#if she ate both there she might have been more hungry than she thought at the end of the meal

[nomairuins]

i just fucking hate having ptsd all of it. so many stupid fucking things send me into fucking hysterics it sucks and i hate it and i dont want itttt anymore i dont want it.

[sawdust-emperor]

Gotta be real I do love to see people launch off of an extremely reasonable "this bothered me a bit because the tart is delicious and they don't make a lot of it" into "this person is like actually, literally going to starve other people to death when the apocalypse comes"

I haven't seen someone use Deeply Problematic unironically in YEARS. Your-Fav-Is-Problematic might have retired but they never really left

Plenty of people are agreeing and being reasonable when disagreeing but there's a handful in there hoping for a cancellation of friendship Jesus CHRIST

I went to a restaurant with a friend yesterday and upon entering we saw these splendid blueberry tarts under bell jars on the counter and we made jokey small talk with the waitress like oh, people will fight over these if there's not enough for everyone, it'll tear families apart, are you making more later? and she said no, I'm afraid that's our entire stock for today, but there are 18 slices, it should be plenty! It was a small village restaurant with only one menu du jour so there weren't any other dessert options but they don't usually get that many customers—but then a couple of large groups arrived and most people noticed the tarts like we did, and went ohh blueberry tart, it's been a while, I can't wait, and it became clear that when we'd get to the end of our meal there would be winners and losers in the blueberry tart rush

But later as we were about to order dessert I wasn't hungry anymore and I was like well that's too bad but someone else will be glad to get 'my' slice of tart—and my friend said yeah, me :) You should order it anyway, I'll eat both! At first I thought she was joking, but no. I said, there's not enough for everyone, you can't take two, and she said, we were going to order two slices, what difference does it make? and I was baffled that she couldn't see the ethical difference between two people eating one slice of tart each vs. one person eating two, when there's a limited quantity of tart. I felt like we were in a simplistic social justice metaphor it was so obvious, but there was no changing her mind. When I said "it's just... not nice" she said "okay" with a shrug, and what can you say to that. She added, you don't know any of these people and I was like, why are we reverting to tribal dynamics in a non-apocalyptic setting, how would you feel if we'd arrived a bit later and seen others ordering two desserts knowing you'd get zero? And she said, I would think that's their right, and I felt kind of amazed.

I pointed out that if she didn't think it was a wee bit wrong, she wouldn't ask me to order her second piece as if it was for me, and she said yeah maybe we don't need to do that, there's no law preventing me from ordering two desserts. What about Kant's categorical imperative Okay I guess you're not breaking any laws by taking more than your fair share of a thing other people also want, just failing a kindergarten-level morality test. I felt embarrassed for sounding like an annoying preachy rigid person so I dropped the issue, and as she ate her two slices she'd smile at me every time we overheard someone order coffee without dessert—like "See? There'll be enough, no one will be deprived of tart because of me!" as if that cancelled the fact that she didn't care in the first place. I guess it was one of these tiny issues that can still significantly alter the way you perceive a person. I tried to tell myself not to be so bothered about this small thing but I was! so bothered. And I felt like writing a letter to some agony aunt like "should I end a friendship over irreconcilable blueberry tart ethics"

[bi-writes]

you get into big trouble, and you must pay the price. but bunnies should be terrified, and you are not.

mercenary!ghost x fem!reader (part 3/?)

notes about reader: she's curvy !!!! and she knows it.

cw: this is not a healthy relationship (you're both fucking insane), mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, possessive + protective!ghost, kissing through the mask, mentions/depictions of violence + gore, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than ghost, can be easily manhandled by him), ghost is bIG, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, mw3 spoilers, fem!receiving touching + a little oral (18+), unprotected piv

his phone pings. he turns it over, narrowing his eyes at the text on the screen.

🐰: made some cookies. come over?

he runs his tongue over his teeth, clicking it lowly before leaning back in his chair. his ass hurts; he's been sitting here for hours, watching a dark window do nothing for hours.

💀: Working.

🐰: i have a surprise for you !!!

💀: Later.

for a moment, he thinks he should be nicer. give his puppy a bone. tell her he misses the taste of her pretty pussy, that he can still smell her on the mask he hasn't washed. and this is true, he knows it; he aches to go back to where she lives. he wants to see her again. put his dirty, gloved fingers into her mouth and watch her cry, soak her soft panties again, steal them, watch her cry harder when he finally gives her what she wants.

the most horrifying part is that he wants it. he wants to feel the warmth of her body. he wants to see her wide hips stutter, her pretty thighs open. he thinks about bending her over and kneeling down behind her, spreading the meat of her ass so he can watch her come undone against the velvet cushions of her couch.

you're so fucking pretty. and you're everywhere. when he grips the metal of his rifle, he thinks about how hard he was when he ate your cunt--fucking solid, balls so heavy and tight that he thinks he came for a full minute when he finally touched himself that night. when the sight of that rifle finds its target, he thinks about the way your pupils dilated when you came, the way your eyes rolled back into your head and the little sounds you made when he drank up the essence of you. when he swings his knife and plunges it into a soft neck, he thinks about your smile, the teeth you bared, the ones he wants to slide his tongue over when he kisses you again.

he had kissed you. kissed someone. the thought alone would normally make him vomit. to think of another person seeing his face, it bothered him, would usually make him feel sick--disgusted. his face wasn't meant for anyone to see, not even just half of it, and yet--he let you touch him.

and it didn't burn.

he remembers when he had taken a hand once for it. feeling someone's touch on his face, feeling scarred all over again by it, and taking flesh as their penance.

it was only fair.

there is something wrong with him. he should've killed you for it. your hand on his jaw, your lips on his, he should've killed you for touching him--and yet here he is, in another lonely room, staring at his target, thinking about how he can get your hands on him again. how he might coax you into kissing him just one more time.

he doesn't want to make it a habit. but he does want it to happen again. and it is enough that he knows he shouldn't see you again, but he will, because he's selfish. because he's hungry. because there is place inside of him, one that he thought was hollow and untreatable, that is just that much satiated whenever he is with you.

when he closes his eyes, he sees what haunts him. it isn't the memories of torture. he doesn't feel the wood of a coffin he once laid in. he doesn't feel the sting of pain when they carved layers into his face, he doesn't feel the holes they left along his chest when they rooted out pieces of him. he doesn't feel what he felt when they popped his fingernails off one by one.

no, he feels the ghost of someone's touch. he feels the rough callouses of skilled hands. he thinks of the bruised knuckles that used to scrape over the ridges of his uneven skin, and he thinks of the eyes that used to look at him as if he wasn't this mangled, forgotten thing.

he thinks of those eyes, and how blue they used to be. he thinks of what they looked like with that brightness in them, how they used to move, so fluid and easy. and he thinks of what they looked like with nothing in them. he thinks of them when they reflected nothing but the dull light over his head, and he thinks of the scream he let out when he was alone, when he still had his blood on his gloves.

ghost never begs. he doesn't beg, he never has, but he thinks he did that night. he thinks he begged, to who, to no one maybe, but he begged anyway, but it doesn't matter.

no one answered, and he knows there is a place inside of him so fucking hollow, that nothing will fill it again. a hole that only seems to be dug deeper and deeper with each thing he loses.

he never looked back when he left. he didn't say a word. he didn't even take his belongings, he just left. and the only thing he still carries with him from his past life is how good he is at killing and the extra dog tags that hang around his neck.

ghost isn't real. there is nothing about him that is redeemable, nothing about him that is good enough to love, and that is why he just doesn't care. and when he stopped caring, the nightmares went away. when he stopped wondering where they were, what they were seeing, if they would be disappointed in him, he no longer saw their faces in his dreams, watching them fade to black as the soft images turned into violent ones.

when he stopped being human, they left him, and he is so grateful for it. and that is why you were going to be a problem.

because he wants. he desires. he tastes, and he hungers, and you are sweet, and he wants to have you, and it isn't right. he knows this. he knows what it is he needs to do, but he won't do it--and there is a voice in his head that begs, from a far away place, for him to let you go.

but while he might not be human any longer, he is still a man, and men are weak.

as a man, he cannot close his eyes and forget your pretty face. he cannot stop thinking about your warm thighs, the softness of you, the unscarred skin that you wear. you wear your body as it is yours, and not like it holds you back, not like his does. your belly is full, and your heart is good, and you are warm. you aren't made of something else, you are real, and his blood runs so cold, he can't help but itch to feel you again.

there is something about you that makes that place inside of him feel like it isn't there, even for just a moment. and those moments remind him of someone else, of something else, something he once had that made him sick to think about having again.

the last time he had this, it killed him. the last time he found himself here, he didn't realize it had happened until it was too late--he was buried, deep, and there was no escaping a shallow grave this time because he thinks he loved the one that put him there. the last time he thought this way, he felt not himself, not enough, but it had been everything his life had been without, so he stayed, and he let it happen, and he didn't push him away, and now look at me--look at what I've done, look at what I've become--

men are weak. and men are lonely. and it was only a matter of time before ghost found himself there again, on his knees for something else. something soft and sweet and real, something that loves unconditionally and begs for attention and is never satiated until he looks at them and gives them what they need.

he doesn't know what he will become after you. he doesn't know what it will make of him. he knows you will go before him--he knows you will die before he does, because he isn't capable of dying, and even though he knows this as a fact, he wants to die again. but he won't try, because it won't work, even if he takes the blade strapped to his side and shoves it right through his heart.

he doesn't have one. he doesn't know what such a wound would even do. and he doesn't wish to see what color his blood will run if he does it, anyways.

you don't like the distance he keeps you at. it isn't fair. you do everything he asks--you go where he goes, you let him come and go whenever he wants, you spread your legs for him and let him have his fill, and you don't complain when he leaves even though your mouth waters thinking about getting your mouth on him and hearing him bask in his own pleasure for even a moment.

he gives and he takes, but he lets you do neither, and you want more. you know he isn't capable of more, you know he doesn't want more, but you want it, and he needs it. he needs you, despite what he says, despite how he acts, and you will give him what he needs.

you see it in his eyes. the things that aren't there, the things you think he once had but doesn't have anymore. sometimes he talks like you aren't there, and he mentions someone else.

another person. someone he used to know. someone he used to love, you think, but he isn't capable of love anymore, so you often wonder what they did to him to make him this way.

aloof. detached. so entirely fucked, he cannot make connections or hold the ones he has or let himself have what he needs. they have done something to him, and he wears the aftermath of it so clearly.

"he woulda liked you," he says sometimes.

"woulda loved the taste of y'r cunt," he murmurs once.

but they are gone. and you are not. and you know that there is something here. otherwise, he would never come back. he would not want to see you again. maybe he would have even killed you, but he hasn't, and he eats pussy like he loves you, so you decide you won't leave him alone. you won't let him go. this isn't fair, and you will get what it is you want--and give him what it is he needs.

you see him in the pub that you met in. he sits at the far corner of the bar, tucked in the dark against the wall, and he swirls a glass of bourbon in front of him. he wears a rain jacket over his dark hoodie, and you light up when you catch sight of him.

you wear something nice for him. a short skirt, a cotton shirt tucked into it, a cropped jacket over top, and your boots make you feel tall, but you know it won't matter--you'll never be taller or bigger than that large, hulking man you have your eyes fixated on.

but when he sees you, he doesn't react the way you expect. he doesn't sit up, doesn't get off his seat to come get you, he doesn't move at all. his eyes run over you, and then they move back down to his drink.

like he doesn't know what you taste like between your legs. like he doesn't know you at all.

your smile fades. you clutch your purse now in clammy hands, and you walk shakily to the bar and sit, swallowing hard as you try and hold in the shaky breath in your throat. your chest hurts a little; your heart has fallen into your stomach, and you shift on the bar stool, fidgety and uncertain.

you had been so happy to see him. you had been so excited to come here. you hadn't seen him in weeks--but the sparse texts he had sent you were enough to keep you hanging onto your phone whenever it made a sound, as if one of those notifications might be him, throwing you just enough attention to keep you on your toes, desperate.

your lip trembles a little as the bartender comes to take your order. you ask for a shot and a chaser, and you tell him to make it a double. you want to be drunk, and you want to be drunk quickly.

you tip the drink back, swallowing it down. it burns, holds a fire in your chest, and you chase it with a seltzer, swallowing down the contents of both until you slam the can back on the counter, hiccuping.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and when you realize ghost is still not looking at you, you're drunk enough to test his limits.

there's a group of boys down on the other side of the counter. they're playing darts, and they're drinking, and you slip off the barstool with a little step before making your way over cautiously. you pull your shirt down, show off the swell of your tits, and you ask them if they'll teach you to throw darts.

they practically cheer with delight. you hear one of them drool over your ass in that skirt, you hear another whine about looking down your shirt and at the peek of the lace bra you wear, and you shiver when you realize all you ever wanted was attention.

someone to tell you that you're pretty. that you make them hungry. but it isn't all you want, and they can't give you what you want.

they won't die for you. they won't live for you. and certainly, you know, they won't kill for you. but there's a man on the other side of the room that you want doing those things for you, that has the fucking balls to do those things for you, that possesses no good bone in his body that would do those things easily for you.

you see him in your dreams, breaking necks and popping kneecaps and slicing soft skin just to please you, and it makes you ache inside. you know what he does. he's never lied to you, but he doesn't always tell you the whole truth, but you fill in the blanks of the spaces he leaves behind, and you know what it is he does.

there's blood on his boots and money in his pocket, and you should be so afraid, but you never could be. not with the way he touches you. not with the way he talks to you. not with the way he puts his tongue inside of you and holds your thighs apart, and not with the way he grunts when he disappears into your bathroom to fuck himself to the image of you on your couch, half-naked as you wait for a fucking that never comes.

why won't he touch me? why won't he fuck me? why doesn't he rip the rest of my clothes off and have his way with me? he doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask for permission, but he eats me, and then he leaves me, and i can't take it anymore, please, please, please--

you're dizzy. the room spins, and the boys laugh, and your darts are hitting the wall now, clattering to the floor as they all boo and snicker at the way you're stumbling in your heels.

they're too close. you can smell the vodka and beer too much, and it's too warm because they're too close to you. someone's hand is on your thigh, another holds you upright with a grabby grip on your back, and there's someone else playing with your hair. they hum and they talk, and when they say they want to take you home, all you can do is hiccup and smile.

but as soon as you turn and leave, there's a large shadow waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall. you giggle knowingly, because you knew he would be here, and when the boys notice him, they try to take you in the other direction.

"if y'blokes knew wot was good for ya, y'd let 'er go and be on y'r way." he isn't in a good mood. he clicks his teeth as he comes off the wall, stepping under the streetlight. it makes the shadows of his hoodie darker, but his eyes are clearer now, bright under the mask as he breathes hard. he's angry, and he doesn't seem like his patience will linger tonight.

