#and it's literally a stack of those plates

[vickypersch]

Y'all can't tell me Dally didn't craft this with his own hands

[idontmindifuforgetme]

every time i walk into my local library i make sure to look at the receptionists with big wet eyes before heading to my corner to study bc i really want them to hire me as a part-time aide

[spiderwarden]

Minthara vc: also where is my cheeseburger.

[specshroom]

*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic, I mean.... Magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Alright! Alright."

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight little-"

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best mates.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please."

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

You reach down to gently hold his massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling this human pussy up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

[hrrtshape]

　　the great hall dining guide : five stars or food poisoning? 　　　　��　　　　　　　　　　　back to the masterlist　

no hunger in hogwarts. the great hall is an empire of excess, a temple to the art of never saying no to seconds (or sevenths). the long house tables are stacked with plates that fill and refill as if controlled by some benevolent, slightly overbearing god-parent who cannot fathom the concept of "i'm full."

hi, i'm emma, i shifted to my marauders dr, i'm here to yap.

　❛❛ when to show up ?

breakfast :  starts at 7:00 am, but nobody with a sense of self-preservation gets there at the crack of dawn unless they have quidditch practice or are a first-year who still thinks hogwarts runs on a logical schedule. prime time is 7:30–8:30 am, when the food is still hot and everyone is too groggy to engage in unnecessary morning conversations. if you come after 9:00 am, expect half-warm toast and a few sad sausages.

lunch :  served from 12:30 pm to 1:30 pm. 12:30 is the best time if you want first dibs on everything, but the best people-watching happens closer to 1:00 pm when people start arguing over last-minute essay deadlines. if you're running late and slide in at 1:25 pm, good luck – you're getting whatever's left.

dinner :  6:00 pm sharp, ends at 8:00 pm. 7:00 pm is the sweet spot – not too early that you look overeager, not too late that you get the rejected drumsticks and a dubious slice of treacle tart. sitting down at 7:45 pm means you're scavenging for whatever scraps are left like a victorian orphan.

　❛❛ where to sit ?

slytherin table :  best for hushed scheming, power lunches, and exchanging contraband under the table. do not sit here if you can't handle judgmental side-eyes while buttering your bread.

ravenclaw table :  ideal for finishing homework mid-meal. also where people pretend they're above caring about gossip while actively eavesdropping on every conversation. the back half of the table is safer if you don't want to hear someone dissecting 17th-century wandlore at 8 am.

gryffindor table :  loud. expect at least one person standing on the bench telling a story that is objectively not that funny. best if you enjoy chaotic meal settings or want to be involved in something ridiculous before you've even finished your juice.

hufflepuff table :  safest bet for a peaceful meal, but you will 100% be roped into sharing your food. the friendliest seating arrangement, but also the most likely to involve a group discussion about everyone's day when you just wanted to eat in silence.

professor's table :  do not sit here unless you have a death wish.

　❛❛ what to eat (and avoid) .

best breakfast items :  the porridge is solid (literally, if you come too late), but the best move is the warm croissants with honey. also, the lemon & apple pasties are basically a cheat code if you want to smuggle food out for later.

lunch must-haves :  steak and kidney pie is better than you'd expect. if there's a soup option, proceed with caution, half the time it's delicious, half the time it's some medieval potion that smells like a transfiguration accident.

dinner essentials :  roast anything is good, but the yorkshire puddings are a religious experience. also, the treacle tart is worth elbowing someone for.

what to avoid :  the questionable fish dishes. boiled meant. you don't know where that's coming from, and you don't want to. also, anything neon-colored. if it looks like it belongs in a potions class, it probably does.

　❛❛ general survival tips .

don't drink the pumpkin juice if you're not in the mood for it. it's literally everywhere, and by week three, you will hate it.

bring your own condiments if you care about flavour. hogwarts food is good, but nobody in this castle has heard of seasoning unless it's one of those other-culture-nights.

do not, under any circumstances, take the last dinner roll unless you want to start an inter-house war.

sitting too close to the staff table means your meal comes with a free ethics lecture from mcgonagall. proceed with caution.

　　q & a .

　❛❛ what is breakfast like .

if you've never had breakfast in the great hall, you've never truly lived. that's not hyperbole, that's just the facts.

and the thing is,,,,,, it wasn't just about the food. it was about the ritual. it was about getting there early, half-asleep and draped over the table, while the house elves sent up silver platters of steaming porridge and eggs and enough bacon to make even the most dedicated vegetarian question their life choices. it was about the lazy hum of morning gossip, about james and sirius trying to one-up each other with increasingly absurd breakfast combinations (once, i watched sirius put marmalade on a sausage. we don't talk about it).

breakfast started early, before the sun had fully stretched its arms, and ended when the professors decided we were done loitering. if you weren't there by the time mcgonagall sat down, you were basically on borrowed time.

