#i have so much i wish to express and give to them and to myself as well. but primarily for them. (^^♪

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 3

Later on, the rest of that day went about as smoothly as it could go. During the recording, the boys did become a bit more touchy but Natasha simply chalked it up to nerves. She fought the urge to smirk everytime one of them tried to allude to something sexual. She was perfect at playing dumb. As if she couldn't smell their wanton arousal. She knew she triggered something and had perfect and total control. So much for their loyalty to Gwi-Ma.

She bet that if she asked them to, they would give up all alliance with the so-called king. Watching as the boys got through their last lines, Natasha had food brought in so they could eat something after singing for so long. Abby and Baby were the first to attack the food but after minor scolding, made sure to leave some for the other three. “You boys sounded great in there.” Natasha complimented as she fixed a plate for Mystery who practically became attached to her hip. “Thank you Ms. Natasha. We're one step closer to our goal in taking down the hunters.” Jinu replied after taking a few bites of his food.

“Jinu lean forward.” Natasha responded. As he did so, his eyes widened as Natasha took a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth clean. “There we go. Oh? What's up Mystery?” Natasha asked, turning her attention back to the other idol. “Hey um miss manager? When do we get what Romance got this morning huh?” Abby asked, huffing a bit. “I think we all behaved ourselves today. Don't we deserve a little reward too? How come you touched him?” Baby added. “I don't have to explain myself to you and if you keep asking about it, you won't get it. Eat. You have a photoshoot later.” Natasha replied unbothered.

That evening as the boys wrapped up the last of their photos, Mystery watched as Natasha typed away on her phone with a serious expression. She was talking to someone about something important for them. He loved that about her. She was always working. She always looked so busy. Like she completely had her shit together. He adored that about her. However, he also wished she would take a break every now and then.

“Alright boys. Time to go! Max, I expect those photos by Friday!” Natasha spoke while ushering the band out the doors and into their van. “I call shotgun!” Abby shouted as he practically launched himself into the passenger seat. “You had it on the way over here Abs, let someone else get the seat.” “Ugh fine!” He huffed as he moved to the back and Jinu climbed in the front. The drive home was silent save for the silent music playing in the background.

After arriving home, while everyone scrambled to get in Natasha's bed, still, she asked to speak to Abby alone in the living room. “I know you didn't want to give up your seat but you still did because I asked. I like when you boys listen to me.” She smiled as she led him to the couch and sat him down. “It makes me happy knowing that you respect me that much.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

Almost instantly, his arms were around her and bringing her down to his lap. “Do I get some lovin this time?” Natasha giggled slightly before nodding. “Yes you get one thing of your choice tonight.” The man wasted no time in choosing his reward. “I want your mouth on my cock. I need it Mistress… please~” He whined as he began to free his cock from the confines of his jeans. Looking down, Natasha smirked before pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

“You’re a big boy aren't you?” She then moved off his lap and settled on the floor in between his legs. “Nervous?” Abby chuckled. “Oh please. I've had bigger sweetheart.” Natasha sighed before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of the large cock waiting to take sanctuary in her mouth. That was a lie. Natasha had her fair share of fun sure, but none of her past exploits were ever this well endowed. Taking the tip into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, her ears perked up at the heavy breaths Abby was starting to take.

Slowly but surely, she started to bob her head on the erection. Taking more and more of the cock until it almost filled her mouth completely. Save for a few inches at the base. “Oh f-fuck… you look so hot…” Now, at this point she would have smirked and made a comment about how desperate he sounded, but doing anything but trying to fit the rest of the cock down her throat was impossible. “Mm… oh yea… keep going…” Abby moaned as he watched Natasha suck his cock.

Although he was definitely enjoying himself, he was also physically fighting the urge to take the older demoness by her hair and fuck her throat. Not because he was worried about her, oh no. He knew she could handle it. It was his own safety he was worried for. Getting on her bad side was something that was not on his list for that evening. Suddenly, he began to moan louder and his grip on the couch tightened as his eyes watched Natasha quicken her movements.

Humming around his cock, creating vibrations that added to the pleasure. “Shit! Y-yes! Please! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Unable to resist anymore, Abby grabbed a fistful of Natasha's hair and began to fuck her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch causing her to deep throat him. “Fuck!! Mistress! Your throat feels so good! Your mouth! Mm! Mm! Fuck! So good!” The sounds of her wet mouth fueling his desire and urge to paint her throat white.

“Cumming! Oh shit! I'm cumming!! Yes! Yes! Mistress!! I'm cumming!” Looking up at the man, the moment Natasha's eyes met those of Abby's he immediately came down her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch once more. “Mistress!!! Mm! Fuck!!!” It didn't take long for the man to come down from his high after Natasha pulled away from his cock. “You alright? I-i didn't mean to get that crazy.”

Natasha only laughed and smiled before standing from her position and kissed his forehead. “I'm fine hun. Are you ok? I didn't think you could sound so…whiny.” She laughed as she watched the man groan before standing as well. “Put that away and get ready for bed. I'll join you shortly.” Natasha smiled before grabbing her phone and walking into the elevator. She then dialed a number, while the elevator descended.

“Natasha. I am pleased to hear from you. How are the boys settling in?” Gwi-Ma asked. “Fine. That's the only update you're getting from me, asshole. Don't contact me anymore.”

@prettygirlkiki

@rivainimermaid

Chapter 4

[gyuspearl]

⋆˙✶ SWEETNESS! – KSN

꒰ 💐 ꒱ A KIM SUNOO [선우] FANFICTION.

genre. tooth rotting fluff! .˚⊹ pairing. sunoo x fem!reader, established relationship. ໒꒱ warning(s). nothin’ but cuteness for ddeonu. word ct. 1275.

synopsis. in honor of your angel boyfriend’s special day– you pamper him with extra love and care.

note: for the sunshine of all realms, our sweet sunoo, we wish the happiest of birthdays to you! may he continue to be enha’s spoiled baby, and may happiness and health follow him. likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

˚౨ৎ  ‧₊ without further ado, for your reading pleasure!

june 24th, a most special day to you.

the welcome of kim sunoo into this world, the sole reason that you’ve been able to thus meet him and adore him for many days to come. a cherished part of your daily routine, the spark of warmth in your life– sunoo quickly morphed into that and so much more.

there aren’t enough words to describe the deep appreciation and gratitude you hold for the boy– to the point that even heartfelt gestures fall short in true expression of your love. even so, you wanted to make the day worthwhile, a memory that would last a lifetime rather than a millisecond.

you’d spent most of the previous night preparing, your dearest boyfriend sound asleep by 9 PM on the dot, giving you plenty of time to set up. considering sunoo wasn’t the lightest sleeper, you were able to inflate the balloons, unpackage the tinsel curtains, and prepare treats for the morning.

the tinsel curtains crinkled and rustled mockingly when you reached to place them above your shared bedroom’s door, and the balloons scattered at the most minimal touch when you maneuvered them around the apartment. yet, you were able to prepare it all within 4 hours– including the plating of the finger foods, to which you’d placed in the fridge to preserve for the night.

when morning arrived, you woke thankfully before sunoo could, especially due to your lack of sleep. however, you couldn’t rise from bed without waking the sweet boy, his limbs tangled with your own, and chest pressed against your back. even with your subtle shift, he hummed softly, his own body stretching from behind you.

“g’morning, baby.” he murmurs with sleep, voice raspy and low as he props himself up onto his elbow to peek over your side.

“hi, angel,��� you greet with a toothy grin, your own voice gruff with tiredness as you shift onto your opposite side– now facing him. “happy birthday.” you add, tilting your head upward to rub your nose against his chin.

his laughter is sparked by your gesture, his fingertips reaching to brush along your jawline.

“thank you, sweetness. ‘s only a happy one when you’re around.” he admits with a whisper, dipping his head to lazily brush his lips with yours, full of love.

“could i part from you really quick, noo?” you ask gently, parting from his kiss with a flutter of your lashes. “i have something i’d like to put together before we can spend the rest of your day together, if that’s alright.” you shyly admit, cheeks flushing.

“of course, baby. i got my morning kiss, so you’re free to go.” he taunts, placing yet another peck to your forehead. “you freshen up first, sweetheart. i’ll lay in bed ‘til you’re all done and get ready myself. that’ll give you some time.”

humming softly, you smile again, placing a kiss to his cheek as you sit upright. “m’kay, i love you.” you chime, slipping from beneath the covers to step in the direction of the bathroom. but not before you blow your boyfriend a dramatic kiss, giggling as you disappear from sight.

with your skincare routine complete and attire different from your wrinkled pajamas– you slipped from the bedroom only when sunoo reached the bathroom.

you ensured that the tinsel curtains stayed up by carefully stepping through them, closing the bedroom door gently behind you. beelining for the kitchen, you immediately opened the refrigerator to set the island with tanghulu, chocolate covered strawberries, and the homemade cake that you had previously prepped. of course, the two of you wouldn’t only eat desserts for breakfast– to which you began preparing a genuine meal of kimchi, white rice, eggs, and toast.

while you placed the breakfast options onto the countertop with the sweets, sunoo emerged from your bedroom, a soft gasp slipping past his plump lips. peeking behind you, your lips curved upward at the evident surprise on his face.

“sweetness.” he mutters, pouting at the grand gesture of decorating the whole apartment for his birthday. he never expressed what he enjoyed or preferred on his birthday– but he was always thankful for how thoughtful you were. his birthday never felt disregarded, and yet never too exaggerated.

“thank you for all of this, i can only imagine how much effort you’ve put into decorating– and making all of the food.” he praises, approaching from behind, his arms encircling your waist and his chin resting upon your shoulder.

“of course, noo. you know i’d never let your birthday be forgotten.” you comment, brushing your hands together as you admire the spread of foods.

“oh!” you exclaim, turning within his arms to face him, hands grasping onto his biceps. “each of the boys wrote you a message and brought a gift. they’re set on the coffee table whenever you’d like to have them. but, you need to open mine first.” you remark, pressing a pointer finger against his chest as you grin.

he laughs softly, rolling his eyes in a playful manner before tickling along your sides– causing giggles to fall past your lips.

“okay, my sweet girl.” he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss you, an occurrence that happened more than you could count.

“focus!” you squeal, pressing against his chest with a pearly smile at his affection. “breakfast, first.”

once the two of you finished your meal, you decided to sing him happy birthday– not expecting him to eat any ounce of the cake considering you were both currently full. the cake now stood tall in front of his seated figure, with you standing to place a candle to the center, lighting it with ease. pulling out your camera, you hoped to record the sweet moment.

“happy birthday to you,” you began to sing, a smile on your face as sunoo simply stared at you with adoration. “happy birthday to you,”

“happy birthday dear noonoo,”

“happy birthday to you.” you finish, blowing him a kiss from beyond your camera’s view. “make a wish, baby!” you encourage, allowing him a moment of silence as he clasps his hands, eyes closed.

you pressed ‘stop’ on your recording, placing your phone down as he finally opens his eyes, blowing out the candle. “we can dispose of the candle and place the cake in the fridge for a late night snack.” you comment, stepping closer for him to gather you into his arms.

“i’ll appreciate your hard work later, but for now i want to enjoy some time with my baby.” he remarks, nodding at your idea with his own smile.

sunoo stood to help you gather the sweets into the fridge once again, properly storing them to ensure their freshness for later– the kitchen quickly becoming clean in no time. after you two had tidied the space, you moved into the living room, sunoo sat beneath you as you settled onto his lap.

“would you like to know my wish?” he asks softly, his eyes meeting yours as he tugs you closer– arms locked around your waist.

“well– you aren’t supposed to share the wish or it won’t come true.” you recall, brows furrowing and lips tutting in a pout.

“oh, it’ll come true, even if i share it with you, sweetness.” he mutters confidently, a smirk overtaking his expression. “my wish was for my girl to be with me for each of my birthdays, forever.” he confesses, breath fanning against your lips.

his statement sparked warmth within your chest, your pearly smile so wide, it could’ve very well been blinding. “you know, you’re right. that wish can totally come true.” you whisper, connecting your lips with his.

© gyuspearl – please do not copy, plagiarize, or reupload.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ taglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @chuhees @pshbites @jaeyunluvbot

how to be added to my taglist: click here!

[fleetingpetal]

curious inquiry, but would you all be alright with me publishing some extremely self-indulgent doodles every now and then?

[intheorangebedroom]

Good morning, Orange besties 🧡

How are you all doing on this fine whatever-the-fucking-day-it-is?

I'm taking a leaf out of my wise and darling Cee's (@fuckyeahdindjarin) book to let you all know that, even though I've been back since Sunday, it's been very difficult to ease back into real life. Who would have guessed that spending a week with your besties lying on beautiful beaches, eating good food, laughing your tits off, reading actual books and daydreaming about the Pilot would be that challenging to come back from, huh? Unbelievable.

ANYHOO. I've got a lot of backlogged tags, reblogs, comments, posts (I love you all SO DAMN MUCH) to go through, and I'm not even going to mention irl chores and work (the nerves on these things), nor will I address tybtm's next chapter which is coming along at fucking SNAIL PACE 🤯🙃

So thank you all so very much for your patience while I sort my shit out 🧡

[gf2bellamy]

I had this idea while watching CM i just know you’re THE person to ask!! So i’m picturing established relationship with later seasons Reid and reader sees a pic of early seasons maybe his FBI badge or smth ? And she’s like gosh i wish i met you sooner and Spencer thinks she wouldn’t have liked him back then and she’s like bitch ???? i have this feeling that people started to find him more attractive after the prison trauma and i just want to give some love to early seasons reid like baby i would have smashed u in season 1

badge — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship, post!prison spencer a/n: hii !! loved this idea sooo much <3 because yes ! i would've literally thrown myself at s1 spencer

Spring cleaning.

It was something you had insisted on, and Spencer was reluctantly going along with it. You loved his apartment, with its cozy clutter and towering bookshelves, but there was a fine line between charmingly lived-in and needing intervention. Currently, you were seated cross-legged on the floor beside one of his many bookshelves, sorting through stacks of old files, loose papers, and, of course, more books than any one person could reasonably own.

Spencer was across from you, carefully removing each book from the lower shelf so he could dust beneath them.

You pulled out a well-worn novel, only to find four more identical copies tucked behind it. You held one up, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you have five different versions of the same book?”

Spencer barely glanced up from his task as he answered, “They’re all different special editions. That one—” He gestured vaguely toward the book in your hand. “—has annotations from the original editor. The one next to it has a foreword by a critic I like, and the third has alternate chapter endings that were cut from the final draft.”

You shook your head, amused. Only Spencer would need multiple copies of the same book. Flipping through the pages, you noticed scribbled notes in the margins.

“I haven’t read that one in ages,” Spencer admitted, suddenly abandoning his dusting to scoot closer to you. His knee bumped against yours as he leaned in, his fingers gently taking the book from your hands. He opened it to a random page, and his expression softened as he traced his old annotations with his fingertip.

A small, nostalgic smile tugged at his lips.

You watched him. His hair had fallen into his face again, obscuring his eyes as he focused on the text. You reached out, brushing the unruly strands behind his ear. He barely seemed to notice, too absorbed in the book, but his free hand caught yours, lifting it to his lips to press a quick, absentminded kiss to your knuckles before returning to his reading.

You bit back a laugh.

Of course.

You had come here to clean, and now Spencer was going to reread an entire novel instead. By the time you finished unloading the second shelf, he’d probably be done with it. You reached for a file that had been tucked between stacks of books on the second shelf. Curious, you opened it slowly, peeling back the cover to reveal its contents and then you froze.

"Oh my god."

Spencer, still absorbed in his book, didn’t even glance up as you carefully pulled out what you’d just discovered.

His old FBI badge.

You stared at it, lips parting in amusement. The photo showed a younger Spencer, his hair meticulously gelled to the side, so much more tamed than the unruly curls he had now. It was shorter, too, neatly styled in a way that looked almost foreign compared to the man currently sitting on the floor beside you, lost in his reading.

You didn’t even realize Spencer had finished his book until you felt the faint tickle of his hair against your cheek as he leaned over your shoulder, peering at what you were holding.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, voice warm.

You grinned, twisting to face him as you held up the badge. “Your old FBI badge.”