"oi, mate, relax," one of them laughs, and you giggle again when you see ghost tilt his head to the side. fuck, he's deadly, and you're wet. you squeeze your legs together looking at him, and you want him to put one big hand on your waist and tilt your head back--you want him to push his mask up and kiss you, all sloppy and soft like he did all those weeks ago. you want him to put his hands up your skirt and fuck you with his fingers right in the street, the same hands he squeezed the life out of someone with, the same hands he was going to kill these boys with.

ghost steps closer, and he goes for the nearest. brings a hand up, smacking one big hand against their cheek until their head hit the side of the building, and he crumpled to the floor in a pool of his own blood.

they scatter like bugs. stumbling drunk over their feet, tripping, and they disappear into the dark as ghost tilts his head to the other side now, looking at you.

you smile. giddy, hitting your toes together, and when you step to the side, you don't notice you've stepped in that man's blood.

"y'think this is fuckin' funny, eh? hangin' about with lot like that, y'think it's fuckin' funny?" he spits, and you put your hands behind your back, biting your lip.

"you...you ignored me," you hiccup. "why did you ignore me?"

"that wot this is about?" ghost snarls. "me not givin' you a proper look?"

you bite your lip harder, nearly drawing blood.

"i missed you," you whisper, your lip trembling slightly. "m-missed you so much..."

"fuck off with that," he mutters, but you step closer anyways. when he doesn't step back, you step forward again, until you're flush against his chest, tilting your head back to look up at him. you go languid when his arm falls, slipping up the back of your skirt just like you imagined. he squeezes the flesh of your ass before he leans down, and you whine when he presses the front of his mask against your lips. you kiss, your soft mouth kissing him through the fabric.

"is he dead?" you ask when he pulls away. ghost says nothing at first, just smooths his hand over the lace of your panties. he grunts when he slides his fingers between the seam, satisfied when he hears the squelch of your wet pussy as he pets you there. you squirm a little.

"dunno," ghost murmurs, and you get wetter you think, at how nonchalant he behaves as he touches you shamelessly where anyone might see. "fuck, bunny, y'r soakin' my fuckin' gloves."

"why don't you like me?" you whimper. you reach up and put both hands on his chest, and you dig your nails there, but you meet resistance. the muscle and fat there barely give way, and he hums when you drag your nails down, anchoring yourself to him. when you meet his eyes, they are dull, and you know he doesn't care. "i-i like you...i-i like you so much..." he huffs in annoyance, but you keep going, "you like someone else," you whisper. "there's someone else..."

someone else. as if there is some kind of competition, and maybe there is, but it isn't what you think. there is someone in his head, someone that screams for him to leave, someone that begs him--simon, please, yer goin' to hurt 'er, please, she's so pretty, please--but it isn't because he loves someone else, it's because he did love someone else, and he doesn't think there's room for more.

but he also cannot explain what swelled in his chest when he watched you with those boys. the searing heat of emotion that bubbled in his throat, and how the only relief he feels is the satisfaction that the boy at your feet bleeds because he put his hands on you, that is good, make them suffer, touching what fuckin' belongs to me.

there's a breaking point. it's the law of physics. something as rigid as ghost could only bend so far back before it reaches the elastic limit, and then it is deformed, and then it snaps, and then it is two pieces instead of one that cannot be put back together--and he feels it. he knows this is it. the fine line between what was and what is, this is it, it's too late--shut the fuck up, johnny, it's too late, i have her, she's mine, get out of my head, get out of my fucking head, i'm going to have her, have her, have her sweet fucking cunt--

you are bliss. you are the air that allows him to breathe. you are the threads in the fabric, the water in the soil, the heat that warms the house and breaks the soul and drives the machine.

you are in his bed, on your back, and when he slides your skirt off, there it is. the soft place between your pretty thighs, glistening and so wet, puckering and pulsing as you spread your knees for him and slip your shirt off.

he doesn't remember taking his mask off. he doesn't know where it went, but it is gone, and your lips are on his, and your tits are bouncing as he grinds his cock into your soft, squishy folds. the tip catches sometimes, and it makes you cry, and you whine when he breaks the kiss to lick your tears and taste the salt of your pleasure. the tears are heady and desperate, and he knows this flavor, and he wants more of it.

he commits this to memory. when he sits up and feeds you his cock, he memorizes the way you moan. the twitch of your pussy, the leaking of your wetness, the way you clench and tighten and grip so he cannot do anything but force himself deeper inside of you.

what is it that he loves? what is it that he loves so much that he cannot look you right in the eyes? whose body did he have underneath him all that time ago that steals him away so much he cannot fuck you the way you deserve? the way you need, the way he wants?

you reach up and grip his dog tags. they jangle against his chest as he grips your hips and fucks you, and you use them to anchor yourself, tugging on the metal necklace as you focus on the way he thrusts. powerful, smooth, with ease--he's so big, but he fills you so well, and you can't help but wonder if he's losing himself because it's so familiar. to be inside. to be gripped and squeezed and milked for all that you are, the brute of a man so misunderstood that fucks like a goddamn pornstar.

he's so good at this. when he finds the gooey spot in your cunt, he knows how to get you there. hitting it just enough to bring you to the edge, and then slowing down to savor the wet mess your cunt has become, and then doing it again. he listens to the cries you make, the crescendo of moans that you sob out that come back down when he goes softer. he thinks about this, and he makes music out of you. the pretty bunny, so fucking dumb inside, but the thing he cannot be without.

when he fucks you, he sees in blue, and he knows this isn't a coincidence. the blue in your eyes, it doens't lie--he knows what this feeling is, and he prays to no one that he can fuck this feeling right out of himself.

you come so messy. you soak his thighs, creaming on his cock as you beg him to fill you, and he cages you between his arms as he fucks harder, faster, losing momentum as he nears the same glorious high. he's been so good, but this he cannot help--not the way this feels, so familiar, so easy, so freeing.

there are no thoughts when he is inside of you, and this is bliss.

he kisses you when he comes. cups both puffy cheeks of yours as he spurts hot cum inside of you, sliding his big hands down to grip your thighs as he nestles his hips against yours. you reach down with two hands and squeeze his lower back, keeping him inside. this feeling, the feeling of being so full and warm and enjoyed, it isn't natural to you, and it isn't one you feel often, and you chase after it. you lick into his mouth and whine, and he hushes you.

"easy, rabbit," he pants, licking over your jaw, and you close your eyes. if he is predator and you are prey, then so be it. you want him to have his fill--you want him to trap you, steal you away, tuck you into this den he keeps and never let you leave.

you don't mind the blood on his boots, stained on his clothes, under his fingernails. in fact, you think about it often. you think about taking a rag and cleaning the leather of his shoes. you think about teaching him the cold water and peroxide trick to getting the blood out of fabric. you think about taking the gloves off, letting his fingers wander into the warmth of your mouth so you can suck his skin clean, all while your eyes never left his.

you think about the thing that you are. the bunny you are, the prey you've manifested yourself into, and you think about the thing that he is. you think about the dark, dense places that must exist inside of his head, and you think about how you can't see them in his eyes.

you think about being the bunny in a cage and how he holds the key. and you wonder if you would even leave if he ever let you go.

ghost loves someone else. you don't know who they are or where they've gone, but he loves someone else. but that's okay. that's temporary. that's just for now. they didn't love him enough to stay.

they didn't love him enough not to die. you don't intend to die. you're going to carve him up, right along the scars that he wears, and you're going to slip inside of him and live there forever, nestled between the organs and the black of his blood and the heart you know he doesn't have.

ghost is a thing. but he's still a man.

and men are fucking weak.

[lucedilunax]

Why are you doing this to yourself? - Q. Hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: Quinn's girlfriend relapsed to her old habits after his comment

warning: mentions of cheating, mentions of eating disorder, mentions of throwing up, mentions of sex (nothing graphic), swearing, angst, hurt/comfort

words: 2.4k

note: my first ever published fic!! I used a name instead of Y/N because i don't feel comfortable writing without names so sorry for that. Also, english is not my first language so apologies if there's gonna be any mistakes. I'm proud of this piece and I hope you'll enjoy reading🤍

if you are struggling with eating disorder, please talk to somebody, your family, friends or even to me, you are not alone in this!❤️‍🩹

masterlist

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Zara never had been in a healthy relationship. Since high school times, all her boyfriends were abusive towards her. As a teenager, she got into  love-hate relationship with food. Always blaming herself and her look for not being good enough to have a partner. When she had been multiple times cheated on, she truly believed that’s because she’s fat and unattractive. The truth was that she was looking normal, like every teenage girl but her low self confidence let her believe that she’s the problem. Zara was skipping meals and when she ate something, she felt guilty and was forcing herself to throw up. When she graduated high school, she came back on right tracks. Yes, she still was struggling and had episodes of skipping meals but it got way better than it was back then.

When Zara met Quinn, she was impressed by how well spoken he is and very respectful towards her. She truly started to believe that she deserves to be loved. He was always giving her compliments and her confidence was growing. She never told him about how shitty exes she had and her problems with eating. She didn’t wanted a pity party from him. She truly believed that she’s a new person thanks to him. After a year of dating, Quinn had been named a new captain of the Vancouver Canucks. Zara was more than happy for him because she knew how hardworking person he is. Although she didn’t expected him to ask her to move into his apartment.

“Honey, I was just thinking that maybe you would like to move in to me? You already spent most of the time here and your work is closer from my place than yours. Plus with me having a new role in club, our schedules might go crazy and I want to spent every free minute with you”. Quinn casually said when they were laying on the couch watching a movie.

“It’s a huge step in our relationship Quinny… but I’m ready for it. I would love to move into your place”. Zara said and kissed his cheek.

Next week, the couple was packing Zara’s things from her place to later put them in Quinn’s apartment. Most of the things were already in his place but they still had to pick up the rest. They life living together was like a honeymoon until Quinn got into fixation about healthy food. He was always cooking for both of them and tried to keep balanced diet. Zara started having flashbacks to her life from high school, when she was trying to keep being super healthy but she said nothing to Quinn. One day, she haven’t ate breakfast because she was running late and later, completely forgot about lunch. On her way back to their apartment, she decided to buy pizza for dinner because she wasn’t in a mood for cooking. Zara ate the whole thing on one sitting finishing projects for work. When Quinn came home after the game, he saw the box. He thought she left him some of the pizza but it was just an empty box.

“Wow, you must been really hungry that you ate whole pizza and haven’t even left ma piece”. He joked, hoverer her face fell down when she realized that she ate an entire pizza this afternoon.

“Yeah, I haven’t got time in the morning to eat breakfast and later forgot to go and grab a lunch.” Zara admitted to him ashamed.

“Honey, we talk about it. You have to eat healthy”. Although Quinn meant eating three meals per day but she interpreted this otherwise.

“I know, I’m sorry”. She went to hug him and started asking him about today’s game just to change the topic.

He haven’t missed the way her face fell when he joked but decided not to mention this. Next days were hard for Zara. She had all time in her head Quinn’s words. Every evening when she was getting ready to take shower, she was looking on her body in mirror’s reflection. She started to see how her thighs got bigger and how her stomach wasn’t perfectly flat. She started to wear baggy clothes to cover her body from the world. She was also pushing Quinn away when he wanted to have sex with her. He saw those changes but he thought that she’s just overworked and tired. He haven’t asked anything but tried to be supportive as much as he could.

When Quinn had to left her for a roadie, Zara completely lost it. No one was there to make sure she’s eating proper meals. She started skipping breakfast. On lunch, she was only eating salads. When she was at home, she haven't cooked dinner. She thought that’s the best for her to started looking more attractive for Quinn.

After a week, Quinn came back home and decided to buy them takeout food from their favorite Italian place. He knew, she probably haven’t ate dinner and was waiting for him to eat together. When Quinn stepped into their place, he met unfamiliar cold. Zara wasn’t there to kiss and hug him like she was always doing when he was back from roadie. He saw her sitting in living room and watching a movie.

“Hi honey. I hope you are hungry because I bought us carbonara from the Italian place you love”. He said and kissed her forehead.

“Actually, I’m not hungry babe but feel free to eat yours. I’ll just eat it tomorrow”. She said.

“Okay. Have you ate dinner already?” He asked concerned.

“Well no, but…”

“Then take your pretty ass to the table because you have to eat”. Quinn said surprised at her words.

“I’m really not hungry Quinn”. She started getting irritated at him.

“I’m not playing with you Zara. You either gonna eat with me or I’m gonna force you to do it”. He said firmly.

Knowing that she’s in a lost position, she gave up and went to sit with him at the dinner table. She ate half of her portion and excused herself to the bathroom. In that moment, she was delighted that the bathroom is far from the living room and Quinn couldn’t hear her. Feeling the guilt of eating pasta, she forced herself to throw up. After she was done, she brushed her teeth and came back.

“I can’t eat anymore Quinny. I’ll pack the pasta and bring it to work with me for lunch". She said, knowing that she’s gonna throw the pasta to the trash the minute she leave the apartment for work tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure. What about bath together and just laying in our bed. I’m so tired”. He proposed.

“Sounds like a plan babe.” She went and kissed him.

Two days later, when Quinn and Zara were making out, he started to pull up her hoodie. She stopped him. Quinn finally decided to confront her. He was done with her not wanting to be intimate with him. He also saw that she wasn’t eating breakfast at home, always excusing herself with running late.

“What’s happening with you lately?” He asked in the nicest way he could.

“I don’t know about what you are talking about”.

“Cut the bullshit. I know you are skipping breakfast. I am not dumb not to see you always acting, like you are late and not eating breakfast when we both know it’s a lie. Also, I don’t know what I did wrong to you, but you always push me away when I try to have sex with you. So tell me, what’s happening”. He started getting mad at her with every minute.

“Quinn, I’m telling you, nothing is happening”. She was too ashamed to admit to him her problems and decided to lie.

“Fucking hell Zara. I know you for almost two years. We live together. I know you like the back of my hand. I know that something is wrong with you. You know that I’m here for you to listen and help”. He tried so hard not to yell at her.

“I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you accusations. Everything is fine!” She screamed the last sentence and left, feeling guilt for not telling him truth.

After the argument, both of them were giving each other cold shoulder. She stopped eating at all, even the salads for lunch. He wanted so hard to find out what’s going on with her but after her reaction, he decided not to push her and wait until she tell him.

Couple days later, he accidently walked into the bathroom when she was taking shower. When he saw her, Quinn thought he’s gonna cry. Her ribs was visible through her skin. She looked so skinny that it started to terrify him. He left and went to their bedroom thinking how he should ask her about it without getting into another argument.

“Hey, can we talk?” He asked unsure of her reaction.

“Sure, What’s up?”

“I saw you in the shower”.

“Oh”. That’s all she could say.

“Look, I know something is happening with you and I don’t want to push you but your body looks unhealthy. Why are you doing this to yourself?” He said not knowing where the conversation will take him. She sat quietly for couple minutes before she spoke to him.

“Can you promise me that you won’t get mad at me when I tell you?” She haven’t been looking at him, she kept her eyes on her hands.

“I promise honey”. He saw that she was playing with her nails and decided to replace it with his hand.

“I have a weird relationship with food. I’ve been struggling with it since high school. Every guy I’ve dated cheated one me and I thought it’s my fault. I started eating super healthy but when I saw it’s not getting me anywhere, I decided to skip meals. When I ate something, I felt guilty about it and forced myself to throw up. After graduation, it got better. Sure, I had episodes of skipping meals when I was triggered but it was getting better”. She said with her tears rolling down her face.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry to hear that”. He hugged her tightly and started to smoothing her hair. After couple of minutes, he decided to ask.

