#I apologize if I sound like a strict idiot

[iiryoku]

I have added two new things to my rules, they are under "extra information" because I felt like it needed to be there.

[multifandomslxt]

Quiet Rage

MDNI

MINORS GO AWAY

Pairing: bsf!Johnny x reader

Synopsis: You wanted to test a theory and ended up making Johnny "Quiet Rage" Suh pissed all the way off. Surely he wouldn't take it out on you though right? after all, you were his best friend.

WARNING: THIS IS SMUT...arguably one of my dirtiest yet. reader is a little shit and Johnny is the quiet guy in the friend group. Johnny in glasses. Dirty and I mean DIRTY talk. spit, sweat, mentions of bruising skin, drooling, overstimulation, exhibitionism via video call, just dirty stuff alright

A/N: This took forever to get out and I apologize for that. it's exam season and I really wanted this out so I pulled some all-nighters. so I apologize for the grammatical errors and so on. I'm very very nervous about this because I did not expect the teaser to get that much attention. but anyway, enjoyyy. @neoculturecollectives @calibabii21

"I swear, Johnny's into you," your girlfriend claims, and you almost spit out your latte. You shoot her a look, throat burning, and coffee dribbling down your chin. "What the hell makes you say that?"

She rolls her eyes, handing you a napkin. "Come on, babe. The guy gives you that intense stare all the time."

You stare at her in disbelief. "He gives everyone that stare. It's just Johnny."

She grunts in frustration. "Y/n, he calls you 'baby' for crying out loud."

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "So? It's not like it's some romantic declaration."

This scenario is all too familiar, and it annoys you. People always misread Johnny and you, trying to turn your perfectly platonic relationship into something more.

"Alright, if you're so confident, come with me to Jay's party tonight," she challenges.

Your heart sinks.

Jay, aka Jaehyun, is her boyfriend, and you've crossed paths quite a bit. But you already know you can't go.

"He doesn't like you like that, right? So let's settle it, Y/n. Let's end the speculation."

"That's dumb. I don't need to prove anything," you argue. But truth be told, your heart is still doing somersaults. You both know why you won't go, or rather, can't.

Johnny has this strict no-party rule for you. Sounds stupid, but it's his way of keeping you safe. One bad experience with some idiot led to this.

"Come on, just this once, and I'll drop it, promise," she pleads.

"Fine" you reply, already feeling your energy drain.

~

You find yourselves in what's supposed to be Jay's living room turned dance floor.

"Where's that man?" your friend complains beside you.

You hadn't been paying much attention to her anyway. Tonight, you're on a mission to prove a point. Yep, you're scanning for Johnny.

"Yo, ladies!" A familiar voice greets you from behind.

It's Mark. Awkward, cute, and definitely on some kind of high.

weed probably

"Markieee." you smiled and hugged him.

"Have you seen Jay?" your friend asks, not even bothering to greet Mark.

"In the upstairs bathroom," Mark replies, the thumping bass of the music echoing through the house.

"Thanks, y/n, call me if you need me," she says, her voice almost drowned out by the distant laughter and chatter.

"Okay," you agree, even though you know she's most likely going to be too busy to pick up. With that, she confidently stalks off into the lively chaos to find her man.

You're still hugging Mark throughout that, the music's pulsating rhythm vibrating through your bodies, and neither of you makes a move to release the other.

"Markie, how high are you right now?" you ask, half amused and half concerned, the scent of various substances hanging in the air.

"I'm not high," he insists, his words slightly slurred.

Yep, he's as high as a damn kite. "Alright, let's get you seated," you decide, guiding him through the animated crowd.

You hug him a little tighter to your side as you maneuver through the sea of people, completely unaware that the man you had been scanning for was silently observing you from across the dimly lit room.

Johnny tilts his head ever so slightly, the ambient lights flickering, casting enigmatic shadows on his intense expression as he observes you cradling the nearly unconscious Mark in your arms.

"Yo, Johnny! Where you goin'?" Heachan's voice echoes from the kitchen, where the clinking of glasses and laughter weave through the air.

"You can't bail on me now, man. You promised to try this strain with me," Hexhan pleads, his tone a mix of whining and cajoling.

"Another time," Johnny responds tersely, striding away without a backward glance.

Johnny can't fathom any sober reason for Mark to be draped over you like that.

"And you shouldn't even be here," Johnny muses to himself.

"Y/n," his gruff voice calls out, a single word that carries volumes.

You pivot, finding yourself face to face with your long-time best friend, a man whose relationship with you blurs between suspected boyfriend, occasional fling, or perhaps something more permanent.

His towering figure looms over you like an impending storm, his mouth contorted in a sneer, eyebrows knitted in displeasure. A quick appraisal reveals he's opted for a relaxed ensemble tonight—black hoodie and grey joggers, his signature black rimmed glasses resting on his nose.

"Johnny, I've been looking for you. Where the hell were y--"

"Y/n, have I ever told you that your tits make the best pillows ever? Oh my god," Mark interjects, completely oblivious to Johnny's presence.

In one swift motion, Johnny shoves Mark away, causing him to collide with people behind you.

"Johnny, what the fuck!" you gasp, caught off guard.

"What are you doing here, Y/n? I'm only asking once," Johnny demands, his hand firmly gripping the back of your neck, forcefully pulling you into the shelter of his chest.

"Answer the question."

"I'm here for you," you assert, making no attempt to deceive.

"You could've called me if you missed me so much, baby," he responds, his voice softening, and his eyebrows gradually easing.

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted to have fun too," you argue.

It becomes apparent that you've made the wrong choice as his hand tightens slightly around your neck.

"Have fun at home. No parties. I'm sure I told you that," his voice remains calm, but the increasing pressure on the back of your neck contradicts his demeanor.

"Go home. Now," he states, leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, your body twitches as if to comply, but it seems you're on a defiant streak tonight.

"No. I'll stay and have fun. I've seen you now, so I'll just go look for the others and enjoy myself," you declare.

He stares at you, a blank facial expression revealing nothing.

"Y/n, baby, go home," he says softly.

Successfully prying yourself from his grip, you retort, "No."

You stalk off, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room, hands straight by his sides, and his gaze unwaveringly black yet watchful.

As you navigate through the crowd, encounter familiar faces here and there.

~

You find yourself on your umpteenth shot of tequila when, unexpectedly, you're invited to a game of truth or dare, courtesy of Haechan.

Johnny is nowhere to be found, and the absence begins to stir a sense of worry and nervousness within you.

The game had unfolded over an extended period, leaving your mind increasingly hazy with each passing moment. Holding your liquor was never your forte.

You observed as the bottle spun and twirled before ultimately settling on the guy positioned beside you.

"dare" the guy simply said.

"I dare you to kiss y/n," Haechan's slurred yet mischievous voice announced.

As Haechan proclaimed his dare, Johnny ambled into the room, seemingly oblivious to your presence, it left you feeling bothered and angry.

Fine, you mused, if he's going to act that way.

Perhaps it was the influence of the alcohol coursing through your system or some other inscrutable force, but you found yourself impulsively lunging towards the guy next to you. Teeth clashed in a messy, audacious kiss, and, fueled by the audacity of the dare, you dared to explore further by delving your tongue into his mouth.

A cheer erupted from the onlookers, making your heart swell.

Basking in the attention, you pushed the boundaries, only to be abruptly seized by the neck for the second time that night, this time by none other than Johnny himself.

Without hesitation, he mused, "Go to the car and sit. I'll be there soon."

"But, Joh—"

"Go. To. The. Car, Y/n, and shut your fucking mouth. I said I'll be there soon," he asserted, his words punctuated through gritted teeth.

~

The last ten minutes had passed in utter silence as both of you sat in the car.

When Johnny finally slid into the driver's seat, his gaze never once met yours. Without a word, he started the car and left the party, only sparing you attention when he needed to secure your seatbelt.

The oppressive silence weighed on you.

"That was a fun game, wasn't it?" you ventured, attempting to break the tension.

Silence persisted.

"I bet Haechan has a video of it. Probably gonna send it to the group later," you added, attempting to inject a touch of levity into the atmosphere, though your laughter carried an undercurrent of awkwardness.

"Quit playing with me." He bites back, completely unamused by your attempt at a joke.

Your body stills as you stare wide-eyed at the man beside you. You didn't expect that from him. He wasn't the type to be so aggressive, especially with you.

"I didn't mean for that to happen, John." You said weakly. He had to understand, you were just trying to get his attention.

"But it did y/n and now I'm gonna have to show you what happens when you don't fucking listen" He rages quietly, eyes still on the road ahead.

It was always quiet with him.

little did you know.

To the untrained eye, he seemed cool and collected. But, you could tell he wasn't quite there. Maybe it was the way he squeezed the life out of the steering wheel or how he kept clenching and unclenching his jaw. Or, you know, the massive tent in his pants…

either way, you knew

somehow, you managed to piss off Johnny Suh.

"I suggest you start thinking of a way to apologize because you have no fucking idea what I have planned for you." He momentarily looks at you just long enough for you to see the dangerous glint in his eyes

~

Arriving at Johnny's apartment, you found yourself comfortably settled on his couch while he busied himself in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water for you. Since his remark on the way here, a palpable silence hung in the air.

As he approached you with the glass of water, he broke the silence, "Thought of a way to apologize yet?"

You glanced up at him from your spot on the couch. "I'm sorry. I should've listened to you," you managed to utter, your gaze dropping to the floor, a strange sense of shame washing over you.

He snorted in response, "That's all you came up with, Y/n?"

Meeting his disappointed gaze, you took a deep breath. "I should've known better," you added quietly.

He sighed, handing you the glass of water. "Drink."

Taking the glass from his hands, you started sipping as he watched you in silence. Then, without breaking eye contact, he nonchalantly remarked, "I'm going to fuck some sense into you and then fuck it out of you."

You choked on your water, hastily wiping at your mouth as you stared at him in disbelief.

"Your apology wasn't going to satisfy me anyway. I made up my mind when you said no the first time," he asserted, his tone casual yet loaded with an underlying intensity that left you flustered and strangely intrigued.

"And what if I don't want it." You daringly ask.

you knew you did.

The way he was watching you made that clear as day.

"Then say no." He shrugs

"Now finish the drink and head upstairs when you're done."he adds

and you did exactly that.

~

Johnny was a man. You knew that, he knew that, and the whole world knew that. But sometimes, it felt like you didn't always keep that obvious characteristic at the forefront of your mind, as you should have.

Entering the room, nothing struck you as special. It was the same as always: his bed in the middle of the space, surrounded by walls adorned with retro posters and pictures he had taken over the years with friends, family, and you. Despite the numerous times you had visited his home, particularly his room, it didn't feel as intimate as it did now, and for some reason, that excited you.

As you let your gaze wander, movement from the door pulled you out of your thoughts, and you turned your focus to a strangely quiet Johnny.

You both stood in silence, staring at each other for what felt like long, drawn-out minutes.

"I didn't think I'd have to tell you to strip, y/n," he said seriosusly.

You hiccup, startled. "E-excuse me?"

He stepped closer to you. "Fucking strip."

Your heart hammered in your chest at the complete unfamiliarity of the situation.

"John, you can't be seri—"

His hands fisted in your hair, causing you to tilt your head up, meeting his hard gaze. "Strip. I won't ask again. You're always free to leave, y/n, but you and I both know you don't want to."

~

"move your hand"

you twist and turn writhing your body all over his bed, hand trying to stop his fingers from fucking into you.

"Johnny, please! I said i was sorry " you scream as tears line your eyes

"I said move your fucking hand" he grabs your writs and pins the above your head

his fingers pummeling into you repeatedly. long and thick. you felt like you could feel all the ridges and callouses on them. all the fucking veins. it was torture.

SQUELCH SQUELCH

you try to squeeze your thighs together only for him to pry them back open almost immediately.

it was almost embarrassing just how wet you were really

"God. Fuck you're all over my sheets baby hmm" he moans his eyes never leaving your pussy.

almost.

that did it for you though

"Johnny, Johnny m'cumming"

“not yet baby”

you couldn't hold it

“Y/n, I said not yet” his actions contradicted his words as his fingers curled rubbing against your g spot

your body involuntarily shoots up off the bed as your lower abdomen contracts

"I can't hold it."

You cum with a high-pitched scream. Squirting all over Johnny's hand before lifelessly falling back on the bed.

you’re trying to get your breathing under control when you hear Johnny’s displeased voice

"you don't fucking listen do you"

fingers still in you, he manages to add even more pleasure relentlessly pumping into you

your legs start trembling from the intense pressure building in your abdomen once again.

Your scream is ear piercing as you cum for the fourth time

fifth...

you don't even know.

gosh, He hadn't even fucked you yet

you didn't even realize the drool running down your chin. eyes rolled back and lashes fluttering, your skin gleaming with sweat and thighs trembling. Your chest heaved as you breathed hard still coming down from your high.

In Johnny's eyes, you looked so fucked out and so fucking pretty.

He knew his version of foreplay was intense but he also knew he took it a bit further just for you.

his stubborn girl. He loved it but you needed to be taught a lesson.

with your mouth wide agape, he takes the opportunity of your oblivious state and shoves his middle and index finger down your throat causing you to gag.