Spencer blinked at it for a second, processing, before his eyes widened slightly. “Give me that,” he said immediately, reaching for it but you’d predicted that reaction, and you yanked it out of his reach with a laugh.He didn’t even try to fight you for it, just slumped back with a sigh, though the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

“You looked so cute,” you teased, scooting backward just enough to keep the badge safely away. But Spencer wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, he hooked his hands around your ankles and dragged you forward until you were knee-to-knee with him again.

"No, I didn’t," Spencer insisted as he stared at the badge held between you.

"You totally did," you grinned, tracing the edge of the picture with your fingertip. Spencer had stopped looking at the badge entirely, his gaze instead fixed on you, the way your lips curled in amusement, the softness in your expression as you studied him.

"Your lips are still all pouty and pink," you murmured, tapping the photo where his mouth was set in a firm, professional line. Then you glanced up, only to find real Spencer mirroring the expression, his own lips slightly pursed.

"See?" you teased, meeting his eyes.

Spencer shook his head, but there was no real annoyance in it, just fond exasperation. "I wish I’d met you sooner," you said softly, your thumb brushing over the badge before your gaze flickered down for a second.

He stared at you like you’d just spoken in riddles. "You wouldn’t have liked me back then," he muttered.

Now it was your turn to look at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you look adorable," you insisted, holding the badge up again for emphasis.

"Adorable," he repeated flatly, as if that only proved his point, like adorable was code for not worth liking.

So you doubled down. "Attractive. Handsome. Pretty. Hot," you added, each word punctuated with a pointed look.That finally cracked him. A smile tugged at his lips, and he shook his head, but his ears had gone pink.

"Spencer," you pressed, bumping your knee against his, "there’s no way I would’ve missed out on that." You jabbed your finger at the photo for good measure.

He chuckled, finally tearing his gaze away from the badge to focus on you instead. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a second too long to be casual.

"Don’t deflect," you accused, pointing a finger at him.

"I’m not deflecting, I’m reprioritizing," he countered, but the way his thumb traced your jawline betrayed him.

You pouted, hard, and Spencer’s eyes flickered down to your lips like he was physically restraining himself from kissing the expression right off your face. (Which, given the way his fingers twitched against your skin, he absolutely was.)

"I’m serious, Spencer," you insisted. "I would’ve literally asked you out the first second I saw you."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "You stuttered for six seconds straight when I asked you out," he reminded you, grinning when your mouth fell open in embarassement.

"That—! That was different!" you spluttered, swatting at his shoulder. "You caught me off guard!"

"Mm-hmm." His grin widened.

"Point is—" You waved the badge between you like a white flag, refusing to let him derail you further. "—I would’ve adored you, Spencer. Any version of you."

Your voice softened at the end, and just like that, his teasing expression melted. He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head like he still didn’t quite believe you, but when he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead, the badge forgotten between you, it was answer enough.

(And if he stole the badge back when you were distracted by his smile? Well. You’d let him have that one.)

[moondustbaby]

Come Home

Blue collar!Rafe x SAHM/Wife!Reader Angst to Fluff

a/n: based on this request 💌!

Summary: Feeling overwhelmed and alone, You finally open up to Rafe about how much his long hours have been weighing on you and the family. It turns into a quiet, vulnerable moment that reminds them both where home really is.

⸻

The slam of the dishwasher door was louder than it needed to be. You didn’t mean to do it. Not really. But the pressure had been building—slow and quiet, like a kettle you forgot about on the stove.

You could hear Mia fussing in the living room, Jace calling for a snack he’d already had, and your phone lit up on the counter again.

Rafe: Running late, baby. Still on site. Be home soon.

You didn’t even respond.

You were tired—so tired. And it wasn’t just your body. It was the ache in your chest, the mental gymnastics of keeping everything running when Rafe barely made it home before the kids went to bed anymore. You weren’t mad at him for working. You knew he did it for the family. But lately, it felt like he was building houses for strangers and leaving yours crumbling in his absence.

By the time Rafe walked through the door—boots heavy, shirt stained, eyes tired—you had Mia on your hip and Jace clinging to your leg.

“Hey,” he said, soft, cautious, like he already knew. “Long day. Traffic was—”

“Don’t,” you said quickly, setting Mia down with a too-sharp breath. “Just—don’t do the traffic excuse. Not tonight.”

He blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You tried not to cry. God, you hated crying during fights. “It means I’m here all day with two kids who need everything from me. It means I haven’t showered in two days, the laundry’s overflowing, and Jace threw up on the couch this morning. It means I’m drowning and you keep telling me ‘soon.’”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “I’m working, baby. I don’t have a choice.”

You scoffed, folding your arms. “There’s always a choice. You just don’t want to disappoint your crew, or your clients—but me? I’ll wait. I always wait.”

His voice was quiet, but firm. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is doing this by myself.” The words fell like lead. “I miss my husband.”

That’s when you saw it—his expression falter, just slightly. The exhaustion cracked open and the guilt came pouring through.

He stepped forward, slow. “You think I don’t miss you? That I don’t wish I could be here more? Baby, I wake up at five, come home past seven, and think about you all day long. I walk in this house and I don’t even get to kiss you before you hand me one of the kids and tell me dinner’s cold.”

Your lip trembled.

He sighed. “I’m trying to give us everything.”

“I don’t want everything,” you whispered. “I just want you.”

Silence.

Rafe’s face softened in an instant. Like all the fight left him in one breath. He reached out, pulled you into his arms like it physically hurt to be apart from you for another second.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I didn’t see how bad it got. I should’ve been here.”

You let yourself cry against his chest. He held you tighter.

“I don’t need you to fix it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I just need you to see me. To want to be here.”

“I do want to be here,” he promised, pulling back just enough to cup your face. “With you. With them. I’ll start saying no to jobs, I swear it. You’re my wife. My home. Nothing comes before that.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep, like he meant every single word.

And later—after dinner was warmed up, after Jace was tucked into bed and Mia finally stopped fighting sleep—you lay tangled up together on the couch. His hand resting on your thigh, your head tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t go in early tomorrow,” you murmured.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Might stay in bed all morning. With my girl.”

You smiled through your tiredness. “You mean it?”

He nodded, brushing your hair back. “From now on, you don’t have to ask me to come home. I’ll already be on my way.”

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this broke my heart and then put it back together writing this lol 🥲 but also this is definitely the reality of their relationship especially when the kids are young and they’re still trying to navigate how to do things as a family and as a married couple with two littles.

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Mastserlist

[kxsagi]

hiiii

can u make blue lock boys with a s/o who tries to be as quiet and never really expresses her opinion during an argument, but starts crashing out when she's at home/alone 😛😛

LOVE YOUR WORKS BY THE WAYYYY

"𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐦𝐨 🥀"

a/n: reader is me i fear

AND THANK YOUUUUUU!!!

ft. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, karasu tabito, ness alexis, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae

itoshi rin

you and him are both quiet in public, so he thinks you’re twinsies in social apathy. 

“don’t say anything, it’s not worth it,” he mutters. and you nod all calm like “yeah.” 

but when you’re home? OH. 

you throw your bag down like it's a dead body and start barking: “OH MY GOSH IF I HEAR ‘IT’S JUST MY OPINION’ ONE MORE TIME I’M GONNA LAUNCH MYSELF INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC.” 

rin freezes mid sip of water like you just spoke in tongues. “wait. who is this demon i brought into my house.” 

you slam your phone on the bed: “I WISH I COULD FIGHT PEOPLE THROUGH TEXT.” 

rin’s like “you need to go outside.” 

after the third time this happens, he stops letting arguments slide. he just starts solving them ON THE SPOT because he knows if you bottle it up again, he’ll have to survive another 30-minute monologue about some guy who “walked with too much confidence for someone with that haircut.” 

nagi seishiro

does not notice your inner rage until he walks in on you kicking a stuffed animal while whisper-screaming “DIEEEE YOU EGOISTIC PUNK.” 

stands there scratching his head like, “uhhh. you good?” 

you start unloading a rant about a barista who said “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome,” and he’s just watching you like a confused cat. 

“so like… do you want me to fight them? or just listen?” 

you start acting out the entire scene with voice impressions like, “‘next!’ no ma’am, how about NEXT time you respect basic customer service etiquette–” 

nagi goes “damn. that’s kinda fire.” 

starts encouraging it. “yeah babe, get mad. do the voice again. the evil barista one. that’s my favorite.” 

fully believes your rants are better than any anime. once got mad when you didn’t go off. “what do you mean you’re calm today? but i made popcorn.” 

mikage reo

LOVES the duality. 

when you’re being all polite in public, he’s whispering in your ear like “do it. DESTROY THEM. go for the jugular.” 

and you just smile and say, “it’s okay! mistakes happen :)” 

cut to 9:13 PM and you’re in his penthouse pacing like a man possessed. “OH REALLY?? MISTAKES HAPPEN?? THEN LET ME MISTAKE-FULLY THROW A CHAIR AT YOU.” 

reo is wheezing. he’s filming you. adding background music. making edits. 

he even starts giving you imaginary awards like, “ladies and gentlemen… BEST DRAMATIC RANT OF THE YEAR GOES TO–” 

you once threatened to fight a man for wearing flip-flops indoors and reo started crying from laughter. 

wants to get you on reality TV. he thinks your angry alter ego could win a whole season without leaving camp. 

karasu tabito

absolutely lives for your inner beast. 

in public, you’re all quiet and sweet and he’s like, “she’s such a lil angel 🥰” 

but then later he hears you go “I WILL DIG HIS FUTURE, PRESENT, AND PAST SELF OUT OF EXISTENCE,” and he’s like “NEVERMIND. SHE’S A DEMON.” 

laughs his ass off while you’re slamming cabinet doors. 

you’re like “this is why his hairline is running away from his eyebrows. IDIOT.” 

karasu: “BAAAAABEEE PLEASEEEE 😭😭” 

starts intentionally causing mild public inconveniences just so he can watch the rant later. “oops, i accidentally knocked over her coffee. oops, someone cut in line.” 

this man is sick. he’s got a NOTES APP of your most iconic lines. 

ness alexis

absolutely terrified the first time he sees it. 

you’re sweet and reserved in public, but then later you’re storming around your bedroom like: “NOOOO BECAUSE I HELD BACK SO MUCH– IF I HAD A SHOVEL AND DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY I WOULD HAVE–” 

ness pokes his head in like “h-hey baby, you okay–” 

“SHHHH I’M MID RANT.” 

man shuts the door like he just walked in on a crime scene. 

now he just peeks in with snacks and goes “you want emotional support chocolate? ice cream? maybe a hug and a punching bag?” 

scared you might start roasting HIM one day, so he starts keeping receipts just in case you snap and go “REMEMBER WHEN YOU ATE MY FRIES THAT ONE HUMID NIGHT.” 

but also? kinda proud. 

“she may be quiet… but she’s a warrior. just needs a private arena to unleash the fury. maybe a rage room is better.” 

isagi yoichi

during arguments, you're standing there looking like the human version of an unsalted cracker. 

"it’s fine. no big deal,” you whisper, while isagi is next to you mentally going, “she’s soooo cool under pressure omg she’s my strong silent queen 😩” 

WRONG. 

10 minutes after y’all get home, you’re in the kitchen like: “NO BECAUSE IF HE BREATHED ANY LOUDER I WAS GONNA STUFF A SOCK DOWN HIS THROAT–” 

you're mimicking the whole conversation, hands on your hips, pacing like a mom yelling about bad report cards. 

isagi is watching from the couch like it’s a documentary. “so this is what she’s like when the polite filter turns off…” 

you throw a fork across the sink and go “AND ANOTHER THING!!” 

he flinches. “another thing??? there’s MORE???” 

now he straight up brings popcorn to your post-argument breakdowns. even got a playlist for it: ‘angry girlfriend showtime vol.3’ 

kaiser michael

he thinks you're classy. elegant. above it all. 

like, “oh wow, my girlfriend doesn’t even need to raise her voice, she wins arguments with a look.” 

yeah well. wait until he hears you alone in the kitchen popping off like it’s an unscripted drama. 

“THEY WANNA PLAY STUPID GAMES? THEN THEY BETTER BE READY FOR STUPID PRIZES–” 

kaiser peeks around the corner like 👁️👄👁️ “who… the hell… are you???” 

you’re out here holding a hairbrush like a mic, screaming at the air. “AND ANOTHER THING: WHAT TYPE OF NAME IS THAT ANYWAY. SOUNDS LIKE A YOGURT FLAVOR.” 

he deadass chokes on his mineral water. 

he’s torn between fear and admiration. 

“i’m dating someone who bottles rage like champagne and explodes behind closed doors. incredible. terrifying.” 

but don’t get it twisted, he starts triggering it for sport. 

he’ll say some dumb shit like, “maybe they were right, you were being a little sensitive,” and then stand back like he just lit a firecracker. 

kaiser 10 minutes later, filming you storming around the room with full captions and a laugh filter: “and this, my friends, is why i never cheat. she’d destroy me in 7 dimensions.” 

shidou ryusei 

he’s the exact opposite of you. 

like, in the moment of confrontation, he's already taking off his shirt and saying “let's settle this in the PARKING LOT.” 

and you’re just there holding his sleeve like, “let’s not… it’s okay…” 

“no, it’s not okay, babe. i saw the micro-expression on your face. you wanted blood. i could feel it.” 

“nah ryu, i’m chill.” 

cut to 12 minutes later when you two get home and you’re doing WWE monologues in the mirror like: “IF I WAS BUILT DIFFERENT, HE WOULDN’T HAVE TEETH RIGHT NOW.” 

shidou walks in halfway through and SCREAMS. 

“OH MY GOSH YOU DO WANT VIOLENCE. BITCH I’M SO TURNED ON.” 

now he purposely instigates people in public just to see if it’ll get you to crack. 

“watch this babe, i’m gonna push his buttons.” 

you remain silent. 

later that night though: “he was chewing with his mouth open, and i swear to the heavens, ryu, i almost inhaled a fork just to end it all–” 

“I KNEW IT. I KNEW YOU WERE A FERAL LITTLE BEAST.” 

itoshi sae

this man is ICE COLD. he barely talks in arguments and honestly, he thought your silence was just... normal. 

“hm. she’s like me. emotionally done with everyone.” 

but BOY was he mistaken. 

the first time he catches you mid-breakdown, it’s because he walks in early from practice and hears something like: “NO BECAUSE IF SHE BREATHES NEAR ME AGAIN I’M GONNA CALL THE IRS ON HER.” 

sae freezes in the hallway like you just summoned a demon. 

you’re pacing in socks and a hoodie, dragging a blanket around like a cape, arms flailing as you imitate every dumb sentence said during the earlier argument. 

“‘i didn’t mean it that way’ THEN IN WHAT WAY DID YOU MEAN IT?? TELEPATHICALLY???” 

sae just turns around and leaves the room. comes back three minutes later with a drink. 

“so we’re doing this now? okay. continue.” 

literally just sits there while you explode, nodding like it’s a business meeting. 

“mhm. right. yeah she was dumb.” 

but later in bed when you’re calm, he’ll whisper: “you know you scared me a little back there. but… kinda hot.” 

you look at him. “i blacked out. what did i say?” 

“something about mailing someone’s eyebrows to the moon.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[yanderedrabbles]

Letters from a Yandere Vampire

December 7th, 1886

Dear y/n,

Please do not think me presumptuous for writing to you so soon, but my heart would give me no rest. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since our encounter at the Duke's soiree.

Perhaps it is my countenance or perhaps my foreign heritage, but London's débutantes seem to find me positively frightful. I had resigned myself to yet another evening of disappointment when you introduced yourself to me.

In all my travels, I have met few ladies with your boldness of spirit. You transformed my dour evening into one of unimaginable enjoyment.

I have included with my letter some pressed flowers from my native Transylvania. You expressed much interest in the botany of my homeland and I hope these will intrigue you.

Your interest in my travels is remarkably flattering. And, if I may be so bold, may I invite you to a dinner at my salon? I have much still to share.

Yours sincerely,

Count Nicolae Drăculești

December 17th, 1886

My dearest y/n,

How I enjoyed our evening together! When we danced, I felt my soul set afire. In my travels, none have so captivated me.

Do not think me hasty, but I have sent my messenger with a gift. I can think of no better place for these jewels than around your neck. Please, accept them with my most sincere compliments.

