#like a master pitcher

[ickyguts]

Hopps and Geshtu everybody

Geshsnooze belongs to @herebecritters

[sputnikodin]

ohhhh i forgot they're facing the sole knuckleballer in the big leagues tonight!!! super cool

[controld3vil]

𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing(s): young!rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader (can be read either as romantic/platonic) synopsis: Rhaenyra always seemed to like her position as the only dragon rider in King's Landing. Besides her uncle who rarely visits, she flys with Syrax whenever she can as proof of her imperial lineage. When word comes that you claimed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, Rhaenyra becomes strangely jealous of your newfound attention.

notes: this takes place closely timeline-wise to the first season. cw: reader experiences a near-death incident, slight angst

Rhaenyra always felt at ease after riding with her dragon, Syrax. She had a distinctive bond with Syrax that no one could replicate. No one could discourage the truth. Her ancestors rode dragons and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. And rightfully so, as she acknowledges its power on the world. They were fierce beasts, little in number, but ferocious and praised as Gods to the people. The Princess of Dragonstone understood that well when she climbed off of Syrax’s saddle. Her golden scales glisten gloriously from the sunshine. 

She gleams brighter than before. Switching into a rich blonde gown, Rhaenyra rushes to the Court Council. Hoping none of the Councilmen would be bothered by her disturbed presence, the princess fixates on flattening down her silvery hair with her fingers. Combining through her tangled locks, the princess enters, drawing attention to haste and bewildered looks. 

“I was visiting Mother,” The Realm’s Delight she was named, smiled at her father, the King when asked about her whereabouts. She knew he would be displeased by the fact that she was dragon riding incredibly early. But she told the truth wholly. Rhaenyra did visit her mother. 

“On dragonback?” Viserys asked after catching a whiff of his daughter’s distinctive scent. It smelled of smoke and sea, resembling the dragon’s nature and their fiery breath. His daughter returns with a cheeky smile when she goes about to collect the pitcher, full of wine. There was much pride in the princess of her ancestral lineage. It was clear as histories can be able to tell of Old Valyria. A dragon was considered a rare delicacy despite having an abundance around the world. King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark. Yet people did not consider them to be flesh and blood. Surprisingly, most were wild and had never been bonded with a dragon rider.

“Haven’t you heard? There was a sighting of the wild dragon, Vermithor along the coastlines of The High Tide,” Coryls Velaryon spouts, in cautiousness and weary. His clenched fist was unmistakable to Rhaenyra as he leaned forward with agitation. “My men are terrified, Your Grace. Surely we can think of a way to return the dragon’s course to Dragonstone.”

The silvery-haired girl looks to her father, King Viserys who beams with fazed delight. He thinks in light of the Master of Ship’s concerns. A dragon flies as it pleases. It did not flee far from Dragonstone as her familial home was a mile away from Driftmark itself. Eventually, Vermithor would have to return to rest. “And I’m sure he will return to Dragonstone when he deems it appropriate.” 

The lighthearted remark sparked some casual laughter from the table. A few lords shamelessly coughed between their coats while Hand to the King, Otto Hightower could only contemplate silently how to move the conversation to something more time-consuming. Rhaenyra has witnessed enough Council meetings to know that her father is restless. He never wanted to stay in the room for far too long before becoming disinterested in every political matter. What a dull position, she thought, to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you must abide by everyone's opinion and request. 

Rhaenyra traces her thumb around the handle of the pitcher. It’s glass and gold melded together. Its purity reflects wonderfully when she’s shown it to the light. As she strides around every seat of the table, the princess notices the little nuances each lord has. The old and cold pin of the Hand on Otto’s chest. The chainmail rings around Maester Mellos. And the rustic bronze rings Lord Corlys carried on his right hand. She recognizes why they are so distinctive now. 

“Nyra!”

It was like a bell went off in her mind when the Princess of Dragonstone blinked again. Now the Council meeting was left in their final moments. The doors that connected the room to the passive hallways opened, and flooded with the lords, one by one exiting. Well-mannered and poised was she when Rhaenyra placed the pitcher back onto the tabletop. Greeted by her father with a brief smile, she heard the sound of sweet nectar. Did you expect she did not hear you?

“Princess,” Rhaenyra laughs, coming down the stairs. You appeared eager to be near her, as you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist. A warm ache grows in her chest as Dragonstone’s darling caresses your shoulders, pushing you aback to see your face. “My you are eager this morrow.”

Your cheeks were plastered in rosy plums. Pink and delicate. As you burst into unfathomable joy at her proximity, you couldn’t contain your giddy blubbering. “I missed you! Is it so wrong to miss you?” She’d imagined your energy and heart beating simultaneously in the rhythm of a hummingbird. You were such a lively spirit, it complimented well with her own. Can she say that? 

She peers at you, fondly. As you were the most precious being one could ask for. If she could, Rhaenyra would shield you from every inconvenience and proposal your way. Even when you would become of age and pursued by your parents, she still would protect you from anyone who deemed you accessible. She brought both of her hands around your small one. They were adorned with rose-colored jewelry. Each is a colored gemstone to match your House colors. Rhaenyra slowly traces the flesh of your palm, “Of course not, Princess! It’s- I haven‘t seen you in so long,”

Your name is hollered and echoed against the looming halls you both stood in. She was sure for a moment, you two would be alone. A pang of discomfort flourishes in her throat when Rhaenyra becomes mute to the person to grab your attention. You, however, were deemed unbothered by it all, and held onto her grip tighter, and firmly, radiating heat and sweat. 

“There you are,” Your father, Lord Corlys groans in relief. It was evitable to find you lost around the castle, King’s Landing was a vast place. However, for how long you have visited, Rhaenyra depicts you knew the structure of it all and simply faked being clueless around. She saw it once. When you vaguely asked a guard where the library was to distract him, knowing you would be off avoiding your lessons with the Septa. She wishes she could chuckle out loud for that memory. “Do not get yourself carried away with the Princess, we have important matters to discuss with the King.” Your father seemed adamant about separating you from Rhaenyra, she recognizes. Which offends her greatly. You were a good friend and cousin. But more importantly, you were the only person to enjoy her company and mischief. 

For the longest time, the eldest daughter of King Viserys was lonely, not having anyone to relate to with her ancestral blood. The ladies in waiting were shy and polite. They were not her forte, Rhaenyra disliked how courtship worked. The daughter of the Hand, Alicent Hightower was a pleasant fresh air and surprise. When she had arrived at King's Landing years ago, Rhaenyra was rather avoidant of her. Now, they were good friends, only ever to be in each other's presence. Daemon, her uncle, is rarely seen nowadays. His position to the City Watch had in truth bothered and encouraged him to wreak more havoc with the townsfolk. She dismisses everyone clearly, anyone closest to her Targaryen bloodline is old or distant. 

But you, and your siblings, Laenor and Laena were much needed in the capitol. Your brother and sister visit rarely, they listen to your father and mother. On the other hand, you weren’t as uptight. As the youngest member of the Velaryon family, you had fewer expected duties compared to her and Alicent. Rhaenyra envied it truly, forever longing for your freedom. 

“Yes father,” You mope, an obvious frown on your lips when you depart from Rhaenyra’s side to your father. He stares at you with amused eyes, much contrast when he turns to her direction with a cold glare. It brings a chill down her spine as she quickly bows her head at the Master of Ships. She meant no offense. You did not notice the demeaning tension between your father and cousin. Because childishly, you excitedly tugged on Rhaenyra’s golden sleeves. “We’ll meet again soon, alright?” 

God, she can only smile at you. You were so sweet, endearing, and innocent. All traits she could find in any other lady. But you were much lively, more genuine than the girls she watched by the courtyard. They were pretentious and fickle. Alicent was also sweet and innocent. Innocent in the ways of adventure and courage. She was attached to duty and for that, Rhaenyra could not blame her. But for how much it mattered to her, she believed it to be an outrage. Out of everyone, you were just right.

The next time you met Rhaenyra was unconventional. Somehow you managed to convince your father to journey beside him to King’s Landing once more to meet the King’s family. Corlys hardly shrugged, putting little effort to stop you from climbing aboard the Sea Snake. Under unfathomable moments, you were condemned to sail to the capitol to tell the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms the great news. The last islanders left behind were your mother, Rhaenys, and sister, Laena who waved at you, earnestly, honing her fond smile as your figure grew smaller and smaller. Your mother, the Queen who Never Was, stood warmly with her arms crossed, with a look of pride on her face. 

Yes, your mother was ecstatic about what you had accomplished. No other dragon rider besides The Old King, Jaehaerys could claim the beast, the Bronze Fury. Many attempted, and many failed. However, because of your efforts, create a sense of joy and relief in your mother’s eyes. Never would she imagine her youngest child to claim one of the largest dragons alive. Vermithor was an untamable beast with a feisty personality. Perhaps it takes likeness to your spirit and simply bonded. She would have to ask you again to recall how you did it. 

The walls of the grand castle were empty and welcoming. You felt adrenaline scorch through your veins when you climbed up the stairs of the grand hall. The exterior was glorious. You could holler and scream and it would echo throughout all the corridors like a never-ending chamber. You held a skittish smile, as you made your way up, placing one hand on the rails for support. You could hear your father’s voice echo behind. Careful, you mustn’t fall, my love!

Even if you dropped to the ground, you would immediately pull yourself up and climb the stairs again. It was how desperate you were to meet Rhaenyra. You desperately wanted to tell her! 

Across the royal chambers, Rhaenyra was lounging outside notably. She sat under the Weirwood tree at leisure with Alicent beside her with a book in hand. She read aloud one of its stories, a romantic tale of a Dornish princess. But the dragon princess barely paid mind to what the Hand’s daughter was reading, she was more in tune with the moving sky. The baby blue ocean from above and the fluffy clouds that looked like soft cushions. The Realm’s Delight longed to ride with Syrax, despite only returning from her morning ride. If she could live in the sky forever, Rhaenyra would want to. 

She spotted a few of the Kingsguards that patrolled stop in front of someone. It looked as though they were permitting passage but seconds later, she saw them nod in unison simultaneously. They cleared the path and there you were. Striding in happy and irregular steps with your flowy dress of blue seashells and gemstones. She is reminded each time of your wealth and beauty. Cool-toned colors were your style as there was no other pigment you dressed in confidently and proudly, Sometimes she wonders how you would look in crimson red and black. 

“Princess!” Alicent was the first to speak on your behavior. It was not every day to see you all of a sudden in King's Landing. After Lord Corlys’s many disagreements with the Council. he chose to be absent from court. This irritated King Viserys and the rest of the Council, knowing without their Master of Ships, their collaboration would be deemed incomplete. Nevertheless, your appearance would confirm that your father had once again returned to the capitol. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” The brown-haired princess gleams, shutting the book entirely, and rising to meet you in a short embrace. 

Your giddiness is affectionate. It makes Rhaenyra feel light and blissful of your unannounced arrival. “It is good to see you, my Lady!” You’re teasing, tightly wrapping your arms around Alicent before releasing with sweet laughter. Alicent snickers, as the highlights of her dimples flush in soft pales of the color rose. 

“I told you, Alicent is fine!” 

“I know!” The two of you seemed to be in your world whenever your visits happened. You would appear, and Alicent bursts excitement and jitteriness. Rhaenyra finds it amusing to watch it unfold. But for not witnessing your presence for so long, she rather feels a little hurt and apprehensive of your attachment to the Hand’s daughter. If your mere attendance brought such delight, then your words brought an abundance of warmth and tenderness. “Nyra!”

Finally, the Princess of Dragonstone looks up, feeling slightly closed off from your welcome. Yet when she lays her velvet eyes on you, she can’t help but feel you are forgiven. Your expression was gentle and serene. “Princess,” Your name feels light off her lips as it always did. You playfully roll your eyes before releasing your grip on Alicent to hold onto Rhaenyra’s hands. They were inviting and delicate. 

“I missed you,” You whine, dramatically, dragging out the last part as though you haven’t seen each other in months. When really, it has been less than a month. The most you have visited were a full three days, staying overnight in the guest's bedrooms. It was when your father had an important mission to relay with the lords he chose to stay longer. You, on the other hand, wanted a sleepover. And by now, you should have a bedroom, personalized for whenever you wish to come to visit. You have on many occasions to irk your father and mother’s minds.

“The last time we spoke you were whisked away by your father,” She scoffs lightly which earns a questionable raised brow from Alicent. Your expression does not falter at her offense. “even though you said we would meet again.” Petty and stubborn were the words you describe Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was rather protective and loyal to the people closest to her. You importantly, she greatly values you. And weeks ago, you promised her, however, things took a turn with your father and you had to abide. 

“And we have,” You grin, lovingly, holding her hands up to your chest. It was a subtle sign of an apology and care. You carried your promise, even if it had taken weeks to fulfill because of interpersonal matters. But you are here now, in front of her, your energetic personality never failing. “I have great news.” 

The silvery-haired princess seemed to take your understated gesture sincerely as she closed the gap between you two. Curiosity caught her gaze as her lavender orbs did not move away from your own. “Well, what is it?” Suddenly you’re aware you’ve kept a tight grip on Rhaenyra as she allowed you to trap both her hands. The close intimacy is acknowledged by you when you try not to break away your gaze from hers. Alicent seemed visibly bothered by it but you are not facing her to know. 

The wind whistles in anticipation, and the Weirwood tree heaves and blows the dead leaves off of its branches. The luscious green fields dance back and forth in little tiny unison. The scent of dirt and fresh mint is present. As you inhale deeply before revealing, “I claimed a dragon.” 

A moment of silence before a heaved gasp came from the Hightower princess. 

“Congratulations!” 

You can feel the butterflies float up to your chest when you see both of the girl's expressions in a state of happiness and revelation. You give an animated smile, “Thank you!”

“Are you joking?” You can see on Rhaenyra’s face, she is still in shock which morphs into pleasure and ecstasy. 

You shake your head enthusiastically, and repeatedly, shaking both you and the Princess in a hop. “No!”

“Oh thank the gods!” Your cousin blurts, embracing you in a well-deserved embrace. Her arms coil around your back with a squeeze. The encouragement both Rhaenyra and Alicent had given you was something you cherished dearly. For the longest time, you blame yourself for not being able to claim a dragon. No egg would hatch or a wild dragon would approach you. You studied and performed all the ways to encounter them. Yet none had prevailed and up until recently, you felt exasperated on the idea of bonding with a dragon. You were extremely jealous of Laenor and Rhaenyra for their impeccable bond. You and Laena longed for it for your entire lives, it made you moody and neglectful. 

Therefore their support had kept you least tolerable. Your mother and father were understanding and patient with your fits. Even King Viserys and Queen Aemma sometimes consoled you that one day you would claim a dragon. Whichever dragon you did not care for, you knew your companion was out there. 

“Which dragon did you claim?” The brunette girl comes to your side, eager and curious to know what of your new beast. 

“Yes, which one did you claim?” Your silver-haired cousin urges, shaking your hands back and forth. 

You felt like a bubble waiting to pop with excitement. You wanted all the streams and ribbons the castle could offer to be released for your accomplishment. You took a deep breath before letting out a slow exhale to calm your beating heart. “Vermithor.” 

In an instant, Rhaenyra’s face falls. “Vermithor.” 

“Yes, Vermithor!” You were blinded by the enthusiasm Alicent portrayed with her hands, clapping and squealing in awe at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Vermithor!” The Hand’s daughter takes your left hand and swirls her thumbs around your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you!” Again the call of your name is murmured frankly and in reverence. “One of the largest dragons alive in the world and you had claimed it!” 

Satisfaction filled your chest. Nothing could compare to the prideful looks your friends and family had for you on this day. It truly was something to celebrate something this spectacular. Not since Jaehaerys, your great grandfather rode the dragon. Your mother would surely want you to ride Vermithor immediately as he was still considered wild. But if Jaehaerys managed to tame the beast, you knew you could. 

She could not explain it. Rhaenyra had always thought highly of you. She would disparage you out of anything. You were too pure for her frustration. What is she angry about? The princess could not explain. But whenever she passed the corridors of the Keep or the chambers of her mother’s ladies in waiting, she would hear the praise and compliments for your achievement. My, haven't you heard? The youngest daughter of Corlys Velaryon claimed Vermithor! The dragon King Jaehaerys rode! It must be fate. 

To what end was it fated? Dragons chose their riders. It was unclear how the bonds between rider and dragon existed but it was something genuine. So it shouldn’t confuse her when she sees you when on Driftmark, practicing to fly with the Bronze Fury. You struggled the first few times. She recalls those moments well, laughing and teasing you to no end of the amount of times you fell into the mud. Mounting on a dragon was a gradual adjustment. As she stared into the view of the ocean shore and deep gray-blue waters, you and your dragon were by the shorelines, attempting to be in sync with one another. A few feet from you was Rhaenys. As commanding and benevolent she was to you and not to her. 

Rhaenys Targaryen was quick-witted. She never had a great relationship with the Queen who Never Was. But in contrast, she was soft to you and held untainted remorse for her youngest child. Meleys was beside her rider, cooing and staring at you and Vermithor in inquiry. Much similar to her companion, Rhaenys said something Rhaenyra could not understand before watching you shake your head in disbelief. Vermithor was a grueling and deadly creature. The fact that you were young did not change its attention. It croaks and cranes its neck down for you to climb on its upper back. 

A saddle was neatly strapped on the beast. It must take ages to put on. Vermithor was known for his savage behavior. Yet if you were present with him, she deems he would have been docile to take care of. 

“Why are you pouting?” 

It was the late evening on Driftmark when she proposed a walk with you along the beach line. It was the many hobbies you both enjoyed in your homeland. Salt and sea were everywhere as opposed to her home, King’s Landing filled with endless brick walls and dust. The island is peaceful and serene when there are no fishing ships in the water. Rhaenyra can never be tired of the view and the sea salt air Driftmark supplies. It’s refreshing and so calm. 

“I’m not pouting.” The Princess of Dragonstone argues, her off tone marks it remarkable that her fickle state of mind. She should know better. You know her well, more than most of her maids and sometimes father. 

“You are,” The corners of your lips curve as you kick a few clumps of sand off the ground. “I’ve noticed since coming here, you’ve been…distant.” A personality all of your siblings share is your tenderness. Laena had a graceful heart and Laenor a compassionate one. Yours was resilient. You held onto things for far too long and you’re incredibly devoted to the people you love. You become easily attached to things, people, and the attention. Can she blame you? For a long time, you felt ridiculed and ashamed for your lack of a dragon. Your sadness must be more out of sympathy than Laena’s. By the time your sister claimed Vhagar, you were left as an outcast. 

The Realm’s Delights huffs, crossing her arms behind her back. “Seasick I suppose,” In truth, she never was seasick. Rhaenyra had traveled to Driftmark many times to be immune to the sickness. She knew it was a weak lie, one you would catch easily. But she did not like being confronted on whatever was on your mind. 

“Nonsense,” You jest, before stomping both your feet firmly into the brown sugar sand. Your stance makes the princess stop. “I know you dislike Vermithor.” 

She looks at you, astonished. “What?” 

You push further into the dirt until your heels are engulfed. “I can see it, Rhaenyra. You do not like him.”  Your assumption makes her head spin. Because in what world would she have any disregard against a dragon? Rhaenyra adored all dragons the same. They were a part of her family’s legacy. But she figures you must’ve seen her sometimes glare in the direction of your dragon to believe she had no love for the Bronze Fury. 

The silver-haired girl shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” She did not want to explain this to you. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed at her feelings, Rhaenyra deems you unfit to hear such nonsense. “It’s more childish than that.”

Your head quirks sideways. You looked confused as your eyebrows rose as well. She can feel the winds pick up as the tides come toward you both. Its cold water brushes past your feet but you ignore it completely. “How so?” 

Must she explain at such a time? “I must admit, for the past few days, I’ve been feeling remorseful.” She quipped, finding the freezing chill of the sea comforting for this kind of conversation. “I’m sure you’ve seen me grow bitter, even resentful towards you and Vermithor. For that I apologize but- it’s a small feeling.” 

“You feel resentful towards me and Verm?” She can see your eyes flicker, as you contemplate and allow your mind to take in her words. Your loose hair is down, you’re gorgeous. Even in your night clothes and were of the absence of jewelry and pretty colors. 

“Was,” She reaffirms, unable to look you in the eye. Rhaenyra feels ashamed for feeling this way. She does not want to hurt your feelings. “The attention, the people, they spoke of you for days about what you have done, claiming King Jaehaerys dragon. All everyone wanted to do was talk about you and how you proved yourself to become the greatest rider.” The more she rambles, the hot tears flood her vision. She does not seem weak to you. She was spilling her truth to you, she had to let it out. 

You held a calm expression. “But I’m not the greatest rider,” Yes, you were not. Your bond was still young. You still struggled with communicating with Vermithor sometimes daily. How can you be considered the greatest even when you struggled to mount your dragon? 