"taste yourself...that's right baby suck my fingers clean" He coos as your mouth clings to his fingers.

when satisfied he pulls his away

"knees" is all he says.

you mumble uncoherent words trying to tell him you can't get up but it seems he is already way ahead of you helping you get comfortable in your position on the floor.

He begins to pull his sweatpants down revealing his erection fighting against the fabric of his black underwear. he wastes no time in pulling his cock out and you almost drool.

so harsh but so fucking pretty.

big and veiny with the prettiest pink tip. No wonder the foreplay was so intense. there was no way he was gonna fit without stretching you that much.

You look up at him with hopeful eyes. you wanted him in your mouth so fucking bad your pussy actually ached.

"So cute," he spits in the palm of his hand before bringing it down to stroke his cock.

"open and suck" He states.

Wasting no time your hands replace his and you begin to pump his pretty cock. you lick from the base of his pretty cock to the even prettier pink tip teasing him just a little with small kitten licks

"no teasing" he warns.

But of course, you don't listen continuing to push him over the edge with those kitten licks. even having the audacity to maintain eye contact while doing it.

You see the way his jaw clenches as he loses his patience and grabs the back of your head thrusting and forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes widen and begin to water as you start to harshly breathe through your nose.

Gagging multiple times as he continues to relentlessly fuck your mouth

"no teasing and you continue to fucking tease huh? who's fucking in charge here y/n? Who's fucking cock's fucking your pretty mouth?"

not being able to speak you hum around his cock watching as his gaze becomes more sadistic by the second.

"Ah fuck, you're gonna make me cum like this baby?" you hum in response causing him to groan from the vibrations

"Ah, shit"

You watch his expression contort into a pained one before he somehow manages to make his cock hit even further than the back of your throat and cums in your mouth.

"Dont waste it, baby, swallow for me" he says airly

you swallowed his mouth full of cum. loving the pleasantly salty taste.

you wheezed and choked so overwhelmed with just how rough Johnny really was.

Where was this side of him hiding?

holy fuck

"your mouth, keep it open," he grumbles still heaving firm his previous orgasm.

you open your mouth a gain forming an 'O' shape and surprise takes you as he spits in your mouth before lightly slapping you across the face.

your hair was all over the place and your entire face was decorated with a mixture of precum, smudged makeup, tears, snot, and sweat

"Atta Girl." he praises you.

He helps you to your feet before giving you a quick peck on your lips

"turn around and bend over. Yeah just like that... spread your legs for me"

you used the bed as support as you got into the desired position.

he wastes no time thrusting his cock into you rough and hard.

the sound of skin slapping and the squelching of your pussy around him cause your knees to buckle as you threaten to lose your stance.

You were gonna cum soon.

feeling your swaying form, he grabs your neck pulling you into him as your back meets his chest

"don't you fucking dare" he threatens.

"Ah... please please, please! m'sorry... m'so sorry I won't do it again just please make me cum john, I'll be good I swear" you cry gasping for air between words. soon your sentences jumble into a whole lot of nothing.

he keeps his hand wrapped around your neck as he uses the other to hold your hand behind your back

"no. Cum when I say so. you need to learn to fucking listen."

snapping his hips at a quick pace.

the area around your hips already beginning to bruise from how hard he was holding you.

"t'much please johnny!" You scream as your legs begin to shake for the umpteenth time

"you can fucking take it. This is what you wanted right? To piss me off? Having mark all on you like that?" he says begrudgingly

he grabs your left breast and squeezes your nipple hard enough for your pussy to clench around him

"so damn sensitive" he whispers in awe.

he pulls out and pushes you on the bed. you look back and he's

standing over you with messy hair, dark eyes, and a cock so erect it slapped against his stomach with the slightest movement.

"get on your back and spread your legs" he says pulling your legs to the edge of the bed .

You flip over and he immediately fucks into you even harder than before.

once again your hands flay erratically as you scream trying to get away from the aching pleasure that was starting to make you see double.

"look at that baby, " he coos eyes staring at your stomach.

you look down and see his cock bulging in your lower abdomen.

You gasp at the sight

'Johnny please" you whimper not even sure what you are asking for.

"I might just fuck a baby into you. keep you home like a good little wife hmm." he says seriously, eyes still set on the bulging in your lower abdomen.

you clenched around him liking the sound of carrying his children

"you like that huh? " He groans

you nod as tears start to stream down your face.

suddenly he stops thrusting causing you to cry out

"Just gimmie a second baby gotta fix your mistake," he says as he reaches over to his nightstand picking up his phone.

"I'm calling Mark " he says nonchalantly causing your heart to race.

"you're off-limits and they fucking know that but it seems all of you need to be reminded of how things are tonight hm?"

the dial tone blares out before a muffled "hello?" comes through the speaker. Mark.

"watch " Johnny says before he thrusts into you so fucking deep you could taste him

you moan loudly

barley registering the "fucking hell, man" that comes from the phone. That was Haechan

'watch' Johnny had said earlier and you begin to understand that it was a video call.

Mark and Haechan were witnessing Johnny fuck you into oblivion.

"see this? this is my fucking pussy and nobody else can fucking have it." he fucks your relentlessly a familiar feeling building in your stomach.

"j-johnny its t'much"

"nah, you can fucking take it."

"oh, fuck! " you scream into the pillow

"my fucking pussy and she can't give it away ain't that right y/n"

"mhmm" you say not having the strength actually speak.

you cum with a shiver and a whine and even then he didn't stop

still drilling his cock into you

overstimulating you more and more

you try to get away and he never once let his cock leave you.

"tell them how many times you cum tonight." He challenges, knowing full well that you couldn't form a word much less a sentence at the moment.

you mutter random words too fucked out to think

a sharp slap to your face brings you back

"how many fucking times?" he says through clenched teeth

"Alot" you scream.

"good girl" he says before hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room.

"just give me one more" he continues.

you moan as your toes curl from the overwhelming sensations building in your stomach

with a sharp thrust, you squirt all over Johnny's cock just as he cums inside you.

"next time you do that shit I’ll fuck you right in front of them instead of over the phone."

[ferrstappen]

unscheduled school visit l Max Verstappen

a/n: hello! i got this quick idea while working on some requests/school work. hope you like it and pls pls feel free to leave feedback <3 it really motivates me <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader.

summary: the twins' teacher calls, the twins got in trouble. Max is in disbelief.

Max was a strict parent. 

Not in the way people may think, and not in the least similar to how his dad was with him, but Max always was concerned on how the twins were doing in school, only in first grade, but still. He was always working on instilling discipline and hard work to Luca and Mila, so in the future they can be whatever the hell they want to be. Max knew money was never going to be an issue, so it was up to them to take all the opportunities that meant.

He always tried to take them to museums when they joined races, often tried to switch languages, even encouraging other drivers and people in the grid who interacted with the kids to speak in their different languages. 

It was always fun to watch Charles speaking to Luca in French or Italian as Luca slowly tried to come up with an answer and was always met with a high five, or Mila asking Checo why Carlos had a different accent. 

The smile never disappeared from your face when you get home from running an errand or attending a meeting that couldn’t be held on Zoom, to Luca and Mila chatting about what they learned on school today or silently doing their homework on the family room while Max watched them, himself also getting some things in the meantime.

The point is the twins were smart, both you and Max putting all your efforts to gently and effectively find what they like, what they don’t. 

You know your kids. Both of you would put your hands on fire because of them. You trusted them because Max and you were raising them good and the twins were great beyond words could explain. 

So when you receive a call from school telling you to come over, you quickly reached Max who was on the sim, driving through Imola with his eyes closed. 

“Babe, school called and we have to go,” As soon as you announced the news Max turned around, seat and steering wheel lightly shaking. 

“What do you mean? What happened?” Max was instantly on his feet.

“I don’t know, Max. Their teacher called,” You told your husband as his eyes opened widely. 

“Their? Is it both of them?” Max was in complete disbelief of what he was hearing.

“It appears so. I’ll cancel a meeting and we go.”

You didn’t leave him alone for thirty seconds, you swear, but when you came back Max was on the phone, asking the teacher to put Mila on the phone. 

He knew his daughter too well. She was outspoken, assertive, didn’t think twice. Luca was more cautious, wise and maybe a little timid. 

“Pap, he was trying to pull Luca’s hair and stealing his crayons, and Luca was letting him because he didn’t want to cause any trouble!” an agitated Mila informed Max, speaking a broken dutch. 

“Are you okay?” Max calmly asked his frantic daughter. He knew she was disquieted, trying to sound more sure of herself than she actually was. 

“Yes,” she said in dutch, but in the back her teacher told her in a sweet voice to speak in a language they could all understand. 

“Okay baby girl, mama and I are on our way, see you in a bit,”

During the drive to La Condamine to reach the International School of Monaco, you discovered a side of your husband you had yet to see. It was fun. 

“She is not apologizing!” Max told you, eyes not leaving the narrow road.

“Max, she pulled the kid’s hair,” You reminded your husband, who softly shook his head in disagreement. 

“Yes, because the idiot kid was bothering Luca and pulled his hair! If anything that kid should be apologizing to Luca, his sister just defended him!” His lisp was more prominent as you reached the parking lot overlooking the several yachts.

Max noticed the other child’s parents already walking inside the school, there weren’t many students in the Early Years building. He pressed the gas harder than necessary, making the engine of the family Aston Martin roar like they were in the paddock. 

Your eyes rolled at his antics, but still it made your insides feel giddy at the thought of your husband being protective and loving. 

Luca’s arms were wrapped around you as soon as you walked inside. Kneeling to reach his height, your heart broke at the sight of his disheveled hair and wet cheeks, his beautiful eyes red. Luca tried to not sniff and stop the tears, trying to be brave when he felt your hands on his cheeks and kissing his forehead, asking if he was okay. 

At the same time, Max sat next to Mila whose eyes didn’t leave the other kid’s sight, whom you learned his name was Oliver. Max knew his daughter wanted to shed a tear, but didn’t let it show, so he just gave her a reassuring look before listening to the teacher who had the three of them in charge.

Curtly shaking hands with Oliver’s parents, Max politely ignoring the poor attempt of one of “the idiot kid’s” dad to start a conversation, obviously starstruck by your husband the World Champion. 

Yes, it was Monaco and everyone knew each other, and it didn’t take a genius to deduce the two Verstappen named kids on the class were the children of the Max Verstappen, but he was often away and it was mostly you who attended parent-related stuff, but now there was the chance to have a conversation directly with him. 

Oh well. 

The four got inside the car, Max adjusting the seats before getting in the driver seat. Mila and Luca loudly sighed, knowing what followed.

“I don’t know how to address this. I’m moved and proud that you look out and defend each other, but M, baby, pulling someone else’s hair is not the way,” you softly told your daughter. “and Luca, honey, I know it’s hard but when someone invades your space and is rude, but you can tell the teacher before it makes you feel bad and leads to this,” 

Max’s eyes followed the twins movements through the rearview mirror as you talked to them, soon reaching your home. You grabbed the backpacks and Max helped the twins get out of the car.

He reached Luca’s door first. When he was out, he left a kiss on his forehead and ruffled his hair, softly reminding his carbon copy that he was a little lion, still with lots to learn, but no one ever could make him feel like this. 

Then he reached Mila’s door. Her eyes now were a bit glossy, but he knew she was just like him, Mila would never show weakness. He reminded her that she can take some weight off, let her guard down with her parents before kissing her hair. 

You watched the scene unfold from afar, not knowing what he told them, but sure they were the right words.

Then giggles reached your ears, eyes immediately rolling. 

He was fist bumping Mila, giving her a nod of approval.

For God’s sake, this wouldn’t be the first time you’re called to school, that’s for sure.

[mcdonaldsplayground]

| actually the worst | part 4

ao’nung x f!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | bonus part

summary: just when things start to seem decent between you and ao'nung, you discover that he's done something terrible. though your family begins to forgive him, you know he doesn't deserve forgiveness for being a total dick. so why do you feel so bad for him?

includes: enemies to lovers, swearing, teasing, mentions of fighting/death, ao'nung being a terror😐

word count: 3k

a/n: okay i thiiiink i can wrap this up in one or two more parts, so hopefully this series will be finished up in a few days. i’m sorry i think this is getting repetitive, but i swear things are gonna change up a bit soon😏

“What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?” Your father demanded, sounding like he was gearing up to give one of his famous “Lo’ak Lectures” as you and your siblings called them. His disappointment was understandable, but you were itching to try and set the record straight. You thought Lo’ak was incredibly stupid for starting a fight, sure, but it seemed unfair for him or any of you to get into trouble for standing up for yourselves.

“Stay out of trouble…” Lo’ak answered wearily.

“Stay out of trouble, right.” Jake was about to go off when Neteyam tried to intervene.

“It was my fault-”

“I don’t think so. You have got to stop taking the heat for this knucklehead!” Jake exclaimed, making you flinch. He was being harsh, as per usual, so you decided to see if he would listen to you.

“Dad. Ao’nung was picking on Kiri.” You said calmly, hoping your twitching tail didn’t betray how angry you actually were.

“And you.” Lo’ak added, giving you a look. “He called them freaks.” As if he hasn’t called me that a million times already, you thought to yourself, though you had to admit that this time was less teasing and more targeted.

“And he hit you?” Your dad questioned, gesturing to the newly forming bruise on your cheek, anger flickering in his eyes. You could tell what he thought of Ao’nung without even asking.