You amused me very much when you pointed out my teeth. My fangs are indeed much longer and sharper than a normal man's. Perhaps you wish to feel their sharpness against your skin?

The nights grow longer and colder. Do you dislike the winter darkness, I wonder. Or do you only long for someone to share it with, as I do?

Ah, forgive my rambling! I'm writing to ask if you will allow me the privilege of escorting you to the Yuletide ball? I can think of no finer gift to celebrate Christmas.

I must soon depart for my home and I insist on spending more time together before then.

Yours,

Nicolae Drăculești

December 25th, 1886

My love,

Merry Christmas! I walked through the untouched snow and even London seemed beautiful and pure.

In this cold, I can think of nothing but having you with me. A day without you is an eternity past.

It seems I have been waiting for you for centuries. Is it to bold to say you are the woman of my dreams? Forgive this fool his insolence, but when I write to you I feel possessed.

You have asked me at length about my aversion to the Church and silver. You are such a logical creature but there are some things beyond the realm of science.

Seek to know no more, for both our sakes.

Another matter has been bothering me of late. I have noticed Lord Lancaster has expressed an interest in you.

The man fawns over you like a slobering hound. As your companion, it is my duty to advise against him. He is unworthy of your attention, much less your sympathy. 

Surely you see that it is you and I that are the more compatible match?

Ever yours,

Nicușor

January 1st, 1887

Dear,

I wished to keep you ignorant of my nature. And yet, you have seen me unmasked. A creature of the night.

It was your blood that did it. A single drop was all it took for my instinct to take over.

I hope you are unhurt. If I were in my right mind, I never would have pinned you against the wall as I did. I never would have forced my kiss upon you.

I could hear your heart racing when I showed you my fangs. Why did you not scream?

Did I fighten you into silence? Or was it something else?

You asked me what you are to me and at the time I had no answer to give. Are you my prey? My meal?

I have spent all night in thought and still I fear uttering these words.

You are my beloved.

My heart belongs entirely to you, wretched and sinful though it may be. No blood is sweeter than yours.

I burn for you, my darling.

I grow agitated at each day that passes when we are not together. My treacherous mind plays such awful tricks on me. Surely you have not cast me aside for another? Or worse, have I frightened you beyond redemption?

Oh, banish the thought! Who has your affection? Your love?

Please, put my poor heart at ease. Meet me in the gazebo at the end of your garden after sunset.

I cannot bear to be parted from you much longer.

Ever your slave,

Nicușor

y/n,

My castle must be prepared for your arrival and I have set forth with great haste to do so. In case you awake before my return, I've left you this letter.

You are currently on board a private train car bound for Transylvania. Do not attempt to leave. My guards have strict orders to ensure you reach home.

You are changed, my dear.

I have bitten you and transformed you into a creature like myself. Upon our final meeting, I intended only to say goodbye. You are too fine and beautiful a creature to be wasted on the likes of me.

But when I saw you in the moonlight, I could not help myself.

You are so beautiful. So bright and lively. You are what my cold halls have lacked all these many years.

My love, I drank your blood. Every drop of it. Nothing in my centuries of existence has ever tasted so sweet, so right.

It can be frightening, I know. But do not despair.

The light of the sun will forever be out of reach, but there are a thousand traits you've gained. Strength. Speed. Immortality.

The grave will never taste your flesh, old age will never hound at your door.

As I am the one who changed you, I am also your Lord and Master. The bond between us is forged in blood. Wherever I go, you must always follow. If I am to die, so shall you. If I am to command, you must obey.

It is a tight leash and not one of my devising, I assure you.

I intend to be your partner and not your Lord. So for both our sakes, my love, do not give me cause to use that power.

You and I have all eternity together. Does it please you as it does me?

I have longed for a bride for centuries. You cannot imagine the loneliness. And in all those years, none have impressed themselves upon my heart as you have.

I have stolen you from the sunshine and into my world of night and blood. I have ripped away any hope of heaven and salvation. No God now, no church or altar.

I am a rogue and a thief and still I beg of you. Please love, do not hate me.

I've made you into my vampire bride.

Your husband,

Nicușor Drăculești

[bananastarlo]

yandere Isekai trope part 2

You’re in his house, chains rattling as you try to shift out of the uncomfortable position of being tied to his bed.

What just happened?   

Still trying to wrap your head around the situation, an uneasy dread settles in your stomach. 

I did everything I was supposed to. So why? Why am I still here, still here— with him?

You fight back the tears threatening to spill, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break. 

“Darling?“

No…

When he caught you, there had been something very wrong with his eyes. They were beautiful and glinting with a newfound emotion — but if you looked long enough, you’d see how lifeless and hollow his soul truly was.

Now, as he enters the room with careful steps, his eyes hold the same look they had when you first met him.

Like he hadn’t done what he did. Like he hadn’t…

He crouches down to your level. As you shuffle back as far as the chains allow, hurt flashes across his face. Without another word, he reached out and gently cradled your head in his hand, sighing. He held it like he was afraid you’d break under his touch. You could feel his fingers trembling as he closed his eyes, trying to comfort himself in touching you.

They will understand one day.They will understand one day.They will understand one day.They will understand one day.They will understand one day.They will understand one day.They will understand one day.They will understand one day.

They will love me!

He had to repeat these words in his head like a prayer, wishing that if he repeated them enough, heaven would answer and grant him his wish.

He started crying, his hands now grabbing onto your face with so much force, that it started to hurt. “You will understand one day, that I had to do this! I had to do this for us! She wouldn’t leave you alone! She would have ruined what we had!“

You scoffed. “She didn’t do anything. Why wasn’t it me?! It should’ve been me.“

His eyes grew wide as he started to comprehend the words that were just coming out of your mouth.

“Why not you?! How could I ever, ever hurt you?! You are my angel! You were sent from heaven to be with me! How could I ever do something like that to you, when you were so nice to me?! No one has ever shown me what love feels like until you showed up…“

“That’s not love.“

“Yes, it is! 

How can this not be love if you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep?

How can this not be love if every time I speak to you, my heart begins to pound so fast that I can hardly stop myself from pulling you closer?

How can this not be love if I try to seek you in every room I go to?

How can this not be love if your face haunts me, and I would do anything for you!?”

Shit, this guy has officially lost it.

He desperately sobbed.

“Please look at me; I can’t stand it when you don’t look at me.“

As he clutched at your shirt, you endured the process. 

The calmer he became, the less threatening he seemed, you thought, as you brought your own hand up to gently stroke his hair.

His breath hitched as he wore the expression of a kicked puppy.

Eventually, he started to calm down and even fell asleep on top of you. 

He must’ve been really exhausted after throwing such a tantrum.

You liked him better this way, anyway. Now, being asleep he didn’t look like he could ever hurt a fly, so peaceful in his slumber.

But you know better.

You have to get out of here as soon as possible, but how? Should you try further to console him, in hopes he would start to change? Or are you doomed now because of what he did to Lola? Is there any way I can restart and try again? 

These thoughts consumed you as you started to get more and more drowsy, eventually falling asleep. 

GAME FAILED.

Beep Beep Beep

You awaken from your sleep. Stretching your limbs, you are startled to see you’re not in your own room. 

Where am I?

That’s when a screen appears before you:

“In order to leave this place, you must get along with the yandere of this universe and identify—plus avoid—their darling. Good luck again, and don’t get yourself kidnapped or killed.“

Again? Have I been here before? You certainly don’t remember a thing. What a strange place.

If the screen isn’t lying, I’m surely not dead, right? So I can return home. 

A yandere, you scoff. 

What is this, some kind of bad otome game? 

Well, better do as the screen says.

As you stand in front of a classroom, you start to feel a certain familiarity with this place. You can’t quite wrap your head around it, but it feels like you’ve been here before. 

Soon enough, a boy enters the classroom, as you take your seat somewhere in the back. As you stare at him for a few seconds, your heart begins to pound so fast, you fear you might die of shock. 

You tumble to the floor, your hand clutching your heart.

“A-Are you alright? Here take my hand.“

Helplessly gasping for air, you take his hand. He places your arm over his shoulder as he carries you to the nurse‘s office.

As he places you down on the bed, you both wait for the nurse. But all of a sudden, the pain starts to fade from your body. 

“Oh! The pain has already stopped!“

“Really? I’m relieved. You really stressed me out there.“ 

He smiled at you. It was a comforting smile that held a lot of warmth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t know what happened back there“, you reassured him. 

“Good. I don’t want to lose you ever again, my angel.“

Huh?

Author's Note: Thanks to Anon for the inspiration!

[shypotatoes013-blog]

Can we fucking talk about this?

I may sound really bad when I say this but it pisses me off to no end that we can’t have this game without men crying for a male mc option or trying to erase the MC. Like no??? This game isn’t for you. The creators made it FOR AFAB PEOPLE specifically. We don’t have shit like that.

It’s always inclusivity this, inclusivity that.

There is PLENTY of BL and other games dedicated to people who enjoy that type of content. Go play it, go read it.

I used to like yaoi. I preferred it over hetero at one point but like there’s liking and then there is projecting in places and insisting everyone else get behind it. You just don’t fucking do that??

Is it really SO BAD that AFAB have something for themselves? Do you have to belittle us and erase us so badly that we just have no spaces for ourselves?

And then saying they’d have better chemistry with another man. 😭 Have you heard the secret times? Have you read the stories or the cards? They are absolutely infatuated with the female body (and I know I used female here I’m sorry but that’s what mc is portrayed as in game.)

It’s not a contest. You can like them, headcanon them with another man. You can do whatever because they’re fictional just STOP ERASING WOMEN. We are allowed to exist in media.

I’m sorry for anyone reading this. I can’t articulate this the way I want to. It just makes me so mad that we deal with so much misogynistic bullshit and can’t have anything. I don’t go around trying to assert myself in spaces that weren’t made for me and I can’t understand why this isn’t an understood concept.

Edit: Also in reblogs

I've already expressed that I did not know how to articulate at the time either and my intention is not to make enemies of anyone. I admit that I could have waited to word that better, thanks for the input. It wasn't well received by my very trans friend either, but she has corrected me on the usage of the term AFAB, amongst other things.

However, I do not care that they want or wish for representation. It's the aggressiveness that some of them exude that is off putting. It's not fair I used general and pointed language and I'll take full accountability.

The erasure is completely removing the MC from the equation when she is the central point of the game. It literally revolves around her. And it was said that she lacks chemistry and that the men would have more chemistry with another man.

Opinions are fine, but when you're deadass serious just because you can't stand to see a female with the LI, that's different and THATS what I'm talking about.

I expressed that it's fine in headcanon and fanfiction because it is fiction. I don't have an issue with that, if you'd read that instead of jumping to that conclusion. I don't give a shit that people ship them together or with other men.

I don't care that they even ship themselves, but the actual hate, and in all seriousness, in lads fandom is an actual thing. It is the lack of acknowledgment that they're (the shitheads) still coming into the fandom and demanding a front row seat because it's "not fair!"

The screens I provided aren't mine. It was sent from a friend, but this is not the first instance I have seen of this and regardless of if it was a joke, it sometimes doesn't feel that way. I could have tempered myself, but I am also tired of tempering my rage.

[bunni-v1]

Wriothesley SFW & NSFW Headcannons

🍓The offical Bunni Wrio headcannons. Long time coming for me and my husband. I really wish I had the money (that also doesn't need to go into me feeding myself for the next four months) to commission an artist to draw him and my OC together. I'm so regular and normal about him. Anyway, please enjoy my thoughts. I'm a humble loser.

TW: NSFW; Rough Sex; Choking mentioned

Info: Wriothesley x Reader; NSFW below the cut; gn!reader (no explicit body parts or pronouns used); use of "walls" to refer to sexual organs

Word Count: 5.5k

-Wriothesley is both incredibly complex and very simple at the same time, and he doesn’t care if anyone but him understands that fact. He doesn’t need to be understood by anyone else, though he does appreciate it when his friends go out of their way to accommodate him.

-Quite honestly, there are only two people in Teyvat who understand the way he ticks, and he only regularly interacts with one of them. Part of this is honestly because he can’t be bothered to deepen most relationships when he’s so isolated from other people, and a more… honest and vulnerable part of him knows that he doesn’t really enjoy being known.

-His childhood being stripped from him did a number on his ability to trust, as it would any other person. He’s built up a nice, tall, icy wall between himself and most others. He’s not unreachable, of course, but most people don’t even try to get to know him when they see how guarded he is. 

-Again, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the freedom it gives him, and it means he doesn’t have to worry about complicated relationships. He has enough difficulties on his plate from running the fortress in the first place, there’s no need to have any extra stressors.

-Needless to say, romance isn’t something on his mind. At all. In fact, he’s likely never had any kind of romantic relationship. He never had the chance to have one, and he naturally assumes that it’s not his thing. 

-Not to say that he’s never felt anything toward anyone, he’s human, he just never acts on it. He can also easily clock when someone is attracted to him, and makes a mental note to shut them down as quickly and efficiently as possible. If he can’t, he just avoids them. 

-It’s not a fear of romance, nor a disinterest in it, Wriothesley just cannot be bothered. While yes, he has plenty of free time around the fortress, he also lives there. It would be cruel to any potential partner on the surface for him to accept their advances, and anyone in the fortress was either his employee or a prisoner, and excuse him for not wanting that kind of power dynamic in his life.

-Wriothesley was content being single for the rest of his life, down under the sea in his quiet office with no one to bother him. Then you come into his life.

-Sent down to the fortress from Neuivilette after Sigewinne expressed worry about him overworking himself. She tended to mother him a little too much, and Neuivillette listened to her faithfully every time she worried about him. 

-It wouldn’t be much of an issue… If Wriothesley didn’t find himself so stumped on what to give you to work on. He had a good routine that he was used to, and it got things done efficiently, so there wasn’t really anything for you to do. But when you look at him with those pretty eyes, he can’t help but find some excuse to keep you in the office with him just a little longer.

-He doesn’t immediately fall for you, of course. It’s more like a slow flutter down a thousand-foot cavern, unsure of what was at the bottom, but certain that he was falling.

-It just starts as a business, of course. You were technically his superior, as a direct aide of Neuivillette, he had to answer to you more than you did to him. You never really treated it like that, though. You were witty and playful, matching his quick tongue with your own smart jabs. It was nice to have someone on the same wavelength, and this naturally led to more friendly conversations about things outside of work.

-You start spending time with him far longer than you need to, way after either of you has finished your duties for the day, and it doesn’t take a genius to tell what's going on. There’s just one problem… Wriothesley can be a bit… dense when it comes to actual romantic tension.

-He isn’t stupid, of course, he can tell that there’s something there… but he second-guesses himself. He just doesn’t believe that you could possibly be genuinely interested in him; he brushes off the flirting, acts like he doesn’t notice the tension, and eventually, you’re called back to the surface without anything happening.

-It’s easy to shrug off everything for him, chalking it up to circumstances and nothing more. He can’t deny how it stings a little that you could easily act like it never happened, not receiving any letters sucks, but he can’t blame you. Again, he doesn’t believe he’s built for romance.

-He thinks he’s handling the whole thing fine, but Sigewinne clocks him faster than he can say his own name. She points out that within a week that he seems mopey, and that if he misses you so much, he should just visit or send a letter. Of course, he doesn’t, because that requires a level of vulnerability he admits he just doesn’t have in him yet.

-Luckily, he doesn’t need to take that first step. Pleasantly surprised when you make an unannounced visit to his office, only about a month after you initially left. He thinks that maybe Neuivilette had sent you back, but you’re not dressed like you normally would be for a shift with him. (You look very good in your casual clothes, which fluster him quite a bit more than he’s willing to admit aloud.)

-No, you hadn’t come for work or anything like that, you had – with flushed cheeks and eyes dodging his – come just to see him. You admit you had missed your chats, and thought that maybe he might’ve as well. Hoped that he had. And oh, you have no idea what it does to his heart.

-He’s not a musician, but his heart broke out into a symphony that thrummed through his whole body. 

-From there, you become a regular part of his week, coming down to his office at the same time once, then twice, then nearly every day in a week. He finds himself sulking when you can’t make your regular meetings, and feels as if he is on cloud nine when he sees you. He never expected himself to be such a hopeless sap, but he supposes those romance novels weren’t exactly wrong about how much love can change someone.