“What was your trigger this time?”

“I don’t think you want to know”. Zara didn’t wanted to make him feel guilty.

“I want to know”. He said softly.

“Remember when you get back home the other day and saw the empty box of pizza?” He nodded.

“This was my trigger. When you pointed out that I ate the whole pizza and said that I have to eat healthy. I felt that you’ll find me unattractive and will cheat on me like others”. She said completely ignoring his presence. He signed, mad at himself for even saying that.

“Zara, I’m so fucking sorry for making you feel this way. It was never my intention. I was just joking but I see now how hurtful it was for you. Please forgive me”. He said with voice full of guilt.

“It’s okay Quinny, you didn’t know”.

“It’s not okay. God, I made you feel bad and I’ll never forgive myself for that”. After couple seconds, Quinn asked again.

“When I brought the pasta after I got back home from roadie and forced you to eat with me, did you… Did you throw up when you excused yourself to the bathroom?” He asked not sure if he’s ready to hear the answer. When Zara haven’t said anything, he knew how big damage he had done.

He hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. She was crying into his shoulder when he was whispering apologies into her ear.

The next morning, Quinn made breakfast for both of them. When she saw the plate, he was fast to explain.

“I know you struggle now but I want you to eat something. I’m not gonna be forcing the full meal into you and you don’t have to eat all of it. At least try. Step by step”. She felt the love and respect in his voice and decided to bite a little bit of the toast. Before she left, he gave her paper bag.

“I’ve made you lunch. Again, I’m not forcing you but at least eat the granola bar. I love you.” He kissed her cheek.

“Thank you Quinny. Love you too.” She said and gave him a kiss.

Quinn started reading books about eating disorder and was learning everything to know how to help her and not make her feel even worst. He wanted to be the best boyfriend to her knowing that he’s responsible for her relapse into old habits. When he had time, he was preparing her favorite dishes. He made one cupboard in the kitchen with her favorite snacks. Never pushed her to eat full meals but wanted her to eat something.

When Quinn had to leave her for roadie for the first time since she told him about her relationship with food, he was scared. He didn’t wanted her to skip meals while he’s gone but he also knew that he can’t ask her directly if she ate. He decided to face time her every time he knew she was supposed to eat breakfast, lunch or dinner just to check up on her and see if she’s eating at that time.

Two weeks later, Quinn came back home and could smell a steak. He was surprised because he haven’t saw Zara in the kitchen for the past two months. The minute he entered the room she said.

“I thought you might be hungry. I’ve cooked you steak with fries”. She said and went to hug him.

“What about you honey?”

“I already ate dinner”.

“Zara”. He said knowing that she’s lying.

“I’m joking. I’ve made myself pasta with pesto”.

“Good that you have jokes on you but please, let’s not joke about it”. He said firmly.

“I’m sorry Quinny”. After seeing his reaction, she felt bad for even joking about this.

“Hey! Don’t be puffy, it’s fine. I just want to be sure you’re fed and healthy”.

“Ay, ay captain. Now let’s eat before it gets cold”. She grabbed his hand and went to the table with him. After they ate dinner, he said.

“It was delicious honey. I’m so happy you’re back on right tracks. I’m proud of you and I mean it”.

“I don’t know if I would make it without your support. Thank you for everything. I love you”. She went to kiss him but he deepened the kiss.

“Quinn I have to do the dishes, can it wait?” She asked.

“Oh hell no. I haven’t had my time with you for two months and I want to show you how much I love you and how much I adore your body. I want to make sure my girl knows that she’s gorgeous”

He lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom where they had fun all night long.

---

Thank you so much for reading! This means a world for me❤️

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve is pretty good at dealing with pain. Burns, scrapes, bites, bruises, he will just grit his teeth and get through it. It's almost like the more it hurts, the less he has to think about everything. But when he starts losing his hearing, there's no pain, nothing to shield him from his thoughts.

He's terrified. He already feels isolated, singled out in their small group, and of course he's concerned about not being able to respond, to live his life as he knew it, but what eventually breaks him is the smallest thing, the most insignificant, mundane thing.

He and Robin are sorting books in the Family Video and they have this unspoken ritual - whenever there is a theme song in the movie they're watching, Robin will hum it for the rest of the day, with exaggerated movements, directing the orchestra and everything. And Steve watches her one day and realizes - he will lose this. He will never hear Robin's voice again, her slightly husky and over the top renditions of whatever unlucky movie happens to play. He can't help it, his breathing becomes heavy and shaky and before he knows it, Robin is embracing him and he's trying to explain how scared he is, how he feels like his life is basically over, how he'll miss her silliness and they won't be able to talk on the phone when she leaves for college, he can't ever hear her hum anymore...

After an emotional evening and a pizza night with their favorite sitcom - with subtitles! - on, they go to work again, but Robin excuses herself for a bit, runs into the nearby store. When she comes back, she has a large sketchbook in her hand and a black marker. She starts scribbling along to the very faded melody that Steve is registering from the TV and when she hands her final work to him, he laughs and maybe cries a little. Maybe more than little.

What Robin drew for him looks like a mountain range. She created an axis for time and an axis for the "MUSICAL DRRRRAMA", indicating how intense the music is in each moment. And all of the intensity is annotated, not a single soud described, but rather how Steve and Robin still see their world, in all its silliness. "This part is mega sharp, reminds me of wanting to stab Tommy Hagan with a knitting needle", it says next to one peak. "Remember that really soggy and stale cookie we ate at your place because we were hungry? That's what it feels like" and "it's sooooo looooong and boooooring it's like Mrs. Click's class" and "the violin here is crispy. SPICY. Like the Chinese food we had last Thursday, it kind of never wants to stop burning".

It's then that Steve knows that he will be okay. There won't be phone calls, but there will be letters, so many letters with silly descriptions and drawings, nagging to practice his ASL and visits to check if he really did his homework. Robin will be better than him at it, of course she will, but even when they'll both be able to sign fluently, she will still hand him a new melody scribble now and then.

On Steve's first birthday without sound, she gives him a huge binder labelled "For my only schmuck: Steve's album". In it are tens of scribbles, all of the melodies they hummed together in the Family Video with fresh descriptions and inside jokes. And when she stands in front of all their friends, hands raised up like a conductor and under her guidance, the whole group signs "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STEVE", he realizes that sounds might have been overrated, because there were no words to describe this kind of love.

[sopebubbles]

Master List

Twelve

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

Chapter summary: Yoongi takes you on a date

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. "I work Saturdays."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I get heat leave."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to sleep in my nest. 

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

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

"Yet," you confirmed.

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

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

"A date?"

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

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

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

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

"But what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't have anything to wear."

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

You smiled at that thought. "Okay then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"His name is Sebastián," Jungkook added. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am," Jin assured him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, I–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And one of them was female?"

"Yeah, they were husband and wife."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

"Fated mates?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Or maybe you could just hold me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you ready to go home, princess?"

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi blushed while the two of you said your goodnights. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[beguilingcorpse]

“i had one rule,” said god, who in this scene is playing the role of the First Ever Disappointed Parent. “one.”

and the no-longer-naked man said, “okay. well. maybe it was a dumb rule to start with.”

and his wife said, “didn’t you know we were going to do this? isn’t that, like, your whole thing?”

god sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose (he was very good at his part). “yeah, but not without outside influence. who told you? was it monkey? goose?”

“snake.”

“snake??”

“yeah, like.” the man put his arms to his sides and wiggled. “sssssss. that guy.”

“no, i - i know who snake is, thank you. he gave you the fruit?”

“no, she gave me the fruit.” the man was talking about his wife, who shot him the First Ever Dirty Look before turning back to god.

“and the snake didn’t give it to me.” she raised her chin and crossed her arms over her newly-clothed chest. “i took it.”

“but why???”

she shrugged. “hungry.”

“but. but i gave you food. i gave you literally all of the food.”

“not all,” said the man, raising one finger at god. “not this food.”

“yeah. hey, yeah! you said that if we ate it, we would die!” 

“okay. yes. i did say that. what’s your point?”

the man looked at god. and then at the woman. and then down at himself. and then back at god.

“okay,” god said. “i do see your point.”

“and the snake said we wouldn’t die. i said, but won’t we die though? and he said, nuh uh.”

“and you believed him?????”

“you lied!!!”

“no! no, i did not lie! i am god! why would i lie!” “i don’t know! god reasons, probably!”

“same reason you made us naked, i guess,” chimed in the man, who was wearing more clothes than the woman, mostly because he was cold. “you know, god shit.”

“don’t say shit to god,” his wife chided quietly, and then louder: “but yeah. you did lie.”

“i did not lie.” god dragged a hand down his face. “but i guess, maybe - MAYBE - i could have been clearer.”

“what do you mean, CLEARER.”

“it was a metaphor. i was talking about eternal life.”

“um, actually,” said the man, and god saw the next tens of thousands of years of that statement’s use, and groaned. “our lives are eternal. we can’t die, silly.”

god hissed in a bad news breath.

“ah, fuck,” said the man.

“dude. that’s still god.”

“no, it’s cool. i mean, that’s definitely still bad, but it’s, like, not the worst thing you’ve done today.” god waved his hand. “it’s a rough sitch. i can make an exception for fuck.”

“cool. fuck.”

“more bad news. that was not snake. that was satan. he’s bad.”

“ah. fuck.”

“and i have to evict you.” god rubbed the back of his neck. “like, both of you. forever.”

“fuck!” said the woman. “where are we supposed to go?”

“i don’t know. around? i made some other stuff out there. you can go live with that i guess, but most of it’s still pretty work in progress.” god shrugged. “you can beta test it for me. i have this guy called scorpion and i want to see what you guys think of him. he sucks. i think you’ll probably like him.”

“but...” the man sniffled. “but can we come back???”

“uh, no.” god thought about it. “i mean, yes. but not you.”

“is this a metaphor again?” asked the woman, with a wrinkled nose. 

“it’s all a metaphor.” god had just invented metaphor. he was really into it back then. “like, this is all a metaphor. and maybe it always will be. i don’t know. i’m improvising.”

“fuck.”

“okay, that was the last one.” god checked his watch. “you should probably go. some of these guys are going to want to kill you now, so like. that might be bad for you. we’ll see. no one’s ever got killed before.”

“i want to get killed,” said the man, like the toddler he never was.

“no. you don’t.” 

“but what did we gain?” asked the woman finally, as she was packing up her things to leave. “from the fruit? what was it for?”

god got a faraway, wise look in his eyes. “knowledge of good and evil,” he said wistfully.

“aw, fuck,” said the woman. “was that just to make us feel bad about breaking your one rule?”

“no,” said god, but he was speaking in metaphor again. “and i said you couldn’t say that anymore.”

“i know. and i knew it was bad.” the woman winked. “and i did it anyways.”

“oh, dip.” the man looked at his wife, and then at god. “is she going to kill me?”

“nah,” said god. “neither of you get murdered.”

“but someone does?”

god thought of the First Ever Murder Victim, and he didn’t even have to say anything for the man and the woman to know it was going to suck. 

“well,” said the man. “okay. bye, i guess. will you be okay out here all by yourself?”

and god, who knew everything, said “i mean, probably?” 

because he knew that this was just the opening scene, and he knew better than anyone that you just cannot account for human stubbornness. 

[merceyca]

Driving lesson

Neil takes Robin for a drive on one of her bad days

Campus was dead. The street lights were holding a glowing orange-and-white vigil around the empty parking lot while a single car idled in one of the parking spaces. The engine was warm, steam visibly escaping the gaps around the hood until the driver removed the keys from the ignition and held them out in offering to the passenger.

Only the lack of an audience made Robin feel comfortable enough to take the car keys off of Neil and manoeuvre herself into the driver’s seat. They could have easily gotten out of the car and swapped seats the sensible way, instead of performing their complicated over-under move atop the console, but Neil got the sense that Robin didn’t want the car doors unlocked tonight. It was a bad day.

Even though the cheery canary-yellow car was Robin’s, it was hers in name alone. Neil had been the only person to drive it in months. He didn’t mind driving it around, but Neil wasn’t going to be at Palmetto next year, so Robin desperately needed this practice behind the wheel.

‘That’s it,’ Neil encouraged as Robin eased off the brake. ‘You remember the way to the court?’

Robin nodded. ‘Left at the intersection.’

‘Blinker on?’

‘There’s no one behind me.’

‘Robin.’

Robin smirked and flicked the blinker on. ‘Sorry, Cap.’

The jokes were a good sign. On Robin’s really bad days Neil struggled to get more than a few words out of her. She had come a long way.

With her dwindling driving confidence, Robin wasn’t going to be drag racing any time soon, but Neil would feel better leaving her if she could—at the very least—make it to the court on her own.

Robin drove carefully; eyes alert, hands in the ten-and-two o’clock position, red speedometer needle hovering right at the speed limit. Neil only ever saw this kind of intensity from her on the court, but after her day of languishing in bed, it was a relief to see her slowly coming back to herself.

‘Is it left here or the next one?’ Robin asked.

‘Next one,’ Neil told her. ‘After the—’

‘After the sushi train. Yeah, I remember now.’

They were silent as Robin made the turn—blinker on—before Neil decided to push his luck. ‘Are you still not hungry?’

‘I ate that apple you gave me earlier,’ Robin replied, a little defensive.

‘Maybe we could get something from the convenience store on ring road? If I don’t pick up Andrew’s ice cream he might never visit again on principle.’

Robin frowned. ‘I thought Andrew wasn’t coming until Thursday?’

‘It is Thursday,’ Neil said gently. ‘His flight got in two hours ago. Aaron’s dropping him back at the tower later.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Robin murmured. ‘We can make a stop, I guess.’

‘Thank you,’ Neil said. As usual, Andrew had been the magic word. Robin put up with Neil looking after her most of the time, but only Andrew could motivate her to look after herself.

—

Robin and Neil returned to their dorm to find the door unlocked. Keeping Robin behind him, Neil entered first, on high alert until he spotted Andrew’s black-clad figure reclining on the couch.

‘Hey,’ Neil said, aware that he was failing to restrain his smile.

Andrew’s look was unimpressed. ‘Have neither of you ever heard of a hamper?’

Out of the corner of Neil’s eye, he saw Robin glance over at the mound of denim Andrew indicated with a wave. Neil was too busy drinking Andrew in with his eyes.

‘Oh, you mean the jeans corner,’ Robin said.

‘I give up on both of you,’ Andrew informed them.

Neil held up the bag in his hand. ‘Even if there’s a pint of chocolate fudge brownie in here?’

Andrew’s stare turned heated, making Robin giggle into the next bite of her sandwich. ‘Should I retreat to the bedroom with an action movie and The Good Headphones?’ she asked, dodging the kick Neil aimed at her ankle.

‘Children,’ Andrew scoffed, but Neil caught the pleased undertone beneath the scorn. He took that to mean that things had gone well with Aaron.

