, don’t change.”

“I’m too old to change Amy, now you two get on so I can get my work done.”

Finn walked Amy out onto the porch and turned her to face him one last time before they went their separate ways for the afternoon.

“You be careful.”

“I’m always careful Finn, I’ll see you later. Love you.”

“I love you too Amy.” He said grabbing one last kiss before watching her head down the stairs and catch her backwards wave.

Hours later while rinsing the painting supplies at the tub in the small bathroom he heard Lyndy’s attempt to sneak up the stairs and he smiled.

“Surprise!!”

“Hey Lyndy, I didn’t expect you.”

“Momma was late and was waiting at the bus stop with her truck and I asked. Is my room painted?”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Finn started while standing and grabbing a towel to dry his hands. “Only the kitchen, this bathroom and the one in Momma’s room. Go look.”

Amy came up while Lyndy was scooting from room to room and Finn leaned over for a kiss. “So this was not an option I recall from before.”

Yeah, I ended up running late and once we were in the truck and discussed dinner she wanted to personally make her request. Lyndy come tell Finn where you want to go.”

“The Chinese restaurant.”

He glanced past her for a second where he saw Amy nod yes and without missing a beat “That’s a wonderful idea Lyndy, Chinese it is.”

“Yay!!” She cried out smiling “Is my room still white?”

“White and taped, I’m not sure anyone’s even been in there since we left it. How about you and me painting your room first thing Saturday morning?”

“I’d like that.”

“Then we’ll make it happen.” Then he said looking over to Amy. “Now, plans for tonight?”

“We have to go back to Heartland, Lyndy’s got some homework, I should check the horses and we need to wash and change.”

“How about I just pick you two up at 6:00?”

“That would be great, OK with you Lyndy?”

Lyndy smiled and nodded “Bye Finn.”

“Goodbye sweetheart, I’ll see you later.”

He leaned over and kissed Amy and then watched them head down the stairs before heading back in and finishing his cleanup in the tub.

Just before 6 Finn pulled up and parked next to Jack’s truck. He noted the line of vehicles and realized that it was a full house.

Coming in he found Lisa, Jessica and Lou each getting a different dinner task ready. Lisa at the stove, Jess at the table cutting a salad and Lou clearing out whatever dishes were in the sink.

“Good evening Finn, how’s the apartment coming?”

“On schedule Jessica, the kitchen and both bathrooms are ready for cabinets, appliances and fixtures. By Friday afternoon all those will be ready and we can paint the rest over the weekend.”

“Hey.” Amy said coming into the kitchen and immediately leaning up to kiss Finn. “Salmon for dinner here and Katie’s not the biggest fan, mind if she tags along?”

Finn shrugged “Nope, love to have her, maybe we can arrange another date night if you’re game.”

“Great, Lyndy, Katie lets hit the road. And to you,” She said facing Finn again “I loved our date but I can’t imagine how much that set you back, something local and easy this time, how about Maggie’s and a movie maybe?”

“Something local and simple then, I’ll check around.”

“Ready!!” Lyndy announced having pulled on her boots and grabbed her hat. Katie was already wearing her runners.

Amy smiled “Are we all ready?” She asked prompting the kids to say their goodbyes and head out onto the porch followed by her and Finn.

“My truck?” Amy asked, “it has Lyndy’s booster.”

“I picked one up so we don’t have to bother.”

“You didn’t have to do that but I appreciate it.”

“I saw one at a porch sale, same model as yours and it was pretty cheap.”

Leaving the truck back at Heartland after dinner, having arranged Katie as a babysitter for the following weekend, she also volunteered to get Lyndy ready for bed so that Amy and Finn could have some alone time on the porch, Katie grabbed the doggie bag for the fridge and followed Lyndy inside.

The couple settled into their normal spots on the porch. On the bench, their hats to their sides, Finn’s arm around Amy and her leaning against him.

“What’s your schedule for tomorrow?”

“Get Lyndy off to school, check the horses and work my new client horse some. That’ll determine whether to bring him to the center or not. I’m not sure I want any really problematic animals there and near the kids. Either way I’ll probably have lunch with the group and spend the afternoon. Lisa and Jessica said they’ll be here for Lyndy when she gets off the bus. You?”

“I have two clients in the morning and then I want to check the apartment, make sure there aren’t any spots to touch up and then it’s teaching at the center. Maybe I’ll join you for lunch. If it’s easier for you, you can ride that horse over and I’ll drop you home after.”

“Works for me, I’ll text to let you know either way, I’d better get in and say goodnight to Lyndy. Kiss?”