-Talks over tea turn into gentle, flirty touches. Not so subtle hints at something more, but neither of you is really pushing any further. It’s a very slow build of confidence for Wriothesley, and every interaction reassures him of your shared feelings. It gives him confidence to take the next step, to go a little further, to finally put a label on things instead of pretending nothing's there.

-It’s cute how he goes about it, too. Normally, you’re the one to come down to him after you’re done with work, but instead, he greets you in the lobby of the Palais de Mermonia. He’s got a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the biggest grin on his face – he even cleaned up a bit! 

-It makes you feel silly seeing him all dolled up when you’re still in your work clothes, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he hands you the flowers. Officially asking you on your first date, which is an even cuter picnic watching the sun set together.

-He’s quite a hopeless sap when it comes down to it, he’s very enamored by you, and he does get a little caught up in the newness of it all. It’s still completely genuine on his part, though. While he might have rose-tinted glasses on, he really does feel that deeply for you, and he makes good on showing you that affection.

-Now, before I get into the meat of the cutesy shit with him, we need to acknowledge some of the problems he might have as your partner.

-Firstly, Wriothesley is a very emotionally stunted person. He wasn’t shown affection for a good part of his childhood, and the affection he did receive was coated in deceit, so he struggles to express himself when it counts. He’s great at setting and respecting boundaries, but genuine emotions? Well… count him out. 

-He really struggles to open up to you, despite how much he knows he should – how much he wants to. It’s just not something that comes easily from him. He needs patience, understanding, and maybe a bit of handholding through it all. 

-It is a slow crawl through a lot of cold shoulders and gentle deflection, but he tries his best, and he gets there eventually. He still doesn’t really like to bog you down with his own issues, but if you reach out to him and ask him what's bothering him, he’ll tell you. He’ll allow you to take care of him and worry over his well-being and collude with Sigewinne to get him to take breaks.

-Even when he isn’t willing to let you inside, he’s still appreciative of your efforts, and he shows you through subtle acts of service. Quiet thanks for worrying, even though he’s just not ready to let you see the more broken sides of him.

-Another issue that runs right along this one is his problems with trusting, not just you, but pretty much anyone who isn’t Neuvilette or Sigewinne. (He thinks he also trusts Chlorinde, at least professionally, and Navia is nice enough, but he won’t be spilling his life secrets to either of them.)

-Naturally, you’ve already won him over a bit, so you have more of an advantage than most other people, but he’s not really transparent to start. He’s kind of mysterious, giving you little hints, but never quite letting you past the surface of the sea.

-You’re curious about his past, most people are – what with the giant fucking scars all over his body. Anyone would want to know where their partner got them, and it’s not like he’s ashamed of them… he just doesn’t want you to think of him like that.

-He doesn’t want you to know how helpless he felt all those years ago, the terrible things he did to stay alive, and how hard he fought to get to the point he was at now. Most people would call it a triumphant story, but Wriothesley wants his past to stay in his past. You were his future, and he didn’t want to see the pity in your eyes when he told you about that part of him.

-Yet, no matter how hard he tried, it was a part of him that he couldn’t get rid of. If he wanted a life with you, he was going to have to tell you at some point. He would rather he be the one to get the story to you, rather than someone else (like Neuvilette, who would tell you if you played your cards right.)

-It’s hard for him to tell you, and even harder to see how gentle you are to him as he talks. There’s a sadness in your eyes that makes his heart ache, but you don’t treat him like he’s helpless. You just let him talk, and you listen, and when he’s done, you tell him that it doesn’t change the way you think about him at all.

-You don’t make it a big deal, you just… accept it. It’s nice, and while he doesn’t know how to express that appreciation properly, he knows you know how much it means to him. You always seem to know him better than he realizes, and he thinks you can say the same about him.

-I also mentioned earlier that there’s the issue of him living in the fortress. I know most people headcannon he has a place above the surface, but that just doesn’t really feel in character for him. He has no real reason (before you) to have a home on the mainland of Fontaine, so why would he waste his time and money picking out and decorating a home when he lives in his office most days?

-After getting with you, though, he has to find a way to bridge that physical gap between the two of you more efficiently. Sure, he gets to see you nearly every day when you’re finished with work, but you always return to the surface, and he doesn’t get to wake up to you ever. 

-His solution? Sleep shifts. One night he’ll come up to your place on the surface, the next you’ll stay down with him. It’s not the most efficient method, but he isn’t going to make you stay in the fortress with him, and he can’t reasonably live above ground all the time in case something happens that needs his attention.

-He loves the domesticity of seeing you when he first wakes up. You look so good with your hair all messy and drool pooling on your pillow. It’s not something he’d ever been afforded in his life, so he savors the little moments that he gets to have with you. Frequently, you wake up to him stroking your hair tenderly, watching you with all the love in the world.

-Something else he really loves is making breakfast with you. Whether he’s cooking or you are, it doesn’t matter; dancing around the kitchen while pancakes cook on the stove is a fantasy he’d never imagined he’d be allowed to live out.

-Oh, he also loves it when you help him shave his facial hair. If you like it, he’ll let it grow out a little longer than he normally would, but Sigewinne always complains past a certain point. To keep both of you happy, he lets you shave him when you both have free time.

-Seated on the edge of the sink in the bathroom, he stands between your legs with his hands on your thighs, purring out sweet nothings as you carefully run the razor over the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. It’s a surprisingly intimate moment you get to share with him, somehow made romantic with the way he holds you so close and gazes at you with unspeakable affection.

-It takes a lot of trust to let someone hold a sharp blade to your neck, and while this isn’t the same thing, it’s got the same feel.

-Something to note about Wriothesley is just how gentle he is with you. Regardless of if you’re bigger than him or not, he handles you the same way. He’s never rough with you. He never grabs you, he never pushes you, and he doesn’t ever yell at you either.

-It’s important to him that you feel safe around him. He doesn’t want you to know the sheer terror he had to face as a young child, learning that he was going to be sold off and likely slaughtered by the people who were supposed to love him.

-He does love you, with no secret motive, and he spends every second with you, displaying that with every fiber of his being. Every touch is soft, every word is chosen carefully, and every act of service is made with complete consideration of what you want. It’s like he knows what you need far before you can even think of it, and he makes it seem so effortless. It’s not, though, it’s very intentional and just a silent gesture he uses to show you how much he cares.

-Even when you argue, Wriothesley does not raise his voice. You will never hear him speak to you the way he speaks to the prisoners of the Fortress. He respects you, even when he is angry or when you are screaming at him. His cold demeanor can come off as uncaring, but you come to realize that he is acting that way because he cares. He would never raise his voice to you, ever. He loves you too much to see you cower under the weight of that.

-This bleeds into his fierce need to protect you. You are an adult, you can take care of yourself, but boy, does he want to do it all for you.

-It’s not an ego thing, nor is it a power thing; he just really likes taking care of you. It isn’t even something that’s really obvious, mostly subtle little shows of care. Like him checking in and seeing if you’ve eaten, or massaging your knots out of your back, or letting you nap on his couch after a long day. It’s usually sweet manifestations like that.

-Usually.

-As the warden of the biggest prison system in Fontaine (the only prison system in Fontaine), Wriothesley has his fair share of people who wish him ill. Comes with the job description, and it isn’t like he didn’t have that even before taking his place as Duke of the Fortress. He can take the heat, it’s not an issue for him.

-What is an issue, however, is when that ire for him is turned toward you.

-Most times it’s just stupid prisoners making a passing comment, (which he doesn’t tolerate either, but doesn’t make a big show out of. A few sharp words shuts them up quickly enough.) You brush them off fine on your own, and you can pack a punch thanks to him, so he doesn’t worry much about them.

-The issue lies with those who mean to harm him. As the Duke of the Fortress and a Pankration champion, most prisoners know he’s pretty untouchable. They don’t have the influence to undo him, and they can’t beat him in a fight. There wasn’t much to hold against him… until there was you.

-It’s no secret to those living in the fortress just how much Wriothesley adores you, you’re quite the soft spot for him. It’s obvious that those who want to get to him would try to use you to achieve that. It’s just… they never really get far enough to do anything in most cases.

-Wriothesley is so attentive to you that he can just get in the way of any plans they might have. If he can’t stop them from trying, usually a show that he knows what they’re doing is enough to get them off you. But there are the brave, stupid few.

-If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to cause you harm intentionally, they’re a dead man walking. The second they lay a hand on you, their life is essentially over. He’s not above beating the point into their skull if he needs to. Poor Sigewinne has quite a troublesome case on her hands after that.

-Forbid if they actually lay their hands on you. It takes all of his self-restraint not to kill them, which he does not do, because he has a lot of self-control. It doesn’t stop the thought from running through his mind over and over as he escorts them to a high-security cell, though.

-While he cannot legally kill anyone, he works very hard to keep them locked up and stuck with him for as long as possible. They also become a social recluse in the Fortress, as most prisoners and employees are rather fond of you.

-It’s not a side of himself he’s proud of, which is why he tries his best not to let you see it, but it’s part of him nonetheless. He just cannot afford to lose you for any reason. You are the most important thing in his life, and losing you would devastate him to a point he’s never seen before. 

-Other than that, he is usually a very gentle and loving man, wholly devoted to your relationship.

-He values any time that he gets to spend with you, be that sitting quietly in his office doing things separately but together, or having you settled in his lap as he works. It doesn’t matter much so long as he has you there. 

-Speaking of, he is very physically affectionate. You wouldn’t imagine him to be, but with a partner, he just has a need to touch. He’ll settle a hand on your waist, an arm around your shoulder, press a kiss to your temple, pull you into his lap as he works, and pretty much anything that he can get from you, he’ll take.

-Something particularly charming is that when he passes you, he’ll pull you to the side so that he can kiss you. Then he moves on with his day like nothing happened. It leaves you flustered, but it’s so sweet that you can’t find yourself getting mad about it.

-He’s also a tease, through and through. He’s always poking fun at you and making silly comments to get you to smile. It’s just the way he expresses comfort around people, but he really knows how to get under your skin.

-Don’t worry, though, for as much as he can annoy you, he’s doubly sweet and caring. He always knows what you need far before you need it, and if he doesn’t, he makes sure that he can get what you need done as soon as possible.

-He’s reliable, a sturdy rock for you to lean on when you need someone there for you. While you have some issues, what couple doesn’t? Wriothesley is more than willing to go through whatever highs and lows with you, so long as it means both of you can stay happy in love for as long as possible.

NSFW :3c

-Wriothesley’s relationship with sex isn’t something that he likes to talk about for a multitude of reasons.

-He’s not some touch-starved helpless virgin, but he also isn’t the most experienced. Most of his experience in bed comes from a mutual need to get off when he was still a prisoner, a sort of agreement between him and a select few partners that kept them satisfied.

-It was rough and aggressive and honestly a little shameful looking back on it now, not something he really wanted to think about too hard. Certainly not how he wanted to have sex with you, it felt too… disconnected from his feelings.

-He also didn’t want to force things; your first time should be natural, but also intimate. He wanted to lay you out on his (or your, whichever was closest) bed and take his time with it, not bend you over his desk and make you take it. (He could do that, if you wanted him to, but not for your first time together. He was really trying not to live up to the hardened prison warden stereotype, after all.)

-Even with his own expectations in mind, he mostly wanted it to feel good. He wanted things to flow together without needing to push or pull, and he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything for him. 

-Yeah… the level-headed Wriothesley was 100% overthinking things. You can’t blame him, though! He’s never really had sex for anything more than a feeling, and he wanted you to feel loved, not like you were an object for his own pleasure.

-This leads to him subconsciously rebuffing your advances like an idiot. You weren’t in the right place, he didn’t have any protection, it was getting too late, blah blah blah. He kept making excuses in his head as to why you wouldn’t want to have sex, when it was really him complicating things needlessly.

-Luckily for you, you had an ace up your sleeve! Sigewinne, your little gossip buddy in the fortress, heard all your woes of Wriothesley potentially not finding you attractive enough to have sex with. He seemingly never wanted to be with you, no matter what you tried or how eager you seemed.

-She shows up to his office one day with a box of condoms and some lube and tells him to get it over with or she’ll have to mix up a special little remedy to deal with it herself.

-Not wanting his first time with you to be under the influence of an aphrodisiac, he takes the hint and mentally prepares to make a move. He’s still nervous as hell because there are a million what-ifs running through his head, but the second you walk through his office doors, it’s like all of that melts away.

-Having the thought of “I’m going to do this” rather than “Should I do this” really helped him out. His usual confident and assured demeanor is back, and when you seem to imply you’d like to spend some alone time in his bedroom together, he tosses you over his shoulder (playfully, of course) and does just that.

-He allows you to take the lead the first time, mostly because he needs to figure out what you like before he can confidently guide you. So, lucky you, one of your first sexual encounters with him is sucking his dick! (The little “Oh wow” you let out seeing his size was an ego booster for sure. The following: “You think it’ll fit?” made his head as big as his dick.)

-He’s someone who learns over time, so it takes him a few times with you before he starts actively pursuing sex. He takes note of things he does that seem to get you hot and bothered. Like the way he tugs at his tie when he’s feeling overworked, or how you stare shamelessly as his arms while he’s moving things around, oh and his ass of course. That’s a fan favorite, it seems.

-It’s a slow thing, but over time, he starts using those little ticks against you. When he’s feeling needy, he makes you feel needy too. There’s a nice sense of pride he gets when you pursue him, especially when he knows you weren’t the one in the mood first.

-It’s also nice to know that he isn’t pushing any boundaries when you come to him for sex first, so he really only engages you like that if he’s sure it’s something you want. He would rather live through a hundred life sentences than ever make a move that you don’t want.

-It’s really sweet, but it can result in him getting… pent up rather frequently. The two of you already rarely have time for sex, and his suppressing his desire doesn’t exactly help either of your positions at all.

-It makes sessions after longer periods without sex come off as more… rough than he would like. He really does want to be gentle and loving with you, but he also really likes the feel of bending you in half. Quite the conundrum he’s got himself in.

-He’ll bring this fact up to you, and if you give him the okay to be rough? Well, have fun! 

-Wriothesley likes it rough, as much as he wishes he could be the sweet, loving, gentle partner all the time, he can’t help that his brain lights up like a switchboard when he sees you struggling so hard against him. It stems from all that time he spends being in control of the prison; it’s very hard for him to let that go, even for you.

-Still, communication is much more important to him. You have very long conversations with him about what is and is not okay, establish a safeword that both of you can easily remember in the heat of the moment, and always make sure that both of you understand that one of you can say no at any time and it’s done.

-So, what does he like?

-Well, he likes it when you fight him. Be that verbally or physically, the fastest way to get him hot and bothered is to act like a brat. You can show that you’re smart and witty, which is already attractive enough to him, but having you intentionally get under his skin? You'd better hope no one will be needing him anytime soon.

-He has fun putting you in your place and reminding you who exactly tops who in the relationship. He even entertains you sometimes, letting you think you’re getting away with your smart ass mouth, only to suddenly bend you over his desk and remind you of your position with him.

-He doesn’t talk much, though, so don’t expect him to verbally degrade you. He thinks the position and the rough treatment should be enough to get the message across. Sometimes he might growl out a little comment about how desperate you are for him, but otherwise he’s mostly grunts and groans. 

-If you physically fight back against his hold, it excites him more. It’s very unlikely you could overpower him, so all of your efforts are futile, and yet you still seem to try every single time. You push and punch and squirm, but it always ends the same way with your legs over his shoulders and hands pinned above your head.

-It’s also a given he’s into restraining you. With his need for control and easy access to legitimate prison-grade restraints, there’s just no way he doesn’t use that to his advantage. Usually, he’ll just cuff your hands to the headboard or behind your back, but occasionally he’ll bring out more heavy-duty stuff at your begging.

-Oh, that’s another thing. He won’t ever ask you to do it, because it’s an odd request in his eyes, but he loves it when you beg. He’ll get you teary-eyed and whining, and the only way to get him to snap out of his teasing is to beg him to let you cum. It works like a charm every single time.

-He also loves to overstimulate you to the point of tears. He can spend hours between your legs pushing you over the edge and watching you cum over and over for him. He thinks you’re so cute when you whine at him like that, and if you don’t tell him to stop, he probably won’t.