Neil tossed the tub of ice cream at Andrew and watched him snatch it from the air with ease. Robin took another bite of her sandwich as she joined Andrew on the couch.

Andrew said, ‘Staring.’

Robin said, ‘Get the man a spoon.’

Neil felt warm all over.

[bannanasrus]

Still here

Contains Implied Sexual Content

Contains safe M/F vore internal rubs and angst

The man lay lazily on his bed rubbing a pale stomach full of the woman who was his wife. Weeks ago he would have been terrified by this idea but here and now he felt no fear only two feelings - the first a sense of deep gratified fullness and the second of relief - there was no safer place for his wife than in his stomach. Yet how had this happened he pondered from the day they had met he had feared the idea of devouring her or anyone he had sworn off that for years and yet now here he was both fullness and the knowledge that the woman in his gut was going to be safe and in his arms in the morning.

The man’s actual name was unpronounceable to humans so he tended to go by a simple name of Leopold or more simply Leo. The woman in his belly was called Theodora or simply Dora.

Leo was not a human, he was well not quite a demon but certainly not quite an angel, he had gotten lost one day in the human world and was fascinated by them - there was just one problem, he needed to eat them, if there had been any sustenance that would have done he would happily have taken it but no only whole live meals would do to settle the aching pain within him. He who feared harming people most of all tried his best to find the worst of the worst to devour but even that hurt him to do, for he was in his hearts a gentle soul. So he tried his best to limit his indulgence.

Then he’d met Dora a beautiful woman with long and flowing hair and an appreciation for his wonder of the world.

He and she and fallen for each-other and he asked her to be his bride.

It was surprising that, prior to their relationship Leo had never had anyone. He was handsome and rich, the lack of family, well it was assumed that they most likely had passed. However most women it seemed prior to Dora found him well - annoying. Dora liked him and her own family were glad that after a succession of unfortunate escapades with a variety of rakes that she was now with a stabler sort of person “Even if he is a little odd! But after all, aren’t we all”.

Now there came a problem he hadn’t eaten in the year before he met Dora and after they had courted it was another year still, he was so so hungry on their wedding night that he was shocked that he hadn’t devoured her then and there.

instead he turned his attention to other foods hoping that he could distract himself from the thought of eating humans by eating alot of other things, and whilst some came close none of the things or indeed how much he ate was ever able to cure the pain in him. Cooks and hosts alike were delighted to have him come and eat for he easily and happily devoured twice or three times the amount of food others did. He always put it down to a naturally fast metabolism.

But one night he simply could not hold back anymore he was feeling iller and iller he needed food, proper food a proper meal.

“Beloved come to bed” said Dora sitting in her teagown at the edge of their bed.

“Darling I I - Can’t” said Leo pacing up and down

“Leo”

“Dora” he said he felt close to cracking, she smelt so so good, but he couldn’t - he’d never forgive himself if she died because of him. Or rather in him.

In me where she belongs said a dark part of his mind, where she can’t get harmed where she’s a part of me all tucked up and safe.

He wasn’t sure what was causing it but pretty soon he was walking towards her.

“That’s more like it Leo” said Dora as he sat beside her “Now tell me whatever is the matter”

“That you” he began then stopped he was a monster - he couldn’t do this to her he’d have to man up and find someone who wouldn’t be missed, but that meant leaving her alone and who knows what might happen if he was gone too long looking for the perfect meal. It should be her growled the dark part of him make he the part of you she was always meant to be “I can’t” he finished lamely. His stomach grumbled she looked at the organ and up at him smiling in her sweet and kind manner “do you want me to make you something to eat?” She asked. “I want to eat you” the words were out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying the part of him that wanted her there in his belly was taking over. “What?” She said

“You heard me” he heard himself say “I want you inside me in my stomach whilst I belch and moan” he felt a blush rise to his cheeks, previously those he had eaten had been just that, meals there was nothing more to it than that, but this was so different, this felt, well - naughty. He flushed deeper and moved back from her. She however moved closer to him. “I’m sorry I’m sorry” he said forgetting his hunger for a moment for sheer embarrassment. “Oh I won’t forget it” she said “I am assuming the devouring of me isn’t metaphorical” at this she tugged at her teagown teasingly exposing her nightgown beneath and the neckline of the garment which was quite low indeed. In spite of himself Leo felt blood rush to a certain part of his body. “Tell me why”

“I, I”

“You arn't exactly human are you”

“How did you know” he asked

“Most in fact no humans that I know are incapable of devouring an entire woman of my figure”

Dora was indeed voluptuous but that hadn’t been why Leo had married her though physical attraction was of course part of his reason for his deep love of her

“I am something slightly indescribable, I’m not a demon” he said

“I rather assumed that based on the fact that you were able to go into the church were we were married” she said

“I’m not an angel either, I am I suppose the best word would be a neutral spirit”

“hmmm go on” she said

“Years ago I well got lost and decided that I wanted to learn all about humans and I joined your society, the problem is I need to, well I need to”

“Eat people to survive”

he looked shamefacedly at the floor “yes”

“So how did you deal with it”

“I started by trying to only eat some of the worst people, violent criminals and that sort of thing - but even that hurt too much so I tried to limit myself as much as I could”

“And then you met me”

“I hadn’t fed in the year before we met - then after that we were moving through a dizzying amount of events I was so tired, but something was growling within me, on our wedding night I don’t know how I was able to stop myself from devouring you then and there” he paused “Since then, my hunger has only become stronger and I think it’s because of a twisted desire to protect you and to fill myself” tears filled his eyes “sometimes I dream that I can lie here on this bed with you filling me up - but I could never do that and be happy, you are too important” he began to sob into his hands “I’m sorry you married a monster, I’ve eaten people they’re a part of my body I’m a living graveyard” he managed to say or rather groan out between sobs.

He felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder, then a weight pressing down on his lap, then his hands being pulled away from his face whilst his wife looked at him. Not with fear or hatred but with compassion and maybe slight exasperation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why, why do you think?” He choked out

“I would never think that you are a monster” she said gently cupping his face in her hands

“You don’t”

“No I don’t” she said

“but I”

“Yes you ate people, but someone as kind as sweet as you are wouldn’t do that lightly”

“But,”

“But nothing” she wiped his tears away “You shouldn’t have let yourself get into such a state, you should have asked me”

“But you would have died if I’d eaten you!”

“You aren't the only one with a secret Dear Leo” she said leaning forward to kiss him

“What?” he said as she lovingly tousled his hair

“Look at me” she said “I want to see your beautiful face” he looked at her his face still slightly wet from his tears his blue eyes slightly red from crying

“I’m a witch”

“What”

“You heard me a witch, you can eat me, digest me even, and I will be perfectly safe”

“How?”

“Why with the aid of this” she said pulling a necklace from out of her nightdress.

“What is it”

“Reformation necklace she said smiling, she had intended to use it in case she had ended up actually being in danger but, she wasn’t in any danger with him.

“So, I can give in and you’ll be ok?” he asked gazing at her his eyes slightly red from crying

“Perfectly fine, I’ll wake up in your arms in the morning

Suddenly she found herself being gently but firmly flipped and pinned beneath him, his hand supporting her head.

He looked over her like a lion about to devour a gazelle. She grinned, enjoying this power she had over him. “Are you sure you don’t wish to taste your meal?” she said. She guided his slightly shaking hands to her teagown and then her nightdress.

Leo looked at her, she was like a goddess to him, her long hair pooling beneath her body, which was full and voluptuous all of it, her breasts and hips stood out to him especially, she needed no padding to help achieve the fashionable silhouette. He hungrily took in her body feeling blood rushing to his face - this wasn’t how a gentleman was meant to act, but at the moment he didn’t care, as his hands went to his nightshirt

“Fair’s fair right?” he said looking down at her, now it was his turn to guide her hands to his nightclothes, helping her take off his nightshirt and drawers.

Dora looked up at him and flushed she had never seen him naked, underneath his clothes he hid a gorgeous body. Biceps thick and strong off of a torso that was thick with muscle, and formed the perfect V with his slender hips light patches of hair ran up and down his body. Sure he was going to eat her but she licked her own lips at the man atop her.

“Do I please you?” He asked

“Yes” she breathed “and me?”

“Yes” he whispered literally drooling over her

They were both naked and she was beneath him it occurred to him then that they had never actually consummated their marriage he looked down at her she looked back a hunger of her own in her eyes.

“Do you want to…” she asked

“Yes” he said leaning downward and kissing her deeply.

Once their desire for each other had been sated it was now time for Leo’s stomach’s hunger for his wife to be sated.

Leo lay beside his wife holding her hand panting slightly unsure of where to begin so all he could say first was “Can I eat you now please?”

She rolled over and propped herself up on her right elbow “Yes of course” she said

“Promise me you’ll be fine?” He said propping himself up on his left elbow and gazing into her eyes

“I will be fine” she promised

“Shall I take you by the head or by the feet” he asked

“I’m your meal” she said “you choose”

He grinned “I choose head then”

He was gentle with her sitting up and then after she had done the same pulling her onton his lap he gazed into her eyes for a few seconds then opened his mouth wider than a normal man is able to and gently gave his wife’s face a lick he moaned “so good”. Slowly and gently he titled her head towards his mouth and engulfed it gently he brought more and more of his wife down his gullet savouring her taste, sure he’d get to do this again but that didn’t mean his first time doing it didn’t have to be special.

God she was delicious her entire form seemed designed to drive anyone with a penchant for eating women mad. But no one else was going to touch her, he thought jealously as her legs started to tip down his gullet, no one but him her husband could devour her, she was his just as he was hers. No one could eat her except for him and he wouldn’t eat anyone except for her.

His lips closed over her feet and he belched - a low rumbling sound that surrounded Theodora- and moaned “you were incredible” he said “you are incredible” he added “I am so so glad I get to taste you again and again”

“Indeed” she said from where she was curled in his belly it was clean his dinner and evening cake and tea clearly cleared from it. His stomach had a pinkish colour and was almost hugging her like it knew she was a special guest that wasn’t merely food. It gave a gurgle and she heard her husband belch and moan from above her.

“He’s sticking true to his word” she said to herself, whilst her husband enjoyed himself feeling full they were the practical concerns and she quickly muttered the spells necessary to allow herself to reform.

“You feel so good inside me” moaned Leo as a fresh belch brought up more of her flavour

Theodora smiled at her husbands clear forgoing of manners ordinarily he might have excused himself but not this time, he seemed more than happy to let go of all manners and enjoy the feeling of her inside him. She was very happy in him, she felt safe in his arms at night, but inside of him she couldn’t feel safer, no one could harm her Leopold, her darling wouldn’t allow it, his body was strong and he could take on nearly anything that might wish to harm her. He could protect her, and she would protect him she thought dreamily.

His stomach gurgled happily around her bringing forth digestive fluid which began rising steadily about her. It didn’t hurt at all in fact it felt quite pleasant.

“I’ll see you in the morning my beloved” said Leopold clutching his belly tightly and kissing it as his body began to claim his wife as its own, making them for the time at least he thought one he belched again more of her flavour coming up and lay back on their bed. “So so good” he moaned.

Some time during the night true to her word Theodora reformed beside her husband and was enveloped in his arms soon after.

The morning dawned and light streamed in over the sleeping couple comfortably lying together.

Leopold was the first to wake and took in his sleeping wife with joy - it had worked she was still here and she was still safe, he nuzzled into her hair breathing in her scent. She herself woke up a little after him and smiled

“Good morning handsome” she said

“Good morning beautiful” he replied

They kissed, gently at first and then with a bit more passion, it seemed like it was his turn to be beneath her when they heard a knock outside the door.

As fast as they could both got under the covers and drew them well up to their chins “come in”

One of their maids - Penelope - entered, whilst others might have gotten flustered at the sight of what was presumably two naked people, judging by the night clothes still lying where they had been cast off on the floor, Penelope was seemingly someone with absolutely no interest in humanity what so ever, she might have witnessed the events of last night with no comment other than a grumbled one of “drooling on the sheets makes extra work”

As it was all she asked was whether her employers would be taking breakfast in bed or whether they wanted to eat as normal in the morning room. This information ascertained, she left with a prim curtsy.

“Incredible, she has no interest in anything untoward” said Leo pushing the covers down

“She is one of those people who has accepted that she will see all sorts of things” remarked Dora with a rueful smile

Penelope meanwhile was laughing to herself imagine the look on Eliza’s face when I tell her I saw our employers naked, she thought oh the entertainment they bring me I should never like to leave this job.

Sighing Leo stretched and said “we should probably get up” he said Dora nodded and got out of bed.

She pulled on her chemise and as she was getting into her corset, her husband said, “Theodora, am I bigger than I was?”

He turned to find her husband standing looking at himself in the mirror, he had his drawers on and was clutching onto his stomach, normally this was trim and flat forming the manly V shape he usually had. Now however she noted with pride, thanks to her he had a slight overhang of soft pudgy fat.

She came up behind him and gripped the additional pudge with a smile kissing him on his back.

“You certainly are”

“How… wait a minute is this because of you?”

“Yes” she said “I think it is”

He wrapped his arms around her then, holding her close to him. “I want to do this again!” He said

“Tonight” she asked grinning

“Yes” he said a smile spreading across his face showing his sharp canines

“I think you and I have found something brand new to enjoy” she said

“I think we have indeed” he replied

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach in some cases yes, but Theodora had already captured Leopold’s heart and his soul without needing to go through that route, so perhaps it was the case that his stomach had brought them closer together instead of driving them apart.

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS アニメ公式ノベライズ Official Novelization ☽ Chapter 3 Translation

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It’s time for chapter 3! I will try adding more translation notes for particular words/phrases in footnotes from now on, which might be fun for people who are learning Japanese (although I don’t recommend calling anyone a 穀潰し in real life lol). I know I said last time that this book seemed a little light on the bite play but I actually take it back, this chapter was pretty steamy with both Ayato and Shuu… (〃ω〃) Have fun reading!

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Originally written by Yukuzuki Hiroha 結来月ひろは Translated from the Japanese by @otomehonyaku

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STORY Following her father’s job transfer, Komori Yui is sent to live with the Sakamaki brothers. However, these six brothers turn out to be sadistic, ill-tempered vampires. The men are after Yui’s sweet and incredibly rare blood, and go to great lengths toying with her body and soul to get it. Before long, Yui finds herself trapped in an alluringly dangerous love game(1)...

1. 吸血愛戯 (ラブゲーム): Stylised as ‘love game’ but written with the characters for bloodsucking (吸血), love (愛), and play (戯). The latter character also has a connotation of playfulness/mischief.

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DISCLAIMER This is an unofficial translation intended for those interested in reading the story of the Diabolik Lovers game/season in a slightly more literary format in English. I have no affiliation with Rejet or Frontier Works whatsoever. All rights belong to them, but PLEASE DO NOT POST THIS TRANSLATION ELSEWHERE OR TRANSLATE TO OTHER LANGUAGES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

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Episode 3

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That night, the moon stood high in the sky, but the Sakamaki mansion was wrapped in fog.