“What? No!” You couldn’t help but reach up and brush your fingers over your cheek, wincing a little. You hadn’t stopped thinking about Ao’nung’s expression after you had gotten hit. You had never seen him look at anyone that way before, almost like he was actually concerned. “It was an accident. I stepped into the middle of the fight like an idiot.” You shrugged, realizing you felt a little afraid for Ao’nung, not wanting him to take the heat for something you could never imagine him doing. You took solace in the fact that the feeling was involuntary. You still wanted to kick his teeth in.

Your father sighed, looking around as he decided how to respond. “Lo’ak, go apologize to Ao’nung.” He said finally, sending your heart plummeting into your stomach.

“What?” Lo’ak breathed, incredulous.

“He’s the chief’s son, do you understand? I don’t care how you do it, just go make peace. Just go.” He shooed Lo’ak outside, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched the boy stalk angrily away. You groaned, thinking about how smug Ao’nung was going to be now. You imagined your life was about to become insufferable.

“So, what’d the other guys look like?” Jake tried to ease the tension, though he appeared genuinely curious. You rolled your eyes.

“Worse.” Neteyam replied.

“That’s good.” Even with a straight face, you could tell your father was secretly proud of his sons, but it did little to make you feel better.

“A lot worse.” Neteyam decided to push his luck, smiling cheekily as he peered up to get your father’s reaction. The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of Jake’s mouth before returning to his familiar strict expression.

“Get out of here.” He said, and you and Neteyam quickly distanced yourselves from the marui.

“Should we go find Lo’ak?” You asked. “He’s probably gonna have permanent ego damage after this.”

Neteyam laughed. “Probably. But nah, he’ll come find us after he’s done licking his wounds. Let’s go tell Kiri and Tuk what happened.” He tugged you toward the village, the two of you setting off to find your sisters.

It was getting late, but you didn’t have an appetite, so when your siblings started heading back to the marui for dinner, you decided to walk around the beach instead.

You spent most of your walk looking down at the sand, trying to spot some nice shells to collect. You were just about to reach down to grab an iridescent-looking one when you bumped into something warm and solid. Blinking, you realized that your face was mere inches away from a broad chest. You backed up hurriedly, blushing.

“Sorry I-” Your apology was cut short when you finally looked up and saw those piercing blue eyes staring down at you. He seemed just as startled as you, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. The look on his face was strange, guilty almost. You figured he would have been cocky as ever after Lo’ak’s apology, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Looks like Lo’ak got you good.” You broke the silence, deciding the most normal way to go about this interaction would be to tease him. He took the bait, narrowing his eyes as a sly smile tugged at his lips. His eyes roamed your face, inciting that buzzing feeling in your stomach that often came about under his gaze.

“Looks like-” But his words died at his lips when his stare came to rest on your cheek. Most of your hair had fallen down to cover it, but you guessed that some of your bruise must have been peeking out enough for him to notice now. He stepped forward seemingly without thinking, gingerly pushing your hair back behind your ear as he examined the bruise with a hard expression. You were frozen in place, unsure of how to respond.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, his voice low and quiet.

“Um, what?” You couldn’t help but be confused, having never seen the tall boy act like this before.

“Does it hurt?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you think, genius?” This made him huff in annoyance, but he didn’t move away.

“Come,” Was his only response, placing his hand on your back as if to guide you along with him when he started toward the village. Against your better judgement, you found yourself being guided along with little resistance.

“Where are you taking me, weirdo?” You tried to put some venom into your words in an attempt to get the old Ao’nung back instead of this strange, concerned clone of his.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He bit back, rolling his eyes. There he was. You almost smiled.

“You know, if you’re taking me somewhere to murder me, everyone is going to suspect you, like, immediately.”

“I’m not going to murder you.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Stop asking dumb questions, forest girl.”

“Just tell me where-”

“Maybe I will murder you just to have some peace and quiet.” Ao’nung growled, steering you up to a very small marui pod that seemed to be unoccupied. “We’re here.”

You chuckled, unsurprised that this whole thing had turned out meaningless. “Wow, this is really nice. Thank you for the pointless walk and terrible company, but I have to get going now.” You deadpanned, turning to go, only for him to grab your arm with a huff.

“Would you just sit down? I know what I’m doing.” He gestured to the small ledge just outside of the marui. You rapidly tried to work out what his end goal was, but obliged to his request, sitting cautiously as he ducked inside. When you peeked into the pod, you noticed various pots, bottles, and dried greenery, but you and Ao’nung seemed to be the only living beings around the area. The thought set your heart racing.

“Here. Now stay still.” Ao’nung popped back out of the pod, holding a small pot of what looked like ground up herbs in some kind of paste. It was then that you remembered who his mother was and figured this was probably storage for her medicines. You tensed, scooting away from him.

“I am not letting you play doctor on me.” You scoffed.

“Don’t be such a baby. My mother is Tsahìk, I know what I’m doing.” He sat down beside you, waiting annoyedly for you to allow him closer.

“Yeah? Well, you’re still a dipshit, so stay away from me with that stuff.” Ao’nung shook his head, groaning.

“You are impossible,” He hissed. “I use this all the time on myself, okay? It works.”

You glared at him for a long moment before giving in, still wary of his insistence to help you. He smirked when you relaxed somewhat, and dipped his fingers into the paste as he leaned toward you.

You gasped a little when he made contact with the bruise, surprised at the coldness.

“Don’t tell me that hurt, forest girl.” Ao’nung mocked quietly, smirking at your annoyed expression.

“Was just cold.” You mumbled, and he went back to gently spreading the paste along your tender cheek. His featherlight touch and warm breath fanning across your skin gave you goosebumps. The silence was too much for you.

“I don’t know if you got brain damage from being punched too hard, but we,” You whispered, gesturing dramatically between the two of you. “Don’t get along.” You stared directly into his amused eyes. “It’s actually weirding me out that you’re being… nice?”

“Just shut up, freak. Listen to the ocean or something so I can enjoy the quiet.”

You wanted to keep talking just to annoy him, but you soon settled into the comfortable silence, listening to the soft lapping waves and the insects humming.

The sun had begun to set, washing everything in golden light as it started to dip below the horizon. Ao’nung’s skin looked soft in the golden glow, his eyes turning a shade of blue that you didn’t even know existed. You were staring but you couldn’t pull your eyes away, not when he was practically caressing your face. Suddenly, his eyes flickered away from his focus on your bruise and locked with yours. The air in the minuscule space between you felt charged with electricity. You briefly wondered what it would be like to lean a few inches forward and kiss his cheek. Or his lips.

“[Y/N]! There you are!” Neteyam’s relieved voice instantly shattered the strange bubble you and Ao’nung had just been living in. Both of you jerked away from one another, as if burned. “What are you doing here?” Neteyam’s tone changed when he took in the full scene before him. Despite the distance you had just put between yourselves, there was a only so much space on the marui ledge, and both of you looked flushed.

When he didn’t receive an answer right away, Neteyam stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at Ao’nung. “I asked what you are doing here. With my sister.” He said through clenched teeth, looking murderous.

“Teyam, it’s okay. He was helping me with this. See?” You turned your cheek slightly to show him your newly treated bruise. Neteyam’s gaze flicked between that and the paste still in Ao’nung hand. He seemed satisfied enough with the answer, but still didn’t relax much.

“Well, mom and dad want you back home soon. It’s almost dark.” He stretched his hand out to you, helping you down from the ledge to stand beside him. Your heart was still racing and your skin burning as your mind tried to make sense of everything. Ao’nung said nothing, though his own chest was heaving slightly.

“Let’s go.” You murmured, lightly pulling your brother away. “Um- thank you.” The words came out robotic, and couldn’t bring yourself to meet Ao’nung’s eyes as you said them. You didn’t wait for a response before you and Neteyam slowly trailed away. You were rapidly trying to decide how to explain everything to your brother when he spoke, seemingly more worried about something else.

“I thought Lo’ak would have been with you.” He was clearly deep in thought, concerned over something you were unaware of.

“Why? Didn’t he go back to the marui for dinner?” That’s where you assumed he would have been. It wasn’t like him to skip a meal.

“No, he didn’t.” Neteyam shared a look with you. “I told mom and dad that I would bring him back with you.” He looked scared now, and you didn’t blame him. As you racked your brain, also growing scared for your brother, you suddenly stopped, remembering something.

“Ao’nung!” You whipped around, starting quickly back toward the marui where the boy still sat. His surprised expression rapidly shifted into confusion when he noticed the look on your face.

“Where is Lo’ak?” You demanded, not missing the way he tensed before slumping his shoulders slightly. He looked down.

“I was going to tell you…” He started and it took everything in you to stay calm and let him continue. “That’s why I was on the beach. I was looking for you. But then I saw you were hurt and I got distracted-”

“Where. Is. Lo’ak?” You breathed, far too mad to register his unusual remorsefulness.

“We took him out hunting,” His head lowered even more, his voice downcast. “Past the reef…”

It was safe to say that your entire family was seething at Ao’nung, though your parents clearly tried not to show it. You knew they constantly worried about offending the Olo’eyktan- and Ao’nung happened to fall under that umbrella of protection. You, however, couldn’t care less who he was. You wanted to kill him.

He had told your parents everything after you and Neteyam dragged him back home, which resulted in a search party being sent out to look for Lo’ak. The thought that he might not ever return gripped your throat and lungs, making it hard to breathe. Tears were streaming down your face, but you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed, despite the large amount of people who could see you crying. Ao’nung was trying to help by explaining where they had taken your brother, but you had begun to notice that he would frequently pause to glance at you from afar. You kept your distance for fear of not being able to control yourself if you got too close. It didn’t matter that he had already apologized a thousand times. It didn’t matter that he seemed genuinely sorry. That damage was done.

As you began gearing up to take your ikran out (against the wishes of your parents), a horn sounded, followed by some unintelligible shouts while a crowd formed at the dock. You instantly dropped your gear and ran toward the commotion, arriving just in time to see Lo’ak approaching on the back of someone’s ilu. He stepped off easily, thanking his rescuer before turning to face the crowd. Without a second thought, you jumped down into the sand to meet him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. He may have been larger than you, but you felt that you could have picked him up and swung him around.

“I’m okay.” He breathed, patting your back in reassurance. You only released him when you noticed his vision fall on Ao’nung who was standing on the dock above you. Lo’ak narrowed his eyes, starting menacingly toward him.

“Hey, hey.” Your father had appeared behind you, grabbing Lo’ak to prevent him from getting into his second fight of the day. “Let’s have a look at you.” He quickly examined your brother, who surprisingly appeared unharmed. Only a few marks here and there.

“He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches.” Jake was quick to try and wave everyone away, as if that would magically fix the situation. The tension only tightened as Neytiri arrived, assessing Lo’ak’s condition.

“I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.” She hissed, making a clawing motion at his face. Lo’ak, however, seemed to have calmed down, an almost bored expression on his face.

“No! My son knows better than to take him outside the reef.” Tonowari spoke up, putting a hand on Ao’nung to push him down to his knee, looking more ashamed than ever. Despite what he had done to your brother, your felt a pang in your heart.

“This is not Ao’nung’s fault.” Lo’ak suddenly said, standing up straighter, and you couldn’t believe your ears. What was he doing? Even Ao’nung looked extremely taken aback. “This was my idea. Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it.” If you didn’t know him so we’ll, you might have just believed him. A stunned silence followed, no one sure of what to say in the face of such a humbling remark. Eventually, Lo’ak stiffly nodded at Tonowari and set off toward the village.

You quickly scrambled after him, dying to ask him why the hell he was suddenly being so humble.

“Lo’ak!” You panted, jogging up beside him. He didn’t slow down, but he didn’t look annoyed that you were there, either. “What was that?” You pressed. He only shrugged, making you roll your eyes. “Lo’ak, come on, why-” You didn’t get to finish before someone approached on Lo’ak’s other side.

“Why did you speak for me?” Ao’nung asked, confounded. You stayed silent, hoping Lo’ak would actually give a proper answer.

“Because I know what it’s like to be one big disappointment.” He turned to briefly meet Ao’nung’s eyes, not a hint of sarcasm or malice in his tone. He was speaking from his heart, causing yours to break a little in turn. Ao’nung stopped walking, a curious expression overtaking his face, though you and Lo’ak kept on walking. It took a good amount of self-control for you to rip your semi-murderous gaze off Ao’nung and keep walking straight. It was silent between you for a long while.

“So, what?” You finally cut in. “Are you two just on good terms now?” It was mostly a joke, but Lo’ak dipped his head into a nod.

“I’m not going to hold a grudge about it, if that’s what you mean.” He said, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? I mean, after everything you’re not even a little bit mad? You could have died, Lo’ak.”

“Look, he apologized. He seemed weirdly genuine about it. Besides, if we keep holding grudges then this stupid revenge cycle is never going to end.” You had never, in your entire life, heard your youngest brother say something so wise. It made you wonder what really happened to him out at sea.

“Okay, mr. peacemaker. Well, I’m still gonna be pissed at him.” Lo’ak laughed at this, turning to walk backwards in order to face you. It was good to see him smiling again.

“That tracks. Hating each other seems to be your guys’ favourite game.” He grinned as you scowled.

“It’s not a game, Lo’ak. He’s actually the worst.”

“Yeah, actually the worst guy to have a crush on. That’s why you hate him.” Lo’ak snipped, his grin as wide as ever. “You hate that you like him.”