-He doesn’t even care about his own pleasure; he’s just so obsessed with watching you fall apart under his touch. His cold blue eyes will stare you down through the whole ordeal, watching every little twitch of your expression with rapt attention. It’s wholly overwhelming to have his intense eyes watching your every little move, but so damn hot at the same time.

-If he isn’t looking at your face, he’s likely watching the way you take him. He just can’t stop himself from staring, it’s an addicting sight to see how he sinks into you over and over – be that his fingers or his cock, it doesn’t matter. It’s mesmerizing all the same.

-And if you pleasure yourself for him? All the better. It’s nice to see you struggle to get off when he knows he can do it so much faster than you can. Almost cute the way you pout up at him when you were the one who asked him to keep his hands to himself.

-He likes to feel you, too, most of the time putting you in positions where as much skin as humanly possible is touching. The way your body reacts beneath his touch is dizzying, he can feel the pleasure twitching through your muscles as he holds you close. Oh, and feeling the air force its way out of your lungs as his hand wraps around your throat is another kind of addiction he didn’t know existed.

-The last, rather odd kink he has, one that he’s very ashamed of, is that he’s huge on smelling you. He’d lean down between your legs and just get a whiff if he could, but since that would be a bit too obvious, he settles for burying his nose into your shoulder and smelling your sweat-slick skin that way.

-Doesn’t stop him from sneaking your used underwear and pocketing it for later use – usually when he’s having a particularly rough day, he’ll bring it out and get a nice long sniff of you. Always gets his ass going until he can see you again and really let his stress out.

-Now, I mentioned earlier that he’s pretty impressive in size, and I wasn’t joking. He’s big for a regular human man. About six and a half inches long, his dick curves upward and slightly to the right, perfect for abusing your gummy little walls. He has several veins, the most prominent being one along the left side of it stopping about halfway up. 

-He’s slightly darker than his actual complexion, and his tip is a pretty light red color, flatter than most other men's. The stretch he gives you is instant, as he only flares out a little from the tip. He’s about 5 inches around, too, meaning he’s not just long. Also, he’s uncircumcised, so do with that what you will.

-He knows how to keep a good balance between rough and soft, and he’s usually more intuitive about what you’re looking for in a given session than what he’s looking for from you. He doesn’t want you to think he only wants you for your body, and as such, he tries to make at least one session in a week soft and gentle if he has the time.

-Sex is a stress reliever for him, yes, but it’s also an expression of trust and love from both of you. He trusts you enough to let you see him in such a vulnerable state, and you trust him enough to treat you the way he does, because you know he would never go out of his way to hurt you ever.

[roullette4]

100 reasons why he'll always be in my heart.

1 reason why I can't have him.

100 reasons why he'll always be in my heart:

1. He is my other half

2. He listens to me

3. He is protective

4. He is the sun

5. He made me laugh

6. He was the reason the person i am today

7. He believed in me before i believed in myself

8. His confidence, inspire me

9. His smile when he sees a new card for our deck

10. His strategic mindset

11. He understand me better than anyone

12. He is kind

13. His determination, amaze me

14. His obliviousness is adorable

15. His competitiveness

16. He held me so gently

17. His voice is melodious

18. His presence is home

19. His kindness

20. He protects what matters

21. He is selfless

22. His words of affirmation

23. His gentleness

24. His honesty

25. His captivating gaze

26. His humor

27. His nickname for me

28. He makes me feel special

29. He makes me completed

30. The way he treats me so gently

31. His stubbornness

31. His awkward moments

33. His unintentional charm

34. His sassy remarks

35. His quiet moments

36. The way he teases me

37. His glance that made my heart stopped

38. The way he talks about something

39. His name become my favorite thing to say

40. His loyalty

41. He is willingness to give up his memories to made me happy..

42. He makes me feel safe

43. He gives me butterflies, i couldn't explain

44. His encouragement of my dreams

45. His love and affection

46. His sense of responsibility

47. His sun-kissed skin

48. His honesty and transparency

49. His smile is contagious

50. He is the first thing i always wish to seee

61. He’s peaceful like a dove

62. He never gives up

63. He worries about me

64. I’m a portrait in his eyes

65. I’d give up all my memories for him

66. He’d give me the moon if I asked

67. His tentativeness

68. He bears his soul to me

69. Twinkles in his eyes

60. Always there for me

71. His unique perspective towards life

72. His kind gestures

73. Our time we spent together

74. His sense of adventure

75. The way he search for me when i was taken away

76. His reliability

77. His ambition

78. His willingness to learn and understand

79. The way he admits his flaw

80. His humanity

81. He's the kind of person i would wish to come back to

82. He always does his hardest for me or anyone

83. He is clumsy outside of dueling

85. His expression when he duels

86. His cockiness

87. His moral inspire others

88. His principles

89. His silly fashion sense

90. Every memories we made, makes me want to cherish each of them

91. The way he notice something was wrong, even if i don't know

92. The way our heart is always connected no matter where we are

93. The way you encourage me

94. You are the strength i needed

95. You love every side of me

96. You trust me

97. The way you own up to your mistakes

98. You make every moment, matter and precious

99. You made me understand how love feels like in a much deeper level by simply existing

100. You are the last piece of the puzzle i needed

1 reason why I can't have him:

1. He no longer belongs in the living world.

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 17

<<<Previous Next>>>

Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, as if surprised by the boldness of your declaration. But then something softened in his expression, the ever-present sharpness in his eyes giving way to something quieter.

"Ah," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "So it would seem."

You let out a small laugh, barely more than an exhale, but still, he noticed. His lips curled ever so slightly...a ghost of a smile, fleeting yet unmistakable. "If I were immortal," you continued, shifting in your seat, "I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do with myself."

He hummed in thought. "An eternity of choices can be as paralyzing as having none at all," he admitted. "Some crumble beneath it. Others rise."

"And you?" You found yourself asking before you could second-guess it. "Have you… crumbled or risen?" His expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes, something deep, something distant.

"I am still here," he said simply. It wasn’t an answer, not really. But maybe it was the only one that mattered. You bit your lip, fingers curling slightly over the edge of your parchment.

Now or never. "Do you… do you know what a Soul Jam is?" His gaze sharpened in an instant. He did not startle easily, but there was a shift in the air, subtle yet unmistakable.

"That," he said, "is not a question many dare to ask." Your throat felt dry, but you pressed on.

"I know you have one. I’ve known for a while, but I-" You hesitated, suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous this must sound. "I wasn’t brave enough to ask." Silence stretched between you for a long moment, heavy yet not suffocating. He studied you, and for once, you did not shrink under his gaze.

"Knowledge is a burden as much as it is a gift," he finally said. "You must be certain you wish to bear it."

You swallowed. "I am." He considered you for a moment longer before nodding. Slowly, he lifted a hand, and between his fingertips, something shimmered into existence a small, radiant fragment, casting a glow like captured starlight….it came from that mysterious gem…was that it? What gave immortality?.

"The Light of Knowledge," he murmured. "That is what this is called. What I am called." You stared, unable to tear your eyes away. "It’s beautiful." He let out a quiet breath of amusement. "It is what it is." Your mind whirled with questions, but one surfaced before the others. "Are there… others? Like you?"

His fingers closed over the fragment, and the light faded. "There are four others," he admitted. "Mystic Flour, Silent Salt, Burning Spice, and Eternal Sugar."

Your brow furrowed. "Are they… your friends?"

He hesitated. "...We are bound by what we are," he said at last. "That does not always mean we walk the same path." Something in his voice some quiet weight made your chest ache.

"Do you miss them?" He did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it. "One cannot miss what was never truly theirs to keep."

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but it hadn’t been that. "That sounds lonely," you whispered. He looked at you then, something unreadable in his gaze. "Perhaps," he said.

"But not all things are meant to be shared." And yet, you couldn’t help but think, just for a moment, that maybe, he had shared something with you.

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment longer before exhaling softly. Then, with a measured grace, he closed his book and rested his hands over it. “If you wish to avoid the evening crowds,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more composed, more certain, “you should head to dinner soon. Your friends will be waiting.”

You blinked, momentarily pulled from the weight of your conversation. “Oh. Right.” You glanced at the dimming sky beyond the arched windows, realizing just how much time had slipped away.

“I almost forgot.” He tilted his head slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. “That much was evident.” You huffed a quiet laugh, but it lacked any real bite. Your mind was still caught in the echoes of his words, in the light that had glowed between his fingers like something too vast to be comprehended. He had given you a glimpse of something sacred, something most would never even think to ask about. And yet, here he was, returning to the present as if he hadn’t just peeled back a veil between the known and the unknown.

As you gathered your things, you hesitated. "Do you-" You stopped yourself before the question could fully form. His sharp eyes flickered with curiosity. “Do I…?” You shook your head, tightening your grip on your parchment.

“Never mind.” For a moment, you thought he might press you for an answer, but he only hummed in amusement. “So mysterious,” he mused. “And yet, you call me enigmatic.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in it.

If anything, it felt lighter than before less like standing at the edge of something vast and unknowable, more like standing beside someone who understood. As you turned to leave, his voice followed you, quiet yet firm. “You should not keep them waiting.” You nodded, stepping toward the door, but before you could take another step, you paused. “Shadow Milk?”

He arched a brow at the sound of his name, an ever-present air of amusement in his expression. “…Thank you,” you said, the words simple but sincere. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, just as you reached the door, his voice came, softer than before. “Enjoy your dinner.” You stepped out into the dimly lit halls, the warmth of his words lingering in your chest. Your friends would be waiting.

You stepped out of the Scholar’s Wing, the cool evening air doing little to ease the warmth lingering in your face. You had seen it…you had seen it.

A dusting of warmth across his ears, brief but unmistakable. Shadow Milk Cookie composed; enigmatic, unreadable Shadow Milk Cookie had blushed. You pressed a hand against your cheek, trying to steady your breath as you made your way toward the dining hall. The weight of his words still clung to you, curling around your thoughts like ink staining parchment. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing."

You shook your head, trying to clear it. It was just an answer, spoken in jest...wasn’t it? He had turned it on you, after all, as he always did. But that flicker of warmth… the way his ears betrayed him… You bit the inside of your cheek. If you weren’t careful, you were going to overthink this all night. The hum of the dining hall reached your ears as you approached, the familiar scent of warm food breaking you from your thoughts. As expected, your friends were already gathered at your usual table, their trays half-filled with whatever the academy kitchens had deemed edible today. You barely had time to settle into your seat before Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, sharp-eyed and grinning.

“What is that look on your face?” she teased, nudging your arm. “That’s not just an oh, class was interesting today smile. That’s a someone just said something that turned your brain into melted fondue smile.”

You tried...tried to school your expression into something neutral, but the way Chai Latte’s eyes lit up told you that you had already failed. “I don’t have a look,” you muttered, picking up your fork as if your dinner could somehow shield you from her scrutiny. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie arched a brow. “You kind of do.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a knowing hum. “Indeed.” You groaned, letting your forehead drop onto the table for a moment. “Can I just eat before getting interrogated?”

Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin on her hand. “I knew something happened,” she sang, leaning a little closer. “Was it the Sage? It was the Sage, wasn’t it?” You stiffened.

Chai Latte gasped, eyes sparkling. “Oh my stars, it was!” You scowled, jabbing your fork at your food with a little too much force. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” she mused, utterly delighted. “You’ve got that look, you never get that look.”

Earl Grey Cookie exchanged a glance with Hazelnut Biscotti, a quiet understanding passing between them. Chai Latte, however, was already in full-on gossip mode, and there was no stopping her now. “What did he say?” she pressed, nudging your tray aside as if it was completely unimportant. “Did he compliment your work? Give you some grand scholarly wisdom? Finally confess his undying admiration for you?”

You choked on your drink. “Chai!” She beamed. You glared, but your heart was still unsteady in your chest. Because even if he hadn’t confessed anything, even if it had only been a fleeting moment… You had seen him blush. And that? That was enough to keep you starstruck for the rest of the night.

Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she drawled, stirring her tea with a lazy flick of her wrist. “Are you finally going to tell us what’s had you all tied up in knots lately?” You nearly choked on your drink. “I’m not-” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. “You’re not what?”

“Knotted up,” you muttered, avoiding their gazes. Earl Grey Cookie gave you a pointed look. “You’ve been distracted for days.” He adjusted his glasses.

“And given your history of not being forthcoming, I’d wager we’re about to hear something interesting.”

Chai Latte Cookie beamed. “Oh, I love interesting things.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay, fine. You win.” Chai Latte practically vibrated with excitement.

“We always win.” You inhaled deeply. “It’s about what I told you before. The story I heard in the Ghost City.”

That got their attention. The playful air around the table shifted ever so slightly just enough for you to feel the weight of their curiosity settle in. “The Storyteller’s Circle,” Earl Grey Cookie murmured, recalling the night with ease.

You nodded. “The one about the lovers who could only meet every hundred years.” Your fingers traced the rim of your cup as you spoke. “I told the Sage of Truth about it.”

Hazelnut Biscotti’s gaze sharpened. “And?” You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue. But there was no stopping now. So you told them. You told them how Shadow Milk Cookie had listened, the way his golden eyes had flickered with something unreadable as you spoke. How he had gone quiet, not in dismissal, but in deep thought. How, for once, you felt like you had given him something to ponder. And then you told them what he had said. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing." The silence that followed was immediate. Heavy. Chai Latte Cookie’s lips parted, but no words came out. That was how you knew you had actually stunned her into speechlessness. Hazelnut Biscotti let out a low, impressed whistle.

Earl Grey Cookie merely blinked, but his silence was just as telling. Then, Chai Latte exploded. “Oh, stars above!” She all but launched forward, gripping your arm. “He said that?!” You squirmed under her intense gaze. “It wasn't it’s not...”

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “Don’t even try to downplay it. That wasn’t just some offhand remark.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed. “It was deliberate.”

You swallowed hard. “I know.” 

Chai Latte Cookie released you only to clasp her hands over her heart dramatically. “Imagine waiting a hundred years just to see someone again,” she sighed, echoing her own words from that night. Then she snapped upright, eyes locking onto yours.

“That’s romantic!” You felt your face heat. “It’s not-”

“It is,” Hazelnut Biscotti interrupted, grinning. “And you know it.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Okay, but he-he turned it around on me! He asked if I was testing his patience or trying to ‘unravel the heart of the Sage of Truth.’”

Chai Latte gasped. “And what did you say?” Your ears burned. “I told him I wouldn’t keep him waiting.” The silence that followed was deafening. Earl Grey Cookie exhaled slowly.

“I see.” Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “And what did he say to that?” Your heart pounded just thinking about it.

“He just… looked at me.” You swallowed. “And then he said, who indeed?” Chai Latte Cookie slammed her hands on the table.

“I’M GOING TO SCREAM.”

You groaned. “Don’t!”

Hazelnut Biscotti let out an amused chuckle, but his eyes were sharp. “That’s not nothing.” Earl Grey Cookie nodded. “That’s a man who doesn’t waste words.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I know.” Chai Latte Cookie gripped your hands, her gaze searching yours.

“And you...how do you feel about it?” You froze. Hazelnut Biscotti and Earl Grey Cookie both went silent, watching you carefully. Your heart hammered in your chest. How did you feel? You thought about the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way his golden eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary. The way his words always challenged you but never dismissed you. How, when he looked at you, it wasn’t just as the Sage of Truth. It was as Shadow Milk Cookie. Your throat tightened.

Chai Latte Cookie squeezed your hands gently. “Hey,” she murmured, quieter this time. “You can say it.” You inhaled sharply. And then, barely above a whisper “…Maybe my heart does beat for him. Not just as the Sage of Truth.” You swallowed, voice trembling as you admitted finally, finally “But as Shadow Milk Cookie.” For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Chai Latte Cookie let out a quiet, breathless laugh. One of understanding. Hazelnut Biscotti smiled, almost knowingly. Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Well then,” Chai Latte murmured, her voice filled with something warm, something fond. “I think you might be in trouble.”

You stared into your cup, watching the way the liquid rippled as your fingers trembled against the ceramic. It felt as though the weight of your own words was still settling over you, the truth finally spoken aloud yet leaving you with an entirely new set of uncertainties. Because now that you had admitted it to yourself, to them, there was another question lingering, one that twisted deep in your chest, coiling tighter with each passing second.