In the dining room, Yui joined the brothers for dinner. It was a habit for the six of them to assemble in the dining room once a month for a banquet. As Yui sat at the large table, she wondered why she had to be included, but there had been little room for her to protest when they half-dragged her in here.

A variety of luxurious dishes reminiscent of a high-end restaurant were placed on the table in front of her, but even as she eyed the food, she couldn’t bring herself to eat.

Vampires don’t even need this kind of food, anyway, Yui thought cynically. Her eyes shifted to Ayato, who was sitting next to her. He ate his dinner using a knife and fork with surprising dexterity, behaving in a more refined manner than she had ever seen him. The same was true for Reiji and Subaru, who were sitting across from her.

The saying goes ‘dining together is happy together’ (1), but this family was worlds away from that. A heavy silence had fallen in the room. Shuu, who was sitting right opposite Yui, did not seem hungry either, and simply slumped in his chair with his eyes closed.

I don’t feel like eating. To the brothers, I’m no different from the food that’s on the table right now, anyway… Yui thought, and lost her appetite completely.

“You’re not eating much, Bitchlet,” Laito suddenly said from behind Yui, startling her. “You’ll get anaemia if you don’t eat well, you know? Would you like me to feed you?”

“Laito,” Reiji interjected sternly. “It is rude to get up during dinner.”

“Fiiine. Let’s continue this later, okay?” Laito murmured to Yui, and hummed quietly as he returned to his seat.

The dining room was only quiet for a moment before a loud sound made Yui jolt. It was Shuu, who had pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Shuu…?”

“I can’t be bothered,” the eldest muttered as he walked out of the room.

“That good-for-nothing (2)…” Reiji remarked, his voice tinged with resentment, when Shuu closed the door behind him.

Good-for-nothing? He’s saying that about his own brother?

“Oh, well. That’s what happens to people who’ve been spoiled since birth.”

The Sakamakis don’t seem to care about one another to begin with, but these two really seem to hate each other…

“Teddy, what would you like to eat next?”

Yui looked towards Kanato when she heard his voice. He sat with Teddy on his lap and was trying to feed him.

“Shall we try this banana snowball (3) first?” The purple-haired triplet said as he stabbed the snowball with his fork to pick it up, but it split in half.

Kanato frowned in frustration and began bringing down his fork onto the remnants of the snowball over and over, laughing maniacally. He didn’t stop even when the plate broke with a loud crack.

Reiji appeared fed up with his younger brother’s behaviour, and spoke up. “You all cannot keep yourselves together even at our one banquet of the month… Let us call it here for today.”

Everyone aside from Reiji stood up and left for their rooms immediately.

I should go back to my room, too. Albeit hesitantly, Yui put her hands on the table to push herself up when she was fairly certain she could leave.

“Wait.”

Reiji’s voice brought her to a halt.

“Have you no manners? To place your hands on the table like that… If I ever see you do that again, I will punish you thoroughly. Understood?”

“…Yes.”

His punishment must be pretty severe, judging from what Yui had seen of Reiji’s personality so far. Dejectedly, she returned to her room.

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“Ah…”

Yui sighed heavily when she sat down on the edge of her bed. She was glad to have a day off, but it seemed impossible to relax. Come to think of it, I usually helped out Dad on my days off…

Wanting to help her priest father with his work in whatever way she could, Yui usually kept the church clean on the days that she didn’t have school.

It hasn’t even been that long (4)…

Even though she had seen her father only days earlier, her life with him already felt like a thing from the past. Suddenly reminiscing about the days spent with her father, she opened the drawer in the nightstand by her bed and took out her father’s diary. However, the memories that her father had penned down were still nowhere to be found.

“So they really are gone…”

It felt like her own memories with her father had been erased with them. Yui felt herself getting teary-eyed. But why? When I first saw it, it was written right there.

Yui brings me so much joy. The fact that she is not my own child bears no meaning at all. She is truly a blessing, and I am nothing but grateful for every day I get to spend with her.

Her father’s familiar handwriting had spelled it out clearly for Yui to remember. But why had the writing disappeared from the page completely?

The only clue I have is this picture…

Yui quietly stared at the picture of her father and her infant self. The picture alone would not get her anywhere. Besides, I don’t even know what kind of cruel fate awaits me if I try to leave.

Yui sighed again.

Completely at a loss, she slid the picture back between the pages of her father’s diary and returned it to the drawer.

“Whatcha doing?”

Yui shrieked when she looked in the direction of the voice. Ayato was straddling her desk chair in reverse, his elbows propped up on the back of the chair and his chin resting on his hands as he watched her.

“W-why are you…”

“I can do as I please,” Ayato stated, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. “Hurry up and give me your blood.”

Oh no… I have to hold him off.

“I-I was just about to take a bath.” Yui tried to slip past him, but to no avail. “Huh? Ah!”

Ayato stood up in a flash and threw his arms around her, embracing her from the front. Yui struggled against him when he ran his tongue over the nape of her neck, but his arms soon settled on her waist. It was impossible to run from him.

“Ayato… Please, I’ve been feeling anaemic lately…”

The stress from being in a new environment might have also played a part in it, but since Ayato had taken her blood yesterday, her physical condition had been worsening.

Ayato paid her worries no mind. “Shut up.”

He was clearly toying with her. His tongue found her skin again, licking her as he occasionally made low noises of pleasure. The wet sound of it echoed through the room.

Yui tried to endure it by squeezing her eyes shut, but it inadvertently only made her focus on Ayato more. A small sound escaped her lips at the anticipation of not knowing when his fangs would pierce her skin.

“Feels that good, huh?”

Yui tried to get back, but Ayato wouldn’t budge. “That’s not…”

Just when Yui thought his grip on her waist loosened a little, Ayato bent down to her chest and pressed his lips against her skin. He let out a low moan as he sucked hard. The pain made Yui’s voice slip again, and he finally looked up.

He didn’t… bite me?

Looking down at her chest, Yui did not see blood, but a red mark in the shape of a rose petal on her skin.

“That’s my mark of ownership.”

“N-no…” Yui pushed against his chest to get away, but he only gripped her tighter.

“Don’t move. I’ll give you more.”

Enjoying the feel of her skin, Ayato leisurely moved his tongue to the other side of her chest. He pulled down her sweater to expose her skin further, almost to her most sensitive parts, and began covering it in love bites.

“I want to hurt you more. More, and more…”

“Ah…”

Yui could barely move. She could only try and stand the pain.

When Ayato finally let her go, his red love bites fluttered across her chest like flower petals and clearly marked her as his.

“We’ll continue when you get out of the bath. You’ll only get more anaemic if I feed on you now and that’d just be a bother,” Ayato whispered in Yui’s ear as he embraced her tighter. “Just hurry up. You know what’ll happen if you make me wait too long.”

This time, Ayato let her go. He left the room.

For what felt like the umpteenth time today, Yui sighed heavily. What’s happening to me? Still, no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’ come to an answer.

“In any case, I should take a bath first.”

She knew it was part escapism, but Yui felt that she would lose her sanity completely if she could not do these kinds of normal, human things. Yui grabbed a fresh towel and a clean set of clothes, and headed to the bathroom.

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Come to think of it, this is the first time I’m using the bath here.

On the first night, when Yui had only just arrived at the mansion, she had lost consciousness and simply slept for a while, and the next day, she had used the shower room near the pool.

I know it’s foolish to think about, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of bath they have… Daydreaming about her impending bath time, Yui stepped into the bathroom.

It was lavish. Marble covered the floor of the large room in front of her, and a large, white clawfoot tub stood near the back wall. I’ve never been in such a luxurious bathroom before, Yui thought. Even the sink is made of marble. She put her fresh clothes on top of the sink, and her eyes drifted to her reflection in the mirror in front of her.

The marks on her chest were undeniably there. But why would Ayato do this?

Yui had no hopes of running away from the mansion to begin with—the brothers had told her so—and it seemed unnecessary to brand her as his for the world to see.

But still, the throbbing pain of the love bites made her thoughts drift to Ayato even when he wasn’t with her. When she thought of it like that, she realised that the marks must have served Ayato’s intended purpose.

Yui was startled by a sudden splashing sound and she spun around to look at the bathtub. What was that? Is someone there?

Gingerly, she made her way over to the bathtub and saw Shuu, eyes closed and lying fully-clothed in the water. Yui did not know why he was in there with his clothes still on, but he looked like he was trying to drown himself.

“Shuu?!”

Before Yui could reach out to him, Shuu’s languid voice sounded from under her.

“Damn it, don’t yell like that.”

“B-but if you stay in there with your clothes on…”

“Strip them off me, then.”

“What?” Not used to Shuu speaking that way to her, Yui was briefly at a loss for words.

“Didn’t you come in here to see me naked?” Shuu asked, trying to gauge her reaction.

“N-no!” Yui stammered. “Please don’t say such inappropriate things… I came in here to take a bath.”

Shuu’s clear blue eyes watched her face become red, and let out a low laugh as if he enjoyed seeing her flustered. “Would you like to join me?”

“T-there’s no way...”

“Your red cheeks suggest otherwise.”

Realising Shuu was making fun of her, Yui inadvertently shot him a glare, but he simply repositioned his head on the edge of the bathtub with a dissatisfied expression on his face.

“Boring.”

Clearly not intent on getting out of the tub, Shuu closed his eyes again.

Yui’s fear that he might drown dissipated, but even though she felt somewhat relieved, Shuu’s overly sluggish behaviour left her with a complicated feeling. All they’ve done since I came here is manipulate me…

Yui thought of the six brothers’ faces.

So Shuu is the eldest and Reiji is the second son, then the triplets Ayato, Kanato and Laito, and then Subaru is the youngest. But…

“You’re brothers, but why are you all so different?” Yui wondered aloud.

“We’ve got different mothers.”

“What?”

“…Reiji and I have the same mother, and the triplets have a different mother,” Shuu said in a detached voice, his eyes still closed.

“I… see.”

So that’s why they don’t look alike, Yui concluded, but suddenly realised that he had missed one brother.

“What about Subaru?”

“Also got a different mother,” Shuu said, before completely submerging himself in the tub.

“Wha—Shuu!”

In a state of panic, Yui reached out and grabbed both of Shuu’s arms. At the feeling of her hands on his body, his eyes flew open.

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The blurry vision of a boy, slightly taller than him, plagued Shu’s mind. When Shuu was younger, the boy always reached out a hand towards him, took him to all sorts of places, and showed him things he had never seen before.

However, the next moment, Shuu’s sight was taken away by a cloud of burning ash. His memories with the boy faded into nothing. That day, Shuu could only stare, dumbfounded, at his friend’s village as it burned to the ground, black smoke rising from its buildings.

“Edgar…”

I couldn’t do anything… My only friend, and I couldn’t do anything to save him.

Everything you love can be taken away from you in the blink of an eye, and never even leave a trace. Just like that boy.

All Shuu was left with was a feeling of powerlessness. All was meaningless.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Shuu, it hurts…”

Shuu snapped back to attention at Yui’s voice. What did I just…

When he looked at Yui, her face was twisted in pain. Why is she making that face? And… she’s so warm, he thought, slightly confused. As he looked at his hands, he involuntarily reached out and grabbed Yui’s hands tightly. So this is… the body temperature of a human.

Shuu tugged hard at Yui’s arms and pulled her into the bathtub with him, causing her to shriek. Water splashed around them.

The human girl was now soaked to the skin. Her wet clothes made her look thinner (5) than she already did.

Shuu did not know why he did it. He found it difficult to think about anything but the feel of her warm body—the human warmth that he’d gone so long without.

“Let me drink your blood.”

Yui gasped. Fear washed over her face when she looked up at him.

“Hm? Are you scared?” Shuu traced a hand along her neck and pulled it towards him. Perhaps out of fear, Yui squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Shuu gazed at the porcelain-coloured skin of her exposed neck. “You’re so pale. I wonder how your skin will look when I sink my teeth into you and stain it bright-red with your blood…”

As he spoke, his eyes trailed slowly downwards to her chest. When his gaze fell upon the red marks there, he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Ayato. What a control freak.”

“Shuu, I thought you were the only one…” Yui met his gaze even though she was shivering. “I thought you were the only one who’d be different… So why…”

The fatal flaw of humans—they tended to be much too trusting. Shuu felt himself becoming increasingly annoyed at her foolishness. “Let me be clear. I’m a vampire.”

This is too bothersome.

“I’ll show you a whole new world.”

The hand that had been trailing across Yui’s neck, Shuu now used to pull her roughly against him so he could sink his teeth into her shoulder. Yui bit down a shriek.

“Your blood is so warm… I feel like it might burn me.”

Desperately, Yui tried to block out his voice.

“Ah, you’re getting turned on… What a lewd woman you are, running so hot when I bite you.”

“I-It’s not…”

Eagerly gulping down Yui’s blood, Shuu came to a realisation. He raised his face to hers. “…I know now why you’re here. It’s your blood. It’s really something special.”

Blood from the wounds Shuu had inflicted on Yui dripped into the bath, almost as if her body was crying for her.

“Don’t offer your help to me again.”

Yui’s tears of blood quietly disappeared into the water.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A little while after Shuu had left, Yui came out of the bathroom and dragged herself to her room. Memories of what had just happened flashed through her mind.

Shuu actually wasn’t interested in her. That’s why she thought he wouldn’t hurt her, but Yui realised that had been a very naive assumption for her to make.

At the same time, she thought it strange that her blood was ‘something special,’ as Shuu had called it. I don’t think that means I have a rare blood type, Yui thought as she opened the door to her room. She sighed and closed the door behind her.

“You’re late, Pancake.”

Ayato was sitting on her bed.

“I’m thirsty. Hurry up and give me your blood.”

“Ayato, I’m…”

She’d already told him she was feeling anaemic earlier, but Shuu had only just fed from her as well. Yui was certain she would keel over if Ayato took her blood now, and yet the redhead jumped off the bed and stalked towards her.

“You have no right to refuse me.”

Ayato grabbed her from behind and snaked his arms around her waist.

“You’d be better off surrendering to my fangs,” he said as he bent down to her neck to bite her, but he suddenly froze. “Huh?”

On her neck, he found fresh bite marks.

“What’s this?”

“It hurts…” Yui hunched up her shoulders in pain when Ayato ran his fingers over the wounds.

“Reiji? No, Shuu. That motherfucker…”

Ayato grabbed Yui’s hand and forcefully dragged her out of the room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two ended up in the gaming room. It had a billiards table, and a rack with cue sticks and a dart board were placed against the wall. When Ayato spotted Shuu lying on the sofa, he strode over and started yelling at him.

“Shuu, you fucker! Are you picking a fight?”

Shuu didn’t respond and his eyes remained closed, which only angered his brother even more.

“Hey, listen to me!”

“Shut up.” Shuu muttered. He clearly did not feel like arguing with Ayato.

Ayato clicked his tongue in response to his brother’s sluggish behaviour. When he looked around the room in anger and his eyes spotted the dart board, he thought of something.

“Let’s play a round of darts!”

“…I can’t be bothered.”

“Like hell you are!”

What should I do? At this rate, they really are going to fight… Just as Yui hesitated whether she should step in to stop them, she suddenly heard someone clapping.