Finn leaned forward and they both shifted their bodies to where they could wrap their arms around each other. Their kiss was short but sweet and was followed by Amy laying her head against his chest and getting a last kiss on her head.

[sherwoodknights]

SP 1999 EPISODE 5 LIVEBLOG

And thus begins the final 2 parter of the series!!!!

Uh oh its 1794 and they're at an orphanage in paris

I'm gonna get my heart ripped out by the Dauphin aren't I goddammit

THE KIDS CALLING HIM YOUR MAJESTY LMAOOO

MY POOR BOY STOP SHOUTING AT HIM

I don't care what version of the story it is, I can and will get emotional over the Dauphin

LEAVE THE CHILD ALONE HES A LITERAL CHILD STOP MAKING HIM INSULT HIS PARENTS FFS

Who is the spooky man in the mask

Richard E Grant are you the spooky man in the mask

HE JUST FULL ON PUNCHED A WOMAN IN THE FACE AND STABBED A MAN IM NOT SO SURE THATS RICHARD E GRANT

Transformers wishes it has explosions like this

Awww percy being nice to the painter what a king

Women in pretty dresses yes please <3333

Marguerite in red dress is GORGEOUSSSS

Suzanne is also gorgeous for the record

PERCY AND MARGOT STOP HAVING FIGHTS IN FRONT OF THE PRINCE

SHES LEAVING HIM?????

Please tell me that was all part of a plan

I do not care if you are the Prince of England sir you will not touch my wife

Oh no

Oh I don't think it was planned at all

Margot you know what happened the last 2 times you were alone in france

Ugh ffs Chauvelin leave her aloneeeeee

"Your English is better than mine" says the British actor to the American actress

God they're so bad at small talk

Yeah Marguerite why have you left Percy we'd all like to know

Stop enjoying this so much Chauvvy damn

GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER SHES SLEEPING

Oh wait he was waking her up my bad

What do the French government want with Marguerite thoooo

OH SHIT MAYBE IT IS A PLAN

GODDAMN THEY HAD ME FOOLED

Robespierre has a model village akdndjeksndnd??????

Robespierre rolling his eyes and looking disgusted while Marguerite talks about falling in love with Percy lmaoooooo

She is a person thank you very much don't call her a piece of propaganda

Omgggg do we get to see margot back on stage lets gooo

"You should be in politics" oh robespierre if only you knew

WHY IS ROBESPIERRE LIKE A SULKING CHILDDDD

Chauvvy with a cigarette is kinda hot????

Andrew in a silly revolutionary beanie is too cute lmao

Who are they looking for

OH SHIT THE GUY THEYRE LOOKING FOR IS HANGING FROM THE CEILING

Yeah you go you funky actress stick your scene partners head into your chest

Oh god margot had to share a carriage with Chauvvy AND Robespierre?? That must have been the world journey in the worlddd

Oh nevermind the actress is a raging bitch

Aksjejskekrkrk she insulted robespierres playwrighting abilities

"It's an honour, Citizen robespierre-" "no, its an intrusion" lmao what a line

PERCY STOP KISSING YOUR WIFE CHAUVELIN IS RIGHT THERE

PERCY AND MARGOT REUNION AGAIN <3333

Uh oh the shaver cut Robespierre he's gonna dieee

He doesn't believe Percy is the Pimpernel despite the fact that he admitted it to Chauvelin??? Trust issues in full throttle I see

You go percy save that woman I believe in you

ROBESPIERRE BALANCING THE GLASSES ON THE WIG AGAIN LMAOOO

SIR THE DAUPHIN IS A CHILD DO NOT DARE BRING HIM TO TRIAL

The only time I will agree with Robespierre in this series is when he refuses to put a 10 year old on trial and execute him

Honestly Andrew looks so fit in his revolutionary disguise

Oh no where's the woman they were gonna save gone

OH FUCKED SHES BEEN DROWNED AND HER NECKS BEEN BROKEN

Stop bullying margot you bitch she's more of an actor than you'll ever be

We get a lot of sassy robespierre this episode and I'm enjoying it honestly

I hope the guy on stage rips his pants

Not out of spite or anything I just think it would be funny

I swear to god if she sabotages Margot ill cry

Girl what the fuck kind of Epilogue is this

DONT CALL MY WIFE A TRAITOR YOU BASTARD

Shoutout that one random man in the audience for starting to sing i guess????

Look he saved Marguerite from looking completely stupid good on him

Two seconds ago they were insulting her and now they're carrying her through the streets on shoulders??

Aww percy looks so proud of her <33

Another episode done!

Only one episode left this season now, I can't wait to see how this goes!!