Would he...could he ever feel the same? Your breath hitched. The thought alone sent a shiver down your spine. Shadow Milk Cookie was… immortal. The Sage of Truth. A beacon of knowledge and wisdom, untethered by time in the way you were. He was beyond mere admiration, beyond simple affection. And you what were you to him, truly? A passing curiosity? A fleeting source of entertainment? A scholar fumbling at his feet, desperate to understand the vastness of the world he had already grasped long ago? Doubt gnawed at you.

“What if…” Your voice came out hoarse, uncertain. “What if it doesn’t matter how I feel?”

Chai Latte Cookie’s brows knitted together. “What?”

You swallowed. “He’s immortal,” you whispered. “And I’m just-” You gestured vaguely to yourself. “He’ll live through centuries. I’m nothing but a brief moment to him.” Earl Grey Cookie exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze flickering toward Hazelnut Biscotti, who frowned but said nothing.

Chai Latte Cookie, however, did not let go of your hands. Instead, she squeezed them tighter. “You don’t know that,” she said softly. “Not for sure.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t I?” Your mind spiraled, recalling every conversation, every moment you had spent with him.

“You said it yourselves he doesn’t waste words. And he’s patient. Incredibly patient. He has all the time in the world to humor a struggling scholar like me. But when that time runs out” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to say it. “When I’m gone, he’ll still be here. He’ll keep seeking truth, keep moving forward, just as he always has.” The words tasted bitter. “And one day, I’ll just be… another story.” A soft exhale.

Chai Latte Cookie’s hands tightened around yours. Hazelnut Biscotti’s voice was low, steady. “Are you afraid of being forgotten?”

You hesitated. “Not forgotten,” you murmured. “Just… insignificant.” Chai Latte Cookie’s expression twisted hurt, as if she could feel the ache in your chest as her own.

Hazelnut Biscotti hummed thoughtfully. “Funny,” he mused, resting his chin against his palm. “That’s not the impression I got from him at all.”

You blinked. “What?”

Earl Grey Cookie nodded, adjusting his glasses. “We told you already. He’s deliberate. And if he didn’t care. if he saw you as just another fleeting moment, he would not entertain the idea of waiting a century. For you.”

Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head. “I mean, think about it.” Her voice was softer now, more careful. “He didn’t have to say that. He didn’t have to answer that way at all.”

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “And yet, he did.”

Your breath stilled. “But,” you rasped, “he did turn it around on me. He asked if I was trying to unravel him. What if I am just a curiosity to him? A scholar to test, an equation to solve?”

Chai Latte Cookie exhaled. “Then ask him,” she said simply.

You flinched. “What?”

“Ask him,” she repeated, searching your gaze. “If you’re so afraid of being insignificant of being nothing more than a passing thought ask him.” Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Talk to him,”

Earl Grey Cookie agreed. “He is not a man who plays games with his words. If he does not mean something, he will make it clear.” Hazelnut Biscotti grinned.

“And if he does mean it?” You asked meekly.

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well. I suppose you’ll have your answer then, won’t you?”

Your stomach twisted. Could you really do that? Could you really stand before the Sage of Truth, before Shadow Milk Cookie and ask him outright what you meant to him? You weren’t sure. But one thing was certain. You had to know. Chai Latte Cookie, ever the observant friend, must have noticed the way your expression had faltered; the way your fingers had tensed around your cup, the way doubt had taken root in your heart despite their reassurances. She sighed, shaking her head, before nudging your arm playfully.

“Oh, don’t look so gloomy,” she chided, though her voice carried none of its usual mischief.

“I knew we shouldn’t have let you stew on all that nonsense from yesterday.”

You blinked. “What?” Chai Latte pursed her lips before exhaling, her teasing demeanor slipping into something softer. “Listen, I was the one who said all those things about immortality and how fleeting our lives are, but that was just to ground you, not discourage you.”

She poked your forehead lightly, as if trying to knock some sense into you. “I didn’t mean to make you think you didn’t have a chance.” You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked.

“Told you they’d come around.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses. “It was never about whether or not you should feel this way,” he added. “Only about making sure you understood the weight of it.”

Chai Latte Cookie nodded. “And for that, I am sorry,” she admitted, offering you a sheepish smile. “But let me tell you something, okay?” She leaned in, eyes twinkling. “Even an immortal like him one so patient, so distant, so wrapped in his eternal search for truth at some point, he would have to fall, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Chai Latte tilted her head, watching you carefully. “You make him think, you challenge him in ways he doesn’t expect. And maybe that’s new for him. Maybe that’s different.”

She grinned. “And different is dangerous. Even for him.”

Hazelnut Biscotti chuckled. “Especially for him.”

Earl Grey simply hummed in agreement. Your heart pounded. The thought of it the idea that Shadow Milk Cookie was not as untouchable as you had thought, that even he might not be immune to the emotions that tangled so messily within you, sent your mind reeling. Could it be true? Could he truly? You swallowed hard. “Then I’ll ask, I don’t know when…but I’ll ask” you murmured, more to yourself than to them. Chai Latte’s eyes softened. “Good,” she whispered. “You deserve to know.”

The night wrapped around you like a silken cocoon, dreams slipping in and out of reach like the ebb and flow of the astral river beyond the Academy’s grand halls. Yet even in sleep, your thoughts tangled with golden eyes and words spun in careful riddles who indeed? By the time morning arrived, light spilled through your window, golden and unrelenting. You blinked blearily at the ceiling, heart still caught somewhere between waking and the memory of yesterday’s conversation. Even an immortal like him would have to fall someday. Your friends had a way of speaking truths you hadn’t dared voice aloud. But today was not for lingering in thought. Today was for routine. The moment you realized the time, panic surged through you.

Tearing yourself from the warmth of your blankets, you rushed through your morning preparations with the urgency of someone narrowly escaping disaster.

The halls of Blueberry Yogurt Academy were already alive with the quiet hum of morning conversation, the faint scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air.

Your stomach, however, had only one thought in mind. By the time you skidded into the dining hall, slightly breathless, your eyes immediately landed on the familiar sight of honey-drizzled waffles and freshly cut pineapple, golden in the morning light. Your favorite. For once, fortune favored you.

Balancing your tray with careful precision, you wove through the throngs of students before settling into your usual seat beside your friends. The conversation at the table was already flowing, words slipping past you in a comfortable rhythm as you eagerly took your first bite, the familiar sweetness grounding you.

And then you heard words you wish you could unhear. “…Professor Almond Cookie’s exam next week,” Earl Grey Cookie was saying, his tone casual, as if the very sentence did not send your mind into immediate ruin. The world froze. Your fork halted midway to your mouth.

Your stomach turned cold. “…What exam?” The words left your lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible over the morning chatter. Chai Latte Cookie, mid-sip of her tea, nearly choked. She set her cup down with exaggerated care, blinking at you.

“Please, please tell me you’re joking.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. “You did study for it, right?” Your mind was a blank slate. A vast, unforgiving void where surely there should have been notes, recollections, some indication that you had not simply walked into impending doom. But there was nothing. Not a single page of memory turned in your favor.

Perhaps it was the anxiety…Earl Grey Cookie regarded you with his usual, piercing stare. “Don’t tell me you” Your head hit the table with a dull thud. “I forgot.” Chai Latte let out a long, suffering sigh. “Oh, honey.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled, shaking his head. “This is going to be fun.” Fun. Fun was not the word you would have chosen. The waffles had never tasted so bittersweet.

You groaned into the wooden table, muffling a barely restrained why does the universe hate me? against its surface. Chai Latte Cookie patted your back, equal parts sympathy and amusement in her touch. “Hey, at least you remembered now instead of the night before the exam.” That wasn’t exactly comforting. Lifting your head just enough to peek at them, you croaked out, “What’s it even on?”

Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, ever the diligent scholar. “Professor Almond Cookie mentioned it multiple times,” he said, though there was no true malice in his tone, just that sharp, perceptive edge of his. “It’s covering everything from our last three lectures: the fundamental applications of enchanted sigils, the properties of shifting hexes, and the historical cases of spell miscalculations leading to catastrophic failures.”

Your stomach dropped. You had definitely not studied for that. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie whistled. “Oof. Yeah, you might want to start reviewing immediately.” Chai Latte Cookie nodded sagely. “Good thing you have your standing appointment with the Sage of Truth.”

You groaned again. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, smirking over her tea. “And so will he when you show up looking like you’ve forgotten what words are.”

Hazelnut Biscotti grinned. “Do you think he already knows you forgot? Maybe he foresaw this exact moment and is just waiting to see how you’ll react.”

You shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed, tapping his fingers against his book. “Regardless, you should use your time wisely. That exam is extensive, and you’ll need a structured review plan if you want to pass.” Your fingers curled around your cup, mind already racing ahead. Shadow Milk Cookie would definitely help. You already had an established time to meet, after all. But the thought of admitting yet another failure in the presence of him…You exhaled, steadying yourself. There was no avoiding it. If you wanted to stand a chance, you needed his guidance. Even if it meant unraveling yourself before the Sage of Truth once more. Getting to lecture felt like impending doom you took your breakfast with you. The only anecdote to get you through the morning.

Professor Almond Custard Cookie’s lecture had already begun, but you were still lost in the remnants of your breakfast. The honey-drizzled waffles melted on your tongue with just the right balance of sweetness, the crisp edges giving way to the warm, soft center. And the pineapple perfectly ripe, bursting with a tangy sweetness had been a gift from the heavens themselves. You weren’t about to let such a rare treat go to waste. So there you sat, half-tuned into the lecture, half-devoted to savoring every last bite.

“now, let’s review the foundational principles behind sigil layering,” Professor Almond Custard droned, pacing at the front of the hall. The familiar scratch of quills against parchment surrounded you, your classmates diligently taking notes as the professor gestured toward a series of complex sigils drawn across the enchanted blackboard.

“These are fundamental to understanding the structure of shifting hexes, and thus will be a focal point in next week’s exam.” You nearly choked on your last bite of waffle. The exam. You knew about it now, of course but that didn’t mean you were prepared. Swallowing hastily, you cast a panicked glance toward your friends. Chai Latte Cookie, seated beside you, sipped her tea with the air of someone entirely unbothered.

When she caught your expression, she raised a brow, lips curving into an all-too-knowing smirk. Earl Grey Cookie and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, sitting just ahead, were already scribbling notes, perfectly composed. Earl Grey, ever perceptive, didn’t even need to look to know you were struggling. “You should be writing this down,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. You fumbled for your quill. Right. Professor Almond Custard continued, his voice steady and practiced. “Now, who can explain why improper sigil placement in hexes leads to instability?”

A few hands went up. You shoved the last piece of pineapple into your mouth, hurriedly swallowing as you tried to force your mind to focus. You had an appointment with Shadow Milk Cookie later. You would fix this. You’d ask him to go over everything sigils, hexes, historical catastrophes. You would prepare. But for now…You needed to at least pretend you knew what was going on.

The moment your eyes landed on the sigils scrawled across the blackboard, everything clicked into place. The elegant curves, the precise intersections, the delicate but deliberate layering it was all familiar to you now. You had spent hours under Shadow Milk Cookie’s careful instruction, tracing these very symbols beneath the warm glow of candlelight, his voice a steady guide through the labyrinth of knowledge. Preparation alone wasn’t enough, of course.

Knowledge required application, understanding beyond rote memorization. But as the professor continued his explanation, you found yourself keeping pace. The connections formed naturally, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. You exhaled, steadying yourself. You knew this. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie turned slightly, as if checking on you. When he saw the recognition in your gaze, he gave a small nod of approval before refocusing on his notes. Chai Latte Cookie, ever observant, smirked knowingly beside you. She nudged your arm just enough to make you roll your eyes.

"See?" she murmured under her breath. "Told you he makes a difference." You said nothing, but the warmth in your chest spoke volumes. Still, one thing was certain no amount of familiarity with the material would change the fact that you needed to prove your understanding. And that meant making the most of your session with Shadow Milk Cookie later. You had no intention of disappointing him.

You would not-could not disappoint him. Not after yesterday. Not after his words, his unwavering belief in you, his golden eyes watching you not just as a scholar, but as you. The weight of his voice still echoed in your mind, the way he had considered your words so carefully before offering his own. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing."

A century. A hundred years. An eternity compressed into something so simple, so effortless, as if time itself could bend beneath the weight of a promise unspoken. Your heart tightened, but not in fear. No, this was something else. Something warmer. Something that burned, pushing you forward, making you want to be better not just for yourself, but for the one who had come to guide you.

You kept your focus locked on Professor Almond Custard’s lecture, barely sparing a glance at your half-eaten honey-drizzled waffles and pineapple slices. Normally, the sweetness would have held your attention, but now the symbols before you demanded your full awareness. Sigils layered in meticulous arrays sprawled across the board, shifting in meaning with every line the professor added. Some students furrowed their brows, their quills scratching hastily against parchment as they tried to keep up.

But you? You could see it now. Each stroke, each arrangement it made sense. Not long ago, this level of understanding would have felt out of reach, the logic slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you tried to grasp it. But today, the pieces fit together seamlessly, as if something deep within you had finally unlocked.

Shadow Milk Cookie had been right. The realization filled you with a quiet sort of pride, the kind that settled deep in your bones rather than bursting to the surface. You straightened in your seat, your notes no longer frantic but measured, deliberate. You were going to prove yourself.

Even so, preparation was not enough. If you wanted to truly master this, if you wanted to stand before Professor Almond Custard’s exam next week with certainty, you needed more time. More refinement. More of him. The thought cemented itself before you even finished considering it. You would have to skip lab today. The decision wasn’t made lightly. You valued your grades, and while lab sections were important, they were not weighted nearly as much as the main course. You could afford to drop your lowest lab score, but you couldn’t afford to let your overall comprehension suffer. Not when you had the opportunity to sharpen your understanding under Shadow Milk Cookie’s guidance.

But that meant one thing, apologizing to Chai Latte Cookie. The moment the lecture concluded, you turned toward her, already wincing. "Chai, I"

She held up a hand, already grinning. “You’re skipping lab to go study with the Sage, aren’t you?”

You groaned. “I hate how well you know me.”

She laughed, waving off your concern. “Please, I knew the moment you actually paid attention today instead of zoning out that you were going to pull something like this.”

You sighed. “I am sorry, though. I know we had a system...” Chai Latte Cookie linked her arm through yours with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, woe is me, abandoned by my beloved lab partner in my time of need.”

Then, she winked. “Don’t worry, I can handle it. I’ll tell Professor Star Anise you got sick.”

Guilt tugged at you. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she said without hesitation. “Besides, let’s be real you’re way more stressed about that exam than the lab. And if studying with him makes you feel like you can handle it, then go.”

You exhaled, relief washing over you. “Thank you, Chai. Seriously.” She nudged your side playfully. “Just make sure you don’t get too distracted.”

Heat bloomed across your cheeks. “Chai!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, who had been gathering his materials nearby, snorted. “She’s not wrong, though.” You buried your face in your hands. “Not helping.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, merely adjusted his glasses. “If anything, it’s a practical choice. The Sage of Truth is an invaluable resource.”

He paused, then added, “But Chai does make a fair point. Try to keep your thoughts academic.” You groaned, swiping up your books before your friends could torment you any further.

“I am studying, I’ll have you know.”

Chai Latte Cookie grinned, tilting her head. “Oh, of course you are.” With one last sigh, you turned to leave, the weight of their knowing glances trailing after you.

But even their teasing couldn’t overshadow the anticipation building in your chest. Afternoon would come soon enough. And he would be waiting. The Scholar’s Wing loomed before you, its towering spires and arched windows casting long shadows across the courtyard. You had never rushed here like this before...never felt this level of urgency gnawing at your ribs, making every step feel both too fast and not fast enough.

You were early. Far too early. You knew it. You had actively chosen to be early, skipping your lab section entirely. Chai Latte Cookie had understood, even encouraged it, but that didn’t stop the lingering guilt from creeping up your spine. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were making the right choice. That this mattered more. That he mattered more.