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @donaldsmac @littlethingsinlife @kainari144 @thesheelfsworld

[unknown--author]

Sewing Clothes and Drinking Tea

I apologize for being gone so long, life got busy. I finished this WIP while in science class because I hate science and decided to post it.

Feedback and criticism are welcome! Just please be nice about it.

QUICK SYNOPSIS or whatever it's called: Professor Crewel and Prefect Yuu bonding over sewing and tea because of a secret influence (you'll know by the end).

CW: Yuu is anxious (probably, it's just my thought process, they might just come off as nervous), I don't know how to describe tea or sewing, this takes place before Book 5 (VDC is referenced but Yuu doesn't know what it is)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It's the day of my people :D

Yuu trudged toward the school store, their messenger bag shrugged over their shoulder. Ace and Deuce had torn holes into their uniforms by getting into a scrap with Octavinelle students (read: Floyd). Not only that, but Grim had a spat with Leona, tearing his bow.

Now the trio was employing the prefect to fix their clothes. Yuu sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose. They were going to end up in debt because of their idiots.

As soon as they entered the store, Mr. S was at their side, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, little devil. We just ran out.”

Yuu had learned not to question how he knew these things. Though, they suspected the shadows had something to do with it. “Really?” Sam always had what they needed in stock. “Did a delivery not come in?”

He shook his head. “No, Divus bought the last of the sewing materials. From how much he got, he’s either working on a new project or a large group of imps wrecked their clothes.”

“Oh.” The prefect clicked their tongue. Dammit, tomorrow was Monday. If Grim didn’t have his bow fixed, Crowley wouldn’t be pleased with them. And while Ace and Deuce weren’t in Ramshackle and, technically, weren’t their responsibility, Yuu would rather not let their friends down. Also, hearing Ace whine about a collar for a week sounded like hell.

“Well, little devil, I’m sure if you asked politely enough, Divus would lend you some.” Sam had obviously noticed their downcast expression.

Yuu perked up. “Do you think?”

“Yes, yes.” Sam went back to stocking behind the counter.

“Wait.” They deflated a bit. “Won’t Professor Crewel be at home? It is the weekend, Mr. S.”

"He keeps all his projects and sewing materials at his school office."

"Why?"

Sam shot a small smile their way. "He works on them in between classes and after school."

"Doesn't he have paperwork to do during those times?" Yuu asked, feeling bemused.

His small smile turned into a cheeky one. "Maybe," he shrugged.

They shook their head in amusement. "Thank you, Mr. S." They turned to leave. "I'll tell you how it goes!"

"There's no need; I'll know," Sam chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~~

As Yuu walked through the desolate halls, some doubts filled their mind. What if Professor Crewel wasn't there? And if he was, would he listen to them? Would he help? Or would he turn them away with the flick of his wrist? The prefect was quite intimidated by the fur-coat-wearing teacher. And for good reason!

Divus Crewel had a strict way of teaching. He never stood for tardiness or horsing around. Any student who went against him would be punished severely. He taught with a whip and a terrifying glare. And last but not least, he reminded Yuu of Cruella De Vil. She had scared them shitless as a kid. With her freaky design and her intent to kill puppies and skin them for their coats, how could she not have?

They hesitated outside the alchemy classroom door. If they wanted, they could turn back now. They could buy a new bow for Grim. Ace and Deuce aren't precisely their problems, the duo have a housewarden and should know how to care for themselves.

A voice cut off their thoughts. "Come in, pup!" It called through the door.

Yuu creaked the door open at the invitation. The infamous Professor Crewel sat at a desk at the front of the room. He had a needle in his hand while fabric floated around him. "Hello, professor."

"Sam told me you were coming." The shadows seemed to dance when he said that. "What is it that you need?"

"Um, well..." Yuu looked at his forehead, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, you see, Grim and my friends tore a few stitches in their clothing and asked me to fix it up, again. I ran out of the thread and patches I needed, so I went to Mr. S's shop. And, well, you got the last of it.

"Mr. S then said that you maybe, probably, might let me borrow some of the materials?" Their rambling got quicker and quieter the more they went on.

Divus quirked an eyebrow. It was obvious that the prefect was nervous around him. It was no wonder considering his reputation with the student body. "Let me take a look at the damage those pups have done."

Yuu fumbled with their bag before pulling the torn clothing out. They walked over and handed it over to the teacher. He inspected the tears.

Most of Grim's vow was now shredded ribbons, Leona had got him good. Ace had gotten the brunt of Floyd's attack; Deuce's uniform wasn't as bad. Their clothes were torn from a force pulling at them and there were claw marks here and there.

Divus sighed. These pups were always so reckless. "I'll mend these. Pull up a chair." He waved his hand to the side, gesturing toward a seat.

Yuu immediately grabbed one, bringing it over to the side of the teacher's desk. They sat down, watching Professor Crewel work silently.

Some of the black fabric overhead floated down and scissors cut patches out of it. Magic threaded the needle for Divus. He grabbed it out of the air and began sewing the uniforms back into their proper form. The Ramshackle prefect watched in awe at the teacher's skill, but they felt a bit confused.

"Professor," they said, pulling his concentration away from his work. "Why don't you just use magic to sew?"

He sighed, expecting this question. "I don't want to build up too much blot."

"But you're making the fabrics and material float?"

"It's easier to organize them if they're not all dumped on my desk," he answered, a loud snip coming from his scissors. One patch down.

The prefect was about to ask another question but Crewel interrupted them. "Would you like some tea, pup?"

Yuu, caught off-guard by the sudden question, takes a moment to answer. "Um, yes please." After the whole Azul fiasco, they were suspicious of any free things offered to them.

Divus opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a teapot and two teacups seemingly out of nowhere. From Yuu's perspective, the drawer looked like a void. "How did you do that?" they blurted out, amazement on their face.

The teacher stifled a chuckle. "It's an enchantment so the drawer has unlimited space. I cast it back when I started teaching here." He poured tea into the two cups and pushed one toward the teen.

The smell wafted up to their nostrils. They could've died happy then and there; it smelt so wonderful. They couldn't quite put their finger on it even though it was familiar. "What type of tea is this? It smells fantastic!"

"It's a walnut and almond green tea. I had it imported from the Queendom of Roses," Divus said proudly, taking a sip before going back to work.

Yuu took a sip as well, humming in delight. "Is it specially made there?"

He nods, focusing on the needle in his hand. "It's said that the Mad Hatter drank it at his unbirthday parties. Only the people of the queendom know how to brew it."

They muttered something about Riddle and his mother before speaking again. "Hmm, green tea's quite common back home. It's easy to get; you don't need to import it from another country."

"How interesting, pup." Two more loud snips sounded through the room. Two more patches done.

After his indifferent response, Yuu goes quiet. They take a sip of their tea and inspect the cup for something to do. It was plain white with little green leaves attached to thin vines. Each leaf was different in shape and size, but still similar. As they examined the teacup, they realized it looked authentic.

"Professor Crewel, is this handmade?" They held the teacup up so he knew what they were talking about.

Snip. Snip. Snip. Three patches and two uniforms done. "Yes, this set was handmade by an old friend of mine," he said as he grabbed his magic pen. The black fabric floated back up into the air. In its place, strips of grey and white fabric dropped onto the professor's desk.

Yuu watched with fascination as Divus lined up the material meticulously. "Who was the friend?"

"A friend from college, Ansel. He actually went to RSA. We met when I was in my second year and he was in his first." He sounded nostalgic as he spoke. "We met at that year's VDC. Ansel was performing for his team while I was a costume for mine. We went all out that year," he chuckled, now sewing the strips together.

"VDC?" the prefect mumbled before shaking their head. They'll ask about what that is later. "Were you good friends with him? Do you both still talk?"

The man sighed. "Yes, we were good friends. No, I don't talk with him much anymore, pup. We still text every once in a while. Before you ask, the last time we actually talked was at his wedding." He had finished fashioning the strips into a grey and white striped ribbon. Instead of fixing Grim's old bow, he had made a new one.

Yuu quickly downed the rest of their tea before they were handed the new and improved school uniforms. "Ah, thank you, sir."

Divus nodded curtly. "You're welcome, pup. Now run along." He got right back to work mending other clothing articles.

The prefect was about to walk out the door when he called out to them. "Pu- Prefect Yuu?"

They turned around to face him. "Yeah?"

"My door is always open if you need anything." He shot them a small, warm smile.

"Okay, thank you," they said, smiling brightly back at him before leaving.

Unbeknownst to the two, a certain shadow darted out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was closing up shop when a shadow appeared next to him. It looked lively as it waved its arms around and seemingly danced.

Same glanced at it every now and then, wiping the store's front counter as he "heard" what took place in the alchemy teacher's classroom.

He chuckled afterward. "I knew they'd get along!"

The shadow shook its head in response.

"Look, I know it was bad to lie to the little devil, but hey, it ended up benefitting them. Now they have someone responsible that they can rely on." The shopkeeper bent under his counter and pulled out sewing materials.

"I better go put these back now, huh?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! I'm sorry for any OOC behavior and anything I get wrong about the slight mention of VDC. I haven't made it past book 4 yet. This is my second time writing an actual fic for this fandom and my first time actually posting one! On Sunday, I might post a drawing/painting that goes with this fic. I don't have my sketchbook on me right now.

Belongs to @unknown--author

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON TUMBLR, AO3, WATTPAD, OR ANY OTHER SITES (yes, I'm this cocky that my work could be stolen)

[vinetae]

Hi could I request some fluffy fluff of jungkook getting sick with a bad sneezy cold in the rain because he was playing with bam and girl y/n caring for him or you can make it Ot7 and his brothers find out he is sick and care for him . Just fluffy and comfort im sad these days need some peace .

Aww, I'm so sorry you're feeling down, love. I hope you feel better soon! <3 let me know if you'd like a part 2, or you can request something else 🥰 Thank You for the ask!

(I do not apologize for the smut. I will NEVER apologize for my steamy scenes. Thank you and good day). 😉

My Love - drabble

Genre: F2L, Implied smut, 16+

Warnings: term 'maid' used, heavy make-up session, no confessions, just kissing, Jungkook being stubborn and not following Y/n's rules, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, cute cuddles and lots of banter. (The dialogue makes it seem like enemies to lovers instead lmao).

.

"Ah! Bam! Bring it back "Jungkook tells out, a 1,000-watt smile paints his cheeks as he chases after the now grown puppy. Your lips curve to a smile, watching your best friend enjoy this beautiful sunny day. 

Drip. 

Drip. 

Boom. 

The thunder struck from nowhere, startling you from your nearly-finished chapter. Hands flying to help your body stand, calling out to Jungkook to hurry up on inside. His body twists, scrunching his nose at the thought. 

"Oh come on, Y/n!" It's just water." He chuckles, throwing the orange flying disk towards the little shed placed in the back of land, huffing as Bam had no run towards the tattered porch in search of dryness. Jungkook bends at the knees, snapping and clapping to call the large dog over. He doesn't budge.

"Ah, you two are weenies." His hands throw into the air, acting as if he'd been being filmed for a dramatic scene from a Korean romance TV show. Heavy drops of rain flow down the side of his cheeks, as you watch the cyan blue material of his hoodie darken, being soaked by mother nature's tears. Your lips roll out a heavy sigh, glancing over to the dog who'd been sat near the door, waiting for entrance. Bam and you share a similar look towards the adult child, shaking your head. 

"He's an idiot." 

..

And an idiot he was. 

The next morning you two had been planning a hike up the nearby mountain, in hopes of getting to seep in a workout for the day. His plan, nor yours. He basically had to beg you to come with him on that 3-hour hike. You're thankful the rain had downed so much, making the hiking trails nearly impossible to grip with your shoes. Now, plan B had been just to wait in the living room, as Jungkook hooked up the system so he could play Overwatch. 

Your legs fold inwards, hugging tightly to your body as you scroll on Instagram for the next hour. Only the quiet sounds of morning drips of rain tap the window as well as Jungkook's slight groans of frustration from loosing a match. 

"Oh come on! I totally had that headshot!" Hid hands throw into the air, frustrated from not receiving the point he's so earned. Leaning back against the couch, he finds a more comfortable position between your thighs. It hadn't been unheard of for friends to cuddle a bit, especially for you two. 

You'd known each other for almost a decade, meeting back in middle school when you'd become a transfer student for Mrs. Choi's class. Jungkook had been quite a shy, quiet boy. Very much the classic 'anime scene where the main love interest sits by the window, tapping his fingers onto the desk, while looking out somberly'. Even though girls had practically been falling to his feet as if he'd been a king, Jungkook still never paid them any mind, and instead quickly flew past them to avoid any confrontation. 

That is, until you came along. 

Being the transfer student, you'd been just as nervous. Not knowing where to sit, the class schedules, and being in a whole new atmosphere than your old school back in the States had your hands practically glued to the insides of your hoodie. The dress code had become more strict, due to the uniforms every student was mandated to wear. 

Crashing into the most notorious boy in class, making the two of you knock into the lockers, hadn't been the most ideal first day of school. You're quick to extend your hand out to offer a helping hand, but he just takes off in the other direction. 