When Yui looked behind her, Laito was leaning against the billiards table, looking at the three of them in amusement.

“How lovely. Our little bitch will be the grand prize!” Laito’s smile deepened when he looked at Yui. “Hehe. This is the best!”

“Grand prize…?” How did it come to this? Yui had a hard time comprehending what was happening.

“You are being way too rowdy.” Having overheard his brothers’ bickering, Reiji now stood near the wall with an irritated look on his face. “Would you care to tell me what is going on?”

“Ayato and Shuu are going to play darts against each other. And what better way to spice things up than a grand prize on the line, right? So, we thought Bitchlet would be the perfect prize.” Laito motioned to Ayato and Shuu to signal that it was their competition.

”Again with the nonsense… If you must, then do it quietly.”

“Okay…”

Yui had hoped Reiji would step in and end the argument, but he hadn’t. Shuu opened his eyes to look at Yui.

“I don’t care about her… so just let me sleep in peace,” Shuu mumbled and closed his eyes again.

Reiji scoffed in response. “I already expected you to say that.”

Reiji? Yui watched as Reiji was staring daggers at his older brother even more than usual.

“You do not even have the guts to accept a challenge. The word ‘coward’ (6) must have truly been invented for this man right here.” Reiji paused for a second, but then continued his tirade. “What a good-for-nothing, useless man.”

Shuu slowly got up at this remark. His sluggish demeanour disappeared completely—his face briefly suggested that he was out for blood—before returning to his usual state. “I’ll do it, Ayato.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna accept any other answer.”

And so Ayato and Shuu’s battle for Yui began.

The two brothers barely missed their targets when throwing the darts, but somehow, Shuu seemed to come out on top. When Shuu examined the darts he was using, Laito called out.

”Shuu’s next shot could decide the game! If he hits the right mark, our little bitch will become his… How exciting!” Laito sent a sidelong glance to Yui, who stood speechless next to him, as he laughed in amusement.

She quickly looked away. Would it be Shuu or Ayato? Whoever won, Yui had no choice in the matter.

“This is insane,” she muttered. I’m not an object! Yui tried to leave the gaming room, but Laito grabbed her by the shoulder before she could get near the door.

“Oh, my. Our grand prize suddenly started moving on its own!” Laito’s tone of voice was light-hearted, but his unrelenting grip on her shoulder suggested otherwise.

“Let go… It hurts…”

“Hehe.”

Yui glared at Laito even as her face twisted in pain, but he only returned her glare with a shameless grin.

“You’d better look. Shuu’s about to throw, you know.” Laito pointed to his brother, who had just assumed a throwing position and was holding the dart expertly in his hands.

Shuu…

Reiji and Ayato looked on, mildly displeased, as Shuu threw the dart towards the board. It soared through the air in a straight line, perfectly hitting the mark that Shuu had aimed for.

Ayato clicked his tongue in annoyance. Reiji just stared at the board, the winning dart sticking out of it. Shuu, however, sighed in relief that the game was finally over, and turned on his heels and immediately headed for the door.

Shuu? Yui stared after Shuu in confusion.

Laito noticed this, a glint of mischief appearing in his eyes. “And your prize is… Bitchlet!”

He gave Yui a strong push, sending her stumbling towards Shuu with a yelp. The force of it caused her to slam into Shuu’s back.

“I-I’m sorry.” Yui stammered an apology, but Shuu stayed silent, his back still to her. “Um… Shuu?”

He slowly turned around to face Yui, and leaned in to whisper.

“Humans are nothing but prey to me.”

Shuu’s low voice and dangerously glistening eyes as he looked down on her made Yui freeze in place. He grabbed her chin with a hand and tilted her face upward with a rough movement to expose her neck.

Yui flinched.

“You know that, right?” he said as he bent down to her neck. Yui was immobilised by fear. “Don’t bother me anymore.”

With these words, Shuu unceremoniously sank his teeth into her skin. The pain running through her neck sent her spiralling into darkness, and she soon lost consciousness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

1. 食卓 (しょくたく) は団欒 (だんらん): A figure of speech in which 食卓 refers to a dining table, and 団欒 means a ‘happy place,’ or ‘sitting together in a happy circle/harmony,’ thus suggesting that dining together is supposed to be an enjoyable activity to bond with one another.

2. 穀潰 (ごくつぶ) し: Good-for-nothing; deadbeat; parasite; useless person. This is the nickname Reiji often uses for Shuu.

3. スノーボール: A snowball is a kind of chocolate, snowball-shaped and often filled with fresh cream.

4. 懐 (なつ) かしい: Adverb denoting a feeling of nostalgia; looking back fondly on something that happened long ago.

5. 貧相 (ひんそう): Thin (body); poor/seedy-looking. In Diabolik Lovers, the boys usually use this word to refer to Yui’s body as “not much to look at,” especially referring to her lacking in the chest area.

6. 腑抜 (ふぬ) け: Coward; spineless person. Literally someone whose ‘guts have slipped out.’

[krirebr]

Can you share a soft moment with Vampy!Ransom and reader, please?

Maybe one of the first times he was all 🥺 over something so human and mundane (maybe something Ransom would have always thought was barf until reader was in his life.)

I love them too 🥺❤️

So I wasn't sure where exactly to go with this one, Carly, partly because I feel like Reader really jumped into being a vamp with both feet. So I was all "What sort of human stuff is she even still into?" And then this popped into my head. I think this takes place very soon after WAV&WAB, so really early in their relationship, right after he's taken her out of town.

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of feeding on people

You bounced back first onto the bed while Ransom examined the curtains. "Calm down," you said. "They're blackout. It'll be fine."

"And if they aren't, we'll both be burned to a crisp, so let me fucking check them." He'd been such a grump since you'd gotten to the hotel. He'd wanted to barge in on someone's home and compel them to give it to you for a few nights, but you hadn't been able to resist the opportunity to stay in a five-star hotel. You didn't know what his problem was.

You starfished on the bed and groaned in pleasure. "This bed's so soooooft! Come lay down with me, Ran." You caressed the comforter with both hands. You just couldn't get over how everything felt since you'd been turned. It was like you suddenly had 100 times more nerves than you'd had as a human. Every single thing was just more.

He finally turned away from the window and looked at you, his hands on his hips. "I don't get why you wanted to stay here."

"Cause it's so fancy!" you said, gleefully. "Come on, come watch hotel TV with me."

"An actual house would've been fancier," he grumbled, pretending to be exasperated, but you weren't falling for it. He climbed onto the bed, grabbing the remote off the nightstand, and handed it to you. You scooted across the bed until your bodies were lined up next to each other, touching as much as possible. You flipped through channels and sighed, "Yeah, this is nice."

"What are we gonna watch?" he asked, his voice going soft and quiet.

"I don't know, whatever's on." You moved so that your head rested on his chest, right over where his still heart was. "I'm hungry," you whispered.

"You just ate," he said, and you could hear the fond smile in his voice.

"I'm still hungry. Let's get room service!"

His hand gently caressed up and down your stomach. "Can't. You'd get blood all over this fancy hotel room you wanted so badly. If you want to eat, we'll have to go out."

You hummed in consideration. "No," you said. "Not yet, let's stay here for a while."

"Sounds good to me," he said, his hand still moving, his voice so soft. "This is kind of nice. You might be winning me over to hotels."

[belltrigger]

Submastober Day 13!

Inspiration: There's an older OC-tober prompt-list here that I am using.

Title: A New Home Prompt: Fear Word count: 1448 Synopsis: Ingo and Emmet never got to meet their uncle. That is, until their parents passed away.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Ingo and Emmet were just about the age for their first Pokemon journey when their parents passed away. At that age, they were capable of coming and going mostly as they liked, and were even allowed to travel along the many routes to visit other cities. They had never gone that far, content to explore the various caves and fields close to their home, but they knew they could. Emmet was particularly fond of a small stream they had found, spending lots of time watching the various pokemon that called it home.

They had been out exploring as usual when they were found by someone wearing hiking gear that bore a symbol for Search and Rescue. Even at that age, they knew who that organization was, being told often to seek them out should they get hurt or separated in the wild. Even when older, Ingo remembered how kind they had been, even when telling the twins that trouble had occurred and they needed to come with them. Their demeanor had grounded him despite the tightening in his chest at the word 'trouble' and Ingo often thought back on how they'd handled it when he helped young passengers who got scared in the Subway now.

Emmet had started quietly crying as they left the area; the hike down must have given him the chance to process what 'trouble' could have meant. Ingo didn't remember if he had cried then or later, his entire attention focused on both the words the rescuer told them, and Emmet's status. Emmet held one fist up to his eyes, the other hand lightly holding the rescuer's hand. All Ingo recalled of the hike was that he wished he had been holding Emmet's hand instead, the grip from the person between them not as comforting as each other.

Perhaps the shock got to him then, or maybe it happened when they returned home to find it gone underneath a landslide. Search and Rescue had tried valiantly to keep them at their HQ, but while they were processing paperwork in another room, Ingo and Emmet slipped out. How could they be blamed for wanting to go home and find their parents, ask them what the trouble was, sit at home while the paperwork was being completed? It had not once even crossed their minds during their younger years that there was a danger to their house. At the sight of their house surrounded by an excavation crew, what actually happened had become apparent and all they could do was hold each other in their despair.

After a short time, someone realized they were there and brought them back to the S&R headquarters. They didn't try to escape again, simply sitting together quietly. Emmet had not stopped crying the whole time they sat together, but he gripped Ingo's hand tightly as a lifeline. Ingo might have been crying then too, but more important was doing his best to be a strong tether to Emmet.

Ingo's memory was hazy regarding how long they stayed in the S&R. There had been a few times where they were offered snacks and were even given a full meal. Ingo expected to not be hungry, and sat his snacks aside, but when the meal came (a hearty and simple one to be sure, possibly because they were kids and expected to be picky), both he and Emmet ate ravenously. With a full stomach, Emmet had finally stopped crying, but it could also have come from just being exhausted.

Once they were finished eating, a woman with short black hair. Ingo remembered very clearly how impressive he thought her outfit: a long black coat with a long red skirt underneath. The white scarf around her neck looked so fashionable with the rest of her outfit that he found himself staring at it more than her face. She introduced herself as Kim, and said that she had come to pick them up. Emmet found his voice before Ingo, asking who she was.

“I'm here on behalf of your uncle.”

Up until that point, they had never met their uncle. Cards came in the mail from him on occasion, and there was always a present sent for each of them for their birthdays. He knew exactly what they had wanted, too, so at least Ingo's opinion had been a positive one. Emmet frequently asked why he couldn't just come to visit instead, and their parents had always said he wanted to, but was incredibly busy. Ingo thought it was okay, and encouraged Emmet to add the fact that he wanted their uncle to visit. Of course, Emmet told their uncle that they were going to visit instead, and Ingo supposed that was basically the same thing.

Kim told them that they were going to live with their uncle for now, and that he had sent her to pick them up. Emmet huffed, showing energy for the first time since the tragic news, and crossed his arms. Although Emmet hadn't said anything about it at the time, he confided in Ingo during their travels that he thought their uncle should have come to pick them up himself. Kim seemed very nice to Ingo, so while he agreed with Emmet that it would have been good to pick them up himself, sending Kim was also a good choice.

The trip had interesting sights to see, as they had never been this far from home. Emmet watched out the windows, distracted temporarily from his sorrow with the myriad of new pokemon they passed. Frequently, he would tug Ingo's sleeve and point out a pokemon that he thought was particularly cool. By the time they arrived in Opelucid City, there were easily fifty pokemon that Emmet wanted to catch and put in their team. Ingo thought that maybe one or two would be good partners for them. Emmet countered with how they could just catch all of them, and sort it out later.

Emmet continued to be in high spirits as they exited the vehicle in the city. It was vastly more technological than where they were from, an eye-catching mixture of gray and electric blues. They were guided to a large building in the center of the city, keeping a hold of each other's hands. Emmet tugged at Ingo's grip a few times, excitedly pointing out different things he wanted to visit. Thankfully, Kim kept them on track, and they made it to their destination with minimal exploration.

Looking up at the large building that towered over them, Emmet showed his first sign of hesitance. It was vastly larger than the home they were used to, several tiers high in fact. Emmet's grip tightened and he hummed in concern. At that moment, Kim put a hand on both of their shoulders and said that she had to get back to the Gym now. But, she continued, they could head right in as Drayden was expecting them. Ingo nodded to her, and thanked her in the most polite way he was able to verbalize. Emmet shrunk at the idea of going inside, despite his earlier eagerness, but was finally convinced with a smile and assurance that they would be okay from his twin.

The door opened upon their approach, completely new to them, but they stepped through after taking a deep breath to straighten their nerves. Inside, it was black with yet more of that electric blue which was so frequent in the city. Standing towards the back of the room, hands clenched into fists, was an exceptionally tall, imposing looking man with wide shoulders.

Emmet hummed again, more concern in his tone this time, and he shifted a step to be partially behind Ingo. Of course, if Kim brought them here, this was definitely their uncle, but Ingo couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated as well. Before either of them could gather their words, he strode towards them, kneeled down on one knee, and put a large, strong hand on each of their shoulders.

“I know it's not the ideal circumstance we were all hoping for, but I'm glad to finally meet you boys. Welcome to my home. I hope you can feel comfortable here.” Ingo might not have remembered crying at any other point, but he definitely felt the warm tears on his face then. Emmet must have been equally moved, despite his earlier nerves, and they both leaned in to hug their uncle. His strong arms were solid, holding them tightly as they let out their grief in his hold. Truly, it was not the visit they had wanted to make, but finally, they had gotten to meet their uncle.

[lindstromm]

Bartholomew Brimsley. He's an only child and an orphan who misses his parents, per the book. Reynolds, on the other hand, has two older sisters. Fandom can make up any backstory for Brimsley and Reynolds that it wants (and it will), but if you're curious about what the book says about their families, here it is:

"Sisters," Reynolds said with a knowing chuckle.

"Have you any?" Brimsley asked. He suddenly realized he didn't know. And he wanted to.

"Sisters?" Reynolds repeated. "Two. Both older. You?"

Brimsley shooks his head. "It was only me. My parents had me late in life." And then, even though Reynolds hadn't asked, he said, "They're gone now."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I," Brimsley said softly. He'd been alone for so long. Maybe it was why he loved palace life so much. It had given him a place to belong. But he did not want to grow maudlin.

from p.167. More from the book about our favorite valets below the cut.

Brimsley found out he would be attending the Queen only a week before she arrived. from page 31:

Sophronia Pratt, head maid to Princess Augusta, had pulled him aside only last week and said, "You have been given the honor of serving our new queen." [Sophronia gives him instructions like teaching Charlotte "how we do things here." Brimsley irritates Sophronia by asking too many questions.] Pratt's eyes floated heavenward, and Brimsley, while not a skilled lipreader, was fairly certain she mouthed the words, Heaven help me. Heaven help them both. Honestly. He was getting thrown to the wolves, and they both knew it.