No, not like that. You shook your head, trying to dispel the thought before it could take root. It wasn’t about him. It was about the exam. About needing to prepare. About not wanting to disappoint the one scholar in this academy whose respect you had begun to crave. …And yet, your feet carried you just a little too quickly to his door. Your heart, beat a little too fast for this to be just about studying. You inhaled sharply, pressed your hands against the heavy wooden door, and stepped inside. The scent of parchment, aged ink, and a faint trace of something celestial greeted you like moonlight and old libraries. And there, seated at his desk, was him. Shadow Milk Cookie glanced up, golden eyes flickering with recognition then mild surprise. He wasn’t expecting you. He shouldn’t have been expecting you.

His brows lifted ever so slightly. “You’re early.” There was something pointed in his tone, not unkind, but certainly knowing. His gaze flickered toward the enchanted hourglass on his desk. “You should be in lab right now.”

You swallowed hard, shifting on your feet. You had known this would come up, and yet, under his piercing gaze, it was somehow ten times harder to explain yourself. Still, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze. His brilliant, knowing, endlessly patient gaze.

“I need your help more than the lab.” A beat of silence passed. Then another. Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, his golden eyes sharp yet unreadable, as if weighing the truth of your words. Then, with a quiet sigh, he set down his quill and leaned back ever so slightly in his chair.

“Very well,” he murmured, amusement ghosting the edge of his voice. “You have my undivided attention. Now,” his eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist “tell me everything.” You exhaled slowly, trying to steady the anxious energy thrumming beneath your skin. Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden eyes watched you. Calm, steady, waiting. His patience was endless, yet somehow, that only made it harder to find the words.

You clenched your hands at your sides, then finally admitted, “It’s about Professor Almond Custard’s exam.” You hesitated, heart pounding, before adding, “I’ve been coming to your tutoring sessions. I’ve been paying attention. I’ve done the readings, the exercises you’ve seen me do them.” You exhaled sharply. “But I’m still worried I won’t do well.”

His expression didn’t change no pity, no irritation, only quiet understanding. His hands folded over the open pages of his research tome, and when he spoke, his voice was as composed and deliberate as ever. “You doubt yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. “I just” Your fingers curled into fists, frustration creeping into your voice. “I know I’ve improved. I feel like I’ve improved. But what if it’s not enough? What if I think I understand everything, but when the exam comes, my mind just-just shuts down?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you in silence for a moment, as if carefully unraveling each layer of your doubt.

Then, slowly, he gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.” You hesitated only a moment before obeying, settling into the chair and setting your bag on your lap. He rested his elbow on his desk, fingers poised lightly against his cheek, watching you with that same unreadable gaze. “Show me,” he said simply. Your brows furrowed. “Show you…?”

“Your notes. Your understanding. Show me what you have learned.” Right. Of course. You fumbled with your bag, pulling out your notebook and flipping to the most recent pages, filled with meticulously copied sigils, dense theories, and rewritten formulas.

The ink was smudged in places where you had rewritten sections too many times, where frustration had nearly won, where self-doubt had whispered that none of it would stick. Shadow Milk Cookie took the notebook with careful hands, his fingers barely grazing the edges of the parchment. His gaze flickered over the pages, absorbing every word, every correction, every hastily scrawled margin note. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally “This is good.” The words were so unexpected, so decisive, that your breath hitched. You blinked at him, mouth opening slightly, but no sound came out. He turned a page. “Your sigil work is precise. Your understanding of transmutation is solid. Even your margin notes show an active engagement with the material.” He tapped a section where you had underlined a key theorem three times. “This is not the work of someone who has learned nothing.”

Heat crept up your neck. “But what if” He lifted a hand ever so slightly, a silent request for pause. You clamped your mouth shut. His golden eyes met yours. “You say you understand these concepts in tutoring. You apply them correctly here, in your notes. And yet, you fear they will abandon you in the moment of the exam.”

You swallowed, nodding stiffly. His gaze softened. “You have come far. You know that, do you not?”

You hesitated. “I… I do.” “You are not here because you lack understanding.” His voice was gentle, but certain. “You are here because you fear that understanding will not be enough.”

Your throat tightened. “…Yes.” Shadow Milk Cookie set the notebook down and laced his fingers together, his expression unreadable for a moment.

Then, he let out a quiet hum. “Then let us put your fear to rest.” You blinked. “What?” His lips quirked upward, just slightly. “You came early, seeking more time to prepare.” He gestured to the notebook. “So we shall prepare.” Something in your chest loosened, just a little.

You nodded, more eager than you expected to be. “Okay.”

He leaned forward slightly, his presence calm, assured unshakable. “We will begin with transmutation theory. Walk me through the process, as you would in the exam.” You inhaled deeply, flipping to the appropriate page in your notes. You can do this. Because this time, you weren’t alone. You took a steadying breath, letting the familiar symbols and words in your notes ground you. Shadow Milk Cookie remained silent, watching with that ever-patient gaze, his hands still folded before him as if he had all the time in the world. It was reassuring and terrifying all at once.

Start simple. Build from there. “Okay,” you began, fingers tracing the inked lines on the parchment. “Transmutation theory. The fundamental principle is the conversion of one form of magic into another an alteration, not creation. That’s the first distinction. You can’t make something from nothing. There has to be an initial essence to manipulate.”

He gave a slow nod. “And the primary laws governing this?” You swallowed, flipping back to an earlier section in your notes where the core tenets of transmutation were outlined. “Right. There are three foundational laws: the Law of Equivalence, the Law of Conservation, and the Law of Stability.”

You tapped the first one. “The Law of Equivalence states that the magical properties of the original substance must match or be proportionate to the intended outcome. If they don’t, the transmutation fails or worse, backfires.”

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed in approval. “And the Law of Conservation?”

You nodded, growing more confident. “Magic doesn’t vanish it shifts. The amount of energy present before the transmutation must equal the amount after. If there’s excess energy, it needs to be redirected somewhere, or else it destabilizes the process.” His golden gaze flickered with something unreadable. “And if too much energy is lost?”

“The transmutation weakens or fails entirely.” You exhaled sharply. “Which ties into the Law of Stability. Any transmutation must be performed within a stable magical field, or external interference, whether intentional or environmental, can disrupt the process.”

Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head ever so slightly, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Good.”

Your breath caught. Good. He didn’t often say that. Normally, he made you prove it. Testing, challenging, guiding you to the right answer only when you’d struggled long enough to earn it. But this time, he accepted your answer without further questioning, without the usual probing remarks meant to push you further. Because of yesterday. Because of that moment his words, your words, the shift in the air between you. You swallowed, pushing forward before your thoughts could spiral.

“Applying these laws, transmutation can be classified into structured and unstructured forms. Structured transmutation follows predetermined matrices, sigils, arrays, written formulas; whereas unstructured relies purely on raw magical control and adaptability.”

Shadow Milk Cookie nodded. “And which is more volatile?” “Unstructured,” you answered without hesitation. “Since it lacks an anchor, it requires immense focus and magical control to maintain stability. Structured transmutation is more rigid but far safer.”

He let the answer settle before prompting, “And which does Professor Almond Custard favor?”

You hesitated. “…Unstructured.” His brows raised ever so slightly. You groaned. “Which is so unfair. Because we’ve only been doing structured transmutation in class. Why even give us matrices to practice if he’s going to expect us to-”

“A test of adaptability,” Shadow Milk Cookie interrupted smoothly, his voice calm in contrast to your growing frustration.

“Knowledge is valuable, but so is application.”

You sighed. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t something that could literally backfire if I mess it up.”

His gaze softened, not in amusement, not in challenge, but in something quieter, something reassuring. “Then let us ensure you do not.” The tension in your shoulders eased just a little.

You nodded. “Right. Okay.” You flipped to the next section in your notes, running a finger along the lines of dense writing. “Then there’s dynamic elemental interplay. When transmutation involves shifting one element into another. The closer two elements are on the magical spectrum, the easier the transition. The further apart, the more energy it takes.”

He gestured for you to continue. “For example,” you said, “changing water to ice is relatively simple because they’re closely related. But changing fire to water is significantly harder because you’re dealing with opposing natures.” Shadow Milk Cookie inclined his head. “And how does one mitigate the instability of such a transmutation?” You hesitated, running through what you knew before carefully answering, “By either introducing a stabilizing agent like an intermediary element or by reinforcing the magical field to reduce external interference.”

The corner of his lips quirked up not quite a smile, but something close. “You are well-prepared.” There it was again. The validation, unprompted, freely given.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You stared at him, thrown for a moment. “I-I mean, I think so?” His golden eyes held yours, steady and certain. “I do not say things without reason.” Your throat tightened. The weight of his words, the certainty of them, settled over you like warmth against the ever-present chill of doubt.

Slowly, he closed your notebook, his fingers lingering briefly on the worn parchment. “You know these theories. You have studied them well. Your fear is not of failure, but of your own doubt.”

You lowered your gaze, pressing your lips together.

“I just… I don’t want to disappoint-” You cut yourself off, the words catching in your throat. Disappoint who? Your professor? Yourself? Or the one sitting before you now, the one whose praise so rare, so measured had somehow become something you craved? Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice was softer when he spoke again.

“You will not.” You swallowed hard, looking up at him. He held your gaze for a long moment before nodding toward your notes. “Shall we continue?” You inhaled deeply. Then, steadier this time “Yes.” The study session stretched on, the rhythmic back-and-forth between you and Shadow Milk Cookie settling into a steady flow. He posed questions, sometimes leading, sometimes deliberately vague, testing how far you could reach before he guided you toward the right answer. When you faltered, he gave you just enough space to find your footing again.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but the frustration that had knotted your shoulders at the start had long since melted away. The theories, the laws, the formulas they all wove together with a clarity that had eluded you before. Perhaps it was his patience, or maybe just the way he spoke, each word deliberate, measured, filled with an unwavering certainty that left no room for doubt. The parchment beneath your fingers blurred slightly as you fought to keep up with your own notes, scrawling down key insights between spoken explanations.

Your hand was starting to cramp, your thoughts teetering on the edge of exhaustion, when “That is enough for now.” You blinked, the abrupt statement pulling you out of your concentrated haze. Shadow Milk Cookie reached forward, closing your notebook with an air of finality.

“…What?” You frowned, still processing the sudden shift. “It is time for lunch,” he said, rising from his seat with the same unhurried grace he always carried.

“You will need more fuel if you wish to continue studying effectively.” You stared at him. Shadow Milk Cookie, calling for a break? Not you, not after growing too tired to focus or feeling your stomach protest from neglecting to eat. Him.

“…Huh.” You leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re the one stopping for a break? That’s new.” A flicker of amusement passed through his golden gaze.

“You act as though I do not eat.”

“Do you?” you shot back, half-teasing. “Because sometimes I wonder.”

His lips quirked not quite a smile, but close. “Come.” You hesitated only briefly before sighing and rising from your chair, stretching your stiff limbs. “Fine, fine.” You cast a last glance at your notes before following him toward the dining hall. The lingering warmth of his earlier praise still echoed in your mind.

As you walked alongside Shadow Milk Cookie, the air between you was… comfortable. Perhaps it was the lingering ease of having successfully navigated the study session, or maybe it was simply the quiet certainty of his presence. Either way, you found yourself talking about nothing in particular, just filling the space with whatever crossed your mind.

“So, do you think transmutation could work on food?” you mused, half-serious. “Like, if I got tired of my soup and wanted it to be cake instead?”

Shadow Milk Cookie glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “You would require a base element with similar magical properties. Soup and cake are… incompatible.”

You snorted. “That’s the part you take issue with? Not the fact that I’m trying to turn my lunch into dessert?” He hummed, folding his hands behind his back.

“A questionable use of magic, but not impossible.” You grinned, letting the conversation wander further. “Alright, then what about transmuting dreams? If you could alter them, make them into something tangible-”

“An imprecise science,” he mused. “Dreams lack a stable form. To transmute them would require first anchoring them in reality.”

“So, basically, I’d have to bottle a dream first?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

You sighed dramatically. “Guess I’ll have to abandon my dream of dream transmutation, then.” A soft huff of amusement escaped him. “A paradoxical statement.”

The back-and-forth continued as you made your way to the dining hall, your questions becoming more ridiculous, more aimless anything to keep talking, anything to keep his attention just a little longer. Not that he seemed to mind.

He answered each question with the same patience as always, as if indulging your nonsense was just as important as discussing transmutation theory. The early afternoon air clung to your skin, cool and thick with the scent of rain that had yet to fall. The floating lanterns that lined the Academy’s walkways flickered with a gentle, wavering light, their glow catching in the golden thread embroidered along his sleeves.

The two of you walked in step though, in truth, it was you who matched his pace, trailing just half a step behind, resisting the urge to look up at him every time the warm lantern light reflected in his golden eyes.

Shadow Milk Cookie was always composed, always poised in that effortless way that only someone like him could be. And yet, you swore you saw something flicker across his face whenever you spoke something fleeting, something you were never quite fast enough to catch. Your hand twitched by your side, fingers curling, then uncurling, before you gave in and reached out.

Not his hand, no you weren’t that bold. But the sleeve of his robes, the fine fabric slipping between your fingers like water. He didn’t stop walking, but he turned his head slightly, just enough to let you see the quiet curiosity in his expression. Not surprised, not alarmed only watching.

Waiting. Your heart pounded. “Wait,” you said, but you didn’t slow your steps. “Just… I need to ask something.” There was no hesitation.

“Then ask.” You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You scrambled for something before the moment slipped from your grasp. “Do you think the moon ever wishes it could touch the sun?”

A slow blink. Then, a soft hum. “A rather poetic notion.” You let out a nervous laugh, gaze fixed ahead. “You didn’t answer.”

“I was considering my response.” A pause. “Do you believe it does?”

You swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head slightly. “And why is that?”

“Because…” You hesitated, tightening your hold on his sleeve. “Because it’s always chasing after it. And yet, no matter how close it gets, it can never reach it.” His expression did not change, but something in his gaze sharpened, as though he could see right through you.

You pressed on before you lost your nerve. “And what about rivers?” you asked, voice just a little too breathless. “Do you think they ever get tired of flowing forward?” His lips parted slightly, as if the question had genuinely caught him off guard. You didn’t give him time to answer.

“What about echoes? Do you think they feel lonely, only ever repeating what they hear?”

A soft exhale. “What are you truly asking?” Your throat went dry. You had walked this path to the dining halls a hundred times before, but now, the distance felt immeasurable. Every step, every moment, stretched longer than it should have. You glanced up at him, at the serene, unreadable expression he always wore. He was so calm, so unaffected, as if nothing in this world could ever shake him.

But you had seen the way his brows furrowed when you asked too many questions, the way he tilted his head when your words gave him pause. You had seen him think had seen the exact moment when something you said left him considering.

Maybe that was why you spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. “And… what about yesterday?” His steps slowed just a fraction. You pressed forward. “You said something to me. Something I don’t understand.”

Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, the lantern light casting long shadows across his face. "Then ask me again.” Your pulse pounded. "You said I was the question you didn't want to answer."

A pause. He did not look away, nor did he interrupt. So you kept going. “But that doesn’t make sense. You always have answers. You don’t waste words, you don’t leave things unresolved. And if you ever refuse to answer something, it’s only because you already know the truth, and you just don’t want to say it out loud.”

His eyes gleamed. A breath. "Perhaps," he murmured.

"Then why?" Your grip on his sleeve tightened. “Why won’t you answer me?” Silence. You hated it. You hated how he could leave things hanging in the air like that how he could make you feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying. His expression remained still, but there was something else now something restrained. As if he were weighing his words with the utmost care, ensuring that whatever left his lips would not be something he would regret.

Finally, he spoke. "Because some truths,” he said, voice quiet, “once spoken, cannot be taken back.” Your breath hitched. Your fingers, still gripping his sleeve, trembled.

"But I-" You swallowed hard. "I deserve to know." A flicker of something, something just beneath the surface, something almost unreadable. Then, so softly it barely reached your ears, "Yes," he admitted. "You do."

The entrance to the dining hall loomed just ahead. The warmth of it, the voices of other students, the scent of fresh bread and tea it all pressed against the edges of this moment, threatening to shatter the fragile silence between you. But still, he did not move. Still, his gaze did not waver.