“That is what the people say,” Accidently your cousin snaps but quickly regains her composure. She looks at her feet and the sand below. It was as if she pleaded for forgiveness. There is nothing to forgive, you’re angry. You’d say but she continues. “I was sick and tired of it all. Even my father spoke highly of you and it offended me. Why do I feel this way? I should be happy for you!” The mist around you clouds the floor. It’s sombrous and cool to touch. Everything Rhaenyra had held back was gone and it felt somewhat cathartic. She knows you must’ve felt hurt by her words, she was harsh.

She was afraid to touch you. But you did not care, gripping her forearm suddenly. Rhaenyra’s gaze finally breaks and stares at you, wide-eyed. Her tear-filled eyes shattered your heart, fully aware of her fragile condition. “I don’t blame you for what you feel, Rhaenyra. I too felt the same way when Laena claimed Vhagar, do you remember it? I was restless, unable to sleep at night - why couldn't I do what she had done.” The Princess of Dragonstone does not pull away from your grasp but simply gazes at your quivering lips. “I grew to be resentful of my sister. My heart grew dark and left people in danger. I regret feeling this way towards her now because of it. Do you understand?” 

The expression on your face said it all as she observed. The strained look flashed before you as you recounted the painful memories. In the days after Laena’s bond, you were cruel and cold. You spoke less to your family, ashamed and poisoned by jealousy. You would snap at the sailors more often and drive them into more dangerous scenarios to spite them. Your pettiness was revolting to watch, your father, Corlys growing instantly tired of your immature tantrums for something you could not control. He would cry out to you about how ignorant your actions were and then dismiss your privileges to sailing his ships. All while your mother felt she could do nothing to stop you in your frustration. She watched from a distance as her husband criticized you openly for your infuriating flaws, making it known to all you had gone too far. 

Slow but surely, when you stepped closer to her gave you the courage to tell her what needed to be heard. “I cannot change what you feel, but if you wish for me to leave, then please tell me.” You huffed in pain as your cold fingers traced along her arm and then moved to her hands. In some ways like this, you were fragile like porcelain. Sometimes Rhaenyra forgot you were younger than her. And now she felt like the childish one. 

“No, I—” She gulps, her fear evident. She didn't want to lose you as well. “Please don’t go.”

Your eye-opening conversation marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Connecting with the Bronze Fury required some time to adapt to both yourself and those around you. As the newest rider, you felt the world embracing you. However, what you cherished most was the experience of riding. You hailed from Old Valyria, with the blood of the Dragon in your veins. Riding with Vermithor became a daily routine, a privilege you savored. It was the most incredible gift you could have received.

Rhaenyra slowly became accepting of it as well. You can tell by the way her lips curl when you mount off of your dragon, that she was proud of you. You were a dragon rider! Now, you and she could soar through the skies for eternity if you wished. It was a dream come true, and you were overjoyed that she had forgiven you.

When you were above the skies, it was breathtaking. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. You admit now why you found Rhaenyra’s obsession with flying to be so addicting. It was. When you’re up there, it feels as though nothing matters but you and the pale blue heavens. Vermithor would always groan in his grumpy way to show affection. He enjoyed riding above, you’ve felt his calm heartbeat and knew he too felt as relaxed as you did. When Rhaenyra joined you, which was a regular occurrence, you two would race. Up and down the clouds, like both of you danced in between the midst.

She looked dashing in her rider’s uniform. Black leather, plastered to resemble dragon scales alongside matching gloves. You resembled a familiar approach, having bronze leather strapped all over to stimulate Vermithor’s charming scales. You reminisced that he even once nudged at you from behind as a sign of appreciation for it.

Vermithor, the ruthless wid dragon growing soft because of you. You always had your chance to mention it to him before riding as a reminder of your sincere relationship. As a rider and dragon, the two of you bonded over adventure and tricks. You loved exploring the faraway lands to only encourage the Bronze Fury more driven to fly. 

But there were also moments when you were reminded of how reckless you could be with him. On the morning of your uncle’s name day, you convinced Rhaenyra to fly out to the Estermount Sea, close to the Triarchy of Essos. At first, the princess urged you of the danger, the Triarchy were pirates who paraded in raiding others for fun. Additionally, they had been targets of your father’s ships, disrupting trade. Yet you dismissed her pleas and pursued with an eager grin. 

The first few moments entering the sea territory were quiet. Both of you were mindful of the harsh waves there and how foggy it was similar to the Stormlands. But Rhaenyra persisted with her worries when you wanted to challenge her to dive down close to the sea. 

“We shouldn’t be here!” Her lilac eyes were defined with anxiousness as the princess held her dragon’s reins tightly. However you were indifferent, all too casual in uncharted areas. 

“We’re fine! We’re high enough in the sky!” you shout, a broad grin stretching across your face as you gaze at the small islands of Essos below. They look both foreign and beautiful. You’ve never ventured this far from home before.

But that was the last moment of calm you experienced. Suddenly, a harpoon appeared out of nowhere, narrowly missing you and Vermithor by the shoulder. The weapon moved with such speed and force that you had no time to process what was happening. Rhaenyra saw it clearly—she watched as the massive arrow zipped past you, inches away from your body, before plunging into the sea below. Someone had attempted to attack you. The worst followed: the harpoon's impact sent you and Vermithor into a chaotic frenzy. You leaped as your dragon swerved violently, causing you to be thrown from your saddle. For a moment, your body was there, and then it wasn’t.

The princess screamed in desperation, urgently commanding Syrax to dive into the water in an attempt to catch your falling body. Your dragon was beside hers, plummeting and speeding towards the sea floor as you descended. With a whoosh, Vermithor swooped in at the last moment, grabbing you from a fatal plunge. His claws, though sharp, gripped you with surprising gentleness, and you stared in terror as he held you safely.

The memory was deeply distressing. Your hair was now disheveled and tangled from the fall. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving your skin glistening and drenched. Rhaenyra could only sob with relief, feeling utterly exhausted and wishing it were all just a nightmare. Yet it was all too real. She felt Syrax’s comforting purr in response to her discomfort. Her father and yours would have been shouting endlessly about this.

Despite everything, all she could remember was the devastated look on your face.

It was madness. Jacaerys would tell her, her son parading around her room as they waited for all of the Targaryen bastards to arrive. Here she was, Rhaenyra Targaryen, in Dragonstone, pursuing the inevitable. The idea of recruiting Dragon Seeds was bizarre but what choice did she have? There was no one left in her family who could claim one. Distant Houses with the blood of Valyria were risky. She had to sacrifice one of her knights to do it. Perhaps this was the only way to win the war. 

Years without your presence brought Rhaenyra sorrow and time to reflect on herself. It had been long since she was gifted to speak your name so openly. Everyone knew of her relationship with you. The princess cherished you deeply and with your absence, left the Realm soulfully longing. Rhaenys despises her because of it. She wondered if part of the princess's resentment was directly tied towards you or the fact she was given the title of heir or both. Yet after Alicent’s son had taken her throne, Rhaenys stood by her side, as did her husband. 

Meeting all of the Targaryen bastards was daunting at first. Rhaenyra knew many infidelities were common for any lord to allow their seed to spread. To witness so many of them in a room made her all the more encouraged to believe her plan would succeed. It must, it should. She could feel all of their eyes focus entirely on her like a beacon of hope. They believed what they were doing was right to protect the realm. And for that, she will use it to attain. 

The Dragonpit had never felt so cold or so secure. It was secluded within a murky cave, miles tall and wide. It’s humid, water drips everywhere as the Black Queen strides down onto the platform where the dragon would be summoned. Forty or so Dragon Seeds followed her, paranoid and trembling about what was to come. She would have to believe in the gods, Rhaenyra sighed. If there is a strategy better than this, she would take it. But Alicent’s son had taken something from her by force and for that, she could not comply. 

“Come forward, Vermithor.” Her accent revealed her fluency in the High Vayrlian language. Rhaenyra readied herself for the beast. Seconds of silence loomed over all those in the Dragonpit like a neverending time bomb. The wait was excruciating yet the inevitable was daunting to witness. Out of the shadows comes a growl, which causes a few of the Dragon seeds to slightly panic. But the Queen knew better. And Vermithor as well.

He looms, towering over the cockpit like a living nightmare. His crooked teeth glowed an intimidating appearance for all, and the simmer of his bronze scales shined. “Obey! Stay calm, Vermithor!” Commanded by Rhaenyra as she stares up at the beast, unafraid. She holds an imposing scowl before witnessing the Bronze Fury lower his snout. The Black Queen reaches out of her hand, cautiously and slowly. 

Her hand makes contact with his snout and calmly Rhaenyra recognizes the sense of calm Vermithor had with her whenever you were around. It felt as though he resembled your presence and familiarity. This intuition puts a warm smile on her face. 

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine having a spa day with Shanks

You: [trying to sneak to the spa and resort on the island without the crew noticing]

Shanks: [notices and follows in secret]

You: [makes it to the resort doors and does a happy dance because you were successful at eluding the crew ]

Shanks: so this is where you were sneaking off to.

You: eek! How long were you following me?

Shanks: since you left the Red Force. Why did you feel the need to sneak off to come here, no one would be mad at you for coming here. In fact, most of the boys would also enjoy it.

You: That's the problem, they'd want to come with.

Shanks: [cocks an eyebrow at you] and why is that a problem?

You: because they'd get too rambunctious and inevitably get me kicked out with the rest of them.

Shanks: that's not true.

You: Do you remember the resort on Flower Island? Or the Hot springs at Ash Island?? Oh, they set fire to the Butterfly Haven resort on Flutterwind Island.

Shanks: .... okay they do usually get us kicked out of places, and that fire was an accident

You: That's beside the point.

Shanks: well, what is your point?

You: if they come along, I won't be able to enjoy my spa day. All I want is one day without dealing with over a dozen loud men and getting spoiled by resort workers.

Shanks: they can't go one day without causing trouble, that's true... Fine, I won't tell them, but on one condition.

You: oh lord, what?

Shanks: I get to come with you.

You: counter condition, if the crew does find us, you send them away.

Shanks: deal

An hour later

Shanks: [a few mojitos deep and has cucumbers over his eyes] This is great, we should do this more often.

You: it won't do much good if you're drunk the entire time.

Shanks: Drunk? I haven't had a drop of liquor since last night.

You: You're literally drinking right now.

Shanks: I am?

Spa worker: [nods]

Shanks: really? I couldn't tell, I couldn't taste it at all. Y'all must use the good shit.

You: he usually drinks what's basically paint thinner.

Shanks: [mumbles] Paint thinner doesn't usually have that much water in it. [Turns to the spa worker] Can I get a pitcher of this stuff?

Spa worker: [sighs, but nods]

You: and can I get another slice of cake?

Shanks: you want more cake? [gets up and twerks at you] I've got plenty of cake for you right here, love.

You: [smacks his ass with the menu] Sit down you drunk fool.

Spa worker: would you like the strawberry shortcake or chocolate dreams cake?

You: ...[looks at shanks] both?

Shanks: [nods his head]

You: both [hands her the menu]

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗢𝗠 & 𝗗𝗔𝗗 part one max verstappen x reader (fluff+smau) “. . . your husband takes you and his son with him to the monaco gp.”

( main master list | more of carlos sainz ) ( requests | taglist )

carlossainz55

liked by pieregasly landonorris and 3,136,897 others carlossainz55 giving mama a break

charles_leclerc your not supposed to let him eat soap mate ↳ carlossainz55 i knew that ↳ youruser you tried to eat my shampoo, shut up ↳ carlossainz55 DONT SNITCH ON ME, I DID NOT

scuderiaferrari reserve driver, ✅ ↳ redbullracing sorry but we called dibs first

youruser my boy's so cute ↳ carlossainz55 aw, thank you hermosa [darling] ↳ youruser not you, carlos ↳ carlossainz55i am carlos ↳ youruser other carlos ↳ user his dad? ↳ youruser my son🤦‍♀️ ↳ carlossainz55what about me 🥲 ↳ youruser i told you to wait with the cookies till after dinner ↳ carlossainz55i didnt know he could reach the jar, amor. forgive me ↳ youruser i saw you eating with him, u dont fool me Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro ↳ landonorris i'll come to your funeral mate

landonorris mini carlos😀

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos looked down at you, brushing some strands of your hair off your face. You were in your rented out penthouse apartment in Monaco, sunbathing in the beautiful Wednesday weather with your son exploring the huge balcony. Carlos ( your husband ) was spooning you, wrapping his arms around your belly softly.

"You think it's going to be a girl." He whispered in your ear pressing a loving kiss to the spot behind your ear. "I want another boy." You replied, a soft hum escaping your mouth. "I can't have two boys named Carlos."

You opened your eyes looking at him unimpressed. Your husband only laughed kissing you lovingly, stroking your stomach. Since your son was born, Carlos ( your husband ) had decided to name him after his father: Carlos.

Did that make him Carlos jr jr? Carlos the II? Carlos III? And since you were living with the Sainzs, finding people in the house got easily confusing, to the point that you had to put numbers after the names.

"Mama! Mirar!" [look] You pulled away from Carlos 3 ( your husband ) looking at Carlos 2 (your son). Once he saw you were looking, he threw the plastic balls he had as far as he could in the water. This made your heart warm a smile reaching your face as you clapped proudly. "Vamos, Carlos." Your husband cheered.

You son smiled, wobbling to where you and Carlos 3 laid on the lounge. He climbed up the seat with your help, collapsing in your arms, tired from how much he was running around. "Ese fue un muy buen tiro" [that was a very good throw] You praised kissing his temple.

You turned around with Carlos 2 in your arms so he was sandwiched between you and Carlos 3. "¿Vas a ser un lanzador algún día? Porque eres muy fuerte." [You going to be a pitcher one day? Cause you're very strong] You asked tickling your son's neck making him giggle. "De ninguna manera, él va a conducir autos como papá, ¿no es así?" [No way, he's going to drive cars like daddy, isn't that right] Carlos 3 chuckled, kissing his son's cheek.

"¡sí!" [yeah] Your son exclaimed grabbing his dads nose, standing up between you two. You laid on your back watching the two interact. "Yo ganaré." [I'm going win!] Although the idea of your son racing scared you, you could only smile at him brushing the soft hair on his head.

It was already Saturday and you were walking through the paddock with your two Carlos-es ( what's the plural of Carlos? ). Carlos 2, wearing red bull merch (much to his father's dislike because you were a redbull fan and max somehow convinced carlos 2 to also become one), was sat on his dads shoulders, holding on his hair for stability.

Carlos 3 was holding your hand with his free one while you two walked through the garage. "Looks like it's going to rain." Carlos 3 mumbled, looking out at the weather. "You'll be fine." You assured leaning up to kiss his cheek, before gently removing your son from off his shoulders.

"Noooo." [noooo] Carlos 2 whined trying to reach his father. "Quiero papa." [i want dad] "Pero papá va a manejar" [But papa's got to drive.] "Pero quiero papa" [But I want papa] ouch. "Why dont we spend time with mama till papa finishes" You offered kissing his cheek gently. "We can go explore or pull out your toys till papa finishes, how about that?" "Bueno." [okay] He nodded, you had him once he heard explore or toys.

"Di hasta pronto papa" [say, seen you soon papa] You son only waved at his dad, receiving a quick kiss from him before the driver disappeared. "Podemos salir afuera" [can we go outside] "Por supuesto, mi amor." [of course my love]

Once Carlos 3 pulled up in Parc Freme, you two were the first to greet him. While you weren't a Ferrari fan, you still supported your husband, wearing his cap because you didn't want to buy one. Once you celebrated with your husband, you went to cheer for Max, who had gotten pole.

When Sunday morning came, you had to leave and go back to Madrid due to an emergency with work. Carlos 3 was only able to get his son to wear the chili bucket hat for the weekend, carrying his son through the grid decked in redbull merch.

"Well hello there." An interviewer greeted. "Good morning. di buenos dias, Carlos." [say good morning] Your husband instructed, but he only watched his son shrink into his chest shyly. "What's your name?" The interviewer asked. "He's not very good at english, mama's still teaching him." Carlos 3 spoke for his son, translating what the woman asked.

"Carlos." The boy replied quietly. "Really? How old are you, Carlos?" after receiving the translation the boy held up three fingers, looking at them confused. "There we go." His father fixed them for him, fixing the three to a four. "Cuatro." he held up his fingers. "Very big then huh?" Carlos 3 only looked at his son, gently kissing his temple.

You were glad the first part of the race took place during your breaktime, watching your son and husband on TV. "And we're expecting a second Sainz yes?" "A girl, I'm praying it's a girl."

You chuckled at him, shaking your head at the screen. "Decir adiós a mamá, Carlos." [say bye bye to mama, carlos] Your husband told his son once the interview was over, pointing at the camera. "Te extraño mamá." [i miss you mama] Your son waved shyly, a smile on his face that only made his heart warm. "Eh? But it's more fun with me, no? Nos vemos, mi amor." [see you later my love]

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

youruser

liked by maxverstapen1 r/edbullracing and 2,245,978 others youruser when the dad's away, the mice will play, thank you red bull racing for this opportunity!

carlossainz55 HERMOSA YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T ↳ youruser this number is currently unavailable, try persuading hermosa to answer by taking her to Disney land ↳ carlossainz55 Y/N SAINZ ↳ maxverstappen1 please dont kill our reserve driver's mother

kellypiquet playdate, same time next week? ↳ youruser you know it

carlossainz55 HERMOSA ↳ youruser this number is currently feeding her son

redbullracing always a pleasure to have the sainz ↳ youruser can we agree he looks better in navy? ↳ maxverstappen1 yes ↳ redbullracing yes ↳ carlossainzoficial yes ↳ carlossainz55 ive been betrayed by my own family ↳ youruser we love you carlos 3

landonorris wait why is carlos, carlos 3 ↳ youruser cause if he didn't name carlos 2: carlos, we wouldn't have had to put numbers.

[jayaury]

Marrying the Maid

More archive short stories. Get more on my P*treon. Enjoy! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

---

Baron Lukas Instaf fell into his office chair with an audible groan.

Yes.

His office.

He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. To think, he would inherit the barony at a mere twenty years of age. It was quite a bit of pressure, he had to admit.

He found himself looking back at the imposing portrait hanging over the mantle of the fireplace. His father’s picture was of a grim, sullen man with dark hair and a face of hard, disapproving lines.

Lukas had inherited the man’s hair, if not his rough features. He was slimmer than his stocky father. Many said handsomer, and certainly younger. He flexed his hands on the arms of the chair uneasily and scanned the study. He didn’t much care for the decor. But that had always been his problem, as his father had frequently berated him. He was indecisive. Weak.

Well, Lukas had best start getting decisive. For this was his home now.

Well, mostly.

The door swung open with a bang. “Good morning master!”

He sat up sharply as a familiar figure bounced into the room. Clarissa, the family’s maid of two years, was a forceful personality in the house. She filled every room she stepped foot in with her presence and somewhat unconventional character. Lukas had no idea why his father had kept the boisterous redhead.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a good idea. Two of them, actually. Clarissa was bustier than some holstaurs. In fact, there were rumours that she was one of those bovine maidens, but had filed down her horns. Lukas wasn’t sure how much he believed that, but he did know that she did attend that new cow goddess church that was making waves. And she was unbelievably brash and forceful for a servant. Not to mention teasing. He’d often been at the receiving end of her attentions, leaving him flustered and annoyed.

And she was wearing scent again, he noticed with a sigh. Honestly, it seemed like every day she wore a new kind of perfume. The current one was jasmine, and was shockingly potent. Well, at least it was better than the rosemary she used to wear around his father. In fact, it was almost… pleasant.

“Clarissa!” he sighed, forcing himself not to stare at the maid’s impressive bust. “You-”

“Here with your tea!” she said, sliding the tray into place before him with a wink of her long lashes. “Starting off the morning well, as the big, strong baron should!”

“Clarissa, really. You can’t just-”

“Not to worry, my baron! There’s plenty of cream. I know how much you like it,” she added, picking up a pitcher and pouring a generous helping into his cup. “And you’ll need it today! Because we have quite a bit of work to do.”

In the midst of tidying his papers, Lukas paused. “We do?”

“Of course, my lord! Now that you are baron, we must decide on your betrothed.”

“M-my what!”

“And I have them right here!” Clarissa chimed, lifting a folder out from some hidden recess of her scandalously short skirt (it had to be custom. No other maid in the estate had such a revealingly tight uniform). “Shall we take a look, my baron?”

“Wh… Hold on now, I can’t just-”

“My baron!” Clarissa cried in mock horror. “Surely you realize the importance in choosing your bride? The barony cannot be left without a mistress. Not only for the hard work running the estate, but also the vital work of carrying on the family line! Which means we must choose the most ample, breedable, lovely wife for you.”

“B-breedable? Clarissa! That is-”

“Not to worry, my baron. I’m sure you can manage that. Why, any woman would consider herself lucky to be bent over your table as you thrust home, stuffing her full of your droit de seigneur.”

Lukas’s face burned as it always did whenever Clarissa got going like this. Not to say she was wrong, unfortunately. She was absolutely right. He did need to get married, but it still seemed so early to be shopping for a bride. “Clarissa, really. I-”

“Early to start, my baron! We must be. Once word gets out that Baron Instaf is not only single, but such an adorable, impressive, handsome piece of stud meat, why, we’ll be besieged by eligible young ladies looking to have you mount them like a prized mare! And whichever does will be lucky to have you. Take my word for it!”