Pratt is the one who recommended Brimsley for the position. From page 33:

Brimsley wasn't stupid. Vain, perhaps, but not stupid. "I understand perfectly, ma'am," he said. "I thought you might," Pratt replied. "It is why I recommended you for this position." "Thank you, ma'am." Pratt gave him a look that said his thanks were beneath her. "Do you want to know the other reason I recommended you?" Brimsley was not sure that he did. "It is your face," Pratt said. "It is a bit like a fish." "Thank you?" He coughed. "Ma'am." "That is another reason, I suppose. I just insulted you, and you thanked me. You will get a lot of that from the Queen." Brimsley was not cheered by this. "Have you heard very much about her, then?" "Not a word," Pratt said briskly, "but royals are all the same in that regard. At any rate, your fish face lends you an air of perpetual disdain. You appear rather pleased with yourself, when we both know you have no reason to be." Brimsley was not sure he had ever been insulted so thoroughly, and if he were not the victim, he'd probably admire her for it. It was really rather deft.

That's his only conversation with Sophronia Pratt, thank god. Brimsley loves his new job, because of the status and the food. There's a hint here that Brimsley has gone hungry in the past, and that some of the maids weren't particularly nice to him before his promotion. Though he would be with a different group of maids and footmen when he moves to Buckingham House. From page 68:

He had been given a completely new uniform with a gold brocade vest, and the move to Buckingham House meant that he was at the top of the belowstairs hierarchy. Who could be more important than the chief servant to the Queen?

He might not sit at the head of the table in the servants' quarters -- that was the butler -- but he was at the butler's right hand.

He selected the choicest cuts of meat for his plate when they ate. He never had to worry about there being enough pudding for everyone because there was always enough pudding if you were the second person to be served.

Everyone looked at him differently, too. The maids no longer looked down their noses at him. Now he looked down his nose at them, even the ones who were taller, which, to be honest, was most of them.

Fish face, his ass. He was on top of the world.

Brimsley has several chapters in the book written from his point of view. In an inexcusable omission, none of the chapters are from Reynolds' point of view. This means we don't get the scene in which Reynolds tries to rescue George from Dr. Munro's torture. It's just not there. What we learn about Reynolds comes through in the chapters from George's or Brimsley's POV.

page 111:

[George] knew that Reynolds did not like it when he referred to himself as mad. They had been together since childhood, since before it became obvious that George would be King, and Reynolds would be, well, Reynolds. They had a bond of friendship and shared secrets.

Here's the part where Reynolds tells Brimsley how he ended up as King's Man, from p.270:

The two men found a place to sit, leaning against a bale of hay. Reynolds sighed. Brimsley did not think he had ever seen him so tired.

"Have I ever told you how I came by this job?" Reynolds said.

Brimsley tipped his head, letting the side of his forehead kiss against Reynolds's shoulder. "I imagine you were marked from a young age for your unmatched unction and superciliousness."

Reynolds gave him a little smirk, but there was a hint of good nature to it. "The King and I grew up together. I was His Majesty's playmate. We fished and climbed trees and were boys together."

Brimsley nodded. Reynolds had mentioned this. Not often; he tended to be circumspect about his background.

"I'm still not sure why the Palace allowed it," Reynolds continued. "They were monstrously strict about who got to spend time with the princes and princesses. I suppose it was because my mother was a trusted maid and my father a palace goldsmith. And I was the right age. Our birthdays are just two months apart."

"Who is the elder?" Brimsley asked.

"Me." Reynolds gave him one of those smiles he loved so much. "Of course."

"Of course."

"There was no one else for him unless some foreign dignitary or prince came to visit, but those were always awkward affairs. Two little boys dressed in their ridiculous finest and ordered to be friends."

"That does not sound as if it would go well."

"No," Reynolds mused, "it never did. Half the time they didn't even speak the same language. So it was just me. Me and George. I still called him George then."

"You don't now?"

Reynolds gave him a look. "You know I don't. And I certainly never did when anyone else was around when we were children."

Brimsley chuckled. "No, I can imagine that would not have gone over well."

"Of course I knew my station, but I liked Georgie. I liked him even when adults pushed me aside in their haste to bow and scrape to him." Reynolds looked up and grinned. It was a sentimental sort of smile, with the barest hint of something sad.

"He was affable," he continued. "And full of good humor. He put on no airs. I was perhaps the first to recognize his ... peculiarities. But I liked him no less. I was the closest thing he had to a friend, so I kept his secret. I sang distracting songs when he lost control of his thoughts. Held his arms down when they trembled."

He looked at Brimsley more directly. "I hid him from his monstrous grandfather."

"That was good of you," Brimsley said quietly. He had heard about George II. He had not been a kind man.

Reynolds nodded slowly, the kind one did not when one is agreeing, but when one is remembering. "When it came time to follow my father into the Goldsmith's Guild, I asked to stay with George instead. It would not be as lucrative, but I made the choice gladly. Because he needed me. And because --"

He swallowed.

"Because he knew my secrets, too. My own ... peculiarity. And he did not care. He kept my secret as I kept his. As I had to. Even from you."

"I'm sorry I was so angry with you," Brimsley said.

"I would have been the same way," Reynolds admitted.

There it is. Reynolds gave up on being a goldsmith, took a paycut, and stayed with George out of friendship, and because George accepted him as gay.

Reynolds doesn't say his parents have died. Reynolds is only 23 in the movie (King George III was 23 when he got married). It's possible his mother and father serve at the palace with him and he might see them occasionally.

This next scene was funny about Reynolds and his sisters, and it isn't in the movie. George is freaking out while Charlotte is in labor, and Reynolds assures him that this is normal. George gets snappish with him, p.297:

"You know this ... how?"

"Er, I've heard things."

"You've heard things," George repeated crossly.

"I have sisters. They both have children."

"Were you present for the births?" George wasn't sure why he was being such an ass to Reynolds. Probably he just needed to be an ass to someone, and he couldn't very well do it to the archbishop.

"I was not," Reynolds said in that ever-calm manner of his. "But they are both prodigious storytellers, and I was informed of every last detail."

The mental image of Reynolds trying to keep his composure while his sisters torment him with every last childbirth detail just cracks me up.

Anyway. Fandom will make up what it wants, but I thought I'd retype way too much of the book in case anyone was interested.

[mj-iza-writer]

This story contains a lady Whumper, this is your warning. -MJ

Whumpee shyly peaked their head out from under the table when the butler's shoes came by.

"Allan?", Whumpee whispered.

"Yes Whumpee", the butler sighed as he prepared the table for dinner.

"I was wondering if Madame has said anything about me eating today?", Whumpee fiddled with the chain that bound them to the table.

"She hasn't, how long has it been since you ate?", Allan frowned, now hearing how loud their stomach rumbled.

"I-I don't know, a few days. I haven't had anything to drink either", Whumpee looked up sadly.

Allan knocked before entering, "Madame, I beg your pardon, but I was just made aware that your personal foot warmer hasn't been given any food or water for a few days. I was wondering if I might fix them a plate?"

"Oh its been that long, how about tomorrow", Madame laughed.

"Miss with all do respect, their stomach is growling. I'm receiving noise complaints from down the road", Allan frowned.

"Fine prepare them a plate and set it by mine they are not allowed to eat until I've finished. I want to hear just how hungry they are."

"Very well Madame, your dinner is just about served", Allan bowed before leaving.

Madame put her sharpest pair of heels on before entering the dining room.

Whumpee looked down sadly when Madame glared at them.

"Well Whumpee, I hear your hungry", Madame came and sat down, paying no mind to the imprisoned person under the table.

"Y-yes Madame", Whumpee whispered frowning at the heels.

"You can eat when I'm done, I have your plate right here", she lowered the plate to show Whumpee, "doesn't it look delicious, we know Allan is quite the cook."

"Y-yes Madame", Whumpee gulped.

"Of course you need to earn your meals. Throughout dinner, I'm going to dig my heals into you as much as I please. If you make so much as a peep, you might notice some of this food disappears. If you keep making noises, I'll keep removing food until you're left with nothing. Am I clear?", Madame pushed her heel into Whumpee.

"Yes ma'am", Whumpee winced.

Allan frowned as he stood off to the side.

Madame started to eat, she would happily dig her heels into Whumpee's skin every few seconds.

Whumpee fought back tears as they were stabbed repeatedly.

Suddenly the heel dug into Whumpee's ribs, causing them to yelp in pain.

"Hmm", Madame chuckled as she reached for Whumpee's plate and took a scoop of food out, and ate it.

Allan locked eyes with Whumpee, the tears flooding Whumpee's eyes broke Allan's heart.

After a few minutes more Madame sighed and slammed her heal into Whumpee.

Whumpee fought back a scream.

"You did better than I thought you would", Madame peeked under the table, "I love those red marks littering your body."

Madame lowered the plate to the floor, "you may eat. Eat like the dog you are."

"Allan, I'll take dessert and coffee in the garden", Madame sat back and watched Whumpee eat the food like a dog.

She hovered her foot above Whumpee's head, before slamming their head into the plate. Whumpee gave a muffled groan as they were smothered into the food.

Allan sighed silently at the mess on the floor and on Whumpee's face when they looked up at him.

"Quite a messy dog", Madame chuckled as they stood, "I'm going to get some comfortable shoes on before I go out to the garden."

"Very good madame", Allan bowed.

When Madame was comfortable in the garden, Allan came in to finish cleaning.

Allan knelt beside the table to access the mess.

"I cleaned it as best as I could", Whumpee sighed, "thankyou for talking her into feeding me, it tasted really good."

Allan reached for a wet wash cloth to clean Whumpee's face, "I'm sorry you had to do so much work to get to eat though."

"It's okay. I would have been okay, but that heel went right into my ribs", Whumpee whispered after Allan wiped their face, "it tasted so good, I wish I could have more."

"I'm sorry, but I think she would have both of our necks if I did that", Allan sighed as he wiped the floor off, "you licked this plate clean", Allan frowned.

Whumpee nodded, "i-it tasted good, an-and I was hungry", Whumpee looked at him, "can I just know what you fixed her for dessert, s-so I can imagine how good it taste."

"A decadent chocolate silk pie, with fresh made whipped cream peaks and chocolate curls", Allan started to clean the table, "and her normal coffee."

"That sounds so tasty", Whumpee sighed as they thought about it.

"It was quite delicious", Allan stopped and looked at Whumpee sadly, "will you keep a secret?"

Whumpee quickly nodded.

Allan took a quick glance out the window to see if the Madame was in the garden still.

Allan smiled as he lowered a small plate, "I'm sorry to rush you, but enjoy it quickly."

Whumpee took the plate and smiled up at Allan.

On the plate was a small slice of the pie.

"Thankyou so much", Whumpee looked at the plate with excitement before eating it as quickly as they could, "that taste so good", Whumpee spoke with their mouth full."

Allan quickly wiped any remnants of the pie from Whumpee's face before taking the plate, "don't talk with your mouth full. Remember it's our secret."

Whumpee quickly nodded and then swallowed the pie, "thankyou so much, it was really yummy."

Allan gave one more wipe down before leaving Whumpee.

Whumpee scooted deeper under the table and curled into a ball.

They thought about the taste of the meal for the rest of the night. Thankful for someone like Allan to take care of them.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XXXIII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: The aftermaths of Sukuna’s defeats, and the role that Y/N L/N plays in both.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3.4k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i loved reading all of your comments on the last chapter LMAOAOAO had me giggling ngl. also uh tw cannibalism for the first half of the chapter?? idk it’s just sukuna on his bullshit as per usual

“I am a little insulted,” Sukuna admitted, standing with one pair of his arms folded over his chest, the other on his hips, the mouth on his stomach baring its teeth at the girl. “I thought the might of all the world’s sorcerers would have come to try and seal me, but they only sent you and that little knife of yours.”

The girl — well, she was on the cusp of womanhood, but anyone who wasn’t an old lady was nothing more than a mere girl to the King of Curses — did not look like she was afraid, or at least not afraid in the way she ought to be. Certainly, she was frightened, but it was not of him that such fear originated, and that irritated him. Did she not understand who she was standing in front of? Did she not realize that any other fears she might have would pale in comparison to him?

”I volunteered to come,” she said, eyes downcast but shoulders straight. “I told them I could do it.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna said. “And do you still believe that you can?”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

It wasn’t really public knowledge, but the truth was the Sukuna had, as of late, been famished. Uraume’s cooking was as delicious as ever, but he had been craving something different. Something fuller, something like sushi, maybe; the delicacy of the meat combined with the flavor of the sauce…it would be appealing, if he ate fish. Though, then again, something even baser might satisfy him better, something raw and messy and hideous. He had been thinking these things, but he hadn’t had the wherewithal to do anything about them, not when it required effort on his part.

Yet here she was. This girl, this robust, childish creature, was standing in front of him, and he almost salivated as he observed her with the critical eye of a connoisseur. She was full in the places she ought to be, which was definitely a relief — in his experience, the spindlier sort of humans never tasted quite right, always too tough for him to enjoy himself as he went. 

“I’m surprised,” he said. “What do you think you can do against me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think I can do,” she said. “I’ll do what I must.”

He didn’t use his technique. He was so, so hungry, and besides this girl barely came up to his collarbone, so it would be a little excessive to do so. Anyways, the thought of eating meat tainted with his own technique always made him shiver; it was a little too close to self-consumption for comfort, and he also couldn’t put thoughts of contamination out of his mind, so he tried to avoid it when he could.

It was a little strange: the girl did not run away. When he wrenched the knife from her hands, she was motionless, tears gathering in her eyes but her body frozen in place as she surrendered to Sukuna’s might. Twirling the knife in his fingers, he used one of his hands to lift her by her collar, cocking his head at her dull gaze.

“And what must you do?” he said. She hung there, but an uncharacteristic defiance sparked in her eyes. It was not the kind of look that prey wore. It was the expression of someone whose victory was predetermined, which was entirely absurd, given that she was quite literally millimeters away from the jaws of death.

Scowling at her impudence, Sukuna took the knife and dug it into her chest. She obviously tried to keep silent as best she could, tried to deny him the delight of her pain, but she was unable to stop the small, soft gasps from escaping her, unable to to prevent her every breath from breaking off into small whimpers as the life began to drain from her, right alongside the blood spurting from the site of the wound.

His mouth watered, and then he could not contain himself any longer. Without even taking a moment to rip the knife back out, he brought her body to his, biting onto the crook of her neck, his second mouth latching onto her thigh, tearing into the flesh and lapping at the crimson liquid seeping from where his teeth had clamped down.

She was shaking now. He paused for a moment, because if she was crying, then there was no point in continuing until her tears abated — the salty water would saturate her and spoil the flavor completely. Yet to his surprise, though she was crying, as any person being consumed alive was wont to do, she was also laughing. That was why she was shaking, in truth; she was laughing so hard that she trembled from the force of it.

“I’ve done enough,” she said. “I don’t have to be the one to seal you. I just had to do this one thing.”

“What are you talking about?” he said. There was a tinge of insanity to her expression now, her eyes dancing, her lips pulled back in a half-grimace, half-grin even as she slowly died.

“It’s not a surprise that you aren’t aware of it,” she said. “I’m an unimportant person married to an unimportant man, so of course you know nothing about me. It worked in my favor, though, since it meant you were naive enough to do what you just did.”