After a few months, the halls had been buzzing with rumors of a guy in your class being picked to start training at a small idol company. Not really knowing what all that meant, you shrugged it off. Taking a few steps into class, your feet halt when Jungkook's eyes meet yours. A shy tint of red brushes his cheeks, as he makes his way towards the side, taking a seat. 

..

"Do I scare you?" Your arms swing by yours sides, anticipating the answer. Jungkook's hand comes to rest on his locker handle, eyeing your changed expressions quickly. His voice is soft and small. 

"N-No.." he sounded unsure of himself. Your hands press against the locker, sighing in frustration. His body leans away from yours. 

"Why don't you like girls?" You question, leaning your head to lower your voice. 

"Are you gay?" His eyes widened, choking on an invisible foreign object lodged into his throat. Hand coming to pat his chest, as another wave of blood red hues splotches his cheeks. 

"I-I..uh- class." Just like that, he's gone. 

..

It had only been when you two met at the same club one night right after graduation. A few drinks later, and he'd become the life of the party. You, on the other hand, couldn't handle your liquor very well, being bent over the outside of the club, as one of your girlfriend's had been rubbing at your back, holding your hair.

Jungkook stumbles through, eyebrow quivering at the strange scene. His eyes trailing down the lengths of the woman's beautiful figure, admiring the way her little sparkly black dress hugged her curves gently. However, the scene spayed before him had been anything but a turn-on. He'd decided to come help the poor woman, bending over alongside her to give some comfort. It hadn't been until he recognized the little penguin earrings she'd been wearing that he finally realized it had been the girl from his class. 

"Y/n?"

The rest had been history.

..

"You little peice of sh-" 

"Jungkook." Your voice, stern and commanding. Bam's ears perk at the sudden outburst of his daddy, hopping down from your side of the couch, nuzzling into his side to make sure everything had been okay. 

Jungkook sighs, patting his pup's head lightly before focusing his attention back towards the video screen. 

"Sorry Bam-ie. Daddy's okay." He scratches behind Bam's ear, making the large dog's tail flick with happiness. Suddenly, Jungkook's loudness makes both Bam and your's were perk. Setting down your phone to the side, you sit up, reaching around to feel his forehead. 

"Koo, you're burning up, dummy." You scold, pulling his permed, curly natural locks back out of his face. A smile curls his lips, tilting his head back in content, landing in your lap. 

"Mmm, that feels good." He sighs, loosening his tight grip on his control to instead focus on your small strokes ontip of his head. You lower your head, Spiderman-ing this situation. 

"I told you earlier that playing in the rain wasn't good for you." He whines, tilting his head to the side to look out the window. 

"It's fine. I'm not-" he jerks up, chest sending him into a fit of coughs. After a few seconds, he calms down, making your eyes roll to the side. 

"Aright, that's it." You stand, walking to unplug the control to his console, as well as his Xbox. He lets out a string of groans in retaliation, but you'd pay no mind. Arm lifting to make the heavy man stand, you point towards his room. "Bed, now." 

A smirk tugs his lips, eyes swollen and groggy but still could muster out a little tease. "Mmm, sounds great, baby~" you bend down, throwing the controller from his lap onto the couch, pinching his ear to make him stand. 

"Ow ow ow ow ow! Alright alright! I'm going!" He lets out a few whines, as you lead him to the bedroom. His lips poke out in a pout.

"So mean." He teases.

You push on his center chest, lowering his body to rest under the covers. Hand coming to rest on top of his forehead, making a low white echo in the small room. 

"You're warm." 

"I think you mean, hot." 

"If you were hot I'd be having to drive your dumbass to the hospital right now." He huffs, wiggling down into his little cocoon comforter you'd created. His head tilts to the side, flashing a cute bunny smile. 

..

"Y/nnnn" jungkook drags out, making your groan as you take a few steps into his bedroom. Tissues spread all over the comforter, as his laptop propped up onto the side, as he'd been laying on his stomach while watching the newest Netflix original, Bridgeton. (Not sponsored). 

"Yeah?" You reply. A quick smile flashes across his face, holding out his little thermos you'd fixed for him. 

"Be a dear and fetch me some more, liquid." His voice is posh, much like the one of the characters from the TV show. 

"Talk to me like that against and I'll put rat poison in your liquid." You bite back, snatching the bottle from his hand. He faints a hurt expression. 

"Y/n, that's not how you treat the sick." His voice is scratchy, but audible. Mainly because you'd learned to read through his mumbled voice all throughout middle and high school. His eyes doe and cutesy, making your fists clench at the sides. Letting go of a sigh, you compose yourself once more. 

His smile shines through. "Much better." His arm stretches to the side, groaning as he pops a few of the disks in his back, shaking his body. "I'll take the water now."

His eyebrow quirks, smirking at your flushed cheeks in anger. 

"You're a real milker when you're sick, you know that?" He chuckles, twisting over to the side to spread out on his back, finding a different position. 

"I don't think this is how you treat your king, Y/n." 

"I should've left you outside in that hellstorm." 

His smile widens. "But you didn't."

"I should've."

His body props up, lips leaning closer to yours in proclamation. 

"But you didn't. Now, pheasant," 

Eye roll. 

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Missy." His tone leaves a small burning sensation in the pit of your stomach. A victorious smirk plasters his face. "Now then. I'll be needing a few things from you, pheasant." 

"Keep calling me that and-"

"I won't have lips to blab with, yeah yeah. We've known each other for almost ten years, you really need to come up with better threats." You scoff at his arrogance. 

Why I oughta-

"Firstly, you are to address me as sir." 

You laugh out loud. "Hah! Like hell I woul-"

His expression hardens, a smirk pressing his lips. Voice lowering to a dangerous level as he leans in. 

"Or i'll leave this ass so red, Rudolph will be jealous." 

Eyes widening at the sudden comment, you heed his word hesitantly. God knows how many boxing classes he's taking so far. On top of all the workouts he loves to do? He'd beat you to a pulp in one second flat. 

"F-fine." His eyebrow quirks, awaiting another syllabus from you. 

"What'd I just say?" 

He's an asshole. 

Swallowing your pride (which had been very high and mighty), you Play along to his little games, cursing yourself for ever getting into this situation in the first place. 

"Yes, s..sir." you choke out, cringing from your own words. His smile widens victoriously. 

"Good. Now," he peels back to the blanket, pointing to the bottom of his bed. "Rub my feet."

..

You're really gonna kill him. You don't care if his net worth is 500 or 50 million, you are gonna kill him. 

All day you ever heard was-

"Maid!"

"Pheasant!"

"Y/n!"

You were seriously on the verge of strangling this man. No wonder the boys would always send him home when he got sick. He's a pain to deal with!!

"Oh Y/n-"

THAT'S. IT. 

You throw the little towel you'd been using to wipe off the dishes, staring into his bedroom. He flinches at the sudden outburst as your voice yells at the top of your lungs. Bam's ears perked in alert. 

"I've had it with you! Getting me to rub your feet, do your chores, fluff you DAMN PILLOWS. I mean, who's so incapable of fluffing his own fucking pillow!?" By this point your voice had been strained and tired. Your body ached with exhaustion, sleep threatening to do a mandatory shut down of it all. 

His fingers toy with the little thin sheet of his comforter, while his other hand had been patting Bam's stomach in patterns. 

"And Another thing! This whole 'sir' act ain't working anymore, buddy boy. So, if you want something, you've got legs." 

All you could hear was the growing of his chuckle falling past his lips. His head throws back, laughing at your composure. 

"Your face is red'' he comments, throwing the comforter off of his body to place his feet on the floor. He rises, towering your figure easily. 

"I just wanted you to keep me company. Honestly I didn't think I would get away with half the stuff you did." He chuckles, twisting your figure around. Before you know it, you've landed on the bed, flat on your back. His body comes to tower over yours, before plopping right down beside you. 

"Well i-I'm just a nice person." You mumble. Arms folding across your chest in retaliation to this. You hated how happy he was right now, laughing at your exhaustion. 

"Mmmhm. Why don't we watch a movie here? Jimin texted me saying that they'll be back soon." He replies, typing a few characters onto his keyboard before another movie pops up. 

You chuckle at his decision. "Really?"

His eyebrow raises in confusion. "What?" 

Your hand is lowered, pointing at the screen."sharknado?" 

A smile paints his face. "Well of course. The best cinematic movie ever to be produced!" 

Your eyes roll, nudging his side in combativeness. "Better than Iron Man?" 

"Hey now." His voice faints actuality, straining to keep a straight face. Your head tilts back, chuckling at his response. 

"Mhm, that's what I thought."  Your back hits the headboard, but he's quick to catch it. 

"Ah, more condition." Your head tilts in question, fists being ready to knock the shit outta this little pri-

"You must address me as 'my love'." 

"What? Since when were those the rules?" 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, cuddling up into your side. "Since I made them up." 

"I'm not doing that, kook."

He pouts. "Okay fine. Then 'the best boyfriend in the entire world' will suffice." 

"Hah!" You slap his leg in a comedic way. "In your dreams, koo. Besides, you're not my boyfriend." His head tilts to the side. 

"Hmm, I think we must fact check this hypothesis-" And just like that, his lips crash onto yours. The hushed sounds of the laptop play in the background, as his tattooed hand comes up to stroke your cheek. The top of his tongue fighting for dominance, in which you're quick to give. Your hand reaches down, tugging on the hem of his shirt to lift it, fingertips dragging along the hidden dips of his abs, a moan groans against your lips mid-exchange. He's quick to pull you in his lap, as your straddle him, hands carding through his messy locks, as you both share a passionate, but sloppy kiss. 

When coming back up for air, you pull away, as you both are left breathless. Chests heaving, trying to calm yourself. Eyes locked onto each other, as the sounds of your chests rising and falling in weight, fills the spaces in. His chocolaty irises bard into yours, eyelashes blowing lightly from your gentle breaths rolling down his features. 

Soon, you cut the tension. "That's gross, Kook." His heart drops at your words. Was he a bad kisser? Did his breath stink? Do you think his hard-on right now is gross??

A smile presses your cheeks, brushing his bangs out of his face. "Now I'm gonna get sick." A relieved chuckle exhales his chest. Hands pulling your hips further up his body, wanting to hold you closer. 

"We'll be sick together, Jagiya."

You glance down, seeing the sheet of his sick sweat rub onto your skin. "Ah, damn it. I'm all gross now."

A smirk tugs his lips. "Shower?" 

You think for a second before responding. "Sure, but this time, YOU rub my feet." 

He chuckles, carrying bridal style towards his bathroom, setting you down onto the toilet's lid before pecking your forehead. 

"Yes, my love." 

.

.

.

[yamsi95]

I wanted to respond to a topic on Reddit about Snape, but it took me so much time to write it (English is not my mother tongue) that when I finished my answer, the topic was already blocked. It was about why Snape is receiving so much hate now than before. That's my answer, I didn't want to lose it :)

I believe Harry's point of view can have a significant influence, particularly on younger readers. The hate towards Snape appears to be more prevalent among teenagers. For instance, when I first read Harry Potter as a child, I found Snape's snarky comments and detentions irritating. Despite loving him as a character, I considered him one of the worst teachers at Hogwarts, but as I grew older and reread the books, I was surprised by how much Harry's point of view had influenced me. For example, in HP1 there are chapters involving Hagrid wanting to raise Norbert(a), even though it's illegal. The trio assumes a parental role, attempting to reason with Hagrid. Ron even gets injured while helping Hagrid care for Norberta (!). In the end, they decide to give Norberta to Charlie, leading Harry and Hermione to the astronomy tower at midnight (!). They are caught by McGonagall, who deducts numerous points from Gryffindor and assigns them to the forbidden forest at night as detention with Hagrid (!). The worst part is yet to come. During detention, Hagrid splits them up (!), leaving two 11-year-olds alone in the forest (Draco and Neville first, Draco and Harry later). Predictably, Harry is nearly killed by Quirrell. To sum it up, the whole situation is filled with red flags. Hagrid's behavior as an adult is questionable, and he should be kept away from children. He never apologizes to the trio, despite causing them considerable harm. McGonagall's decision to send children into the forbidden forest at night is also absurd. This is just one example, there was a Tumblr post listing all the questionable actions of Hogwarts teachers, and Snape was probably the one who cared most about students' safety. As a child, I didn't notice these nuances due to Harry's POV. He views Hagrid positively, seeing the best in him, which obscures the potential dangers of Hagrid's actions. McGonagall, while strict, never insults Harry like Snape does. As a result, Harry is more willing to accept going to the forbidden forest than cleaning a cauldron, even though he doesn't deserve either detention.

Moreover, if I recall correctly, Hagrid calls Draco an "idiot" when he's scared to go into the forbidden forest. As a child, I found it amusing. However, I took Neville's side when Snape called him an "idiot" for a potion mistake. This bias might be attributed to Harry's POV. Draco, portrayed as the mean character, appeared cowardly compared to Harry (the Slytherin boy has a survival instinct). So, it seemed acceptable for Hagrid to mock Draco, while I perceived the injustice when Snape insulted Neville.

It may sound unpopular, but if I had an 11-year-old child and had to choose a Hogwarts teacher to look after them, I would choose Snape over Hagrid or McGonagall. Despite Snape's harshness, there's a better chance of finding the child alive later.