“Clarissa! This is… that sort of talk is hardly-”

“You’re so right, my baron. Here I am, chattering away, and you haven’t even gotten a chance to look at the choices! Let’s take a look at the candidates, shall we?”

Lukas sighed, finally giving up. It was near impossible to stop Clarissa once she set her mind to something, though by gods he would soon. He’d have to talk to the head butler about firing her. She treated him far too casually. But for now, he supposed the best thing was just to get this business with the portraits over with.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s take a look…”

“How wise, my dear baron,” Clarissa chirped merrily as she opened the folder to the first page, propping it up just underneath her immense bosom.

Lukas cleared his throat, forcing himself to look at the portrait and not the impressive pair of breasts just above it. “And this is…”

“Mirria Mable. Daughter of a lord in the southern country. Quite the pick specimen. An attractive if air headed young thing. Pretty, but not terribly bright. And not nearly as endowed as me, hm?”

“Clarissa! That’s hardly appropriate,” Lukas said, though he had to admit it was true, and his eyes did quickly steal a glance at Clarissa’s chest as if just to make sure of that. Gods, the room felt suffocating in the perfume she wore. He should open a window, though the scent wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was a bit… soothing.

Clarissa giggled. “Very true, my baron. We cannot judge a woman less blessed than myself in that respect. Some of us were merely born with a generous bosom. Perfect to lay one’s head upon.”

Lukas rolled his eyes, but felt his cheeks warm at the thought. “I ah… Well, what about the others?”

“The others? Of course, my lord,” Clarissa said, turning the page, her chest bouncing as she did so.

The sight made Lukas realize quite suddenly his mouth was very dry. With haste, he picked up a teacup and took a sip. Mm. Normally he wasn’t a big fan of cream in his tea, but wherever Clarissa got hers, it was delicious.

“Now then,” Clarissa said. “Lady Blumen from the duchy of Clausen seems like a perfect match for you. Nearly as busty as I am, and I know how important that is for you, my baron.”

“Not that important…” he mumbled.

“Ho ho!” Clarissa laughed, the throaty mirth making her breasts bounce most distractingly in her tight top. “How droll you are, my baron! But I know how much you value an impressive pair of breasts. You can barely keep your eyes off mine!”

Lukas flushed again, realizing he had been staring at her chest. He hastily took another sip of tea. Gods, he was feeling a bit light headed. “I ah… What else is there about her?”

“Why, only that she is something of a black widow, my baron. A nasty piece of work. She delights in wedding rich men, then crushing them beneath her heel. Nitpicking them until they don’t dare breathe without her approval. And what a cruel thing, my baron! Why, she cannot understand true love. The love of a good husband willing to do anything for his darling wife. Adore you. Worship her! She’s only in it for the quick cash! No sense of adoring her new spouse like the good boy he is.”

“S-sorry. Good boy?” Lukas said.

Clarissa giggled, her long lashes fluttering again. “Oh yes, my baron. A husband must be assured what a good boy he is. What a good, obedient, lovey dovey dummy he is to his beloved wife. Otherwise, he might get the most silly ideas in his head.”

Lukas felt his cheeks redden at the degrading words, even if they weren’t addressed to him. And he found his eyes looking at Clarissa’s breasts again. Big and soft. The subtle heave as she breathed. Or rather, the not so subtle. Looked like she was as into the discussion as he was.

“Er, right. Sure,” Lukas said, taking another sip of tea, sinking back into his seat with a sigh. “So, not her.”

“Oh no, my baron. You deserve so much better. So much bustier! So much more loving and adoring. A sweet wife who would show you what a good boy you are. Who would let you adore her like the happy, dopey husband you were always meant to be.”

“Er, yes. Yes. But uh… Who is the next one?”

“Oh yes, my baron. That would be the Countess Francesca,” Clarissa said, turning the next page. “But she wouldn’t make an appropriate wife for you either my lord.”

“Hm?” Lukas said, taking another sip, barely paying attention as he watched Clarissa’s breasts bounce. “She wouldn’t? Why… why not?”

“Oh my baron! Why, she does not want children.”

“O-oh,” Lukas said as he took another long drink of his tea. “Yes, that might… might be a problem. Need an heir…”

“Oh no, my baron. Not just one.”

“S-sorry?”

Clarissa gave him a knowing look. “Why, my dear baron, your wife must bear you many children! A dozen at least. A dozen happy, lovely children. Your wife needs to be very eager to take your virile seed. Because I know, my dear baron, that you’re far too much a stud to be satisfied with just one child. That you would like nothing more than to breed your beloved wife at every opportunity. To make her breasts so big… so heavy… so creamy and soft that you can’t help but play with them and kiss them every night.”

Lukas stared at her breasts. Gods, he could imagine it. Imagine those breasts bouncing. Heaving. Wobbling and Clarissa positively glowing from… from…

But… but no. He… he needed to only think of… of his wife like that. Yes. Only his wife. His beloved wife, whoever… whoever it turned out to be.

“I uh…”

“Oh dear, my baron,” Clarissa sighed, closing the folder dramatically, crossing her arms beneath her jiggling bust. “This just won’t do! It seems like there isn’t a noble woman in the land who can satisfy all your needs. A woman so busty. So loving. So beautiful and fertile to satisfy your very high standards.”

“I… y-yes. No one…”

“Oh!” Clarissa suddenly said, brightening visibly. “But then, of course! How silly of me. I didn’t think of that at all! Why, you don’t need a noblewoman for your wife.”

“I… I don’t?” Lukas said, frowning a little, brow wrinkling in concentration. Didn’t he? He was under the impression that was important…

“Oh no, my beloved baron,” Clarissa cooed as she planted her hands on the table, climbing onto it and crawling towards him, pendulous breasts swaying teasingly, her eyes hot, molten with something that made Lukas’s pulse quicken and pound. “Not at all. Why, if the noble stock isn’t up to the standards, then we must simply find another who is. One who is capable of seeing the greatness in you. The handsomeness. The virile… powerful… studliness in you.”

Lukas found himself instinctively retreating, pressing into the back of his chair, watching his maid move towards him like a she-wolf on the hunt. “Wh-who?”

“Now that is the question, isn’t it, my baron,” Clarissa giggled, straightening so she was kneeling on the desk in front of him, her hands cupping her breasts, fondling and massaging them teasingly. “She’d have to know your domain inside and out. She’d have to have every servant in the house already under her thumb. She’d have to know the ways you love things done. She’d have to be so pretty… so clever… so very… very… busty that you just couldn’t say no to her. Every idea she had would just seem like the bestest idea ever. Oops! Did I say breastest?”

“D-did you?” Lukas said, fairly drooling as he watched her bounce and mold her breasts together.

“Maybe I should have, hmm?” Clarissa said. “Because I know how much my baron loves breasts. Big… bouncy… soft breasts. That’s why I know he’ll make the right choice. I know he’ll decide on exactly the right person to be his baroness. To be his loving wife. His devoted mistress. His gorgeous… bouncy… beautiful bride. But who, my baron? Who is busty and smart and beautiful enough for that.”

“Wh-who?” Lukas gasped.

“Think hard, my baron,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas tried to. He really did. But his mind just didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Every thought he had swirled and squished and bounced and wobbled like Clarissa’s breasts. He whimpered, biting his lower lip, trembling with need as his maid continued to massage her breasts, her buttons straining against her ample tit flesh until… until…

“Mmmm,” Clarissa moaned, tearing open the front of her uniform, her ample, pale breasts spilling into the open. Bouncing with heavy softness. Nipples dark accents to their creamy slopes.

Lukas gasped, jolting like from a physical blow as her breasts bounced free.

“Whoops!” Clarissa giggled. “Did I do that?”

“Y-you… you…” Lukas stammered.

Clarissa’s smile widened. “Me, my lord?” she said coyly. “You want me to be your gorgeous baroness?”

Lukas blinked blankly, his sloshing thoughts struggling. “I…”

“Well, it is true, my lord,” Clarissa cooed, her leg extending, foot pressing against his chest and pushing him and his chair back with a squeak. “I am so very smart. So very beautiful. So very…” she breathed, sliding off the desk, into his lap, Lukas groaning as her weight settled on the hardness of his tenting cock. “Very…” Clarissa moaned as she leaned forward, her ample titflesh pressing against his face. “...Busty…”

Lukas shuddered, inhaling, breathing in the heady scent of Clarissa’s breasts and body. A scent so potent and strong it made his toes curl. Sweet. Heavy and wonderful. Something so real. So potent. The jasmine stuffing his nose. Suffocating his thoughts. And with… with just a faint hint of cream…

“Oh, but whatever would society say,” Clarissa groaned, her hips rocking, rubbing herself upon his thick cock, making Lukas moan and pant under her as his cock throbbed with need. As her breasts squished his face between them and Clarissa’s weight ground him under her. “They might say such terrible things…”

“Ohhhh,” Lukas groaned.

“You’re so right, my baron,” Clarissa giggled. “True love overcomes all odds. And oh, but you do love me, my baron. You do love my big… soft… breasts. And I love you. Loved you so much I tried all sorts of alraune perfumes before I found the one that just. Makes. You. Melt.”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned as he inhaled deeply.

“And you love my wonderful, clever mind, don’t you?” Clarissa cooed as she gave her breasts a bounce, swirling his thoughts again to a lather. “So smart to think of buying that holstaur cream for your tea. So clever to know how malleable it makes a good boy. How needy and aroused by big breasts it makes him. How adoring and dumb. How needy and horny and obedient.

“But there is something bigger than my breasts, my baron,” Clarissa moaned as she squeezed her tits around his head. “Oh yes! Believe it. And that is my warm, adoring heart. Perfectly made for my darling baron. Utterly devoted to him. Because I know, my beloved baron, how haaaaard it is for you to think with me around. How distracted you get from a big… soft… pair of breasts. How hard it is for you to rule. You’re not suited for it, my lord. You’re just suited to be a lovey dovey bimbo. A perfect, obedient stud to your darling wife. And oh, my baron, do you really want me? Do you really need me?”

Lukas whimpered beneath his maid, his mind whirling. Drunk on lust and love and heavenly cream and her body. His hands trembled as they touched her, stroking her hips and rump. Touching her back and causing Clarissa to lean forward and bounce teasingly atop him, his chair creaking.

“Oh my baron. If you begged me, then, well, maybe,” Clarissa giggled. “If you told me how much you loved me, how much you need me, then maybe I’d believe you. Maybe I could be convinced to make you my adoring husband. My sweet, brainless stud of a man who’d do anything his busty wife said. Shall we try, my baron?”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned into her breasts.

“Let’s,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas gasped as her breasts came off his face. He blinked dully as he found Clarissa smiling down at him, gaze smoldering and smirk hot with desire.

“I…” Lukas said.

“I want you, my baron,” Clarissa breathed. “Don’t you want me too?”

The note of hot passion in her tone dashed any effort of resistance from him. Lukas’s mouth trembled and he nodded, the truth escaping him in a panting gasp.

“Y-yes,” he said. “W-want you.”

“Do you, my baron?” Clarissa cooed as her hips rose, her hands teased down his chest and to his crotch, Lukas gasping as her fingers played with his bulge, undoing his zipper. “Do you want to fuck your beautiful bride? Propose to her and fuck her and breed her glorious pussy?”

“Y-yes!” Lukas whimpered, his cock springing into the open, a shock of pure ecstasy surging through him as her fingers wrapped around his length. “C-Clarissa, I… I…”

“Oh my baron,” Clarissa giggled, leaning in closer, her molten eyes hot, her rouged lips soft, enunciating every word as he felt his cock guided under the tickling hem of her skirt, brush the smooth skin of her inner thigh, drawn towards the heat of her naked pussy. “Just say… I do.”

“I… I… d-dooooo!” Lukas groaned, head falling back as Clarissa’s body eased down, his cock swallowed in the warm tightness of her pussy. His face buried again under the buxom softness of her ample tits.

“Mmmmm!” Clarissa moaned, her hips rocking, riding her atop his cock with slow, passionate motions that sent throbbing ecstasy radiating through his body and manhood. “Ohhhh my baaaaron! Yes! Yes! I will! I’ll be your baroness! I’ll be your gorgeous wife! Your perfect lover! Your loving, breedable bride. Ah. Ah! Oh goddess yes! Fuck me! Fill me with your cock!”

Lukas groaned beneath her, his lips kissing and licking her breasts, lost in the creamy valley of her tits, trapped in the ecstasy of her figure and the seemingly endless ampleness of her bouncy breasts. His cock throbbed in her, squeezed by her adoring inner walls. Heat consumed him. Pleasure subsumed him.

It was so good. So perfect. He couldn’t break free. Couldn’t resist. The need to cum surged within him. Devoured him. Urged him towards the inevitability of climax. He panted, gasping, moaning under her.

“Yes!” Clarissa gasped. “Oh my baron! Oh my husband! Yes! Fuck me! Fill me! Stuff me full of your cum! Ohhhhh my baron! I neeeed it! Need your mnnn! Your cum! Ah. Yes. Yes! Cum in me, Lukas. Cum in your bride! Fuck me! Breed me! Now! Breed me… nooooow!”

Her voice rose, a crescendo of shameless pleasure, her inner walls tightening, flexing, squeezing his cock with the glory of her peak. As her breasts shuddered around his head, Lukas cried out, surrendering to her pleasure, his cock throbbing, his balls tightening.

And he came.

Blessed release seemed to burst within him. Sear him. Devour him. His cock surrendered to her, filling her in sharp bursts of heady pleasure.

Lukas moaned, lost in her breasts. Lost in the pleasure. Floating in a sea of creamy ecstasy and delight, his mind sinking under waves of soft, bouncy bliss.

Atop him, Clarissa cooed, giggling as she felt him sag, lost beneath her breasts. Her arms wrapped around her new husband’s head, pulling him deeper into her bosom as she looked about the study. Ugh. Such depressing decoration. She’d have to get it cleaned out. And the room would make such a lovely nursery too.

She giggled, admiring the dazed expression of her former master as she smothered him beneath her breasts. She couldn’t wait for the wedding. Especially since she promised that holstaur priestess and her alraune friend they could be her bridesmaids. After all, when one was looking for a husband, one needed a foot in the door. And she just knew her beloved betrothed had some friends in need of busty, brainwashing brides.

Clarissa hummed contentedly, lazily rocking her hips, feeling Lukas’s cock stir anew within her, ready for round two.

Mmm.

All too easy for a clever, busty girl like her…

[tarjapearce]

I wonder what mama would be like when she was pregnant with benji? Was she more active?? Anyways, have a good day/night!

💗💗💗

Benjamin's Pregnancy

Suggestive, fluff and little angst. No proofread ~ c:

After the little stunt in the lookout spot and the police officers calling out your hornytis, you returned home.

But that only had you climbing Miguel like a tree as soon as he closed the door behind you. Not that he complained in the slightest.

"W-Wait" He was mumbling through kisses as you struggled to get his damned shirt out. Hormones running in a brazen flurry all over your body. A single purpose engraved in your grey matter. Make a baby.

"Te juro que si no me haces un bebé-" (I swear that if you don't make me a baby right now)

Miguel only carried your hormone crazed body over his shoulder and gave a low whistle.

"Espérate tantito, mi reina."(Wait a minute).

He tittered as his ears turned pink, like his cheeks, "Let me get the water first."

Cause in truth, you wouldn't give him a rest. Not until your body knew that it was enough. It both amazed yet low key terrified him. He'd awake sore and stiff, spent and completely drained while the overall glow oozed from every pore of your body. Both sex's drive were high, but when ovulating, he had to acknowledge your stamina undoubtedly outmatched him. But the goofy and spent smile you'd awake with later was the perfect reward.

With a roll of his shoulders and a water pitcher on hand and some glasses, he closed the master bedroom's door and begun his work.

----

Your grip only tightened on his waist as tears flowed down your cheeks. He showered your face in soft kisses and loving praises upon watching the positive outcome in the pregnancy test.

"We're having a baby!"

God, he loved the excitement in your voice, the way your tears were out of joy, and the fact you were gonna make him a father, again. It was impossible to not feel the same amount of excitement you were experiencing.

His big hands wiped your eyes and cupped your cheeks while kissing your forehead.

"Can't wait to tell Gabi. She'll be over the moon!"

Now that the first step on his husband duty was completed, the second was just starting. Spoiling you until you were ready to pop his child.

To your surprise MJ gave her own news on the girl's chat group. It was a good distraction for a freshly broken hearted Jessica. A celebration ensued.

Peter was asking Miguel for guidance as you gushed with MJ the future changes her body would take.

Miguel's lips turned into a fond smile upon watching you. Your married ring fit perfectly in your hand, and shone brighter, like your smile whenever you rubbed your belly.

Never once the doubt of you being a bad mother crossed his mind, despite your inexperience and both being young, you had done a pretty good job with Gabriella. And this new stage in your lives would only polish some skills that needed a bit more refining.

----

His heart nearly stopped when the doctor said it was a boy. So far, as long as his kid was healthy, the rest was just a bonus. But now that he'd have a boy it both worried and excited him.

It worried him cause he had no paternal figure to grow with, but like you had told him once.

"You're not your father. You're way much better than him. Look at the wonderful child you've raised, without his help. Be proud of yourself, Mi amor."

He adored your reassurance, and now he'd teach his baby boy everything he had to learn on his own. He'd be a good father.

----

The tidal craving waves made you scourge the fridge at random times thorough the night.

The first crave was simple, jalapeños smeared in peanut butter. You didn't know how, but the flavor was way too good for you to just eat one.

Miguel would find you guzzling his own can of jalapeños while scooping up a spoonful of peanut butter.

"You'll get sick if you eat that much spiciness"

"No, Miguel, wait!"

"Uh-uh. You'll get cramps and-"

Oh shit.

Your eyes turned glossy as he placed the can above the fridge. A spot you certainly didn't reach.

Shit.

"You're so mean."

A hiccup echoed between you two, followed by a sniff.

"Mi reina" His tinge amazed and full of disbelief, "I don't want you to get an upset belly, that's all."

"But I am hungry! They're not even that spicy!"

You sobbed and half yelled. Miguel could only sigh and take the can back

"Here."

"I don't want it anymore."

You took another spoonful of the butter and walked back to your room.

Great.

He rubbed his face in defeat. Now he felt like an idiot for not giving you the canned spicy goods. And definitely that night you didn't cuddle him.

Hormones were surely making a mess out of your emotions, and it took him a bit to adapt at the quickening pace they often changed. Exercise and long walks helped you to keep relaxed and active.

The next day you were crying while apologizing, only for him to hold you and offer you a couple of jalapeños in return. He even tried the odd mix with you to try and understand why you loved that specific combo. Neither good, neither bad, like something he tried before. But glad you were no longer at odds with him.

But soon they stopped being your obsession, instead strawberries and tuna came up. And just like Gabi, you'd wake him up in the middle of the night at the devil's hours to get him to fetch you strawberries cause you had ran out of them. Or called him when he was a few blocks away from your home to let him know and God forbid if he returned with empty hands.

The dangerous months had been long gone, and seeing your baby bump growing with each passing day, made his phone to be filled with a daily picture of you, holding it. Gabi occasionally appearing it them with a goofy grin.

One particular rough day at work, had his energies and emotional reserves drained. But changed immediately when he saw you laughing as Gabi painted over your belly.

"Papa! The baby is kicking!!"

Gabriella gasped and pulled him to place his hand over the clean parts devoid of paint in your belly to feel his baby boy kick.

"Look at that." Miguel huffed in child like wonder as he felt every powerful little kick. He then kissed your belly and your forehead with new energies.

You and Gabi were the reason he'd wake up and work. You'd help him with paperwork at home whenever he needed it.

----

Hormones kicked in harder in the last trimester, everything was a trigger for tears to fall down.

You couldn't reach your toes? You'd cry. The cream cheese was too perfect for digging a spoon in it? You'd cry. Gabriella existing around you and being a happy kid? You'd definitely cry. And if Miguel couldn't find his sock in the washing machine, you'd cry harder.

It was low key funny for him, even had some compilations of you crying over the littlest things in his phone. He'd watch them over and over whenever stress was rampant on his office.

But also, would stare both in awe and hungry when he saw your body bouncing ontop of an exercise ball.

"It brings back memories." He muttered while your cheeks flushed. It was the exact way you rode him while making your baby boy.

When hormones hit between your legs, you wouldn't let him go until he came out of the room, drenched in sweat and breathless. That's where he discovered his lactation kink.

But all horny and sexual thoughts were sapped out his body when he saw you curled in bed, crying and wiping your eyes with tissues. A couple of them used and gathered before you.

"'Tas bien?" (You alright?)

Another muffled sob.

This wasn't the usual hormone craze that made you cry over dappy things, but true and unadulterated sadness. His brows creased as he sat before you.

"Wanna share what's wrong?"

"I feel so useless, Miguel."

"Useless?"

You nodded while sobbing a couple of fresh tears and covered your face with your hands, ashamed.