[elejahfanfic]

klena_

_dream of love

klaus x elena_

ft. elijah & tatia

a/n: a very au story. Klaus is not (yet) the big bad wolf. Elijah doesn't know he is a Mikaelson. He is Elijah Smith, as he was taken by a witch as a baby from Esther.

I always turn everything upside down.

This is a Klena love story.

*

_the klena manip below is not mine.

*

New York

Elijah Smith sat down at the table of his lavish penthouse apartment looking at the photo of his bride to be - Tatia Gilbert.

There was not a day that he didn't miss her. Not a day passed that he did not go to sleep with the thought of her or woke up with his heart beating for his loved one.

Though he had all the money in the world and had spent every possible way he could think of to find her, it seemed that some greater power was holding all his efforts back.

"Hey" Elena walked in the lounge, greeting her  her sister's fiance.

"Hello." Elijah said putting the photographs and letters back in a box.

"You didn't sleep." the brunette stated the obvious as Elijah's ragged look, and crinkled shirt were proof enough.

"Everything just - we were supposed to get married two years ago on this day. And - oh I wish she never went on that expedition."

"Yeah - but you know that she had to go. She breathed archeology. And she is such a free spirit." Elena said, her own heart aching for her twin sister.

"Yes. That is one reason I fell in love with her. She was so full of life," Elijah drew a sad breath,"and I don't believe that she is gone."

"And you think that they will help us find her? And that they would not want anything in return - just the amulet"

"I sincerely hope so. Right," Elijah got up and now took the box, "I will get some sleep. And - you can stay here as long as you like."

"Thanks. But I will look for an apartment. It's about time"

"Damon came looking for you, and I told him not to come calling here again. He was drunk and pretty violent."

"Thank you, Elijah. I am really sorry about - the idiot." Elena said apologetically.

"No problem. I am happy that you finally have opened your eyes regarding this guy." Elijah said.

Elena nodded and turned towards the big window, gazing out, her thoughts swayed to another man and the Ball in New Orleans. 

🦋✨

New Orleans

Algiers

"What do you mean, you're packing your bags and going to New York? You don't know anyone there." Rebekah Mikaelson said to her half-brother stunned as he announced to the blonde that he was leaving.

"Marcel is there. I talked to him and he says that I can crash at his place till I got on my feet. If there is a place to make it as an artist it's there. I got to at least try. You are going away soon with your rich fiance and I will be left alone here anyway."

"Yes" Rebekah sighed, "you do. I don't know why you are not letting Stefan help you. He's got connections - he said that your paintings are good."

"You know how I feel about his snobby friends - and I want to make it on my own. Exhibit with a Gallery that finds your work worth the while. Get a proper art dealer." Kol said.

"I get you. You want to do it the hard way. And I respect that. But Stefan is a good guy -"

"Rebekah please - I know that he is - but - this is something I got to do by myself."

"All right," The blonde nodded, giving her brother a semi-hug, "I will definitely come and visit you."

"I am sure you will." Klaus put on a charming smile and now kissed his sister on a cheek as a small bye. 

"Here" Rebekah took out a wad of money from her purse, "please take this."

"Bex, I'm fine." Klaus refused the money.

"I know that you are. But New York is really expensive and - you will need this. You will give me all of it back when you are famous painter - with interest." Rebekah joked shoving the money in her brother's jacket.

"You bet I will. Thanks, sis." Klaus now took his bag hearing the horn of Jackson's car go. 

With tears in her eyes Rebekah motioned to the man to go and he left.

Well I've been out walking

I don't do that much talking these days

These days

These days I seem to think a lot

About the things that I forgot to do

And all the times I had the chance to

...

I had a lover

I don't think I'll risk another these days

These days

And if I seem to be afraid

To live the life I have made in song

It's just that I've been losing so long

In the cab that headed to the airport, Klaus looked out of the window, his thoughts now fast escaping into a daydream.

He traces her lips lightly with the tip of his finger. As she pouts slightly he feels the urge to kiss it, to wrap her up in his arms and listen to her gentle breathing.

This feeling is so strange. Could it be love? No. Though it stretches throughout his whole body. It's overwhelming.  And yet strangely makes him feel complete. It feels like he is in a dangerous fire, yet completely safe at the same time.  It feels as though his heart is dancing around his chest. He feels so light, like he is on top of the world yet his heart is constricting and it feels as if there's no oxygen in his lungs.

It's strange – frightening even – how one can go from someone being a complete stranger, to then being completely infatuated by them and wondering how it ever was that one was able to live without them. 

Will he ever see her again?