I have another unpopular opinion—I would prefer to have all teachers be like Snape than to have one enemy like James or Sirius. There's often a comparison drawn between Snape being bullied by the Marauders and Snape bullying his students. While I acknowledge that Snape's actions are worse because he's an adult and should be supportive toward his students, I believe the Marauders' bullying was far more exhausting and mentally damaging. However, I recognize this might be a personal perspective. In my view, being humiliated by a teacher is, in some ways, preferable to facing humiliation from peers.

[yostresswritinggirl]

The sound of the clock ticking in the House of Daena pulled you out of your concentration from the book that you were reading. As you looked up from the book, you were greeted by the sight of an empty seat in front of you.

Ah right, it's already been a few weeks since Cyno graduated and you haven't seen him ever since. You heard that he's joined the Matra which surprised you since he never came off as someone who'll be dedicated to that kind of work. Speaking of which, he seems... different now. Compared to the Cyno you knew months back, it's like he's some kind of stranger.

Out of nowhere, he just started acting differently and distanced himself to the point where you've barely talked with each other.

Which lead you to thinking... what exactly went wrong?

—

Months have passed and the word of Cyno becoming the new General Mahamatra have spread all over the Akademiya walls.

At first thought, you were amazed by how fast Cyno progressed on climbing up the ranks of the Matra in just a few months. Pride filled you and the desire of wanting to congratulate him flooded your mind, so you immediately set off to find him without a second thought.

As you walked down the halls of the Akademiya, you had a tiny feeling of hope that perhaps you could reconnect with your general friend. After all, it's been so long since you've last had an interaction and just wanted to see how he's doing these days.

But that feeling died down the moment you set your eyes on him. The aura he gave off was cold, strict, authoritative, and you couldn't stop the anxious feeling bubbling in your stomach. It was at that moment you realized—

No wonder he stopped talking to me. After all, why would someone so powerful and strong want to be with a scholar who's out of his league? If I were good enough, tried harder in my studies, then would the distance between us have happened?

Thoughts of insecurity manifested in your head and you discarded the idea of greeting him, withdrawing from the scene instead.

—

A sigh came out of you for what seemed like the twentieth- wait no, maybe even the thirtieth time. This upcoming exam stressed so much that you decided to screw this and just take a short break in hopes of calming down your mind. Standing up from your chair, you walked out of the library with no set destination in mind. As long you can you can relieve your stress, anywhere is fine at this point.

Strolling down the quieter parts of the Akademiya, you breathed a sigh of relief. You can't remember the last time you took a break like this, so it felt really nice to breathe some fresh air than to be stuck in the library all day.

Just as you were stuck in your thoughts, you felt someone bump into you, pulling you out of your dazed state. Embarrassed, you were about to apologize when your words stuck in your throat the moment you looked up and realized the person in front of you was Cyno.

He kept his usual poker face and paid no attention to your mistake. Instead he strictly reminded you not to break any rules, saying "If you do anything that goes against the rules of the Akademiya, I'll personally judge you myself." You stayed still for a moment until you looked down and barely mumbled "...Of course." Satisfied by your answer, he walked off and went on to continue his business.

The tone and the way he said it, it came off as a threat. Insecurity flooded your mind once again, 'Oh, so he hates me. I knew it. I shouldn't have been such a hopeful idiot thinking that our friendship could last.'

—

The second you got back to your room, you immediately flopped down on your bed. As you thought about your encounter with Cyno, memories from months ago came back.

Oh how you missed exchanging the sneaky glances, sharing pens and pencils, and even that one time you accidentally mixed up your hats.

To be honest, that would be the happiest moments you had in the Akademiya.

You missed when he would give you his undivided attention everytime you call him. You missed the way he smiled silly at the sight of his hat slipping off your head. You missed when he directed his endearing gaze and smile at you. You missed when he—

Oh, so that's how it is.

The realization made you freeze for a moment, before breaking down and shoving your head into your pillow.

You were smitten and deep in infatuation, but it was already too late. He was no longer in your reach.

—

barging into your asks with another brainrot, except this time it's a scenario i made from the pov of reader after the whole temple of silence ordeal happened, a manifestation of my shower thoughts

honestly speaking, this is my first ever piece of writing so sorry for the weird pacing and wording (it's also not even proofread) i could try and fix it, buuut im all out of brain juice lmao

-cyno lovebot anon

(sequel to What The Heart Offers)

HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT *shakes you* First time and you're already a professional!! That was so good and entertaining and just such a good continuation, lovebot anon! Even the tiny callbacks to the original story made me giggle

Thank you so much for this! Ah my love for that series just came back tenfold ahhh this is the highest form of compliment I could ever achieve, thank you!

[finneysbaseball]

ayo 🤭 could i possibly request headcanons for either dating vance or being griffin’s best friend? ur acc is awesome btw

IM DOING BOTH OF THESE CUS I CAN<3

dating vance but not rlly dating vance while being griffins bsf/ big sis figure

a/n: fem reader on this one but imagine it however u like <3 i tried to make it gn but theres some slip ups!

(see what i did i mixed them together 🤭)

vance would think u like griffin (u kind of do cus who wouldn't? hes adorable) more then him so he would hate him

although griffin would grow on him

you'd be like his second parents

and i hc that vance is a mommas boy so he would be the mom you'd be the dad

vance would totally baby him.

like vance would be like "i don't like griffin"

then would proceed to he caught playing trains with him.

"he forced me he has little doe eyes i couldn't say no" blah blah blah i dont wanna hear it mr hopper

griffin would probably slip up and call u mom sometimes

vance is still annoyed by him sometimes

probably even made him cry on accident w few times if im being honest

like this kid is sensitive.

and im not evn tryna be mean

u could literally ignore him on accident bcus u didn't hear him and he started crying cus he thought u didn't love him anymore

ok ok I'm getting rlly carried away this isn't even what u asked for pls don't hate me

ok so more into the vance being your boyfriend part.

griffin was the kid you babysat ever since he was a 5, since his parents were always on work trips (hc ofc)

u met vance at the grab and go when u bumped into his pinball machine, he cussed you out but didn't beat your ass or anything since he was just practicing (or so that was his excuse) and everyone was like "damn how did she not get her ass whooped😧"

vance then saw u at school and asked in the most calm way he could (which did not work out because it sounded like he was yelling at you.)

"WILL YOU GO SKATING WITH ME THIS SATURDAY?"

which then to that you said "im so sorry i would but i cant , i have a babysitting job this saturday."

vance then tried to walk away but before he could you started talking again.

"the boys parents aren't strict! you could come with me and we could all watch movies together! he would love you!

and to that he said yes

spoiler alert, griffin did not love vance. another spoiler alert, the feeling was mutual.

as you walked to the door to greet mrs stagg going to a meeting, she stopped and said hi to you and vance, you called her prior to explain that you had to study with him (which was kind of a lie but you heard him and his teacher talking about his grades so you thought, sure why not help him with his grades!

as you said goodbye too mr stagg, griffin walked downstairs running to hug you and as u both pulled away he say vance.

"who are you?" griffin said crossing his arms over his chest

"vance." vance said not liking the tone the 10 year old boy was taking with him.

"why are you in my house."

"because your babysitter is helping me with my grades"

"so what your saying is your an idiot?"

"WHAT?"

"ok ok lets calm down"

"well at least you have y/n shes very smart she helped me get an a"

griffin walked away to go watch gravity falls on tv. (another headcanon lolz)

"he called me dumb."

"vance, hes ten."

"still."

"i assure you you're not dumb, you just need to start paying attention in class."

you and vance started working on science, something vance was stuck on.

when griffin spoke up

"y/nnnn"

"yes griffin?"

"im bored!!"

"well i guess i can take break"

"i need help!" vance said with a pout that was barely noticeable

"well my needs are more important then yours u bush!"

"WHAT DID U JUST CALL ME??"

"vance hes ten!"

"a stupid ten year old."

"vance!"

"thats why u cant do basic science!"

"griffin apologize!" you said with a stern face

"he thinks hes more important than me!".

"you are both important so you both better apologize or im telling your moms!

that seemed to get their attention as they both shook their head no and started apologizing

"vance, im sorry for calling you a bush.

"and im sorry for calling u stupid."

"now hug it out." you said smiling

"what." they both deadpanned

"you heard me, hug it out mamas boys."

they sighed and eventually gave each other a side hug.

as the night ended, you tucked griffin into bed, finished your homework with vance , and greeted mrs stagg as she came back from her meeting, you both said goodbye to the hardworking mom and headed hom.

vance walked you too your door thanked you for the help, and u gave him a kiss on the cheek

you both agreed that you'd go see the new chainsaw massacre movie next friday, and went too sleep with butterflies.

I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS MY BAD! @honeyedpaperback hope you liked it!!!

[beevean]

I really think that I have found the core issue with this whole 'Mimic infiltrates the Diamond Cutters' plot (which, yay! My frustrations are clear to now, I guess XD): it's the fact that the dramatic irony is so forced characters either do not notice or do not comment on things they should, in order to keep the plot train going smoothly. And that makes for teeth-grinding reading where Lanolin can be her bossy self scolding Silver where we know he is objectively going to be in the right yet has to be chewed out by the other characters for a bit first, for drama or whatever. Of course the writers are limited to the amount of pages they have and what-not, but Silver should have noticed Duo kick him. The Diamond Cutters should have noticed Duo's statement that he could not save Silver does not match him defending himself to Silver by saying he was going to get help. Whisper should have spoken up in Silver's defense yet did not. But we as readers realise this... because we already know the whole plot that Duo is Mimic and is going to inevitably betray them and try to kill them all. The comic couldn't have spelled that out more clearly. I don't know, I can't help but feel even stronger now that perhaps these tiny details would have been less noticeable to us if the whole Duo = Mimic plotline was kept a surprise from us too. Wouldn't it have been cool if Duo suddenly moves to kill one of the Diamond Cutters at a moment where they need him most and after a tense battle he gets defeated and slowly morphs back into Mimic? That is probably going to happen now too, but instead of an epic reveal for us where our theories get proven right, it's just going to be eyeroll-worthy when the characters only then piece together the truth and what they've accidentally been enabling. (And no apology for Silver. I can feel it in my bones, lmao.)

You took the words right off my mouth :P

And this is why I hate this kind of plot. Characters are twisted to be either jerks or idiots to keep the "dramatic irony". It's not fun, it will never be fun. I also wish Duo's nature was kept a twist: wouldn't it have kept the readers more engaged, as they theorize on what's actually going on with him? C'mon, I know IDW is a "kid's book", but that doesn't mean the writing has to be dumb.

Another problem is that we don't know Lanolin! So it's not that she was twisted to be a jerk, she is a jerk. This is her characterization now. If, say, Amy was in her place, and she called out Silver (hopefully without sounding like his mom), it would be an OOC moment - bad writing, no less frustrating, but that wouldn't make her a bad character, because we know she's usually better than this.

Lanolin just waltzing in and acting like she owns the place is a problem for many reasons: because she doesn't have the authority nor the experience to speak like this, because it's demeaning towards a canon character who by all means deserves more respect, because no one calls her out (to the point that Whisper had to reveal in private that she knew Silver was in the right), and because now she will forever be remembered as the no-fun-allowed strict bossy mommy. Who apparently hates Tangle too. Yeah that scene with the paddle was just as mean as Sonic mocking Silver in #8. What the hell are Flynn and Stanley doing with this character.

[abeinginsand]

Taylor rainy day hcs

Taylor loves being in the rain, but I imagine his mom would ask him to take an umbrella, at least sometimes? Or Cass may sneak it into his go-bag other times, so he doesn't forget it.

Most often the umbrella is not used properly.

He's used it as a stealth item to hide from and avoid classmates and teachers that he doesn't like around town. Its a go to way to avoid awkward or annoying conversations. Taylor also enjoys striking poses with it on occasion, works great as a second sword of sorts. He can try super cool dual wielding poses or use the sturdy umbrella as a makeshift cane on the rare occasions he forgets his own at home.

When the rain gets extremely heavy and/or his legs are feeling extra achy that day. Taylor will sit down some place and rest the umbrella against something so he can sit under it. Probably play on his phone for awhile while listening to the rain drops. Probably gets an Uber back home when the rain stops! It depend on how long the rain lasts or how hard he zoned into his mobile games.

Or on the rare occurrence he isn't alone, he'll offer the umbrella to the other classmate (if they don't have one). Its mostly only happened during field trips or at the end of a school day. After the offer, they'll go their separate ways. Sometimes the person will return the umbrella while occasionally it'll need to be replaced. He's got money though and he wasn't really using it much anyway so that part doesn't phase him. To add to that, his mom is usually really happy when he says he offered an umbrella to someone, especially someone that happens to be a girl. She's been giving him the signature Swift fam "you've got this" thumbs up a lot more lately. If he's honest, sometimes the idea of romance is...a lot when it's not a strict 2d interaction. He stops offering the umbrella to people for a few months.

Things are different when his new sidekicks come into the picture. Firstly, when it rains, Normal offers him an umbrella at the same time as Taylor was offering it to him. They ended up accidentally hitting each other haha. Though Taylor's hand stung more than Normal's did given he was not wearing a mascot costume. The two get past some awkward apologies and talk about either music or school gossip.

With Scary, she skeptically accepted the umbrella but asked why he didn't use it for himself. No one's asked him before and Taylor passionately rambles about his love for rain and rainy day scenes in stories as they walk through town. Though sometimes Scary does tease that he must not be worried about getting sick from the rain because idiots don't catch colds, right? He takes some psychic damage with an on cue anime sound effect. Teasing aside, Scary is the first to send him a text on an actual sick day--usually a short, "you're alive, right?" type of message which is nice in its own way.