"I can't even put my shoes on my own. And-" A sniffle, "I feel like I'm leaving all the load to you. It's not fair."

Even in your condition, you still worried about him and his stress. It humbled him.

"Mi reina." With a gentle, yet firm voice he sat next to you and wiped your eyes with utmost care, "You're growing my child. Do you know how important that is?"

You hiccuped and shook your head.

"I wanna do more. Help you around. Not just being a housewife that leeches off-"

"No, no. Stop. Stop." the last word said with a warning tone.

How could you think of yourself such way?

"Pinguinita, mi amor, look." His shoulders slumped with a deep sigh, "For how long have we been together? Ten, twelve years now?"

You refused to look his way, but his hands gently pulled your chin towards him. Makin your gaze meet his.

"In all those years, I've worked for us cause I wanted to. And I don't want you to work because you already do more than enough here."

His lips were warm, conveying all his love in another kiss.

"You're growing my child, Mi reina. Pregnancies are hard. And look at you, doing your best. Cause that's all I could ask from you."

He cradled your shoulders and kissed the side of your head with a gentle smile.

"You've taught me how to be a good parent, even now, you are teaching me things I didn't believe myself capable of doing. I'm a better man thanks to you."

His hands rubbed your lower back in soothing yet shapeless patterns.

"And now, I'll be an even better father. All thanks to you."

His words were like a soothing balm from your doubtful and insecure heart.

"You'd still love me if I was another ten pounds heavier, right?"

"The question is offensive in itself. But yes, I would. Come here."

You basked in his affection, all you could do was let him love and pamper you.

The footrubs and backrubs were a staple on your pregnancy, like the hammock in the porch. The cotton nightgown he gave you while pregnant with Gabi had been such a wonderful gift that came in handy when the last trimester's hot flashes appeared.

You'd sit in the tub with him, Miguel rubbed and caressed your shoulders, eased the tenderness in your breasts and helped with the sore points in your. lower back.

"What about Miguel Junior?"

He snorted while lathering your back in the lavender scented shower gel.

"No. I don't want a traditional name for my boy."

"Me neither, I mean, Max doesn't sound bad-"

"That's a dog's name, mi amor"

Your laugh was like music to his ears. He rinsed off your back with the tepid temperature water.

"Short for Maximilian."

"Junior doesn't sound that bad now that I think-"

"Wait! I know! I know. Benjamin."

"Benjamin" He tried as the name rolled off his tongue, "I like it."

He kissed your neck. Fresh lavender scent etched to your skin.

"Benjamin it is."

-----

Little Benjamin "Benji" O'Hara was born at 3 pm. Nearly putting you under a c section. Miguel had been there, cheering you on as soon as complications arrived. But thanks to yours and the doctor's efforts, his baby boy wailed healthily as soon as he came out of your womb and the touch of the nurses alarmed him. They weren't you. Benjamin needed his mama.

Miguel showered you in kisses and praises while the nurses cleansed him and dressed him up with the clothes you had provided them.

And finally, you could hold your baby boy in your arms, immediately feeding him and silencing his acute cries.

"Míralo nomas. Mi campeón. No parece que casi lo hicimos en el auto." (Look at him, my champ. He doesn't look like we almost made him in the car)

Miguel fixed the tiny hat ontop of his head, some lovely and dark chocolates curls twisted ontop and around his forehead as you tittered, exhausted.

" Stop, oh my god."

"He's definitely have your curls."

Gabi was allowed to enter a bit later and her lips pursed

"I wanted a sister."

"I know, Solecito. But we did our best"

"Still... I was prettier, right?"

Jesus. Like Father, like daughter.

"Of course you were, Gabibi."

Miguel was ready to start his lessons as a father. With a baby boy on hands, he'd be the dad he never had.

[bleubrri]

۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ new years kisses — jujutsu kaisen

ft toji / nanami / choso

contains: sfw / suggestive content / fluff / baby yuuji ^0^ / modern aus — minors dni !

☆•° . * FUSHIGURO TOJI

toji has had his tongue shoved down your throat for the past 10 minutes when you hear the telltale countdown of the clock from the rowdy party guests currently occupying your apartment.

the only real way to tell when toji’s drunk is his inevitable pawing and heavy gaze—his libido dialled to a hundred—so you’re almost unsurprised when he catches your wrist and pulls you into the bathroom for a break from the party. you insisted it was rude considering you were hosting, and he’d insisted on unwrapping his birthday gift, flashing you that lopsided smirk and snapping the elastic of your panties against your hip.

he’s got you pressed up against the door, skirt bunched at your waist and a strong thigh between your legs as his tongue sloppily laves over yours. the chanting of numbers has you pulling away, only for him to chase your lips with an unsatisfied grunt.

“we’re gonna miss the fireworks!” you whine, tugging the straps of your top up from where they’ve fallen (or been deliberately pulled) down your shoulders. “and our midnight kiss.” you pout, listening to the slightly distant chant of your friends.

“3, 2, 1–happy new year!”

toji rolls his eyes, rough fingers gripping your chin and forcing your gaze up to his. he wets his lips and gives you a quick peck, bringing his mouth to ghost over your own, “you’ll get more than a kiss, if that’s what ya want, sweetheart.”

☆•° . * NANAMI KENTO

it’s not often that kento let’s himself have a little fun, and so looking at him all rosy cheeks and easy smiles, it has you peeking over the rim of your glass with gooey heart eyes at his droopy gaze and mussed hair.

he’s got one hand diligently draped around your waist and the other serving refills of the cavertnet sauvignon responsible for his adorable wine-drunk state to your tipsy guests.

it’s a quiet gathering—close friends who are still absolutely young enough to celebrate new years, but can’t stand the idea of being in the city past 11pm. a low effort cheeseboard and kento’s special occasion wine seemed like the best way to sustain everyone until at least 1am.

you’re all so absorbed in tipsy laughter and bargains for the last slice of sourdough that you don’t realise that time has bled into january until you spot yuuji’s figure emerging from the hallway, clutching his ratty tiger plushie and sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

you set down your glass and reach to pick him up as he pads over.

“did i miss it?” he mumbles, perched on your lap with his head lolling onto his fathers shoulder. you glance at the clock, “no sweetheart, you’re right on time.” you assure, pressing a kiss to his forehead and watching him grin as his eyes fight to stay open.

“happy new year yuuji.” kento rumbles, his kiss lost in unruly strands of his sons hair. the toddler hums, seemingly on the verge of sleep, and you part from his chubby cheeks to lift your gaze to nanami. he stares back, heart swelling at the image of his son in your arms—he doesn’t think it’ll ever lose its novelty.

his tall frame leans over the sleeping bundle between you, his lips a whisper at the corner of your mouth. “happy new year, darling.” he breaths against you.

“h—”

yuuji fusses, wriggles around so that kento separates and curls further into your hold, burrowing into your warmth. you chuckle, and kento soars.

☆•° . * KAMO CHOSO

it’s five minutes until midnight and choso is fucking panicking. the tequila shots in his system have stopped acting as liquid courage and leave him in a frazzled hunt around the cramped apartment, dodging countless swaying bodies.

he almost gets a pitcher of lemonade dumped on him as he turns the kitchen corner, almost slips on the spilled beer in the hallway that someone should really fucking clean up, almost dies of embarrassment when he opens the master bedroom to find two people in a very compromising position. all in an effort to find you.

he’d stuck by your side all night to make sure that he’d get his moment. well, that and there’s no one else he’d rather spend the night with. there’s no one but you.

god, he wants to kiss you. if he finds you in the next 2 seconds then he swears he’ll do it, countdown be damned.

he shakes his mind from drifting to the image of your face inches from his, the allure of your lips, the home he’d make for himself under your tongue—

he’s made two laps of the apartment when he dips from the kitchen again, at the exact moment that you re-enter the apartment at the other end of the hall. a breathless sort of sigh escapes him and his shoulders slump in relief.

“hey! sorry i was just—” you’re shuffling off your coat and dropping it back onto the pile behind the door when the sudden screams and whoops of celebration signal that it’s midnight.

choso steels himself, long legs closing the distance between you in a few strides. large hands are tilting your head and his lips are on yours, kissing you.

choso’s kissing you.

it surprises you so much that you freeze and choso has the horrifying feeling that he’s ruined five years of friendship.

but then you’re kissing him back, firm and eager and fucking breathtaking. the fireworks painting the sky can’t compare to the sparks flying in his chest, shooting through his veins and bursting against his ribs.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Nanami taking a bath with his lover after a tiring day? Man needs to be pampered

The warm water seemed to seep straight into his bones. Filling him up like an empty pitcher.

Nanami was sorely reminded, literally, these days on why he stopped being a jujutsu sorcerer for a while. Battles these days were getting harder. Stronger cursed spirits seemed to be popping up every day. New demons to fight. New tragedies to overcome. And he was getting older, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

“Everything ok in there?” He perked up from his musing, close to falling asleep in the tub, when he heard [Y/N] poke their head in.

“Yes. Everything is fine.” They smile and come in. Seeming pleased with themselves, as they should.

When Nanami bought this apartment, he thought that the master bathroom was very nice and like any perspective homeowner had dreams of using the tub every night. Deep down he knew that wasn’t the case, and he was right. Who had the time? Who had the energy?

Luckily for him, [Y/N] was always looking out for him. Hearing how sore he had been, they set up a relaxing but also medicinal bath to help with his muscles. It did the trick. Now all it was missing was one thing.

[Y/N] came over to him to bring him a towel. And when they got within arms length, Nanami reached out and grabbed their arm. Pulling them down into the tub as well. The sound of water splashing out was drowned out by their laughter, in between kisses. “Nanami! My clothes are going to get wet!”

“So.” He told them. “Take them off.”

Now that he was fully relaxed, and not nearly as tired anymore, he had all the energy for other things. He’d started by showing them how thankful he was that they thought of and took care of him. Now it was his turn.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 31: Wedding, Part 2

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.9k

Dishes clinked and people laughed, passing bottles of champagne and Corellian wine beneath the twinkling glow of the lights strung across the Town Square. Night had fallen, offering a cool respite from the heat of day, and Luci rested a hand on Hunter’s thigh from her seat beside him, offering an apologetic smile as she caught the slight cringe of overstimulation on his face. He softened as he met her gaze, reaching up to loosen his collar a bit. 

“It’s not pasta, but this is pretty delicious,” she quipped, stabbing a plump bite of fish from her plate and popping it into her mouth. “Sorry if it’s all a bit much for you, babe. We can jet after the toasts if you want.”

“When is that?” he asked, finishing his glass of water and scanning the table for another pitcher. 

“Well, the brides will give their speeches, then some special dances, then some group dances, then the family members each offer a toast, then the rest of the night is just party time.”

“So like three hours from now?” 

“No,” she laughed, wrapping her fingers around his chin affectionately. It rubbed him the wrong way. “Don’t be such a grump. We can still have fun without going overboard. I’m not trying to sneak one past you.” 

He hummed in response, again forcing the smile across his face as his eyes scanned the crowd. Keeping alert for any possible threats (at least that was how he justified it) and simply observing the attendees. Luci slipped into a conversation with the girl beside her, but her hand remained on his thigh, and despite her seeming to be entirely distracted, it slowly slid upward and inward.

There she was. Lyra was at a table across the Square with a few other school employees and some individuals he didn’t recognize. She looked small in her seat, hands in her lap as she waited for her dinner plate to arrive. The servers hadn’t gotten to those tables yet, and Hunter watched as she smiled and nodded when the discussion roped her in, and yet the facade would fade just as quickly once the focus had moved away from her. He felt a pang, wishing things were different, wishing she hadn’t lied to him. There had been a serenity he hadn’t known to be possible when they were curled up together on her couch or sitting idly in the forest, gazing at the sun filtering through the leaves in perfect contentment. But it all felt like a lie now, which left a bitter taste in his mouth as well as a yearning in his chest.

Hunter suddenly scrambled to his feet, banging his knee on the table as he sprang up, loud and clumsy. Luci’s hand had continued moving up his thigh, dangerously close to his zipper, and he cleared his throat as many pairs of inquisitive eyes fixed on him. Luci grinned at him with lifted eyebrows, and his gaze flitted across the table before landing on the empty water pitcher. 

“Refill,” he muttered, leaning over to pick it up before walking quickly away. Fortunately, the attention was shifted away from him as the brides began their speeches, thanking the guests and sharing the story of their love. Once he got to the edge of the group, he searched the area for any of the wait staff, instead spotting a long table in front of a restaurant that was covered with various service items. He swapped his empty pitcher for a full one, then turned to face the crowd again. 

A small alley caught his eye, branching off from the main street nearby, and he took a few steps toward it, propelled by some unseen force. He stepped into the narrow space, tall buildings rising protectively on either side of him, and felt his shoulders relax a little as the noise quieted. A long, deep breath brought some refreshment, at least physically if not mentally, and he leaned against the wall, resting his head backward on the cool stone. Smooth clouds obscured any stars that may have been visible in the velvet sky, and their painted edges were aglow from the soft light of the moons. He found himself wishing he were up there.

The walk back to the table was slow and cautious, dodging the increasingly inebriated guests as they dove out of their seats to join the dancing. Hunter felt quite a bit better, although he gave Luci a stern look as he returned to his seat beside her. She nodded and winked in understanding, lifting both hands in the air as he replenished her water glass and then his own. 

“So you know all those dance lessons…” she began.

“How could I forget?” he smirked, surprised what a breath of fresh air and some cold water could do for his mood.

“Oh, you loved them,” she teased. “Anyway, we’ve got a few of those coming up here, so it’s time to strut your stuff.”

“Lessons?” 

“No, those types of dances, silly!” 

“Ah. Got it.”

“Yeah baby!” she said, shaking her fist in an excitatory little gesture. “Let’s go show em how it’s done!”

She took his hand and they wove through the crowd to the dance area, which had ample space for each couple to move without bumping anyone else. The music began, a nearly identical tune to the one they had practiced in the studio. It was a fairly formal dance, requiring straight backs and sturdy frames of arms and hands, and Hunter moved through the steps effortlessly, guiding Luci in graceful turns and gentle sways. Not that she needed any guidance – she knew where they were going before he did, it seemed – and her eyes were constantly dancing across the crowd, satisfied that so many were watching. 

“You’re so good at this,” she whispered, beaming up at him affectionately. “Everyone is looking.”

“That’s… a good thing?”

Her only response was a laugh, turning her head to the side as they stepped diagonally and he lifted his arm to twirl her into a slow promenade. When the music finished, the crowd clapped vigorously, cheering and encouraging the dancers to continue. Ketzya appeared at Hunter’s elbow, quickly followed by Araquella, both beaming in awe and appreciation. 

“Where did that come from?!” Ketzya squealed, still clapping long after the applause had died. 

“He’s a natural,” Luci gushed, leaning against Hunter and resting a possessive hand on his chest as she gazed up at him with extra soft eyes. 

“Ohhh,” Ketzya said, realization dawning on her face as she gazed between the two of them. “So you’ve whipped him into shape, eh? Amazing work, and what a lucky girl you are.” She winked approvingly at Luci before looking back to Hunter, but she paused, going completely still, and looked off into the distance as she cupped a hand around her ear. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” His eyes flickered around the Square, apprehensive and vigilant.

“That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts breaking,” she answered earnestly, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead as she shook her head in somber disappointment. 

Luci laughed, a bubbly, joyful sound as she gave Hunter a squeeze and smiled at Ketzya. “You’re adorable,” she said, and yet he could feel some elevation in her body signals that was hard to discern.

“Well you just enjoy every inch, I mean minute, of that man,” Ketzya affirmed, Araquella shaking her head behind her. 

“Oh, I will,” Luci purred, giving Hunter’s lapel a little tug and making a kissy face at him. He didn’t bend to meet her lips. 

The next dance was well under way, but a few other guests had bombarded the two of them, mostly to talk to Luci, who seemed to know everyone. Hunter was quickly tiring of being paraded around like a brightly-colored varactyl, and he found himself searching the crowd again. Nothing interesting. As the music faded into applause, the host announced a change in the type of dance, and Luci perked up immediately. 

“Oooooh, come on babe. This is where we really shine.” 

He followed her back to the open area as the song began, a more sultry number with a flirtatious melody that rose and fell. Luci fitted her body around his own as he flattened his hand across the middle of her shoulder blades, and she dipped her head back, arching her chest as she made a graceful sweep of the neck before coming back up to stand straight. They began to move, his foot following hers, long legs reaching for one another then retreating. 

She flowed like satin, weaving an intricate pattern with diagonal steps and twists of her hips, and his hand clasped around hers as their heads came together. His only form of escape at the moment was to lose himself in the music, something that had been a pleasant surprise throughout their lessons as a way to  retreat from the cacophony of life. He closed his eyes for a moment as her forehead rested against his, then she spun in a flash as the melody swelled, his hands slipping down both her arms as she arched away from him, drawing one foot up her leg before twisting back to him and melting into him again. 

Her arm draped over his shoulder as she kicked a leg back with a flourish before swinging it across his thigh as he slid his foot out behind him, sinking low as they shared a breath, faces close together. They slowly rose, arching toward one another as one, then she tore away from him, spreading her arms above her graceful steps as he matched her footwork from a foot behind. They came together. They spun in a blur. He dipped her with a single, strong hand behind her neck. It was living art, and they wove their way through the other couples, oblivious to everything else except one another. 

And then it ended. Slightly winded, Luci beamed at him as he gave her the customary bow, leading her off the dance floor with cascading relief. She was immediately mobbed by even more of her friends who were squealing about how sexy and amazing and wonderful she was. The rest of the bridal party crowded in, and Hunter took advantage of the frenzy to slip away to their now-empty dinner table to take a long drink of water. His eyes began searching without his permission, and a jolt of electricity ran through him as he saw Lyra, staring at him from across the Town Square with absolute shock on her face that remained constant as her expression wavered through hurt and sadness. He could almost see the tears in her eyes from where he stood, and she bit her lip, dropping her head when it finally registered that he was looking at her. His hand tightened around his glass, gut roiling with inexplicable sensations. 

“There you are!” Luci exclaimed, descending on him along with her crowd of admirers. “Everyone is raving about you, hot shot!” He was surrounded by eager guests asking questions and demanding dances, but Luci proudly announced that he was hers and hers alone. “You can’t make magic like that with just anyone,” she said cutely, pulling his hand into hers and entwining their fingers. “But maybe I’ll loan him out for some bribes,” she laughed. “Who’s got some good stuff to offer?”

He cringed, thoroughly repulsed now as she worked the crowd with her effervescent charm. They squawked at one another and laughed, the energy rising as the music continued behind them. When the song ended, the host announced the familial toast, and Hunter took the opportunity to seek another quiet respite in the calm alleyway as stories were shared, jokes cracked, and an infectious gratitude spread among the guests at the joyous occasion. Dancing and conversation continued for a little while longer, and he noticed that the unlimited cocktails had created quite a situation, with large herds of fairly drunk people staggering about, laughing and singing and pushing one another. The official festivities were over, so the atmosphere seemed to shift as the quieter, older, less rambunctious crowd began to disappear, leaving only the youthful partygoers. He returned to the table, where Luci and the girl beside her were refreshing their appearances, apparently. 

“Free to go?” he asked brusquely as Luci fixed her cleavage. Why did he even need permission? It rankled.

“Yes, technically,” she said, turning to face him in her chair. “But… the brides and bridesmaids are having a bit of an after-party. Girls only.” She painted herself with an apologetic expression. “So I’m afraid I have to ditch you.”

“Not a problem,” he answered, trying not to sound too relieved. “Sleep sounds great.”

“Perfect,” she said happily, leaning in for a peck on the lips so quickly that he didn’t even have time to respond before she was swinging her purse onto her shoulder and up on her feet. She blew him a kiss and bounded after the brides and their cohort, heading for one of the tall buildings with a large rooftop bar. 

Hunter let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and heading for the path that would lead him to his cabin. His quiet, peaceful cabin in the quiet, peaceful woods. He passed groups of people, scanning them out of habit now, and his head jerked up more quickly than he’d have liked as he spotted Lyra again, in a group with her coworkers. Mullet Hanker was there, leaning on the building next to her with his arm spread luxuriously above her head, and he leaned over her as she shifted on her feet, stirring the drink in her hand with the little fruit skewer it had been garnished with. A serpent writhed in Hunter’s chest, and he clenched his jaw, continuing on his path until he drew near enough for their words to reach his ears.

“Ahhh, don’t be like that, Vetana. You know I’m just saving the best conquest for last,” Mullet laughed, oblivious to some of the looks of affront from the other women in the group, whom he assumedly had already “conquered”. 

Lyra’s eyes were fixed on the ground, shoulders slumped as she sighed. “I know you think you’re funny, but you’re wasting your time.” 

Mullet took a brash swig of his cocktail, gesturing with it carelessly as he argued. “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my time, sweetheart.”

“Please stop.” The quiet brokenness of Lyra’s voice kindled a raging fire in Hunter, and he stopped, watching the group, Mullet in particular, with sharp eyes. 

“You’re mean when you’re drunk,” one of the secretaries laughed, pushing the man playfully. He leered at her, still smiling, and reached out to touch the tip of her nose with one finger. 