“…Not yet though,” he murmured at last. The words settled between you like an unfinished sentence, like a book missing its final page. Your grip on his sleeve loosened, but you didn’t step away. The doors to the dining hall stood open before you. The world beyond this quiet moment beckoned. And yet, you could not move. Not yet. Your fingers curled loosely around the fabric of his sleeve, a fragile tether between you and the only answer you sought. You barely realized you had stopped walking until you felt the shift the absence of movement, the pause of your breath. Shadow Milk Cookie did not pull away.

A/N I know it's an odd spot to stop But I didn't feel well enough to finish the scene so ch 18 will be a little longer...I feel horrible and sorry y'all this was supposed to be out on friday but yknow I got cursed by the heavens or whatever

Anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

<<<Previous Next>>>

[frightfullytreeish]

post 8x13 episode coda, facetime cooking yet again

"So you just stay hidden and keep quiet-"

"Yeah, dad, I know how surprises work."

"-and then when I give the signal, I'll turn the camera on you and you shout surprise!"

Chris rolls his eyes from where he's sitting at the kitchen table, putting minimal effort into tearing up the mozzarella. "It's just Buck. You don't have to be so weird about it."

"I'm not being weird," Eddie says, checking his watch for the fifteenth time in five minutes.

It's normal to be excited about seeing your best friend and getting to share some good news with him, isn't it? Nothing weird about looking forward to that. One night with Chris back under his roof felt like a dream after the nightmare came true; all Eddie wants to do apart from talk to his son is talk to Buck about it.

Checking the time again, he watches the seconds hand tick around to 12pm precisely before he sends the facetime request; Buck accepts it immediately, as if he was just standing in his kitchen 800 miles away waiting for Eddie to call. His face fills the screen with a broad, toothy grin that slips in and out of focus while he fiddles with his cell phone, getting it propped up perfectly before he steps back and salutes.

"Afternoon, chef."

"Afternoon, chef," Eddie grins back. "What's on the menu today?"

"Stir fry. With-" Buck pauses dramatically, holding up a brown paper bag and shaking it at the camera, "the freshest baby king oysters on the west coast."

"Mrs Choi still hustling you, huh?"

"We still have our mutually beneficial arrangement," Buck corrects him, loftily.

From behind him, Eddie hears Chris cough out something that sounds like 'gross'. He glances over his shoulder, catches Chris' eye and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his son's horrified expression.

"I'm telling you, man," he says, more for Chris' benefit than anything, "she's saving way more on labour than you are on mushrooms. You know how much it costs to get someone to come clear your gutters?"

"Yeah, but it's fun. I found a California red-legged frog up there once! They're a threatened species, you know."

"Wish I'd known a month ago you think cleaning gutters is fun. Woulda brought you out with me, saved me doing it all myself."

It's the wrong thing to say; Eddie feels it as soon as he's said it, in the burst of silence that follows and the way Buck's expression slips, just for a second. And there's the rub, right? That Eddie didn't - couldn't, shouldn't - bring Buck with him.

"Like you could afford my rates," Buck says after a beat too long, smoothing out the silence with a laugh while he busies himself gathering his ingredients, not looking at the camera.

"Oh, my mushrooms aren't good enough for you?"

"'Fraid not. So what's cooking today, chef?"

"Pizza from scratch."

Glancing up at Eddie again, Buck whistles. "Dough and sauce?"

"Of course, what do you take me for?"

"What's the special occasion?"

"No reason," Eddie says as casually as he can while he's trying not to smile. "Just making sure my sous chef earns his keep."

He sees Buck's face light up in gleeful understanding the moment before he turns the camera on Chris, who waves his mozzarella-speckled fingers and yells, "Surprise!", only sorta sarcastically.

"Holy shit!" Buck shouts. "Look at you, Chris! How tall are you now? You're gonna be towering over Eddie in no time."

"I'm coming for the crown," Chris says.

"Eddie, you'd better sleep with one eye open! I mean, that is, if - Chris, you're - ?"

"Back where he belongs," Eddie fills in, holding his cell phone out like a teenager taking a selfie so he can smack an obnoxiously loud kiss onto the top of Chris' head with them both in frame. "Moved him in last night."

Buck's smiling so broadly at the two of them that Eddie has to take a quick screenshot: Buck, beaming in the kitchen Eddie still thinks of as his, with Eddie and Chris in their pop-up window in the corner of the screen, Chris caught mid disgruntled eye-roll.

"That's awesome," Buck says. "I - I'm so happy for you both."

And of course Buck is happy, Eddie knows - doesn't need telling - but as the call goes on and him and Chris fill Buck in on yesterday's disastrous chess tournament and Eddie's worst passenger this morning, Buck gets quieter and quieter. Until finally Chris gets bored of waiting for the pizza sauce to finish reducing and wanders off to play Minecraft, and then it's just Buck and Eddie again, in not-quiet companionable silence. Eddie gives the sauce another stir, and waits.

Without looking up from whatever he's chopping, Buck says, "It's stupid."

"You? Never."

"Har dee har," Buck scoffs, smiling anyway. "But it - it's fine, I don't wanna - tonight's about Chris being back home with you."

"Once it's time to assemble the pizza, maybe. Right now he's busy digging perfect squares, or whatever it is they do? I - really don't get Minecraft," Eddie admits and Buck laughs again, looking back up at the camera. "Point is, it's just me and you now. In fact…"

Turning the burner right down, Eddie leaves the sauce to simmer and grabs a beer from the fridge. He carries the bottle and his phone out into the backyard; he hasn't done anything with it beyond hacking back the wildest clumps of weeds, too busy making the indoors livable to think about the outdoors, but there's an old bench on the back porch. Eddie drops down onto it, props his feet up on a pile of loose bricks and balances his cell phone on the peeling window sill.

"There," he says, cracking open his beer. "Spill. What's up?"

On screen, Buck has moved to lean against the kitchen counter, looking down at Eddie in the phone in his hands. He shrugs.

"It's stupid," he says again. "Guess I just realised I - I'm kinda jealous. Of you, getting to hang out with Chris. But mainly of Chris, for getting to hang out with you. It's petty, I know. I just… miss you."

His camera is pointing right up his nose, an angle that should be objectively terrible for anyone, but staring into Buck's nostrils still feels like there's no view Eddie would rather have. Nobody else in the world, in this moment, that Eddie would rather talk to.

"I get it," he says.

Buck sighs, a sad dog sort of sigh. "Yeah. I know. I know you miss me too."

"Don't you forget it."

Eddie sips his beer, picks at the label, frowns out at his yard; it's a good size, lined with mature trees. Eddie could grow flowers, maybe, like Shannon always wanted, or try his hand at tomatoes. There's room to put down roots, if he wanted.

If Buck were here, he'd probably spend an hour or two working out what kind of trees they were, until he got distracted by a rare species of millipede or whatever.

"I'm jealous too," Eddie says to the yard. "Of everyone at the 118 who still gets to have your back on a call. Of - you know your sister keeps sending me photos of you when you guys're hanging out? I guess so I feel included or something, I don't know, but it's making me jealous of her too.

"Hell, I think I'm even jealous of the house, because it's yours now. I don't know, man. I mean it. I miss you, and I get it, okay?"

There's a pause, long enough for Eddie to stop peeling the label off his beer bottle and glance back at his phone again - back up Buck's nostrils. Buck's head is ducked, chin into his chest, and he's grinning kinda bashfully.

"Okay, Eddie," he says.

They look at each other. Buck lifts his cell phone back up to face height again, so that they're eye-to-eye, almost, and Eddie imagines everything else he could be jealous of in the kitchen of 4995 South Bedford right now. The counter under Buck's thighs, the phone in his hand, the glass screens between them.

"You should come visit," Eddie says. "In a week or two, maybe, once Chris has settled in."

"Okay," Buck says again, softly.

"Good," Eddie says.

He takes Buck back into the kitchen. Pictures him there in the room, in the flesh, while he stirs his pizza sauce and Buck heats the oil in his wok 800 miles away. Eddie could be jealous, he imagines, of the air between their bodies, if he let himself.

He imagines letting himself.

Now on AO3 here

[heyjudeb]

I'm proud of you - Jude Bellingham

Summary: Comforting sad and defeated Jude after England's loss. Warning: Sad moment, comforting Words: <1k

The referee blows the final whistle.

It was over. England lost. It all happened too quickly. Spain scoring in the last minutes didn't even give us time to process the situation.

I was sitting in the stands with Jude's family. We all shed a tear once the Spanish players started celebrating. Seeing Jude go off to the bench and kick something was a heartbreaking yet scary sight for me. Instantly, I knew that was going to be a sight for the media.

He's not like that at all. He just really wanted this win. With people being all over him, critiquing him, he really wanted to prove them wrong, to make England proud. I couldn't be more proud of him, though. He achieved amazing things in this competition.

As I watched him from afar, I wished I could just run down and hold him, tell him it was okay. I knew how much he had invested in this tournament, how much he had sacrificed. His dedication and his passio were the qualities that made him extraordinary. Those were the reasons why I fell in love with him.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to be closer to him, I excused myself from his family and made my way down to the lower stands, closer to the field. As I approached the edge, I saw Jude pacing back and forth, his frustration evident in every step. When he finally noticed me, our eyes locked. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

With his help, I crossed the barrier and immediately fell into his arms, holding his head tightly into my neck. I could feel him shaking from all the emotions he was going through.

"I messed up," he muttered, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

"No, you didn't," I said firmly, my hand gently running through his hair. "You were incredible, baby. You gave it your all." He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with tears. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't fucking enough." "Hey," I cupped his face gently, putting my forehead against his. "Listen to me. You were amazing out there. You fought so hard, and everyone saw it."

He didn't know what to say. I could see he wanted to let go of everything he was feeling, but the words wouldn't come.

"Just stay calm, baby," I tried to comfort him, reminding him that losing is part of the game and keeping his composure is important. "You can use this to come back even stronger."

I knew my words might not have a big impact on him in that moment. It was all still raw and fresh for him, so I simply held him tighter in my arms. He pulled back slightly, his eyes still glistening. "I have to go, baby. They're going to do the ceremony."

"I know," I said softly. He kissed my forehead.

"I'll meet you afterwards," I told him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He nodded, giving me one last look before turning and walking towards his teammates. As I walked up the stands to where his family was, I felt a mix of pride and heartache.

After England had their moment, Jude walked up to us and hugged his family. They all expressed how proud they were of him, trying not to show any sadness in front of him.

He sat down with his head low. I gently lifted his chin, earning a small, faint smile from him.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you guys," he managed to say to them.

I sat on his lap, holding him close to my chest. It pained me to see him like this, unable to erase his sadness.

"You never disappoint us, Jude," his mom reassured him, holding his hand tightly.

I arrived at my hotel room feeling exhausted and heartbroken for Jude. He had to return to the hotel with the team. There was nothing I wanted more than to have him in my arms and try to ease his sadness, even just a little. I was about to get into bed after finishing my nighttime routine when I heard a faint knock on the door. I opened it to find Jude standing there, his shoulders slumped and a tired look on his face. "They told me it's okay," he said quickly, grabbing my hand and leading me to the bed.

He took off his shirt and sweatpants and collapsed onto the bed, pulling me with him. His head immediately rested on my chest as he hugged me tightly.

"It's going to be okay, baby," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his head and kissing his forehead repeatedly. "These bad feelings will pass, trust me."

I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing it helped him relax and fall asleep. I kept kissing his forehead and cuddling him until I felt his grip around my waist loosen slightly, indicating he had fallen asleep.

"You'll always be my champion, baby," I whispered softly." I love you so much, Jude Bellingham."

[poisonlove]

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

• Reader is about to leave for work. Wednesday asks her if she's forgotten anything, and Reader gives her a kiss. Wednesday turns red and opens her hand to reveal Reader's keys/wallet/etc., saying

'I meant this, but it's appreciated.' Or smt like that!

forgetting something ?

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X fem!reader

Warning: fluffy

Author notes: I've received a lot of requests, I'll try to do them all!

Happy reading

"Love, what's the password for your phone?" I ask curiously as my eyes glance at the smartphone in my hand.

I found myself in Ophelia Hall in Wednesday's room with Enid, wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend. Enid was doing Things' manicure while sharing some gossip about some outcasts at school. Meanwhile, Wednesday Addams was making the most of her writing time.

Ignoring me.

The tapping of the keyboard abruptly ceases and Wednesday slowly turns towards me. Her brown eyes turn cold and dark as they meet Enid's, who visibly trembles in the face of that icy, penetrating intensity.

"Things, I'll finish later..." Enid whispers, her nervous smile betraying the fear inspired by Wednesday's gaze.

Without saying another word, Enid jumps up from her bed and hastily exits the room. The door slams behind her, resonating in the silent air as Wednesday watches her pass with an impassive expression, lips pressed in a subtle smile of satisfaction.

"How many times have I told you not to scare her?" I say with a small smile on my lips, and Wednesday looks at me without batting an eyelid.

"I didn't scare her," her voice is calm and controlled, without any hint of remorse or concern.

"You did," I sigh at her comment while absentmindedly playing with her phone.

"As you wish," Wednesday replies calmly, showing no particular emotion.

I smile shyly at her response.

"I told you not to use vulgar nicknames in front of others and you keep doing it," Wednesday justifies herself, looking at me curiously.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Vulgar?" I ask, feeling puzzled.

Wednesday nods timidly, without a hint of a smile on her lips.

I sigh loudly.

"Anyway... Could you tell me the password?" I ask again, wanting to change the subject to avoid ruining the atmosphere.

Wednesday tilts her head to the side and scrutinizes me with her gaze.

We've been together for a month, but I don't know if I'll ever get used to her quirks.

"My favorite plant" Wednesday replies in a monotone voice.

"Of course" I reply sarcastically as I type in 'Belladonna.' The phone unlocks, and I smile as I see the background: me and Wednesday embracing during the Poe Cup. The brunette had a stoic look while she look at me smile at the camera.

"Nice background," I say teasingly and Wednesday rolls her eyes at my comment.

"I know," she replies monotone.

I could see a small smile threatening to emerge at any moment.

"But don't you have any games?" I ask disappointedly, and Wednesday stares intensely at me.

"I barely use it to write to you," she justifies herself, and I nod understandably.

Wednesday and technology were two completely different things and couldn't fit in the same sentence.

"So you only have WhatsApp?" I ask curiously, looking at Wednesday.

"You're distracting me unnecessarily," Wednesday mutters annoyed by my questions. She turns her back on me and starts writing her story again.

"Thanks, Wed" I say sarcastically, and Wednesday continues to press the keys of the typewriter ignoring me.

"Why am I with her, I don't know," I mutter to myself, turning my gaze to her phone. I scroll through some pages and look at the apps.

I  choice YouTube.

"Because you love me," Wednesday replies loudly without looking at me "and anyway, I can hear you, be careful," she adds in a cold voice.

Was that a threat?

"Right" I reply aloud.

I start searching for what interests my girlfriend. Hundreds of horror stories and interviews of real murders, true photos, and thousands of hypotheses about monsters, unsolved murders, and much more.

Creepy but Wednesday's style.

"Y/n?" I raise my head from the phone and turn my attention to Wednesday who had once again interrupted her writing hour.

"Tell me, darling" I ask with a smile on my lips.

"Shouldn't you be going to work at the café?" Wednesday asks with curiosity.

My smile fades and I widen my eyes in realization: I had forgotten.

I quickly get up from the bed in a panic

"shit shit" I put on my shoes and look around the room in concern. "Where's the jacket?" I wonder, and I look around the room with worry. "You threw it on Enid's bed," Wednesday exclaims disapprovingly, and I smile hugely.

I internally thank Wednesday for her incredible memory.

I walk towards the door, but Wednesday's voice makes me stop.

"Forgetting something?" She asks seriously.

  I sigh at the unfortunate moment of being romantic. "You're right" I walk towards her and lean down towards her face to unite our lips in a sweet kiss.

As we separate, I notice that Wednesday's cheeks were completely flushed.

"You were forgetting the car keys, idiot," says Wednesday embarrassed, showing me the keys.

I had left them on her desk an hour ago when I arrived.

"Oh, thanks," I say embarrassed, and Wednesday smiles widely making my heart race a mile a minute.

"But I appreciated it" she confesses quickly and I smile back getting lost in her deep brown eyes.

Yes, definitely, now I remember why I'm with her.