The first time getting caught in the rain with Link doesn't go at all like Taylor was expecting. Link doesn't have an umbrella like Normal did and doesn't ask why like Scary had. Instead, Link arches an eyebrow and looks at the blue with white polka dots umbrella in his friend's outstretched hand for few minutes and then back to Taylor.

He says, "Thanks and okay, we should share it though." Taylor slowly agrees and the two share it while he remains surprised. It was the first time he'd shared an umbrella with someone since his childhood friend moved away. He was so used to walking alone or keeping some distance when with a person that he'd forgotten sharing it was a thing. Link holds the umbrella above them as they leave school. They talk about sports games and anime, joking around and occasionally playfully jabbing each other with fingers or elbows.

When the rain gets harder though, Link bolts forward to find the nearest open shop. This ends up dousing Taylor with water pretty good! He makes some sound that he hopes the natural rain bgm covered up and runs after the athlete. They end up racing each other which was initially frustrating but ends up pretty fun. For some reason, running in the rain alone or with a friend gives this cozy, familiar feeling too just like sitting by a fireplace or campfire does. Maybe it was because he used to play in the rain with his mom a lot as a kid.

Lastly, Taylor walking with Hermie during a rainy day leads to a teaching lesson. They both had umbrellas and, like certain punk seekers of darkness, Hermie asked why Taylor liked the rain so much. Hermie chimes in to Taylor's rambles with his own fav rain-related stuff and mentions a certain musical number. One of the few musicals that Taylor knew that weren't anime related! Anyways, Hermie proudly shows off his performing skill by doing atleast some of Singing in the Rain which Taylor thinks is pretty cool. The two practice some of the steps for awhile until the rain stops.

[batbobsession]

What if chapeau taught Adam to play violin?

OMG I actually had a headcanon that Adam was just bad at playing the violin, explored a little in this fic. This'll be really cute.

-------------------------------------------

Shifting

"Non--non, your highness, please, you hold it with your chin."

"I can't." Adam struggles to keep his frustration at bay. "I can hold it with my hands just fine."

"Oui, that is how we teach children," the tutor sighs. "They have no strength to hold something with anything but their hands. You, however, are no mere child--you have the strength to prove it."

But what difference does it make? he thinks mutinously. I held it that way during my last performance, and no one could tell the difference! It hurts when I try anyway.

Out loud, he only asks "But why is that important? I still don't understand."

The tutor's nearing his limit, Adam can tell. But he only shakes his head, the curls on his wig sagging over his forehead. "If you were to shift positions, or something shakes your concentration--"

Now Adam wants to throw the thing at the tutor's face. What sort of game is he playing, throwing out vague answers like that? Shifting positions sounds like something an idiot would do--who'd adjust his stance in the middle of a performance? Not Adam, he wouldn't. Unless something did shake his concentration, he supposes, but that wouldn't be his fault, it would be some ignoramus in the audience--

"Deep breaths, my dear, deep breaths."

His mother's voice drifts across Adam's mind like smoke, extinguishing his initial vitriol. It was true that he got riled up over certain things, especially things he didn't understand. They scared him.

But he never wanted to learn the violin! He can play fortepiano just fine, but his father insisted that an extra instrument would show how intelligent Adam was. He sent Cogsworth off to discuss it with his mother, and she eventually agreed. It still isn't fair; he is much more comfortable with the fortepiano. It's so much easier to see where the notes will spring. He overheard other nobles talking at a ball once about a marvel in Italy: a man who can place his hands on a harpsichord and play something off the top of his head. That's something Adam can understand--no way is he skilled enough, but it's easier to draw music from both hands in unison. And here, Adam wants his hands to do the same thing still. But that isn't how it works.

Deep breaths.

Just this lesson. He mustn't make a fuss, he must get through this lesson. His mother is waiting in the next room, and his father would hear of it sooner rather than later if he complained.

Not that Adam minds, but his father is not one for testing. Though it has been a while, Adam could recall his father's deep voice around him, something so strict that it leeched color from the sun.

Deep breaths.

It works, and Adam nods solemnly at his tutor, who looks less than the sum of his parts at this point. But he gestures again, and the prince raises his violin to his shoulder, resting his chin against the edge.

I won't hold it there, he rebels silently. Shifting my feet. Of all the stupid excuses.

The time slows to a crawl, with the tutor correcting Adam every other row: your fingers are too sticky, your vibrato isn't clean enough, the chin, my prince, hold it fast--

Then the clock strikes four, Adam's shoulders sag in relief, and the tutor is barely able to assign work to practice before he heads for the door, footsteps echoing across the stone.

No faith in me, Adam sulks. That much is obvious.

The door swings closed, but not before Adam hears the tutor's sharp "Non merci!" and a clatter of china.

What was that?

The young prince approaches the door to see one of the footmen at the door, clad in black, holding a tea set that is definitely the source of the clatter. Some sugar had spilled, but everything else looked intact. The tutor bumped into him, it seemed, and did not apologize.

Rude, his mother would say. She'd seek to make things right.

"I would like some tea," Adam says shortly. "Thank you for offering."

The footman nods and hands Adam a cup on a saucer, which he takes with a nod in return.

"I'm sorry he did that. I'm kind of hopeless at this." The words slip out before he can reel them in. His father never liked him admitting weakness, even in front of their staff.

But the footman only offers him what sugar is left in the bowl, and Adam accepts a heaping spoonful.

"Thank you," Adam murmurs, and the footman merely smiles, bows, and turns to leave.

But it's in those few seconds that the prince realizes he's seen this particular servant before. Black waistcoat, usually seen attending to Cogsworth, or sending messages to Mrs. Potts. Helping Lumiere with dinner service if they were short-handed, providing fresh sheets to the maids. Never spoke. Chapeau--that was his name. Adam didn't see him as much as the others--newer, most likely.

He's quick, too; gone in seconds. Adam sips his tea and heads towards the dining room.

 ◦🝰◦🝰◦🝰◦

A violin wakes Adam that night.

He blinks away the dream of a midnight ball, surprised when the music doesn't fade with the images. Moonlight streams through his open window, and his empty room shines with it, silver and gold designs gleaming white with the moon's eerie, ethereal light.

But the violin doesn't stop. It's a slow, melancholy tune that climbs and descends like a stream over stones. Adam almost wonders if he's woken to glimpse a faerie dance of sorts, so taken is he by the magic of the moonlight. Slowly, he rises from his bed to fetch his robe and slippers.

Chapeau stands, illuminated by a window in the hallway, and Adam nearly mistakes him for a ghost; he blends in so with the blues and greys of the night-lit castle.

Under his chin is the source of the music: a rich, brown-colored violin several sizes larger than his own, and a bow that moves along the strings with such care that Adam barely notices when he pulls it up and down.

Adam opens his mouth to say a number of things, from "why are you here" to "you scared me half to death" but whatever it is dies the moment Chapeau meets eyes with him. Instead, the footman dips his head and turns to walk away. Adam follows.

Chapeau leads him through various hallways, portraits shadowed and faceless in the night, and when the castle opens up, the violin fills the space. Several times Adam wants to ask where they're going, but he can't move his mouth; so transfixed is he.

As a prince, he was never instructed to watch after his staff--in fact, it was the other way around--but Adam watches as a moth does to flame. Chapeau's fingers climb up and down the neck of the instrument effortlessly, and there are moments when his hand shakes without troubling the instrument at all.

The violin doesn't shake, but the note does. How is that possible?

Chapeau plays one final note before gently lifting his bow from the string, and though the sound fades away to nothing, Adam can swear he still hears it ringing.

And it's as if a spell has been broken; Adam blinks and takes a few breaths before realizing they've traveled to the music room.

"H...how did you...?" There is nothing to interrupt, but Adam can still only manage a breathy whisper.

Chapeau says nothing, only waits for Adam to finish, letting both hands fall to his sides.

"The way you...the way you climbed up the strings like that," he stutters. "What is that?"

The footman smiles. "Shifting."

Something inside Adam deflates; his shoulders slump as he lets out the breath he doesn't realize he was holding. "Oh..."

Following that comes the overwhelming urge to bury his head in his hands, but Chapeau's gesturing to the prince's own little case with his bow. Adam's eyes widen.

"No--no, I can't, I--"

But something in Chapeau's stance makes Adam unclasp the case anyway, and it takes him a few moments to figure out what it is: the violin hasn't fallen from his shoulder.

"How are you doing that?"

The footman laughs and removes the instrument, before putting it back. Adam notices it this time: with a slight head tilt, Chapeau's using his jaw to hold the violin there. Adam hastens to mimic him, bringing his own violin to his shoulder.

Oh, thank God, it's much more comfortable. Adam still has to tense his shoulder a little, but once he hesitantly lets his hand fall, the violin stays where it is.

Chapeau moves to him, taking his hand and placing it on the violin's neck. He guides the prince's hands forward, and then back, and Adam practices the action a few times before he nods.

Bow in hand, Chapeau plays a quick scale, shifting to complete it on only two strings instead of three. Adam tries to mimic him.

They converse like that for a while, letting the music breathe, until Adam realizes he's gotten the hang of shifting. Then Chapeau adds that shaking into each note--"Vibrato," he defines it--and encourages him to use his forearm, not just his wrist. This clicks immediately, and they can both tell.

They incorporate it into the scales, and when Adam struggles with the bow movements, Chapeau sits him in front of his fortepiano and encourages him to play with his left hand only. Soon after, the prince can mime the bow movements by himself.

Back to the violin, and it works. Adam moves the bow in time with his fingers, following the sheet music, and the piece that the tutor bade he practice starts to sound like something.

Adam's just working around the chords near the end before Chapeau pulls out a pocket-watch to check the time, and from his expression, Adam knows he's been awake too long. Chapeau ushers him to put his violin away, and Adam obliges, but...

"But could you play the piece for me?" he asks. "Just so I know how it's supposed to sound."

Chapeau looks the sheet music over once before adjusting the stand to fit his height.

Though the sheet music says to start loud, Chapeau plays the first few notes in a hushed quiet, building slowly to the appropriate dynamic with light, flighty bow movements.

Adam closes his eyes this time, trying to remember different finger placements for the chords, the one time he'd shift placements, the switch in key. But it's hard, so hard not to drift back to that strange, ethereal world, only accessible though a violin in the small hours after midnight.

He must notice, because the music slows into silence against the written instructions, and he guides Adam back to his bedroom, tucks him in, and disappears. The moon's moved past the windows now, nestling behind wisps of leftover cloud. Nothing else in the sky.

The spell's broken now, Adam thinks. His final conscious thought before dawn.

-------------------------------------------

Tagging people who I think might appreciate this (it's also been a while and I don't know if any of you guys are still active but still):

@lumiereswig @im-too-obssesed @forr-everrmorre @naturepointstheway @tinydooms @ginnyweatherby @sweetfayetanner @fadedelegance @trenzaloures @prince-adams-japris @morgaine2005 @greensearcher @emeraldcitynative

[yxstxrdrxxm]

POLL RESULT—! > Ask to model for him. Maybe this will help?

".. Um, maybe I can model for you, if you're struggling?"

...

Silence.

It's deafening. Absolutely deafening. If anything, it was something that YESTERDAY loathes, as it feels like there's nothing left in them than to slink off to the recesses of their mind because of the silence.

They hated it. They hated having to say those words when it's clear he didn't want to hear them.

What are you, an idiot? You should've known better.

[ WILT ↑ 3+ ! ]

While the florist was internally panicking in their mind, they didn't notice ALBEDO watch them. It was eerie with how quiet he is, which only amplifies the sounds they hear from around them.

God, please say something...

"Model... Hm, I suppose that saves me from asking you, then," the artist mused with a nod. "Yes, I'd like that. It would also save me the trouble of even inviting you to the studio without a reason."

... Wait, what?

[ AFFECTION ↑ 5+ ! ]

His lips quirked up to a rather smug smile, though it faded when he noticed that they looked rather tense.

"Ah, my apologies. Please don't misunderstand what I said," he stated, a sigh leaving him. "I've been thinking of inviting you for a while, but I found it difficult to ask you without sounding... Off, so to speak. So to hear that you wish to model for me is quite convenient."

Pulling away, he grabbed something in his pockets and gently placed down a card, nodding at the florist.

"If you wish to speak more to me on the matters of modeling, that card has my contact number. You may also ask ALICE to see me if you feel the need to do so."

[ CONTACT AVAILABLE → ALBEDO! ]

"In the meantime, I need to go. I still have a few more things to take care of, after all," he concluded. YESTERDAY sighed in relief and simply nodded, bidding ALBEDO farewell as he left.

...

How strange. It feels almost like he was... Expecting for that to happen, like he knew that, in some way, they'd suggest to model for him. Maybe he knew something they didn't? Or is it something else?

[ OBSESSION ↑ 5+ ! ]

Still, they let out a sigh. Oh well, maybe it was something they can think about later— it wasn't like they can take back what they just said now, considering how he agreed to it.

Grabbing the card, they grabbed their phone and placed his number in their contacts. They did feel a bit odd when they added his number, but they shrugged the dread they felt off. It wasn't like nothing bad will happen while they have him on his contacts, right?