“Does someone need a spanking?” he crooned, and she giggled, apparently equally inebriated. 

Lyra took the opportunity to slip away between the buildings, and Hunter recognized her path as the one they’d taken during The Festival when they’d sought quiet amid the chaos and shared an intimate dinner at a tiny table. He knew where the alleyway emerged to meet the main road, and he began walking again at a quicker pace this time. When he arrived, he paused, glancing down the walkway and squinting in surprise at the fact that no one was there. He immediately ventured in a few steps, then veered to the right to see the rest of the alley. The group was still out in the open where the buildings gave way to the Square, but he spotted two figures in the middle of the stretch between his corner and the opposite end. Mullet was looming over Lyra again, his words echoing for Hunter to hear. 

“You’ve strung me along enough. I know you’re just playing dumb,” he accused.

“I’m not,” Lyra protested, the quaver in her voice belying her fear. She turned and began walking away from him, but he grabbed her wrist and jerked her back to face him. She stood motionless. 

But Hunter was no longer still. He was charging down the corridor, hot with rage. 

“Oh look,” Mullet ridiculed, noticing the movement. “Your little admirer is jealous.” Lyra glanced over her shoulder, eyes flashing as she saw Hunter approaching. “Back off, nerf herder,” he called out, pushing her aside to face Hunter head-on. “If you know what’s good for you…”

He didn’t get another word out. 

Hunter’s fist collided with his chin so hard that it snapped his head back and he crumpled to the ground, out cold. Lyra’s gasp was the only other noise, and she staggered a few steps away from the two of them, hands clapped to her mouth as she stood behind Hunter. He stared at the man at his feet, watching for any sign of motion. Then he also realized that for some inexplicable reason, he didn’t want to turn around.

.

Song: Scars (Lyrics) - Papa Roach (youtube.com) 

A lil visual inspiration for their dancing: el tango de roxanne

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[sopebubbles]

Master List

Six

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 and Hobi are going to give you (almost) everything you need to feel better.

Warnings: allusions to/descriptions of past abuse. Honestly this chapter is mostly fluff (by my standards of fluff). Yoongi is just 🫠

Wc: 8.5k ;)

A/n: if you've not read The Lore™️ I recommend that you do so. Also if you don't follow me and don't see my random posts, m/c is very smol, like probably under 5 foot.

Alpha smells so good, the tiny voice in your head preened, happier than she had sounded in years. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she chanted as you breathed deeper, and despite the fact that his arms were the only things you could feel, you felt more grounded in that moment than you had felt in days. Not that you would ever admit it. 

The moment was too brief for your omega's liking. It seemed before any time had passed at all that your bottom landed in a chair. You looked up at the alpha like he had just taken the air from your lungs as he pulled away from you. Wordlessly, he nudged the shoulder of a taller alpha, and the male moved into the empty chair beside him. 

"Yoongi, are you sure this is a good idea?" A voice asked. There was something familiar about it, and it might have been the pack alpha, Seokjin, but for the life of you, you couldn't take your eyes off the one who had carried you here. Yoongi. Yoongi smells like Tangerines, your inner voice cooed. 

"She'll be fine. She needs to eat now. So everyone will be on their best behavior," Yoongi said in his smooth, deep voice. "Aren't you hungry, princess?"

Vaguely, you were aware of your head nodding and the sound of someone choking to your left. Yoongi picked up a glass from beside the plate in front of you and filled it with orange juice from a glass pitcher. 

"Can you drink this for me, pup?" He offered you the glass and you took it with both hands, but even so you couldn't stop shaking, and a little splashed over the sides onto your hand. "That's okay," he assured you when your lips turned into a frown. The drink was removed from your hands, and they were quickly wiped clean. For the first time you looked around the table to see six pairs of eyes fixed solely on you. Startled, you began to draw away from Yoongi's touch, wanting to curl in on yourself and escape their view. 

"Don't you all have your own dinners to eat?" Yoongi reminded them with a subtle growl. Clinking utensils and murmured requests to pass dishes were their response. Once more, Yoongi gently guided your gaze back to him with a touch of his fingertips. "Just focus on me right now, alright pup? Let me hold your glass and just have a small drink. It will make you feel better in no time," he encouraged with a smile so soft you didn't know what you could do but obey. You let him press the glass carefully to your lips before he tilted it up. The tangy juice coated your tongue, more sour than sweet. It must have been freshly squeezed. It smelled like him. You gulped it down greedily and earned an even wider smile from your—the alpha. He drew the glass away and gave you a soft pat on the top of your head before he pulled his own chair closer to yours and finally sat. He spoke to the others for a few moments as dishes continued to circulate the table, but you didn't hear a word of it. Your consciousness seemed trained entirely on the features of his face, the way his soft pink lips moved as he talked and the slight pull that made him smile, his cute round nose and cat-like eyes. Pretty, pretty, pretty, the you that wasn't you chanted. 

Finally his attention was back on you and you had to focus on hearing the words he was saying when he looked at you again. He was holding a fork of scrambled eggs in your direction. You reached out for it but he took your hand and held it easily. 

"You're still shaking. Let me do it. Open." His voice was soft, but you knew it was a command, and you obeyed before it occurred to you to protest further. How strange to be fed by another person, but the gentle way he did it, without discomfort or clumsiness, suggested that this wasn't his first time. He watched attentively as you chewed and swallowed before he offered you another mouthful. 

"Do you want syrup?" He asked after you finished your eggs. You cocked your head at his question. "On your pancakes," he clarified. You still felt so fuzzy around the edges, whether it was because your blood sugar hadn't picked up yet or you were just out of it, you made no answer. 

"Everyone likes syrup, hyung," one of the others commented on your behalf. 

Yoongi nodded and poured syrup on top of the pancakes in front of him. He cut a triangular piece and lifted it in front of your face, giving you a raised eyebrow when you didn't immediately open your mouth. The instant he delivered the bite, your tongue exploded with a sweetness you had never tasted before. The moan that followed shocked everyone, including you. Your face heated with shame as they all laughed.

"I guess that was your first time," Jin said, smiling when you looked at him. "You'll never go back."

"Jin hyung insists on only real maple syrup," Yoongi told you, refocusing your attention with another fork full. 

You stared into his eyes briefly before you snatched the fork from his fingers and turned it around to push the food into his gaping mouth. "Eat," you said with a pout. The others erupted into cackling while Yoongi chewed slowly, his cheeks and ears turning from pink to deep red.

"I think she can handle it now, hyung," Jimin said, grinning from ear to ear. 

The alpha nodded shyly and pushed your plate closer to you before picking up his own fork. You continued eating on your own, quickly clearing your plate. You hadn't realized how hungry you actually were. When your plate was empty, you started to stand to leave them in peace, but Yoongi placed a hand on your lower thigh, using very little force to put you back in your seat.

"Stay," he ordered, turning your bones to jelly with one simple word. Before you knew what was happening, one of the taller alphas took your plate, giving you a boxy smile, and you could only whine after him. "Did you want more?" Yoongi asked, but you shook your head. It was the idea of an alpha cleaning up after you that filled you with dread. You should be doing that. But Yoongi wouldn't let you. Would you be punished for it later? You looked up at the alpha with bewilderment. 

Yoongi swallowed the last bite of his dinner and washed it down with juice. His hand moved from your leg to your hair and a shiver like you've never known rippled down your spine. He smiled. "You listen so well, pup," he told you softly. "Tae and Jimin will clean this up. Hobi has gone to run you a bath and then he will fix your bed. Does that sound alright?" 

Why was your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth? You'd barely been able to speak one word to him since you woke up to him hovering over you. You needed to protest because none of this was correct. It wasn't making any sense. But you couldn't argue because he made it sound right. You just nodded. He smiled once again before he stood and leaned over you like he was about to lift you up again. You squeaked, finally finding your voice. 

"Walk," you croaked. If you knew his face better you would be able to see the microscopic fall of his smile, but today you couldn't. He nodded and straightened, holding out a hand to help you out of your chair. You took it, surprised at finding yourself unable to pass up an opportunity to touch him again. You got to your feet shakily, but you were determined to walk yourself. He released your hand when you turned to walk back to your room, but your shoulders relaxed as soon as he placed his hands there, guiding you and keeping you steady as his warm palms pressed through your shirt. 

You walked through the bedroom toward the bathroom where the water was running. Hoseok shut it off and turned to you. 

"You have soap, shampoo, conditioner and towels. Do you need anything else?" He asked energetically. 

You raised a hand to your head shyly and cleared your throat before you could speak. "Do you have a brush?"

He didn't answer but simply rushed out of the room, leaving you alone with Yoongi once more. 

"Where are you going?" Jin asked as Hobi whizzed past him on his way to the stairs. 

"Pup needs a brush!" He answered, not changing his velocity. 

Jin sighed heavily. His husband had been uncharacteristically quiet at dinner and there's no doubt it had been because of you. No one knew what kind of black magic the alpha had worked on you to get you to comply, but he knew it affected Hobi that you listened to Yoongi and not him. Now the omega would do anything in his power to get you on his side, if only because he was a little bit of a control freak. That had never bothered Jin. Hobi was always the one with the plan and he was always followed happily along, ever since they were children, before stealing kisses and making future plans, which had been Hobi's ideas too. Jin had never seen anyone not do as his mate said, so had never seen him quite this desperate before. 

"Slow down, sweetheart," Jin admonished as the man came back down the stairs quickly, bearing his hairbrush. Hobi pecked a kiss onto Jin's cheek without slowing his steps too much. He followed to your room and hovered in the doorway as Hobi handed you the brush. 

"Is there anything else you need?" The omega asked when you took it. You shook your head meekly. 

Jin knew the look in Hobi's eyes, the particular curl of his fingers that said he wanted to do it for you. Probably, he wanted to take the brush from your hands and detangle your hair himself. Everyone had done a good job of not noticing during dinner because your presence had been so shocking, but you did look like a fucking disaster. Three days and nights of rolling around in bed, out of your mind, not bathing or taking care of yourself. You looked rough. Jin watched you turn and walk into the bathroom, looking at them as you closed the door as if you weren't certain they were really going to let you go in alone. Yoongi's hands also hovered uncertainly in the air. But they went limp when they heard the lock on the door click. 

"Should we have let her go in there alone?" Hobi asked Yoongi after a second, but the alpha was clearly wondering the same thing. 

"Guys, she might not know anything about being an omega, but I'm sure she has bathing down by now," Jin replied, stepping fully into the room now. 

"I guess," Hobi mumbled. "Quick, help me with the bed." 

Yoongi remained still, so Jin stepped around the bed to pull the fitted sheet from the mattress. He rolled it into a bundle and moved toward the door to take it to the laundry room, but Yoongi stopped him.

"I'll take it," he offered in a rough voice. Hoseok laughed, high and amused, more joyful than Jin had noticed in a few days. 

"You're not gonna make fun of him like you did Namjoon?" Jin asked, almost defensively. 

Hobi shook his head. "Oh, Jinnie, I think he's earned it, don't you?" Yoongi stood holding the sheets with a dopey smile. "He's not just being weird. He's taken a shine to the girl. How did you get her to listen to you, anyway?" 

Yoongi shrugged, his smile turning slightly smug. "I guess she just needed an alpha's touch."

"Whatever you say, hyung. Go take those to the laundry room," Hobi chuckled. "C'mon, Jinnie, help me make the bed." 

"What are you so happy about?" Jin asked abruptly as he helped tuck a new fitted sheet under the corner of the mattress. 

Hoseok smiled as he shook a fluffy blanket over the bed. "I'm going to build her a nest."

"But she doesn't nest," Jin grumbled. It had been one of the things that bothered Hoseok the most about you. He couldn't stop talking about it after he found out.

"She doesn't know how. I bet she's never had one decent nest in her whole life. But I make the best ones, so if I can just show her how nice it is, maybe she'll learn. Or at least maybe she'll be a little more comfortable tonight." He shrugged as he shuffled around the alpha, intent on his task. Jin knew that helping would only get in Hobi's way, so he simply pressed himself to the wall and watched.

"It's not like she deserves it," he mumbled as his mate built up a perimeter, "or will even appreciate it."

"How can you say that?" Hoseok asked, clearly offended. "Everyone deserves a soft nest to lay their head in."

Jin sighed. "I know, but she's been nothing but rotten to you, to all of us but especially you, since she got here."

Hoseok looked at him like he didn't know the man. Jin knew he was being uncharitable in his opinion of you. When you first arrived he was driven as mad as the rest of them by your sweet scent, but his head had since cleared and the way you upset his husband had changed you from an omega in need to a troublesome intruder in his mind, and he didn't feel much like being charitable.

"Jin, you can't hold that against her. She's broken. She doesn't know what she's doing."

"Don't say that about her," Yoongi interrupted. "She could hear you."

"And so what if she does? It's not like she's been particularly concerned about Hobi's feelings."

"Jin, please," Hobi cut him off. "I don't understand why you're lashing out like this."

"I don't like seeing you upset the way she made you yesterday," Jin admitted. 

Hobi stepped close to him and held the alpha's face in his hands. "Baby, I appreciate that you are sticking up for me, but you can't blame her for how she's acting. She's half out of her mind. We don't even know who she really is outside of the heat haze. Yesterday was as much my fault as it was hers. So don't be upset."

Jin closed his eyes as he deflated. "Fine. She can't use this one though," he declared, grabbing a blanket that he only moderately liked off the top of the pile Hobi was pulling from before walking out in a huff.

"Thank you," Yoongi said softly when the other alpha reached the stairs, "for giving her the benefit of the doubt."

"Pfft," Hobi replied as he continued adding soft material to the small nest he was building for you. "It's not for you."

"I know."

Hobi finished and stood with his hands on his hips, taking a moment to admire his work. "What's it to you, anyway? What's she to you?"

Yoongi shrugged, because he didn't yet have a good answer to give.

"She doesn't want an alpha. You understand that, right?" Something like understanding and maybe a bit of pity filled his gaze.

Yoongi nodded. "I know. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't need one. I think she just doesn't know what she needs," he argued, and the omega only hummed in agreement. Yoongi might have elaborated further, but you emerged from the bathroom a moment later with a towel wrapped around your hair, wearing the fresh t-shirt and shorts Hobi had left for you. If you had heard any of their conversation, you showed no sign of it. The alpha's eyes roamed over what little there was of you. Your small frame looked even smaller in his shirt. You were tiny even by omega standards. 

"What?" You asked when they both stood staring at you a moment too long. Yoongi could see you were a bit more yourself now. The color of your irises wasn't so lost  by the pits of your pupils anymore. He hated himself for wishing just a little bit to have you back in that soft state. What if you were about to kick them out?

Yoongi cleared his throat. "Are you feeling better?"

You averted your eyes from his dark stare and nodded. "Thank you." The alpha practically melted over the two softly spoken words. "What's this?" You asked, looking at the pile of blankets arranged on the mattress and then back at the two of them.

"I made you a nest. I thought it might help you sleep. Will you give it a try?" Hoseok asked, hopeful but shy. You swallowed, looking over the nest again, unsure. 

"It will be really good for you," Yoongi encouraged. He wanted to purr at the way he could see your hesitation fall away an inch. 

You tugged the towel from your hair and Hoseok took it immediately from your hands. He wanted more than anything to get at you with a brush and a blow dryer, but he knew that would definitely be too intimate for you. 

"How do I get in it?" You wondered. 

The two men smiled, and without thinking too much about it, Yoongi stepped forward and grasped you firmly around your rib cage. You kicked your feet a little in surprise, but it wasn't much of a protest. Hoseok pulled back one of the top blankets, and Yoongi deposited you directly into the center of the nest, where you let out a little 'oof.' You patted at the blankets all around you, looking smaller than ever surrounded by them. 

"You can adjust them however you like," Hoseok said nervously. 

You took a moment to feel the fabric under your fingers, enjoying the softness, and pulled the blanket on top of you. "I've never had a nest made by an omega before," you admitted quietly. Your eyes were already beginning to glaze over again, with tears or omega space, Yoongi wasn't sure. "This is so nice."

Hoseok's heart swelled, equal parts sorrow and pride. It was a travesty that you had never known an omega's touch, but if he would be the first, he would also be the best. His confidence rose, knowing no one else could do it better. 

"I knew you'd like it." He would thoroughly enjoy telling Jin just how wrong he had been. In response, you only nestled further into the blankets. "I guess you're probably tired. I'll let you get some rest and check on you in the morning," he told you, but he wasn't sure you were listening. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he thought he heard the shortest of purrs come from the blankets. Hoseok turned to the door with a lingering look at you before he caught Yoongi standing beside your bed and looking at you fondly. "Yoongi hyung, are you coming?" He asked teasingly. 

Yoongi shook his head dazily. "No. I'm going to stay and watch over her."

"Yoongi," Hobi said, all teasing gone, his voice flat and serious.

The alpha turned to look at him just as seriously. "I promise I'm not going to do anything. I'm not going to get in there with her or anything. I'm just not ready to leave her. What if something happens?" Hobi gave him a concerned frown. "I have to leave in a few hours for work anyway. Just give me a little while to make sure she's safe."

At that, Hobi walked back to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Alright, hyung. But let me get you a chair so you're not standing over her bed all night like a creep."

He went to the kitchen for a chair and set it by the door so that Yoongi could give you a little space and then let him be. Yoongi sat and watched the pile of blankets rustle for several minutes, listening happily to the broken little chirps and grumbles you made as you explored the nest. His scent fluffed around him, unintentionally at first, but then he hoped it would reach you and be a welcome addition to your cocoon. When it did reach you, your head emerged suddenly from beneath a thick blue blanket, hair ruffled and face red from rubbing it against the blankets. You met his eyes curiously. 

"I'm just going to stay here a little while," he told you gently. "If that's alright. I'll watch over you."

Your eyes didn't stray, but you rested your head on the edge of the nest and continued to watch him back. He fidgeted slightly under your gaze, not uncomfortably, but he wondered what you thought when you looked at him and he hoped it was good. He wondered which of the items Hobi had gathered for you was your favorite and if that would be a good courting gift for you. 

And yeah, he was getting ahead of himself, but he'd been done for since you first called him alpha three nights ago and the way you unexpectedly allowed him to take care of you and sealed his fate. Yoongi had never formally courted Hoseok. There had been gifts and dates, of course, but he already had three other alphas, and Yoongi had done his best to prove that he could be a valuable member to the whole pack, that he fit in right, rather than showing that he could provide and protect for an omega that already had everything he needed. It wasn't at all like he hoped it would be with you. Yoongi wanted you to be his omega. He would have to show you that he would move heaven and earth to make sure you never hurt again, and that you could have everything you'd ever been denied. After just the last few hours, Yoongi was ready to risk it all to give you just that.

"Do you want me to turn off the lights so you can sleep?" He asked when your eyelids closed heavily. At the sleepy nod of your head, he reached above him and flipped the switch, drowning you both in darkness.

It wasn't that late yet, so there was still plenty of activity in the house. In the living room, Jungkook and Taehyung played video games. Their laughter became much clearer to Yoongi now, but he could also hear Namjoon's deep voice as he told Jimin about something that happened at school. The alpha always valued Jimin's advice in particular when it came to his students. He could even hear Jin and Hobi's footsteps upstairs as the omega prepared the pack's nest. He liked to subtly tell each member where they would sleep that night based on the placement of their favorite pillows. Yoongi knew how he would frown when he set aside Yoongi's pillow. He sighed heavily, hoping with all of his being that the pack would let you stay, because letting you go didn't feel like a viable option, but losing the family he had built would break his heart. 

You were barely conscious and you could hardly breathe. And yet somehow it was better that way, better not to be entirely in your body when your alphas pushed your face into the mattress and took what they wanted with the excuse that you needed it too. 

"Omegas like you are only good for breeding. When you give us a pup, we won't have to do this so much."

At least heats were a little better than ruts.

You awoke in a panic, fighting desperately against the blankets smothering you. Sitting up to free yourself, you looked around as you caught your breath. You were alone. The chair by the door where Yoongi sat was empty now, but the door was open and light poured in from the room across the hall. Fearing that the suffocating nest would pull you back into your dreams, you scrambled gracelessly over the edge and toward the door.

You smelled leather, something between a new car smell and an old leather jacket. You had smelled it in the house before, but you hadn't assigned it to a face yet. You should have been paying more attention at dinner earlier, but you had been singularly focused on Yoongi; you couldn't have looked at the others if you'd wanted. As you stepped cautiously into the hallway, you noticed that the TV was on in the living room. When you looked in his direction you found Jungkook already looking at it. He didn't say anything, but his expression was curious, like he was waiting to see what you were about to do. So you turned away from him and took a few unsteady steps toward the other room. You clung to the door frame as you peered into the room. A tall alpha with broad shoulders and fluffy dark hair held back by a headband stood inside the room facing an easel. He looked ponderously at the half-done canvas in front of him, but he must have sensed you, because he whipped around suddenly to look at you. You leaned harder into the door post and he brushed at a lock of hair escaping his headband, getting paint on his face in the process.

"I'm Taehyung," he finally said after a long silent moment of staring at one another.