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, thrashing her about in the air furiously. “Explain yourself!”

“It’s not a cursed technique, but rather a property of my cursed energy that I inherited from my mother,” she coughed out. “I’ve never been able to explain it until someone told me a story from a land on the other side of the world, one in which a woman must stay in the underworld against her will because of the contract she unwittingly signed after eating a third of a pomegranate. It’s like that.”

“That makes no sense,” Sukuna snapped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My cursed energy,” she said, and then she had the gall to spit in his eye. “My body. My very being is like the pomegranate from that myth, and you dared to partake; thus, you have agreed to your own execution, the ink of your signature my blood, which seeps from your mouth even now.” 

He threw her to the ground, taking a step backwards. “I did no such thing.”

“You did,” she said. “From now on, I will be your weakness. You can only live when I live, just as you can only taste defeat when I do. The contract is fair, after all; it affords you immortality, contingent on my survival. Even I am powerless to change that.”

Just then, he felt a searing, all-consuming pain, his cursed energy separating from him, his fingers sliced from his hands by the blades of one-or-another sorcerer’s technique. This time, it was him who could not move as he was slowly but surely suppressed; it was not out of fear but something physically holding him in place, an oppressive but intangible weight on his shoulders that would not allow him to even flinch.

“You’re only sealing me,” he managed to say, his tongue leaden in his mouth though it was. “Not killing me. I’ll come back, and you won’t be able to stop me then.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe that’s what defeat means, this time. But when it comes to contracts, there are always, always loopholes. One day, I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean by that.”

She was dead by now, there was no doubt about it. The girl was dead, exactly by her design, and so Sukuna faded into the grey existence of the shrine he would be sealed in for the next thousand-and-some years.

The last thing he saw was a young man running to the woman’s side, shouting her name, his hands outreached as if his paltry Reverse Cursed Technique could actually do something as fantastical as bringing her back to life.

Y/N L/N. That was what she was called. That was the name of the woman who had sealed him. 

He swore to make her suffer if they ever met again.

It was unclear who dealt that final blow, whether it had been Itadori in his rage or Maki in her grief. Or maybe they did it at the same time, or maybe it was Y/N who had killed him and their actions had just been formalities. The details didn’t matter, really. He was gone. That was what was important; Sukuna was gone.

It was an occasion to celebrate. Once and for all, the King of Curses had been exorcised. He could never harm them again. He could never take anyone else from them. Though, it was a strange thing: neither Itadori, nor Maki, nor any of the others seemed to be particularly thrilled.

“Why did she do that?” Itadori said as Maki fell to her knees without the adrenaline of the battle to boost her any longer. “Why — why did she have to do that?”

Right beside where Maki sat was the fallen body of Y/N L/N, alarmingly still, alarmingly cold, the needle she had used to kill herself still hanging loosely from her hand. Because of how tiny the puncture mark had been, there was no blood, no indication that anything had happened to her, no indication that she was even dead. She just looked relieved to finally rest, her brow relaxed, the shadows under her eyes and the hollows of her cheeks less stark, less severe against the sweetness of her mien.

“What kind of plan was this?” Maki said, holding Y/N’s hand to her face. Tears that she would never dare shed in front of anyone else trickled from her eyes and down Y/N’s arm, but she did not try to stop them. It was Y/N, her Y/N, and she could always cry in front of Y/N. “Huh? Tell me, you idiot! What kind of plan involves running around and rattling off stupid, vague one-liners and then killing yourself? Only shitty ones do! Only really, really shitty ones do! You’re lucky you didn’t — you didn’t tell me what you were thinking before you did it, because I would’ve stopped you. You get that? I would’ve stopped you! You dumbass…why didn’t you let me stop you?”

Suddenly, an icy chill blanketed the air around them, and then they were all being knocked aside by the force with which Yuta Okkotsu arrived. Despite his Reverse Cursed Technique taking care of any of the actual wounds he had sustained against Kenjaku, he looked haggard, his eyes nothing but dark pits, his hair and clothes haphazard, his white shirt torn and stained, his sneakers splattered with mud.

“Kusakabe told me,” he said by way of greeting. “But it’s not true.”

Even though he said it flatly, like it was a fact, there was no way that they could agree with him. Because it was true. Because Y/N was dead. Yuta waited for them to say something, but both Itadori and Maki were silent, and that was when he noticed what was in between them — a corpse. The corpse.

He stared at it for a second, his face growing paler and paler as he slowly but surely understood that Kusakabe had not been lying, that she really was gone. He shoved past Maki and gathered Y/N in his arms, feeling for her pulse, waiting for it to blaze under his fingertips, waiting for her to open her eyes and laugh at him for actually believing she could die.

She did not wake up. She did not laugh. She could die. She had died. There was no pulse. There was just the vast expanse of her smooth skin, already losing its color in favor of the pallor of death. Yuta then tried to shake her awake, but she was limp and unmoving despite the harshness of the gesture. Slowly, it dawned on him that this was it. This time, he had really lost her.

He had been prepared for that to have been their final conversation, had been prepared to never see her again, but not in this way. He was the one that was supposed to die. She was supposed to live. It was because she was stronger than him — she was the one who would be able to figure out how to keep going. He could not do the same. She was the person who had told him that it was okay for him to live, so how was it that she was now dead? 

“Okkotsu?” Itadori said when he did not move anymore, just sitting there and cradling her body in his arms. “Okkotsu, what should we do now?”

“We have to cremate the fallen sorcerers,” Maki said, interjecting for Yuta, who was in no condition to respond. “Including — including—” She dissolved into genuine tears, unable to complete the sentence, burying her face in her hands, her breaths coming shallow. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just give me a minute, Itadori.”

“No,” Yuta said, dully at first and then voice rising in a panicked crescendo. “Not her. You can’t cremate her! She’s scared of fire, Maki, she has been since Shibuya. She’ll be afraid if we burn her!”

“What about Megumi?” Itadori said, steering the conversation in a different direction when it became obvious that Maki had no response to Yuta’s protests.

Maki gave Yuta and Y/N one final look, and then she wiped at her face, knowing that she would have to take charge, that she could not afford to linger like this. The time to grieve would come later. At present, she had to ensure that all loose ends were tied up, that they made sure their friends’ sacrifices were not in vain.

“Let’s go see what the situation is,” she said, placing a hand on her junior’s shoulder. “Come on.”

They left Yuta alone with Y/N, lying beside her immobile body, her on her back and him on his side so that he could face her. He stared at her with the same adoration that he had when she was alive, his devotion unwavering even though she was now gone. He was like her, in that sense: he, too, did not know what it meant to let go. He would lie there, waiting for her until she came back.

“Why didn’t I tell you?” he said. “I was so afraid of cursing you, but if this was always going to be the outcome, then what reason did I have to be so cautious? I should’ve just done it. I should’ve just told you.”

She would never get to hear him say it. That had been the one thing she had asked of him, and he had not even given her that. Now she was dead and he was alive and it should be the other way around but it wasn’t, and how was that fair? But there was nothing to be done about it. His beautiful Y/N, the girl he loved — loved, loved, loved, he thought it all the time but never said it — he would never see her again if he left her side now. So he stayed. For as long as he could, he vowed that he would stay, that he would in the meantime go about imprinting her memory in the very essence of his soul, so that he might never exist without her.

“I’ll say it to you now,” he said. “Even if you can’t hear me. Y/N, I—”

“Stop.”

Yuta blinked and then sat up, looking around and wondering why he had heard that voice at such a time. “Rika?”

He was sure that it had been her, but he hadn’t summoned the copy of her soul that he had retained, and the surrounding vicinity was empty. It was just him and Y/N, so why had he heard Rika telling him to stop?

“Yes.” It was her again. He whipped around, trying to figure out where she could be, but there was nothing bar a slight, dry breeze in the district. “You can stop looking for me. It’s not really me but a version of your subconscious speaking at the moment, so you’ll never find me in the physical plane.”

“Why are you talking to me?” he said in alarm. “Why can’t I tell Y/N what I should’ve told her so long ago?”

“Didn’t your teacher tell you that love is the strongest curse of all?” Rika — could she be called that if it wasn’t really her? — said. “By refusing to tell her, you’ve made a kind of Binding Vow with yourself. If you say it now, there could be consequences of the kind you aren’t ready for.”

“Consequences?” he said.

“Hm. Do you remember the story of the first Y/N L/N?”

“The one who helped to seal Sukuna, right?” Yuta said, and he was so exhausted that he could not even comment on the ridiculousness of the full-fledged conversation he was technically having with himself.

“What happened after that?” Rika pressed. “It’s the reason why the L/Ns are so well-respected. It’s the reason you’re still here.”

Yuta’s eyes widened, and then he was scrambling to his feet, crouching over Y/N. She was dead, but when had death ever been the end for them? She had not accepted his death, so why should he just accept hers?

“Can I do it?” he said.

“It’s not a guarantee, and you’ll have to give something else up to even try,” Rika said. “But yes, there’s a chance.”

“Anything,” Yuta said. “No matter how small the chance, I’ll try. I’ll give up anything to try.”

“Me,” Rika said. “That’s what you’ll have to give up. Your reserves of cursed energy — every drop, in fact. Your Reverse Cursed Technique isn’t like Composition; it’s not that strong, that purposefully designed. In order to even attempt a feat such as this, you will have to multiply everything you have together, far past the point of recovery.”

He didn’t have to take a second to think about it. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll be a normal person,” she warned. “I don’t even know if you’ll be able to see curses, so you can forget about fighting them. This is the last thing you’ll ever do as a sorcerer.”

It was selfish. That was what she was telling him; he was choosing himself, choosing Y/N, over the entire world. He was the only special grade sorcerer left, and yet instead of harnessing that power to restore order in wake of Sukuna’s rampage, he was giving it up for just a possibility, and an unlikely one, at that.

“I don’t have to be a sorcerer,” Yuta said. “I just have to be with her.”

“Then you know what you have to do. Goodbye, Yuta.”

“Goodbye, Rika,” he said, and the farewell wasn’t as horrible this time, not when it meant that he might — he might get to see someone else again. Someone just as precious. Someone who he was not ready to say goodbye to, yet.

Y/N often spoke about harnessing a great pain in order to be able to heal others. According to her, it was like a knife in her stomach whenever she used Composition, but Yuta did not have to reach for that, not when there was one already in his heart — a knife of his own choosing, one made entirely of the sorrow he felt from her loss. It was that pain which he sought out, and then he placed his hands on her chest.

“Y/N,” he said, activating his Reverse Cursed Technique with a tenderness he had never known before nor since. “I love you. Did you know that? I hope you did. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

There was nothing more he could do. He had given up all of his cursed energy, everything he had, and he did not know if it was in vain or not. For a second, nothing changed, and he thought that it had come to nothing, that he had given up so much and received disappointment in return, but then he was inhaling sharply as he felt a new sensation, one he had thought in the back of his mind he never would again.

Maybe she and Rika had been right. Maybe his love didn’t curse people. Maybe it saved them.

Under the callused skin of his palm, Y/N L/N’s heart once again began to beat.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

It's the little things (7)

Previous / Next

After nine years of knowing him, Christine Vega had about lost hope about ever learning how to not give in to John MacTavish's puppy eyes.

So when he had started whining about how long had it been since she had last cooked fried chicken (it was last month), she just... got to work. She couldn't help it.

And there she was, in the small kitchenette that Price had made install in their private common room, up to her elbows in flour and spices, coating chicken in it, then in eggs, then in panko crumbs, then dropping it in oil, checking over it with the wood tongs...

It was a tedious and messy process for just one person, but both Soap and Gaz had been roped into taking the privates to the assault course. So they'd be hungry when they got back. And that day Price had mentioned mournfully that Dr. Heather was having lunch with a friend. So she had to make sure it was enough food for five people, four of which ate like they were always famished.

But she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel joy seeing them devour the food she cooked. It made her feel useful to know that she was good at something.

Now, if only she had been good at tying her damn hair properly, that would have been awesome.

For the last ten minutes the shorter strands of her hair had escaped from her loose bun, and brushed over and over again her face, tickling her nose when she leaned in. And her hands were sticky with the mixture of flour and egg and bread crumbs, so she couldn't just... brush it back. So she did as she could using her forearms, to no avail. She even blew softly to get the loose strands out of her face.

''What are you doing?'' Simon's deep, gravelly voice sounded right behind her, and Christine let out an undignified squeak, almost dropping a piece of chicken and turning her head.

He was standing there, hands inside the pocket of his hoodie as usual, looming over her and watching curiously the messy display on the counters.

''One day, Simon, I swear I'll scare you to death just like you do when you sneak up on me'' Christine mumbled, facing again her task, but she couldn't help but smile. And then frown when with the movement her bun definitely came undone. ''Well, shit''

''Problems, lovie?'' His low rumbled laugh made her heart flutter as always, and the left corner of her lips hurt when her smile widened without control.

''Bad hair day, I guess. I can't seem to keep it up, and my hands are filthy and I can't...'' She froze when he felt hands... his hands, gently brushing her hair back and bunching it up until he could hold it with just one of his enormous hands.

God, he even had taken off his gloves.

''Does this help?'' His voice sounded lower than before, and a tad more uncertain, and she resisted the urge to nod like an idiot, trying with all her might not to tremble.

''Yes...'' Christine murmured, exhaling the breath she had been holding, and continued working while he stood there beside her, holding her hair with one hand and the other still inside his pocket.

Simon wasn't even sure why he had done that. And even less why he had taken his gloves off before touching her hair, but he had remembered Belarus. When she asked permission to touch the skull plate on his mask, and when he agreed, she had taken her glove off to touch it with her bare fingertips.

As if it would have been disrespectful, unholy, to touch him with anything less that her exposed skin.

Maybe that was why he had shed his gloves before touching her hair, and now, was still trying to decide if it had been a good or a bad idea. Feeling her hair between his fingers, the back of her head almost resting on his palm, made him feel things. Things that made him clench his jaw beneath the balaclava, his eyes focused on the nape of her neck.

Soft, pale and delicate skin where he could maybe...

Her low humming distracted him from his less than chaste thoughts, and he couldn't help but look at her fondly. Busy as a bee, completely dedicated to feed them like a mother hen, fiercely taking care of her newfound place.

Without thinking, his fingers tightened his hold on her hair, craddling her head in his palm, and he saw her shoulders relaxing, her humming becoming sweeter and softer, almost a purr.

Wait, he knew that tune.

''What are you humming?''

''Ah... Think, by Kaleida, it... it's in the first John Wick film'' Christine barely turned her head to look at him, not bothered in the slightest by how tight he was holding her hair now. If she had to be honest... she liked it too much.

Simon pretended to be deep in thought, and then shook his head.

''Don't remember it'' He was lying. That was the song that he heard in the video that Soap sent him during his last solo deployment.

She fell for it. Or maybe pretended to fall for it. But she turned her head back to her task preparing food and started to hum softly again, until she ended singing just as softly, warming his heart.

Think of me, I'll never break your heart Think of me, you're always in the dark I am your light, your light, your light Think of me, you're never in the dark