... Right?

DAY ???

"There you are. I've been waiting for you."

That was the first thing that greets your ears as you see a man sitting across you. He looked the same as the one you've been keeping an eye on, but the difference is that mask that seem to have it's mouth turned down, akin to a frown.

How strange. Have you met him before?

"You took quite a while, getting through those choices," he comments, tapping his finger on the book he was reading. 'Flawed', it says on the cover. Though, he closed it shut before you even got a look in the pages.

"Though, I can't blame you if it took you a while. They made sure that I can't come in while they were present."

You simply looked... Confused at those words. They?

"The Observer. The Narrator. The Forgotten Author."

He puts the book away, standing up to approach your sitting form. You noticed far too late that there were shackles keeping you in place, your body heavy like lead. He tsks under his mask, raising his gloved hand to raise your chin up so you'd face him.

You don't know this man, but he was setting off far too many alarm bells to ignore his presence.

"Do you know what's going on? I assume you don't, judging by how strict the protocol of this place is."

... What's going on? You thought that you were participating in an event. A game.

"Ah. It seems you don't know. How unfortunate."

He lets go of your chin with a sigh, walking back to his chair.

"I'd love to inform you what's going on, but we don't have much time left. This place is already collapsing at the seams, and we only have a week left before we close the curtains."

He turned his head back to you as your vision darkens, but you swore he looked like he was pitying you.

"Just try not to mess up this time. Don't let them die."

And soon, your vision goes black.

DAY 11

Today was a normal day.

YESTERDAY was done with their chores and orders, they have managed to retrieve the lost letters, and they were satisfied with the flow of their business. Sure, there were days where it was slow, but it wasn't like it'd stop them.

And in one such day, they were heading down to the district and noticed a few people talking amongst themselves, seemingly about the bar that was booming with business.

Huh. Odd.

YESTERDAY peered over to see what the fuss was about, and noticed a familiar sight.

The red head owner was outside, speaking with a few of the customers. He seems to be deep in conversation with them, judging by how he was nodding and opening the door to let them in.

He turned his back to them as he went inside, and they could already see people in the bar, enjoying themselves with drinks and food.

... And the flowers they got from him was there, too.

It was a pleasant sight, though they weren't sure if they should enter. After all, they didn't knew if he still remembered them, since he didn't came back to the shop after getting his order.

...

Should they even bother? It was obviously full, so maybe...

This poll will receive answers until 6 PM (GMT+8). Keep in mind that the majority will win, so vote what you think is right.

Additionally, any poll after this with additional votes WILL be null when the results are out. Choose wisely, focus on the recent poll, and ignore the past.

FLAWED TAGLIST: (send an ask to be added for Flawed!) @beloved-blaiddyd ; @mixed-kester ; @mochinon-yah ; @fffiii ; @leftdestiny-posts ; @ambrosia-divine

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

[boop-le-snoot]

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

[3desiderium3]

For your love

chapter five - On my own

[ series masterlist ]

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings : reader x damiano david

story summary : damiano and reader are in very loving relationship that sometimes almost too quickly becomes too toxic for anyone likings

chapter warning (s) : this is sad i made myself sad

" It was a pretty rough night not gonna lie .. She barely managed to fall asleep around 8 am . I woke up a few times to check upon her cause she had her nose clogged from all that crying . "

Victoria said over phone to Thomas .

It was around one in the noon . She was frying some eggs and vegetables for her and Y/N to eat .

" How did it went over there ? " "Jesus I wish I knew honestly . "

Thomas admitted sighing .

" When he came here last night he was crying . Like really hard . It took him 30 minutes to calm down and tell me what he did .. " " And ? " " I tried punching him in the face but I ended up hurting my hand more . " Vic chuckled upon the thought of Thomas hitting someone , especially Damiano .

" And I don't know he just continued to cry and smoke cigs . I swear to Jesus he smoked like whole 3 packs in one night . I am not sure when he fell asleep or if he did . But there was not much talking here trust me . "

Both of them went silent . Not being able to choose one side . Both Y/N and Damiano where their long known friends and dear people in general .

" Y/N is more than my best friend . She is my family . I would do anything that I can to keep her safe , just like with you . That's why I am feeling so guilty upon meeting her with Damiano. "

" Hon' it was not your fault remember ? " The other line was silent .

" Have you ever wondered how it would look like if they didn't end up together ? "

" Yeah .. I mean maybe .. You know I did often when I found myself in between their arguments . "

" Pft please , they where soft near you comparing to their usual . "

Thomas lighted up his cigarette , the sound of him taking a drag was pretty clear .

" I almost left the band cause of them remember ? At that period Damiano and I had lots of small fights and arguments . "

Vic turned off the stove placing the food in plates skillfully.

" Hold up I need to give Y/N breakfast . " " Aight I'm waitin' . "

" Babes are you awake ? " The blond girl called out for her friend . Y/N was laying on her side of the bed , all the sheets and pillows where thrown in the corner of the room . She didn't wanted anything that smelled like Damiano near her . Instead she slept on bare mattress , Victoria's traveling pillow and she covered herself with the blanket from living room .

" I am not hungry yet , can you just please leave the plate here ? "

" Sure I'll be downstairs . Just call . "

No respond , she just closed the door behind her after glancing at Y/N last time .

Vic was cleaning the stinky apartment whole morning , it was not bothering her in fact . She knew Y/N would do the same for her .

" Tom you there ? " She cooed once her phone was in her grasp again . " Yeah yeah I was talking to Damiano . " " Is he alright ? " " I am not sure really . I think not obviously , but now after this I am not expecting anything normal from him ever again . " " Oh come on it was a - " " If you just dare to finish the sentence I will kill you . How can that be an accident ?? Rape is not an accident ! He was fully aware Victoria !! " " Pshh be quite you idiot ! " She tried hushing her friend after turning around herself paranoid like someone overheard their conversation .

" He is showering now don't worry . We should not be taking sides on this one but Vic .. He is not good for her ... Neither is she for him .. This is lasting for 3 years .. Remember ? "

" Don't fucking remind me . "

Silence . Both of them trying to understand the policy of their friends relationship .

" He threatened to kill himself so many times if she leaves him .. "

" She was so heartbroken each time that she was the one actually considering suicide . "

" I remember one time they had some huge fight as always and she came to my house in like 3 am crying and talking some nonsenses . "

" They never had a filter , especially around us , sometimes it gets just too tiring ya know ? "

" They made me and Ethan cry so many times Jesus Vic you have the biggest nerve here . " Her friend admitted with chuckle.

" Should we like ... talk to them each day and convince them to break up ? "

Deadly silence .

One was sure . Y/N and Damiano shouldn't ever be together again .

" Are we bad friends for doing this ? " " Pft please , we are doing service to everyone . "

" I am so confused and so worried for Y/N , I will talk to Damiano later and then call you to see if something improved and to update you . How is Y/N feeling now ? "

" Not so good bro , I think she is considering that breakup as well . Everything is still so confusing and not in order . "

" Alright Vic , gonna call later , bye love you . "

" Love you too bye . "

* meanwhile in Thomas house *

Thomas hanged up his half hour long conversation with Victoria . He rubbed his eyes hardly throwing the cellphone on the kitchen table where he was standing smoking .

To be honest he was also crying with Damiano last night . He couldn't imagine the amount of pain Y/N was suffering . His still pulsing bruised hand started to feel a bit better . He regretted only hitting Damiano , but they all knew he was the weakest out of all boys in the group .

Damiano was laying in his bed dressed in his chlotes fresh out of shower.

Crying again .

It was slowly starting to make Thomas mad .

' Why didn't he cry last night when he abused her? '

" Oi , whats the matter now ? Why are you crying again ? Cause you are an asshole or complete idiot ? " " Thomas shut the fuck up . I am not capable of having that conversation . " Damiano's voice was raspy and cracked .

" Well we are gonna have this conversation , in fact right now . Where where your tears last night when you raped her ? " " It wasn't ra -" " It was ! You fucked her without her consent ! What the fuck where you thinking ! "

" I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING ! "

He stood up from the bed crying his bottom lip shaking .

" I DON'T FUCKING KNOW ! I WAS MAD AT HER ! MICHAEL WAS THERE ! I HAD THE WORST SCENARIOS RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD I GOT SCARED ! "

Thomas was in slight shock . Was Damiano really that dumb ?

" Are you serious ? I can't actually believe how selfish and egoistic you are . You raped my best friend because you got mad at her that her ex was there ? "

This was actually the first time in 3 years someones words affected Damiano about his behavior towards Y/N . He sat back on the bed holding his head in his hands .

" I took you in cause I care about you . You are my friend . But I will never forgive you this . You can stay here as much as you want but don't expect any special treatment from me . "

" Should I call her ? I must apologize . "

Thomas snorted .

" No . You must not apologize , you must beg her on your knees to forgive you . You must beg her to even look at you . I know I wouldn't if I was her . No matter what you do she will love you forever and that is the problem . "

Damiano was highly affected by his friends words. In his mind he was only picturing whimpering Y/N whose head he was holding down with his hand , her tears where soaked up on that backseat .

'I will rather die than look her in the eyes again.'

* meanwhile in Y/N's house *

" Are you sure I am not bothering ? I can always ask Thomas to stay with him ? " Y/N asked Victoria while both of them where packing some of Y/N's stuff in the suitcase .

" Yeah absolutely , we are going to spend some quality time healing and having fun . "

Y/N made her final decision , she was going to break up with Damiano this time for real .

She didn't have that much of her stuff , all the clothes , jewelry , letters , poems and all the other gifts she received from Damiano she placed in on huge box and left it on the center of their bed .

" Can I tell Thomas you are staying with me ? "

"Yes but alarm him not to tell Damiano .. I do not wanna hear a word from him . "

Vic simply nodded and in a less than an hour they where all packed leaving the past behind .

* three weeks later *

Things where only worse for our lovers .

Damiano heard no word from Y/N and neither did she from him .

She was expecting it to be honest .

Everyday was same as the other . Too long , too cold and filled with cigarette smoke .

All Y/N did was sometimes leave her room when she didn't wanted to offend Vic after putting effort into preparing the meal , she would listen to whatever record Victoria had , smoke all the cigarettes till she vomited , drink vodka away from her roommates sight and cry herself everyday regretting her whole relationship .

' He never fucking loved me .. I cheated on Michael with him just so he could fuck me over .. He never loved me .. He was just obsessed and he wanted me in his possession '

The fact Damiano didn't try reaching her was painful , it was providing sharp stings in her chest and it gave her headaches .

She saw him in every song , he was always on her mind . She wished she could delete all the memories and feelings just like she deleted the pictures . . .

Damiano was not much different than her .

He was also crying a lot , smoking a lot , not drinking but overthinking . He didn't knew Y/N moved out .. No one understood why it took him 3 weeks to try and reach her .

He didn't understood either .

He was trying to come up with the perfect apologize . He wanted to show her he was willing to do better . Willing to change . To prove her he was ready to change . He was sure that Y/N wouldn't return his calls . She understood her . He expected her to be mad and stubborn she had every reason to be .

Thomas was barely speaking to him . Only some formalities . Måneskin was put on hold their rehearsals , Vic and Thomas being very strict in their communication with Damiano while Ethan was very confused and unsure of what is going on .

Damianos mom and Y/N's parents also weren't included in the situation .

The day he planned on returning home , so sure that he would be greeted by her embrace , came .

He shaved his face for the first time in 3 weeks , he changed his underwear for the first time in 3 weeks , he wore simple suit and he drove all the way into the depths of the town to buy the most glorious flowers that his Y/N loved .

He wasn't planning on just winning her over with some flowers and gifts , or the dialog he practiced in his head and in front of his mirror .

Upon reaching the yard of their house he frowned . There was something different . Something wrong . .

He was walking slowly , looking all around himself , gripping the bouquet of flowers in his sweaty palm .

He stood in front of the door .

It was wrong . Something was wrong .

His mind scream . He hoped he was very paranoid once again .

His hand rose up to ring the door bell . He was nervous and afraid .

You are being worried for no reason .

He kept reasurinf himself.

So he rang .

Once

Twice

Four times . Four long times .

No one opened .

Was she home ? After all he came unannounced . Maybe she is sleeping ?

" Y/N! Y/N it's me ! Please open the door ! "

He was starting to sweat .

He searched with his shaking hands through his pocket to find the house keys . He unlocked the door . The house was empty and cold .

It was not smelling like her . Cause there was no one , she wasn't home . Not for an hour , not for the day , not here in a while .

He kept calling for her . " Y/N ! " He dropped the keys and flowers on the kitchen table .

He started roaming the house in panic . Even trying to sense some sort of smell . He was afraid she killed herself so his nose searched for the rotting corpse smell.

Every bad scenarios possible went through his head .

He ran towards their room . Empty .

Even their pets weren't there . She was gone .

Y/N left him . For real this time . For good .

He started to breath heavily . Tears forming in his eyes . The big box on their bed .

Inside of it all his gifts to her . All his clothes she loved wearing . He took one hoodie she often every time she was cleaning . He placed it under his nose . It still held her scent . Her ghost was there , in the shape of the memories one cardboard box held .

He was crying , repeating her name , calling it out . Kissing her dresses and watering them with tears .

He was on his own . There was no one he wanted more than her . He realized what he had once he lost it . He was alone for the first time .

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