You nodded, figuring your name wasn't necessary. "Where's Yoongi?" Your voice came out in a rasp.

Taehyung's lips lifted into a boxy smile. "Yoongi hyung had to go to work."

You let out a soft oh. "What time is it?"

"It's after 3 am. So hyung might be home soon," Jungkook said from the hallway behind you. 

"What are you all doing up so late?"

"Oh. I had a nightmare, so I got up to paint a bit. Sorry if I bothered you. He said the pheromones would be good for you, but I know people find my scent overwhelming, so I didn't want to overdo it." Taehyung's smile faltered, and you didn't like that one bit.

"I think your scent is nice," you assured him with a shake of your head, and his smile returned instantly, maybe even brighter. 

"I told you, Tae," Jungkook added.

"I've seen her before," you interrupted the conversation the two men were having with their eyes. 

"Huh?" Taehyung asked, his eyebrows raising dramatically. 

You gestured to the small girl on the canvas behind him. Her arms were outstretched, palms up and her face raised to the sky. "I've seen her on a building downtown."

"Oh!" The apples of his cheeks reddened. "Yeah Hobi and Jin were not particularly impressed with that stunt. But I'm glad you recognized her."

"I pass by her a lot. I always wonder what she's waiting for."

Taehyung turned to look at the canvas, cocking his head to the side. "I never thought of her as waiting for something. I see her as just existing, free, taking it all in."

You shifted nervously. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know anything about art."

He turned back to you quickly. "No! It's what you see that matters. I like your perspective. Art is about what you see."

You smiled half-heartedly at him. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I should go back to bed." 

"Do you need anything?" Jungkook asked when you briefly met his eyes as you turned back to the bedroom. You merely shook your head as you passed him. "Yoongi left you some water and a protein bar. He'd want you to have some before you go back to sleep," he added. 

You didn't answer but went straight through the dark room into the bathroom and shut the door. 

"Did I upset her?" You could hear Taehyung ask through the closed door. 

"I think it's alright, hyung. She's probably just tired. Take it from someone who has already fucked it up once," Jungkook assured him. 

"She seemed okay though." Whatever Jungkook's response was, you couldn't hear it. "Cute the way she asked for Yoongi hyung," Taehyung said, and both men snickered. Finally, Jungkook's steps retreated and only then did you go about your business. 

After you washed your hands, you exited the bathroom and went back to the bed. On the nightstand, Yoongi had left you a bottle of water, a protein bar, and two tangerines. You sat at the edge of the mattress and rolled one of the small orange orbs in your hands. When you brought it to your nose. Smells just like alpha, she purred and something in your shoulders relaxed involuntarily. You sliced the thin skin with your thumbnail and began to peel it. Tart juice squirted in your mouth, bringing an unexpected brightness to your mood that you would swear was just a rush from the natural sugar. You quickly peeled and ate the other one as well. You didn't truly have the appetite for the protein bar but…

Alpha wants us to eat it. So you unwrapped it and ate the whole thing in a few unthinking bites and drank half the bottle of water to wash it down. Satisfied that you had done enough, you finally crawled back into the cocoon of the nest.

Hoseok was so nice to give us this, your omega crooned. We should make one like this, please?

"We can't," you whispered back and you settled amongst the blankets. It was lovely, so soft and soothing against your skin. It made your body hum like you'd never known before. At the moment, you couldn't remember why this was wrong, but you knew you could never recreate it yourself. Hoseok was a perfect omega who did everything perfectly. No attempt you made could ever compare, so you could add that to the pile of reasons why you never would. You'd never top this.

You weren't really tired after the snack you just had, and you felt more clear-headed than you had in days. Your heat must have been coming to an end, and that thought brought you immense relief. Soon you'd be free of your intrusive thoughts and persistent needs, and you'd be able to leave and return this pack to the peace it deserved. You decided to enjoy this nest while you could and laid back listening to the distant tv. 

Sometime later, you heard Yoongi come home. There was some shuffling, shoes thudding on the hardwood floors where they were removed, keys clashing with others in a bowl. More shuffling and you could smell him at the bedroom door, which was still open. 

"How is everything?" You heard him whisper. 

"Fine," Jungkook replied. "She woke up a while ago, but I think she's back to sleep now."

You closed your eyes as Yoongi's soft, socked footsteps neared the bed. He stopped by the nightstand, and you heard the crinkle of a wrapper as he closed his fingers around it. His happy citrus scent settled on you and you tried to keep your breathing even.

Ask Alpha to stay, she whined. There's room in here for him.

You kept your fists around the blanket so you could resist reaching out for him. 

He doesn't want you or your filthy nest.

Yes he does! Not filthy!

You let out an involuntary whimper as the voices argued, and you could sense him shift in your direction. His hand reached out to you and skimmed the top of a blanket almost imperceptibly. 

"C'mon, hyung. You should go upstairs and get some rest," Jungkook called to him. He hesitated for a moment, but sighed and turned to pad away, out of your room, and you released your own breath. 

Even with three of his mates still snoozing in the nest, mornings always felt chaotic for Hobi. He always tried to get the men to eat something, at least a piece of toast for Namjoon to soak up the positively enormous tumbler of coffee he took with him every day to school. Jin was a little better about eating a full breakfast, if only to make Hobi worry less. Jimin was always harder to coax since he usually stayed in bed until the last possible second. He was incorrigible on this point, but his omega always made sure he left with a good lunch.

After the three of them were off to work, Hoseok got started on laundry, which there never seemed to be an end to. He didn't like to admit to being a stereotype but when Jin had gotten him the top of the line, heavy duty washer and dryer set last year for his birthday he actually almost cried from joy. The only thing that would have been nicer if he had brought home another omega instead. Jungkook had always been eager to help with chores before he entered the academy, but now Hobi mostly relied on Taehyung, who was a cheerful, if often inept, helper. Really, all of his packmates did their best to help with chores, but it never sat right with him, and deep down he knew that he was lacking something beyond an extra set of gentle hands. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, you appeared in the kitchen a few minutes after the house fell quiet. You picked up a sock that had fallen from the pile of clothes in his arms when he stopped short.

"Hey, good morning," he smiled at you. "Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast."

You shook your head softly. "Can I help?"

He cocked his head to the side. "With what?"

"Um…I can fold laundry. Or I can clean. I'm a good cleaner."

He hummed and nodded for you to follow him to the couch, subtly sniffing the air around you as he passed. He could tell you were at the end of your cycle since your sweetness had diminished, replaced by a pleasant crispness, more fresh Granny Smith than gooey apple pie. He dumped the pile of clothes on the cushions in between you, and you immediately put your hands to work.

"You can just put them in piles by, like, type of clothing. Everyone wears each other's stuff for the most part, so there's no use in dividing it out." You nodded as he spoke. You sat for a few minutes in silence while you both worked and a pile of neatly folded t-shirts grew quickly on the ottoman in front of you. "Where did you learn to fold like that?" Hoseok asked, looking at the crisp, methodical way you folded the shirts. You did it quickly, but so perfectly that you must have had a lot of practice. You paused, your hands frozen where they carefully helt the fabric.

"Is it not okay?" You asked sheepishly.

"No, it's brilliant. I was just curious."

You cleared your throat and continued folding. "My former alpha was very particular. He was in the military for a long time, and he liked everything to be perfectly neat."

Hoseok tried to hide his cringe, not looking directly at you when he asked, "he was much older than you?"

You hid your face but nodded.

"You must be really good at ironing then?" He laughed, trying to get you both past the awkward moment, trying not to dwell on it in his own mind. He could digest that information later on his own.

"Oh, yeah, I'm great at it!" you smiled.

"You'll have to teach me your tricks. I'm terrible at it even though I've been doing Jin's shirts and Yoongi's uniforms for years. Now I have Jungkook's uniforms, too, but I just hate doing it so much."

You smiled up at him, and he recognized the gleam in your eye as the joy of being useful. "I can help you do them today." 

Hoseok smiled back, and you lapsed back into silence as you worked.

Around lunch time, Hobi's three sleepy pups trudged down the stairs, all fluffed and bleary eyed, as if it were still early morning. Yoongi led the line, but Taehyung and then Jungkook each ran into his back when he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, eyes locked on you where you were ironing his work clothes in the middle of the living room with Hoseok looking over your shoulder. 

"What's going on?" He asked in a rough, sleepy voice.

Hobi's smile gleamed at him. "Little pup is helping me with some chores."

"Did we wake you?" You asked, a tiny bit of fear visible in your eyes. 

Yoongi shook his head and raked a hand through his messy hair.

"Don't stare," Hoseok tisked. "Go sit and I'll get a pot of coffee and some food going. Do you want to join me in the kitchen after you finish this one?" He asked you and you nodded your head shyly, avoiding the men's gazes, before he walked away.

As difficult as it was to have the guys on different schedules all the time, there was something nice about days when Jungkook and Yoongi were at home and Hoseok could give them the attention that was sometimes hard to give when everyone was home. Yoongi was unusually quiet as he sat at the kitchen table. Normally he would be telling the omega about what calls he had made the night before or filling him in on the workplace drama that Hoseok ate up like a soap opera. Instead, he noticed the alpha's eyes glued to you no matter where you went. You clearly felt it too, because although you wouldn't look directly at him, your shoulders curled in as you moved around, following any instructions the older omega gave you. After a few minutes of this, he began to worry that maybe it wasn't just shyness that made you hide, but the fear that Yoongi might be a particular alpha. Hoseok could only guess what that might mean to you.

"Take that to Yoongi, please," he told you, handing you a plate full of eggs and sausage. 

After you set the plate on the table, Yoongi grabbed your wrist, gently but with authority. "Sit." 

Your ass was in the seat next to his the next second. 

"You need to eat, too," he instructed, shooting the briefest of glances at Hoseok. A second later a plate was also placed in front of you. Then Hoseok picked a grape out of the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table and threw it directly at Yoongi's forehead. 

"If you don't stop staring at her like you're going to eat her, I'm going to eat you," the omega threatened. 

Jungkook and Taehyung snickered over their food and Yoongi finally sat back in his chair. You both turned your attention to your meal and didn't look at each other again until you were finished. 

"I'll go take a nap, if that's okay?" You said when you'd cleared your plate.

"Of course," Hoseok nodded. "Leave your plate. I'll take care of it," he smiled, and you reluctantly did as you were told.

Yoongi's eyes tracked you back to the bedroom. After they heard the click of the door, Hoseok popped him with another grape.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Yoongi growled but there was no threat in it. "I want her to stay."

"That's not an answer. You're scaring the poor girl." He threw another grape.

Yoongi flicked it with his fingernail after it fell by his hand, as if it were the fruit assaulting him and not the man across the table. He sighed, "I'm just trying to look out for her. Can't you tell? Her heat is almost over, and then what will happen? Are we just going to throw her out to fend for herself?"

"Yoongi–"

"Please ask Jin to let her stay. I know he's not fond of her, but I'm begging you."

Hobi reached across the table to take the alpha's hand. "We can discuss it with him when he gets home."

Yoongi squeezed his fingers around the other man's hand and looked at him desperately. "I picked up a long shift tonight. I go in a four. But it doesn't matter because he'll listen to you more than me, anyway. You like her, don't you, Hobi?"

He couldn't help smiling at his packmate's emotion, but also because yes, he did. "Of course, sweetheart. We're still just getting to know her, but I like her. She was very sweet this morning. And no, I don't want to throw her out on the street. But it isn't only up to me and Jin. We have other packmates to consider as well."

Jungkook took his cue. "Of course, I want her to stay."

"Me, too," Taehyung agreed. "And Jimin will, too. Namjoon…will agree with whatever Jin decides." 

Hoseok rolled his eyes, even though it was true. "I'll talk to Jinnie when he gets home, but I don't think it will be all sunshine and roses if she stays," he warned, looking particularly at Taehyung. "She might not want to be around all you alphas. Not right away. We don't know how she'll act when she's normal versus during her heat."

"I don't mind if she doesn't care for us. I just want her to be safe," Yoongi mumbled into his food as he pushed it around his plate, earning him an endeared smile from Hoseok. 

"I don't mind either. It could be like having a sister! Never had one of those before," Taehyung mused. 

"Okay, okay. Finish your lunch and get cleaned up. You're smelling up my kitchen," Hobi teased.

When Jin came home, found his husband alone in the kitchen, having beaten Jimin and Namjoon home from work while Jungkook and Taehyung had gone to the gym, giving them a rare moment alone. The music playing loudly from the Bluetooth speaker in the living room allowed him to sneak up on the unsuspecting omega. Jin wrapped his arms around Hobi's waist and buried his face in the man's neck, leaving a kiss while taking a deep inhale. He melted a little more into his back as Hobi reached to turn down the volume. 

"You're in pre-heat, baby," Jin said against his warm skin. 

"I know," Hobi grinned. 

"Isn't that like a week early?"

Hobi nodded. "Yeah, I think our house guest might have triggered it to start a little early. It's not a big deal. I'll probably be there by morning."

"You should have told me so I could get my meetings for the rest of the week moved."

"Don't be silly. You don't have to move all your meetings," Hoseok hedged. 

"Since when? Of course I'm going to be here for your whole heat. That's my job, and my priority." Jin turned Hoseok around so that he could hold his face in his hands. "I'll let my secretary know  and she'll handle it. I won't miss a second."

"I don't need to be waited on hand and foot," Hobi blushed. 

"Of course you do. You're my prince," Jin said with a kiss to his forehead. 

"I was thinking maybe I should see what it's like…"

"What what's like, baby?"

"Struggling the way she did. To be alone…" Hoseok braced himself because he knew Jin wouldn't like the mere suggestion of it. 

"What? You don't want to have a knot during your heat?" Jin looked shocked. 

"No! No. It's not that I don't want it. I was just thinking how strange it would be. Forget I said anything. I must be getting a little muddled already." Hobi fidgeted under the alpha's eyes. 

"Don't worry, baby. The boys and I will get everything ready tonight. We're going to take good care of you like we always do," Jin assured him with a soft kiss to his lips. 

"I know."

"It will be strange, having two omegas in heat in the house," Jin commented, moving away slightly to pick at the bowl of fruit. 

"She's coming off it actually," Hoseok said softly. You told him you wanted to clean the bathroom you'd been using, but you might appear at any moment.

"Oh." Jin froze. "Oh. She'll be leaving then?"

"About that…"

"Hobi, don't look at me like that."

Hoseok took a step closer. "Baby, hear me out."

Jin took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine. I'm listening."

"She doesn't have anywhere to go."

"She does, actually."

"Don't interrupt me," Hoseok warned, and the alpha looked chastened. "She doesn't have somewhere good to go. Somewhere safe. She can stay here. We have the room and she isn't causing us any problems." Jin looked like he wasn't buying. "I've already talked to Yoongi, Kook and Tae, and they all want her to stay with us."

"What about Jimin and Namjoon?" 

"I haven't spoken to them about it specifically, but Jimin has already been trying to convince her that cohabitation is the right way to go, and this could be a good first step, since she's already here. And Namjoon will agree with whatever you think."

Jin smiled a little at that. Namjoon always deferred to Jin on pack matters, while Yoongi and Taehyung weren't afraid to debate. Not that Jin was the kind of alpha who demanded complete control. If anything he kept a rather light touch on power, seeing as how Hoseok was always the one who was really in control, in his opinion. Still, it was nice to get that kind of respect from one pack member. 

"Ultimately, it's your decision, pack alpha. It's your home," Hobi added, knowing how to butter him up.

"It's our home, but more importantly it's your home. I don't really care about her one way or another. What I care about is how she affects you. I don't want her being disrespectful and upsetting you." Jin brushed his fingers along Hobi's cheek and the omega could see in his dark brown eyes that he truly meant it. 

"I think that was all a big misunderstanding," Hobi said with a shake of his head. "We actually spent a lot of time together today and she was really sweet, and helpful. I like having another omega around. I like her." He pulled Jin close, going in for the kill with a light kiss in the lips.

Jin groaned. "What exactly are you asking me here? To court her? Or to let her crash for a few days? Because I don't think I can–"

"I'm not asking you to court her!" The omega answered quickly, not least because that was definitely a conversion he would have to have with Yoongi when the time was right, if it ever got that far. "Just let her stay until she's back on her feet," he proposed softly, not adding or until things change. 

Jin closed his eyes and breathed, "okay."

Hobi hugged him tight and smiled into his chest. "Thank you, alpha. You'll be glad in the end, when you stop thinking just of me, and the need to protect hits. You'll be glad you didn't toss her out."

Jim grumbled something unintelligible.

"Maybe we should use protection this time around," Hoseok said quietly. 

Jin pulled back quickly. "Why?"

"Just…plans might be changing…"

"You don't want to have pups anymore?" Hobi could see how deeply that truly hurt him. 

"That's not what I'm saying at all!" He assured his alpha. "I want pups with you more than anything. But things might take a while to settle and with someone new in the house…maybe we should wait."

Jin shook his head. "No. We've already been trying for over a year. I don't think it makes sense to miss an opportunity. If it's between us trying to have pups and her staying, then I change my answer."

Jin was shaking, and it scared Hobi deeply. Seokjin had always been very clear on his desire for pups and they had already waited so long in his view. He didn't blame Hobi for that, but it hadn't been easy so far. To have you present one more obstacle was more than the alpha could bear. Hoseok placed his hands on both sides of his face and rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs. 

"Okay. We'll try. I was just thinking out loud."

Jin's face fell at his lover's attempt to soothe him. "Wait. No. I'm not going to be the kind of alpha who forces you to have a pup when you're not ready. If you think it's better–"

"You're not forcing me." Hobi reached up on his toes to press their foreheads together. "I want to have your baby. You know how my brain just constantly works to shift things around. Every decision moves everything else around it. But you're right. We shouldn't miss the chance while we have it."

Jin's lips curled into a soft smile. "I love your brain. You make everything work for us, all the time. Don't know what we'd do without you."

"You won't have to," Hobi replied as he was pulled one again into a warm embrace where he stayed for several long moments. Until they heard you clear your throat. They pulled away to look at you.

"Sorry for interrupting," you said sheepishly. "I finished the bathroom. Would you like me to do the one upstairs?" You asked with a bucket in hand. 

"Absolutely not!" Hobi cried. "But you can help me with dinner."

"Of course!" You nodded and went to put the cleaning supplies back in the cupboard where you had found them before washing up. 

Jin sat at the kitchen table observing the two of you as you prepared a meal for the pack. He was surprised to see how you talked sweetly with his mate now, how he could even draw shy little smiles from you. Jimin and Namjoon came home, followed shortly after by Jungkook and Taehyung, and they all sat around the table while the two of you insisted you didn't need any extra hands.

"Y/n," Jin said your name simply to call your attention after he had seen enough. Your hands paused mid chop and you looked at him like a deer in the headlights. "I'm inviting you to stay here until you get yourself back on your feet. If you would like that," he offered, feeling a little sheepish.

You swallowed and looked from the pack alpha to the omega, who nodded encouragingly. "I…I wouldn't want to be inconvenient."

"You wouldn't be!" Hoseok insisted. "You take up no room at all. And you've been a huge help today." He hoped you understood how much he had enjoyed that and how grateful he was.

"But, I'm taking up Jungkook's bed, aren't I?"

Jungkook shook his head. "No. I'm sleeping in the nest, where I'm meant to be. You should stay," he added. 

"Oh. Well. Thanks. Can I think about it?" You hedged. 

Hoseok knew it was always a chance you would rebuff their offer, but he had hoped you wouldn't. Still, you weren't saying no. "Of course you can," he smiled.

A/n 2: please tell me what you thought of this chapter! What did you think of Jin? Aren't yoongi and taehyung the cutest things? I hope you were kicking your feet. Your comments/asks are my greatest motivator, and anon is on!

A/n 3: yes, Jin and Hobi are husbands, as in married in the Sapien way. During early integration, some politicians believed that encouraging Lykos to enter monogamous, legal marriages would discourage polygamous pack practices. They were wrong, but much like in our world, there are practical reasons to get married. Jin and Hobi married young, before they met any of the other pack members. None of the other pack members are married. Additionally in this universe there are no such things as mating marks or bonds, soulmates, etc. What Yoongi is feeling is much more your good old fashioned love at first sight combined with some very strong instincts. Please feel free to send an ask if you have any questions or thoughts!

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[malleusthehammer]

Hi! Can you please do a Qin Shi Huang and Lu Bu with a female s/o that plays the Guzheng/Zither.

Guzheng looks like this, it was made in the Qin dynasty by a general. It’s had 21 strings and you use nails that are made out off plastic, resin, tortoiseshell, or ivory to pluck the strings. The strings are made out of steel strings flat wound with nylon.

This is the song that she plays, it’s a hard song to master too. Feel free to ignore if it is too much, thank you!

DUDE THIS ASK IS SO COOL?! I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO GET TO IT!! Again, i am a sucker for Qin so he will be written for!!! I hope you enjoy this!!

Qui Shi Huang and Lu Bu with a reader that plays the Guzheng/Zither. Warnings: None! Type: Drabbles!

You didn't play often, you found it a bit extra when you played. Knowing it was such a hard instrument to play, you hated the attention it gave you when you played it. Qin knew this, but he adores it so much when you play. He'll often try and say he had a bad day, or that he needs a stress reliver. And of course, you can't say no to this man. Since he had coaxed you into playing for him, he made sure you both were secluded and comfy.

He plopped down on the shared bed, the pitcher of wine crowding the table next to bed. You set the guzheng up, sitting on the bench that accompanied it. You took a deep breath before popping your fingers and placing them gently on the strings. Your eyes closed as your fingers danced across the strings. The melody filled the spacious room, Qin's fingers tapped along his thigh with it.

Your fingers moved on their own, plucking the strings and sending beautiful music out in the air. Once you had finished, you sighed contently. Soft clapping filled the silence as you turned on the bench to face your husband. His smile was never wider as he clapped. Almost like a proud father, he stood from the bed, holding his arms out to you.

"That was lovely, Dear! You'll play more often for me?"

He gently caressed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it.

Lu Bu never really knew you played. He knew you had hobbies and stuff, but never really paid that close attention. When he would go train for extended periods, you'd stay home and practice. Same when he would watch the legions of people that followed him train. One day he been gone for a while with his horse, so you took the time to set up the guzheng outside. It was a beautiful day afterall.

You had no clue when your husband would be back, his schedule was too erratic in your opinion. But you knew he was safe, that's why you married him in the first place. Well, first it was his personality. The way he held himself so high made you admire him. If he was by himself, you knew no one would even dare to challenge him.

As you finished setting up the instrument, you were quick to sit down in the bright grass Infront of it. You bit your lip and closed your eyes. A strong gust of breath left our lungs as you opened your eyes again. Your fingers pranced over the strings like tiny ballerinas, sending beautiful melodies into the sky. You lost yourself in the music, moving your hands across the instrument delicately.

Little did you know that Lu Bu and his general, Chen Gong were on the way back. Lu Bu was picking his teeth with his pinky and Chen talked on and on about something that the champion didn't care for. The noise of the guzheng reached the ears of the men, a smirk appeared on Lu Bu's face. They approached the yard you were playing in, watching you from afar. The Champion put his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath in with a smile.

"Ahaha! That's my wife/husband right there!"

HJUYGJUYG okay i am SO SO SOS SO sorry for the wait!! i really hope you enjoyed it and thank you for putting some new music in my playlist lmao THE GUZHENG IS SO MAJESTIC I WANNA EAT IT!!!

[stfrancisprayer]

Last Winter, This Spring

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader —when bucky thinks about the past, you're there.

word count: 4.2k notes: female reader, but no physical descriptions and no use of y/n. friends to lovers + postwar. reader is implied to be an aviation machinist. a smidge of angst at the beginning and then a giant helping of fluff for the rest. ❀ warnings: brief description of stalag

HO HO HO! @bandagesandloveletters, i was your secret summer santa! it was a such pleasure getting to know you through your asks and i loved all of the room for creativity you gave me...and your music recs!!! "moonlight serenade" and "a nightingale sang in berkeley square" were big inspirations for this fic. thank you for trusting me with your gift-- and i hope you have an amazing summer <3

ⓘ This is a work of fiction based off of the AppleTV series Masters of the Air and strictly intended to be understood as factitious. Any named mention of an individual is based solely on their dramatic portrayals, NOT their real life counterparts.

In that cold German night, you’re there.

Inside that cabin, frozen to the touch, with his cheek pressed to his pillow– his bent left arm. 

Above John Egan is the corrugated wood of the top bunk, its pattern his personal constellation. In the middle bunk, there’s barely enough room to raise his head and ask Buck if he’s still awake. The spotlight on the eastern side of the grounds makes a wide revolution, sending a scanning light through the window before plunging the room back into the darkness of winter.

It comes again. In that cold German night, Rita Hayworth's there, too; Grace Kelly right below her. Posted on the wall below them is the lead hitter for a hometown baseball team, on the wall opposite is the other team’s pitcher. But John can turn to face his wall, and you're there.

He didn’t expect you to write, but the way he’d nervously paced around the bunk betrayed the fact that he was hoping you would. So when a letter comes on a gray winter morning, your familiar handwriting penned on the front, John’s numb hands fumble open the letter tellingly eager. He reads it in your voice, once, twice, enough times to memorize. But most importantly, you send him a sprig of the wild cherry tree.

When the light comes again, he can see it on his shelf. Its once-white petals are shriveled and missing now, it’s a different color than when you’d first sent it to him. But it’s still you, the brightness in your eyes and that smile– the smile he’d always loved coaxing out of you. 

John switches arms so he’s lying on his right.

There’s a scratching at the base of his throat now, the sound of your name fighting to release itself. The weight that sits on his waterline is the type that he thinks won’t spill over if he pretends it isn’t there. When he breathes, his chest only expands so far, suffocating in the space between the two bunks. It’s the layers, it has to be. You’d never do that to him.

He takes the twig into his hands just to feel the thin wood between his cold fingertips. 

I'll be back, he thinks. I'll be back.

In the Norfolk spring, the trees blossom at the turn of March like clockwork. Where the English sky has been gray since the beginning of September, the bloom is a welcome sight in Thorpe Abbotts. Their petals are the same color as the overcast: a delicate white. Bucky first notices them by chance from the window of the cockpit, glancing to the right as the landing gear touches down on the runway.

By mid-April, the blooms are dense enough to see from the air. When Bucky's circling above the airfield after another near-death mission, he spots the spattering of trees on the ground below and allows himself an exhale. Repetition has turned the sight of them into his own personal air marshall, congratulating him on surviving and beckoning him down onto the runway. He wipes the soot and blood from his face and tips the nose down until they’re clear from the windshield.

He’s barely pushed himself through the escape hatch, but Bucky's already making a beeline toward the aircraft hangar. His legs are still getting used to the ground; wracked with pins and needles and clumsy with each step, but he wears a smile he can’t seem to wipe off. He knows you’re behind those open metal doors, and he likes to think you’ve been waiting for him to return.

You’re there, so focused on tinkering with the uncapped propeller of a plane that you don’t notice him limp in. He could tell it was you from a mile away, all unruly hair and oil-streaked slacks, standing on a platform and putting the brunt of your weight on your wrench. Bucky calls your name, and it's familiar on his tongue.

You flash him a grin– his favorite kind, the one with teeth and the crinkle in your eyes. Perhaps you weren’t expecting his return, but like this he can’t help but believe it.

“Major Egan!” You wipe your hands on your pants. “How was it?”

Terrible; missions like those never go well. He still returns your grin. “Good. I'm here, right?”

“Right,” you laugh. “And since you’re here, hand me those pliers, will you?”

He notices your toolbox underneath the propeller and retrieves the pliers obediently. As he inches onto his toes, you reach down, tongue darting out past your lips as you grasp the handles. He stifles a laugh, remembering how you’ve sworn up and down it’s not a tic of yours.

“She took flak to the engine,” you call out over the sound of mechanics. “Pierced right through the skin. Lucky she didn’t get it from the underside, otherwise we’d be out a plane.”

“Can’t have that,” Bucky muses half-sarcastically.

Smirking, you use the pliers to point at him accusingly. “You’d like that, Egan.” 

He scoffs. “What, like I'd prefer to be on the ground?”

“Maybe you should.”

You’d be on the ground with him, he considers. Maybe he should.

“Hey, you see those– flower things?” he pivots. 

Your voice is muffled by the machinery. “What things?”

“The trees with the flowers.”

“Oh, the wild cherries,” you realize, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Yeah. Real pretty, right?”

“Stunning,” he stuffs his hands inside his flight jacket. “You can see ‘em all the way up there.”

“Is that right?” When you pull away from the propeller, your expression is impressed. “Seen them from the ground?”

“Not yet.”

“Do it sometime,” you offer, like it’s advice. “They’re better up close.”

You dip back down to fiddle with the mechanics. This might be your way of dismissing him, Bucky realizes, but he can’t seem to leave the hangar. So he stands there, content to share a space with you, the noise of engines, and the heartbeat he catches resounding between his ears. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the way he lingers. You’re too proud to tell him you enjoy the company.

The upcoming mission gets canceled later that week– bad weather or faulty intel or a miscalculation; some reason Bucky didn’t feel the need to triple-check. He'd have the weekend on the ground and that alone was enough cause for celebration.

Tonight, the pub is hazy with the smoke of cigarettes and fanned with the heat of alcohol. Glasses of warm beer exchange hands as easily as money. Buck sits at Bucky’s left, and there’s an empty chair to his right he’s hoping to fill. He can pick out the rest of his friends from the sound of their laughter alone. Bucky’s eyes scan over the room, the corners of his mouth urged upwards in a lazy smile: this is how things should be, he thinks, without the threat of a mission come morning.

And if tonight couldn’t get any better, he notices the way you creep in through the pub’s door.

Your eyes scan over the crowd until your gaze magnetizes to his. He's hard to miss, the only head turned in your direction, unabashedly waiting for you to notice.

Bucky’s eyes scan up and down your figure as you approach the table. You’re dressed in your Class A’s, hair styled into regulation curls, the cheeks that once sported oil smears now complimenting a ruby-red smile. It spurs him to remember what you’d told him earlier: something-something better up close. 

“Good evening,” you grin.

“There she is,” he greets you. “Come here often, stranger?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “When I can.”

The two of you pause to smile at each other.

“...Mind if I take a seat?”

Bucky looks down and realizes the way his hand is smoothing over the chair seat might seem like he’s saving it for someone else. He draws his palm back, stumbling out of his chair to pull yours out for you. “Ma’am.

You smooth your skirt under your thighs as you sit. “Thank you.”

“Crosby,” Bucky chides Harry across the table, “What are you doing? get her a drink!”

“No, no, that’s alright,” you raise a hand to motion for Crosby to sit back down. “I'm up early tomorrow.”

Crosby's not so quick to take a seat. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you tease, “Egan’ll drink for me.”

When the table laughs at your remark, something like pride swells in Bucky’s chest. That's my girl.

Both of you lean back into your chairs in sync, settling in to observe the conversation. Bucky’s look of adoration is unabashed, trailing along the curve of your eyelashes with lidded eyes. You’re so beautiful like this– effortless; with the relaxed slump in your shoulders and the poised way you’ve crossed your legs. He’s keen on the way you’re resting your weight on the armrest closest to him, and he’ll still be pleased if he’s only here as your accessory for the night. 

You could practically feel the way Bucky’s gaze swept over you, passing up and down your figure with a slight hesitation. He was holding back his affections, undoubtedly, if it wasn’t obvious by the way he was smoothing his hand over the back of your chair but stopping short of draping an arm atop it. 

When you lean into him, you’re sure to have your shoulder bump gently against his. Go ahead.

Bucky seems to take the hint. He rests his arm atop your chair, fingers brushing against your opposite shoulder like he’s waiting for further instruction. You hum with laughter at the feeling.

“Is this okay?”

When you turn to face him, he’s already pulling away, afraid you’ll bite. 

You settle into his side. “It's perfect.”

That's all he needed to hear.

He brings his chair closer until your seats are touching, melding both of your spaces into one for you to share. Your gaze is still fixed in your lap, half-afraid of ruining the moment with a misplaced word, your breath in your throat even as Bucky inches closer. At the table surrounded by pilots and airmen, this space feels intimate– isolating yourselves amidst the haze of the pub until it’s the two of you alone.

When he leans in to whisper, Bucky’s lips brush feather-light against the shell of your ear. “You look beautiful.”

A shiver runs up and down your spine at his words. When you turn to look at him, he’s close, impossibly close, so close you’re afraid he’ll see the way your irises tremble with misplaced confidence. But he’s patient, content in the moment you’ve stolen together. 

Before you can speak, your hand’s pulling the sprig from your lapel.

“Now, what’s this?” Bucky asks curiously, taking the plant between his fingers. It’s so fresh its wood is still damp with afternoon rain, the flowers adorning it still retain their shape. Spinning it between his pinched fingers, he studies it in wonder. 

“Those are those flower things, John,” you grin, pausing to nervously retreat to the opposite armrest. “Wild cherry blossoms.”

Bucky tucks the sprig into his lapel gingerly. You slump a little further into your seat.

Air service command decides that a sunny Thursday morning is the perfect time to reschedule the mission lost. Aside from the immediate threat of warfare, the day couldn’t have been any more picturesque.

The tail end of April brings warm breezes meant as a preview of the upcoming summer; and when Bucky looks up at the sky through his aviators, he wonders if the troposphere is any less colder. The B-17s creep slowly out of their hangars like waking giants– in the meantime, he slings his bag over his shoulder and counts the altocumulus clouds peppering the sky. 

They’re just like the white petals strewn across the Thorpe Abbotts’ lawns. The wild cherries are beginning to fruit upon the branches; he wonders if you’d tell him you’d miss the sight of them adorning the trees if it’s worth the smell of cherries after.

He hears someone call his name, and you’re there, bounding on the tarmac towards him.

The streak of oil on your nose matches nicely with your stained coveralls. When you skid to a halt in front of him, Bucky lets you find your breath, tugging your hefty gloves from your hands to stick into your back pocket. His mouth opens and shuts as he scans over you, unsure if he should be the first to break the silence and ask if you’re alright.

“Are you heading out?”

He takes off his aviators and meets your gaze with his. “I guess I am.”

“Okay,” you cough, nodding your head. “Okay.”

Your hands smooth hastily over the woolen lapels of his flight jacket, your lip caught behind your teeth. Bucky watches you before he can think to flinch away, looking down to notice the way your eyebrows furrow in the middle as you brush off nonexistent dirt. His tie’s loose, and you take the liberty of tugging it further up his neck– strangely enough, Bucky finds himself looking upwards, amused. This is a ritual for you, he realizes, a way to make him tangible while you find the words to say.

Finally, you rest your forehead against his shoulder, exhaling in defeat. “...You’ll be fine.”

The words are spoken like they’re for you to hear and Bucky to understand.

“Course I’ll be fine,” he laughs, cradling your waist with his arm. “I don't go down that easily. Besides–”

Somehow, you understand to pull away from his shoulder. Although you keep your hands on his jacket, there’s enough space for him to pull his lapel to the side and reveal the uniform underneath. There, tucked in his breast pocket, is the outline of a sprig from the wild cherry tree, as close to his heart as it can possibly be.

He winks. “I’m takin’ you with me.”

“John, don’t–” your fingers trace across the shape sadly. “Don’t do that.”

His hand envelops yours, stilling your trembling fingers with a squeeze and calming them with a smile. He doesn’t seem worried; nowhere as worried as you find yourself, and somehow it makes it a little better.

“For your peace of mind,” his voice is low, the words only for you. “Can’t have my pretty girl worrying, right?”

Buck strides behind the two of you, nudging John as he passes by. “Load up, Bucky.”

Bucky nods at his friend in acknowledgment. “Be there in a second.” 

Now, your features are sullen, gently tugging his lapel to cover the outline of the twig in his pocket again. 

“I should let you go. I'll miss you,” you admit. “I always do.”

Bucky brings a hand to cup your jaw, his thumb smoothing a rhythm across your cheekbone.

You can’t think of anything else to say.

“...I just wanted to let you know how I felt before you left.”

The sudden heat coursing through Bucky’s chest almost makes him want to abandon the mission. In his hands, the looming threat of burning engines and inevitable loss seems so much more real. His jacket stays between your fingers, digging into the plush material like you’re hesitant to release him to the sky. 

“I'll be fine,” Bucky whispers, leaning to bring himself closer to you.

Somewhere in your haze, you can feel his lips brush against yours in permission. You respond with a soft nod, a shy please– and relief seeps through your veins when he presses his lips to yours to dull the ache.

He begins slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling of contact, relish the moment into your hands. His arms hold you flush against each other– somehow, the pressure takes the edge off, and you respond with your own like it’ll convince him to stay. Though his time is drawing near, your lips part a little wider, and he responds with a sweep of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You push off of him right as someone behind you calls his name. Heavy, ragged breaths exit you as you try to fight tears and the undeniable feelings you have for the pilot doomed. A noise betrays you when it spills from your lips; a quiet sob that he’s already leaning down to kiss better.

“I’ll be back for you, gorgeous. I promise.” Bucky presses his lips to yours, feather-light. "We’ll be okay.” 

And when he says it like that, you can’t help but believe it. 

The taste of you is still buzzing atop his lips by the time Bucky pulls up the yoke. Thorpe Abbotts shrinks into the distance, further and further away until the cherry trees on the ground are dancing underneath the shadows the clouds cast onto the earth. In his mind, you’re still there, standing beneath a thousand petals falling like confetti, waiting for him to land. 

His words to you are lost among the roar of the twin engines– I'll be back.

“...John.”

“John.”

“Bucky, wake up!”

“Hmm?”

Your hand is rubbing up and down his arm before he can startle himself awake. When his vision unblurs, his first sight of the morning is one of you backlit by the sun, an orange glow around your face like a halo. You’re the angel standing in your shared bedroom, coaxing him awake, and Bucky decides this must be heaven.

“G’morning, beautiful.” A sleepy grin stretches across his face. 

“Good afternoon,” you giggle. 

“Afternoon? Already?”

“John, it’s half past twelve,” you tell him as he rubs his eyes. “You said you’d help me get after the living room.”

“It's too early,” he murmurs. “Lay with me.”

“John–!”

You barely have a moment to protest when he’s surging forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you back onto your mattress. Unfairly, his advantage is that you’re weak with laughter, yelping when he pulls you down to his chest and rolls on top of you for good measure. Your hand swats weakly at his back as you giggle, the morning scruff on his face tickling your cheeks when he peppers your face in kisses. Your fingers card through the messy brown curls atop his head– maybe you can be convinced to stay in bed a little longer.

Later that afternoon, the windows of the living room are pushed open as far as they go and the curtains are fluttering in the spring breeze. It’s the end of March, and the nascent Wisconsin spring ushers itself in through the door. Outside, patches of grass poke through the melting snow and the overcast clears– the perfect time to start fresh with some spring cleaning.

Bucky pushes the couches against the wall so you can drape the rug over the railing of the front porch. He throws paper, and you throw scissors, and he pretends to be a sore loser about it when you hand him the mop. By the time you’ve halfway finished sweeping the floor, Bucky finally decides what radio station he wants to listen to.

He perks up the moment he recognizes the tune. “Oh, I love this one!” 

A smile spreads across your face. You know this one, too. “Here we go.”

Bucky’s already gliding across the living room floor in time to the music, never mind the fact that the mop is dripping water while he uses it as a microphone stand. You playfully roll your eyes, pausing your sweeping to tap your foot in time. He swings his arms, pointing at you in dedication when he begins to sing.

“Never saw the sun shining so bright– never saw things going so right,”

You offer him your palm when he approaches and he takes it gingerly, spinning you around.

“Watching the days hurrying by– when you’re in love, my, how they fly!”

Bucky gestures grandly in your direction, leaning down to speak into the end of the mop handle like an announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen…MY WIFE!”

“My turn?” you prop your broom handle up. “Blue days, all of them gone…nothing but blue skies…”

“FROM NOW ON–!”

Both of you complete the verse as a duet, holding the note as a shout rather than the dulcet way that Ella Fitzgerald had intended it. If you’d stayed focused, the living room would have been spotless an hour ago, but here you are, dancing arm-in-arm with your husband as he revels in your newfound singing career. You take a joint bow when the song ends, a reverent kiss from Bucky your encore.

“My girl's a superstar,” he murmurs, dipping down to kiss you again. “My superstar.”

“That reminds me,” you grin. “There's something in the garden you should see.”

Your fingers lace with his as you lead him through your home, nudging open the screen door to the backyard. Slowly waking from its winter slumber, sprouts emerge from the thawing dirt and the remnants of snow piles melt into the ground. Bucky raises your conjoined hands to his mouth, blowing hot air between your palms to warm them. “You’re gonna catch a cold, baby.”

“We'll only be out here a second,” you say. “Look!”

Sprouting along the fenceline are the reams of begonias you’d forgotten to uproot before the winter frost came. Lo and behold, they’d survived, now unfolding under the light of the spring sun. Their petals are delicate white along the stalk, bending slightly in the spring breeze. You kneel before them to get a closer look, beaming proudly– Bucky’s eyes light up when he sees how happy you are, crouching down next to you.

“Would you look at that,” he whistles, running a hand along the flowering buds. 

“I can't believe they survived,” you lean forward, scanning over the flowerbed. “I really thought the cold would kill them.”

The realization hits him; he’s seen this shape of flower before. “These look exactly like–”

Your smile is practically ear-to-ear. “The wild cherries in Thorpe Abbotts, right?”

He nods, studying the flower between his fingers. They even feel the same. 

“I think they’ll be in full bloom by May,” you lean into his chest as he drapes an arm atop your shoulders. 

“You should be proud,” Bucky muses, pressing his lips to your temple. “They’re the second prettiest flower in this garden.”

(It takes you a second.)

“Stop,” you laugh, shoving him lightly. Bucky allows himself to fall onto the wet grass with the satisfaction of making you blush.

Mid-afternoon creeps in slowly, the setting sun casting light from its peak at the west face of the house. It was the perfect time to recline on the living room couch and enjoy the direct sunlight before it shifted away. Bucky savors the moment by stretching lazily across the couch, feeling the tension in his spine release with a satisfying pop. 

“What do you think?”

Bucky raises his head at the sound of your voice. You gesture towards the end table, now decorated with a single stalk of the begonias from the garden in a glass vase.

“You picked them early?” he yawns.

“One of the sprouts looked ready,” you tilt your head, inspecting the arrangement. “Something to make the living room nicer.”

Bucky hums in acknowledgment, shutting his eyes. “It’s perfect the way it is.”

It's more than evident that Bucky’s losing the battle with sleep, and seeing how the sun hits him just right makes it difficult to stay awake yourself. You consider the implications: it’s more than likely you’ll both wake up after the sun has set, but it’ll be a reason to justify takeout and late-night TV with him. Toeing off the heels of your shoes, you amble down until your weight rests comfortably atop his chest.

“Move over,” you murmur, settling into the crook of his neck. He lets out a pleased hum right as your thigh slots between his.

Your hand feels around until it finds his dangling over the side of the couch. Lacing your fingers together, Bucky brings the back of your palm to his lips, pressing a kiss to the skin that lingers.

“I was thinking we’d go somewhere for dinner,” you mutter, shutting your eyes.

Bucky nods. “Whatever you want, beautiful.”

His hands urge underneath the hem of your shirt, palms smoothing firmly up the plush of your sides. With your face slotted in the crook of his neck, he can feel the way you smile. The only thing he can think to do amidst his fog is press a trail of lazy kisses to the side of your face. 

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, fingers curling gently into your waist. “Feels good.”

You giggle. That drowsy little giggle– he swears, it’ll kill him someday. 

Before he falls into slumber, Bucky opens his eyes to remind himself of the life he’s made with you; stolen kisses and singing out of tune and the vase of white flowers in the house you live in together. Neither of you had ever really left behind Thorpe Abbotts– but you’re here, with your head on his shoulder and your fingers interlocked, underneath the sunlight of a lazy afternoon. 

John Egan never doubted he’d be back. He was just happy that he’d come back to you.

“Sleep,” you press a chaste kiss to his neck. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

And finally, John can believe it.

[strangesmallbard]

bg3 characters if they worked at publix/safeway/your grocery store of choice:

karlach: in charge of anything that involves moving heavy objects between locations, but also works produce. LOVES helping old ladies take their groceries to the car; will accidentally abandon the vegetables at least once per shift. (she does apologize to the vegetables.) also is a pallet stacking master in the most haphazard configurations that, somehow, miraculously never fall over. frequently posts her monstrosities on r/publix, alongside a selfie of her giving a cheeky thumbs up.

wyll: store manager, in his second year of a master’s degree in public policy. optimistic like a sword is optimistic. WILL make sure you take your mandated break and will hand out store giftcards for a job well done. does not suffer customers who behave badly. is roommates and longtime best friends with karlach; the energy they exude while together either makes your shift bearable or unbearable, depending.

shadowheart: works the in-store coffee counter. probably should not because she always looks vaguely disgusted, annoyed, or bored. the dark circles under her eyes are always there no matter how many espresso shots she sips. has anonymously complained to corporate about the store’s music choices. every new employee thinks they have a shot with her until she hits them with the 👁️😐 did you need something? 👁️😐 and they slink away, feeling chastised for reasons unknown.

minthara: works the meat and/or fish counter. smokes seventeen packs per mandated break. always smells a little bit like red meat. has the most insane combat stories but it’s completely unclear whether she’s a veteran or just someone who gets into situations on purpose. every 20-something employee is at least mildly obsessed with her whole thing, but she’ll only humor karlach. no one knows where she lives.

lae’zel: 22-year-old grocery team lead. typically works the 5pm-11pm shift, but still obviously runs that shit like a navy seal base. has encyclopedic knowledge of grocery store codes and also lore. during mandated breaks she can be found doing one-armed pushups, argueflirting with shadowheart, or scribbling poetry in a notebook. she’s also the pitcher on her college’s varsity baseball team; everyone shows up to her big games and she fails at not looking overwhelmed by joy every time.

jaheira: beloved customer service manager, knows literally everything and everyone. taught wyll everything he knows about not suffering customers who behave badly. often goes mountain climbing with her scary 39-year-old girlfriend astele who owns the smoke shop next door. sells the best weed you’ll ever smoke in your life.

gale: day shift manager counterpart to lae’zel, postdoc who needs the job to make rent obviously. constantly gives aisle directions for the store location he worked during undergrad and shelves the soup cans all wrong. WILL show you photos of his cat. constantly recognized by his booktube fans (he also streams sims 4 builds of classic sci fi/fantasy book locations). he does wear his own merch underneath the uniform.

halsin: that customer who’s very polite but frequently and inexplicably barefoot. he also teaches woodworking and pottery at the youth center down the road. sometimes brings his regular kids to the store for a field trip and those little bags of cheetos. grows the weed that jaheira sells.

astarion: does not work at the grocery store. he worked at the grocery store for two weeks, during which he showed up late every day, insulted customers, and generally behaved like a cat ripped away from his ball of yarn. he only lasted those two weeks because gale (roommate/situationship) begged wyll to give him another chance in a different department. he still lives with gale while finishing up a law degree and can be found loitering in the grocery store, bitching about The Circumstances with shadowheart.

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 10

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 10: building a shield

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I clung to Husker for the days to come. I wasn't sleeping. Striker had followed me into my nightmares. I resorted to reading well into the night and taking short naps throughout the day. I refused to sleep if Husker wasn't in the room; and he knew this. The books Alastor had given me were hard to read but it helped keep my mind focused on anything except my old master.

I also did everything I could to hide from Alastor. My ears were especially attuned to his footsteps and when I heard him walking I was ready to run into the other room. Rosie had mentioned something about teaching me mind magic but I didn't want Alastor to try anything before she came. It became a problem when I started hiding outside under the kitchen window until Husker came to find me.

Ultimately, it wasn't up to me. He could find me if he wanted to, and find me he did. The hair on my arms stood up and I heard a faint gasping. I recognized the sound of his shadow magic and ran into the dining room. I hide behind the wall right as he manifested in the living room. I held my breath and stayed as still as I could. I felt a chill run through my body when I didn't hear him move or say anything to Husker.

"Hiding, are we?"

I turned to find him standing with his arms behind his back. I hadn't heard him use his shadows to move so how did he sneak up on me?

"From who?" I challenged, standing up straight. I flicked my tail in an effort to rid the jitters of the fear still running through my body.

"I see you've started reading the books I left you," he gestured to the book still clasped in my hand. I looked at the old book, thinking of something to say. When I couldn't, I sighed and walked back into the sitting room. "Rosie will be arriving shortly. I thought I should warn you to give you ample time to prepare."

"Prepare how?" I tried to seem unbothered as I sat in the chair by the fire. Ever since the incident I was always struggling to stay warm.

"Mentally prepare. This may prove to be more of a challenge than what you're used to."

"If Rosie is the one who's doing the teaching, I think I'll be okay. I'm not sure what could be worse than your lessons."

He let out a small chuckle. "As you wish."

I should have listened to him, though, because when Rosie arrived I was a nervous wreck. It was apparently obvious because she kept telling me to relax and 'not to worry about anything'.

I had no concept of this mental magic. I grew more worried when Alastor followed us into the library. He closed the doors and shades like always but there was still enough light for us to see each other. Husker stood guard on the other side of one set of doors.

Rosie pulled three chairs together and guided me to sit in one of them. She tapped the back of my hand, gently saying, "Stop fretting dear. You're safer here than anywhere else. It's just practice." She then pulled a side table over and placed two pitchers of ice water on it. I swallowed hard. "Alastor, stop brooding and come take a seat."

Alastor, who had been standing in the corner of the library, slowly made his way to the circle and perched himself in the remaining seat. He set his cane aside and clasped his hands in his lap. His eyes met mine and I quickly looked down at my own sweaty hands.

"Alright, sweetheart, are you ready to get started?" Rosie asked me.

"I guess so."

"You'll be just fine dear. We're going to start small." She held her hand out. I subtly wiped my hand on my pant leg and slowly placed it on top. "You'll feel my presence but I want you to keep me out." She closed her eyes and a moment later I felt something touch the inside of my head. My ears twitched as it reached down my neck and to my shoulders. My hair stood up and my lips pulled back to reveal my teeth.

I imagined pushing the invisible force back up my shoulders and to my head. I pushed harder until she was on the outside of my head rather than inside. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

"Well done, sweetheart," she praised, severing our connection. "That was pretty good for your first time. How do you feel?"

"I feel normal."

"Good. Now. Try with Alastor."

My eyes widened as I slowly looked over at him. His smile widened to show his sharp set of teeth. I dug my foot claws into the carpet as I bristled at the thought of mind working with him. He unfolded his arm and held out his black and red claws. I didn't take it.

"Oh it's alright, dearie. He'll be gentle, right Alastor?" She casted a glare at him.

"Oh but of course," he put his other hand up to his chest, "I'm a gentleman, after all." His red eyes met mine again and my throat suddenly went dry. I looked over at Rosie but she only gestured for me to take his hand. I took a deep breath, focusing on his hand rather than his smile, and slowly reached out.

His huge claws wrapped around mine one by one, practically engulfing it. My other hand curled against the wood of the armchair. A shiver ran down my spine when I felt a cold presence enter my head. I immediately pushed against him, eager to keep him out of my mind. But I couldn't push him completely out. He was just staying there at the edge of my mind. He was resisting but it didn't felt like he was really using his strength.

I opened my eyes to find his hand glowing green and mine purple. But I watched as little trails of green moved along my arm and up past my shoulders. I could see the magic.

"A little harder, Alastor," Rosie instructed.

I tried to brace myself but he moved too fast. The cold went right through my head and into my shoulders, making me yelp. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed harder against him. It felt like I was trying to lift an anvil of weight over my head. My spine started to hurt and my heels felt like they were on fire. He was moving further and further down my body. I couldn't get warm.

"Enough," Alastor said as he let go of my hand. I sucked in air and sat up straight, seemingly have folded in half in the chair. "She'll need to exercise that more." I sent a glare in his direction but he ignored it, folding his hands back on his knee.

"Practice makes perfect," Rosie agreed. "Let's try something a little different. Try putting up a wall to your mind before we even touch." She waited for me to give her the go ahead before touching my arm instead. This one felt much easier to do. I actually heard a metal clank when her presence bounced off my shield. "Boy ain't that something. You've got a talent for this one. Alastor, see if you can get through."

I barely looked at him before he grabbed my arm. I heard the same clank but when he tried a second time he pushed against my shield with something sharp until it pierced it completely. I tried pushing him out again but it was no use. I jerked my arm away and he faded from my head. I curled my lips up at him as he retracted his hand.

"My my, if I've ever seen two soulmates disagree before, I surely didn't before the two of you." Rosie planted her hands on her hips and directed her attention on her old friend.

"Well, we don't always see eye to eye." He lifted one eyebrow at me.

I rolled my eyes and looked down at my hands. I could keep Rosie at bay but I couldn't do anything against him. Rosie seemed to read my thoughts because she said, "Oh don't worry, dearie, it's always easier to mind block other people than it is your soulmate. That's why they're called that, after all."

"You've also had years of experience," I said to him, my ears leaning back a little.

"There is that." He cocked his head towards Rosie.

"Well, I would say that she's perfectly capable of keeping away most people. I'm sure you two can practice in the meantime." The two of us casted glares at each other. "Now comes the hard part. We have to go into your memories like before and build a shield in there. We don't need someone getting to you like last time."

I nodded and gave her my hand. I picked a random memory, not related to Striker, and let myself slip into it. I was fighting the boy who moved at the speed of light. He was able to land several hits on me as he jumped off the walls of the ring.

"Start putting up bits of your shield in your mind and hold them there," Rosie explained. I tried to go along with the memory but also comply. It was difficult to focus on two things at once. I felt her presence reach my mind and lift one of the shields in place. I imagined melting the walls together.

By the time several shields had been put up, I noticed that I had completely removed myself from the memory. Now I was watching the memory through my new shield rather than experiencing it. I looked around and noticed I had completed my entire shield. Inside my head was a deep purple and red.

Then I noticed Alastor.

He was just standing there watching me. The only notion of movement was when he blinked. Was he actually here or was it just the soul connection?

"That was pathetic." Striker's voice made me freeze. I turned around to look at the memory on display. I had just finished my fight with the boy. He lay lifeless on the sand as the doors slammed shut behind me. Striker grabbed my face so I would look up at him. "It took far too long for you to finish that."

The panels in my shield started to fall out of place. I panicked and frantically pushed them back into place.

"He was too fast--ah!" He let go of my face right as his tail slapped me across the face.

"I've seen you fight better. You embarrassed both of us today and you won't do it again. Do you understand?"

The panels kept falling and I couldn't keep up. Why couldn't they just stay?

I caressed my sore cheek. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Come." He turned around, whipping his tail dangerously close to my face again. It made a horrifying whip cracking sound right by ear. Dread filled my chest as I watched myself follow behind him. My chest was tight and my eyes started to burn.

I had finally caught up and pushed a panel back into place. I looked around for more but saw Alastor pushing the last one into place. Something in my mind connected like two magnets and the panels melted into a single shield. I looked at the memory to see Striker shoving me into a cage and slamming the door shut.

"I'll give you something to cry about next time," were his parting words. I looked around at my shield but it stayed firmly in place. Had I done it?

"Come on out, dearie," Rosie's voice echoed quietly. I tried blinking and looking up but it didn't do anything. How do I get out? "Come back to your physical body." I felt the ghost feeling of her touching my hand.

I closed my eyes and imagined sitting back in that old library. I focused on the feeling of her touching me and felt the air around me grow colder. My head tilted back and cold water fell down my throat.

My eyes shot open and I leaned over to cough. I was back in the library. Rosie was patting my back and had a glass of water in her hand. It was darker in the room now. How much time had passed? What time was it?

Alastor turned on the desk lamp, lighting up the room with a warm yellow glow. I slowed my breathing enough before demanding, "What were you doing in there?"

"I'm your soulmate, darling," he answered, "That's how this works."

"You don't see me trying to get in your head."

"That's because you don't have the skills, darling."

"Alright alright, enough you two." Rosie pressed the cold glass in my hand. "We should all be very happy right now. You put up your first shield. Now it's going to take a little more than a glance to get into your head. Not to mention looking into your memories should be a lot easier for you now."

"Why didn't we do this first?" I asked, taking a sip of the refreshing water.

"You weren't able to. You're only at this point because you've managed to unravel enough of the curse and your magic. You've come a long way from when we first met." She winked at me and I couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you for helping." I tried to sound as genuine as I could. "I really appreciate it."

"Oh you're so polite," she gushed. "I'm just glad I can help make things easier on you. I can't imagine the nightmares you must've been having. This Striker guy sounds like a real jerk."

"Yeah, you could say that," I said into the glass as I took another sip.

"You must be tired, too, Rosie. I'll take you back," Alastor offered.

"You're such a gentleman." She wrapped her arm around his. "Now, dearie, remember. For the next few days I want you to practice pushing people out. Use that old cat outside too." I smiled again and watched Alastor lead her out of the room.

Husker came in to help put everything back in place and ask how it went. I didn't go into details but I was sure to mention the parts that involved Alastor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note:

Ooooh now we're getting to the good stuff. I've got some more mind magic scenes that I think you're going to die for.

[cjsmalley]

Wished Away 7:

Happy Thanksgiving (Early, I Know, Shut up):

“Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker wish to invite you to our Thanksgiving meal,” Damian said.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, “we’re a lot.”

Even without Damian, Bruce had many children and cooking for all of them was sometimes a tall order.

Damian smiled, “We are aware. You are not the only family we are inviting. Every child Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker has taken in we have invited along with their remaining family if they have any. Even the non-Americans have been invited.”

“We’d be delighted to come,” Alfred said for his family, “should we bring anything?”

“You may,” Damian agreed, “however, the chefs and cooks of the Palace will be preparing the main meal. It will be mostly meatless. Seitan mostly, in observance with mine and Mother’s dietary needs and our beliefs. It will also be made in-line with kosher regulations.”

“Cookies,” Jason said, looking at Alfred, “we can make vegan cookies.”

“Very well, Master Jason,” Alfred nodded, already planning for such a large batch, or several batches.

Damian grinned.

Thanksgiving Day arrived and the portal opened.

They filed through and were greeted by Sam, the younger Sam on her hip, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Sammy just waved shyly, gaining fond chuckles.

They all echoed the sentiment and were led through the palace to one of the ballrooms, “Not even the large dining room is big enough to hold our horde,” she said with humor.

“Oh?”

“Everyone invited came,” Sam explained before visibly remembering, “Oh, and any red wine you see? Not red wine; we have a vampire in attendance. He eats human food but not really.”

“Of course,” Bruce nodded; only Dick was of age to drink, of his children, but neither one really drank. Still, it was good to know.

“’m assuming the vamp’s friendly?” Jason voiced.

“Friendly as in doesn’t eat humans anymore, yeah,” Sam nodded, “but, well, Spike’s Spike. You’ll understand once you meet him. Don’t go after his humans and he’s nice enough.”

“Fair enough,” Stephanie nodded.

“Also in attendance are a Vampire Slayer, several witches and wizards, two magic superheroes…basically everyone you met at Damian’s birthday party’s here. I know Spike wasn’t there; he had to babysit the Hellmouth that day, so he’s really the only new face. Him and his daughter, Hope.”

“Vampires can have—”

“She’s adopted, from a separate dimension. Danny brought her to the Hellmouth group to hide her. She’s being raised by Buffy and Spike.”

“Oh.”

They finally made it to the ballroom; the doors were wide open; servants rushed forward to relieve the Waynes of the platters of cookies they carried before they entered the room.

Most of the room was divided down the middle by a cartoonishly long dining table, bench seating on either side of it. Settings were already in place.

In one corner was a padded and gated off area where Anakin and the baby that could only be Hope played. Well, played as only young babies could, which wasn’t much.

Dotted around the room were small clusters of regular chairs and beanbag chairs, some of which were already occupied, surrounding small tables with pitchers of water and juices and, yes, blood.

Spike the vampire was easy to pick out from the masses because he had a glass of what looked like red wine in hand. Nobody else did.

The Waynes spread out, first finding Damian to say hello, then mingling and visiting with the friends made at the birthday party.

Bruce made his way towards the vampire.

“’Lo,” Spike greeted lowly over his drink, Buffy at his side.

“Hello, Buffy,” Bruce said before smiling with a closed mouth, “and you must be Spike. Bruce Wayne.”

“Not an ape, mate,” Spike snorted, “won’t attack if you smile at me. Sit down, take a load off. Hear you’re Batman. The real deal one.”

“I am,” Bruce took a seat, reaching to fill a cup with orange juice, “where did you hear it from?”

“Dawn was excited; her little brother’s bio-dad is Batman,” Buffy explained, rolling her eyes fondly, “one of my friends, Xander, is a big comic book nerd.”

“Ah. I assume there won’t be any problems?”

“Not from us,” Spike agreed, nudging Buffy with a smirk, “my girl here’s a superhero too. Won’t be any trouble from our lot. Right, Slayer?”

“Yep. No problems from us. If Danny and Sam are good with you being…you know, you then we’re good,” Buffy nodded, “just as long as you don’t put Dawnie or Hope in a suit.”

“I don’t want them out there,” Bruce grumbled, “but if I didn’t help them, they’d all be dead by now.”

“We get it, honestly,” Buffy assured, “Dawn’s given us enough gray hair,” she grinned mischievously at Spike, “she’s even given Billy Idol here some.”

“Slayer, you know that pissant stole—”

Bruce laughed.

Everyone mingled and chatted for a few hours before the meal began; servant after servant carried food and drinks to the main table as everyone found seats on the benches.

Spike and Danny placed the babies into highchairs.

By the time everything and everyone was ready, the table was fairly groaning with the meal.

Danny gained everyone’s attention, standing and grinning, “Welcome to Thanksgiving Dinner at the Palace. Thank you all for coming, even our non-Americans for putting up with our silly traditions.”

The non-Americans laughed fondly, nodding; even Alfred cracked a smile.

“For those who’re probably wondering,” he continued, “our essential living staff celebrated at lunch and most will have the day off tomorrow. Everyone else had the day off today. Now, normally we’d go around and say what we’re thankful for but we’d be here forever if we did that tonight. So, while we eat let’s just think about what we’re thankful for and enjoy the food and the company. Oh, and just so you know, everything’s kosher and most of the ‘meat’ is actually Seitan. Real meat is on the green platters. But before we begin, let’s give a round of thanks to the kitchen staff for making the food!”

Everyone applauded.

“Now, tuck in!”

They all did so with gusto; the meal was magnificent and it was clear the Palace staff had put their all into it.

Most of the Seitan was shaped into meat product appearances, looking indistinguishable from the real turkeys and hams. And it tasted almost like the real things too.

The meal lasted well into the night and everyone went home stuffed and with leftovers.