　❛❛ what is lunch like .

lunch at hogwarts was less of a meal and more of a tactical battle. the great hall would be an absolute warzone of students rushing in from classes, half of them looking like they'd barely survived whatever horrors had just unfolded in transfiguration. 

the food appeared at exactly midday, no earlier, no later. if you showed up late, you were fighting for scraps, and by scraps, i mean you'd be left with 99 choices for meals instead of 100. scarcity, i know.

lunch was also prime time for food theft. you could be having an entirely normal conversation and, in the blink of an eye, your pumpkin pasty would be gone. sirius was the undisputed king of this, the man had the reflexes of a thief in victorian london. i once watched him steal an entire shepherd's pie from remus's plate without breaking eye contact. it was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

　❛❛ what is dinner like .

hogwarts dinners were the closest thing to divinity i've ever known. long wooden tables overflowing with everything you could possibly want: roast chicken, yorkshire pudding, steak, treacle tart so good it made you believe in love again. it was opulence, it was luxury, it was the kind of meal you dream about when you're in some sad, muggle diner trying to convince yourself that soggy chips and watery gravy are 'fine.'

　❛❛ special occasions .

feast days at hogwarts were another level. halloween, christmas, the end-of-year banquet, these were events. these were festivals of indulgence. the house elves pulled out all the stops: whole roast turkeys, mountains of roast potatoes, rivers of rich, golden gravy, cauldron cakes stacked like towers. desserts that defied logic and probably several laws of nature. on halloween, the hall was covered in floating pumpkins and eerie green light, and the food had a vaguely chaotic energy to match (one year, the treacle tarts actually screamed when you bit into them. highly unsettling, but still delicious).

christmas dinner was something else entirely. it was warm and glowing and endless. crackers snapped, jokes were told, and dumbledore drank enough mead to make even him slightly ridiculous. it was the kind of meal you thought about for the rest of your life. it was family, it was home.

　❛❛ what's the deal with house-elves?

the hogwarts kitchen operates with the ruthless efficiency of a five-star hotel run by creatures legally bound to service.

a hundred or so house-elves live below the castle, working in near invisibility, preparing all meals and sending them up through enchanted pathways that deposit dishes straight onto the great hall tables. you cannot see the elves. you do not hear them. but you know they exist, like the wizarding world's most overworked stage crew.

you can also visit them in the kitchens. they're nice, say hi.

　❛❛ can you request food?

hogwarts was a lot of things, but it was not a restaurant. if you wanted something specific, you either made a pilgrimage to the kitchens and begged the house elves (a move so shameful it had to be done in absolute secrecy. or if you like.......really, really, really charmed them) or you suffered in silence. sirius, of course, once tried to get the great hall to serve "a proper fry-up" at dinner, only to be met with silence and what i can only describe as deeply offended energy from the floating candles.

but somehow, it didn't matter. because the food was already perfect. and now, i have to live knowing that no meal will ever come close to a great hall dinner. it's fine. i'm fine. i'll just sit here, eating my disappointing, mortal food, and pretend my soup isn't deeply depressing.

　❛❛ what about drinks?

again, pumpkin juice. an obsession, a tyranny, a strange fixation. every meal, every table, a seemingly infinite supply. there is also water, milk (cold, in small glass jugs, looking like something out of a victorian schoolhouse), and for the older students at special occasions, a sweet, non-alcoholic mead that tastes like it wants to be alcoholic but isn't. butterbeer, tragically, is an off-campus luxury.

　❛❛ is there a meal schedule? like certain things on certain days? or do they just pile every type of food on the table?

hogwarts operates on a structured but generous meal plan. weekday breakfasts, always got your staples. porridge, toast, eggs, bacon, sausages, and the occasional wizarding oddity like blood pudding for the particularly cursed among us. but sundays are for extravagant brunch spreads. croissants. kippers. jams that taste like childhood summers. it's as if the house-elves know that sunday means stress, existential whatever, dread, so they soften the blow with flaky pastry.

lunch is always dependable, usually soups and sandwiches or something hearty if you've got a double potions period ahead. dinner, though, is where the patterns emerge. mondays are classic british, shepherd's pie, roast beef, yorkshire pudding. tuesdays are usually a little more continental, pastas, stews. fridays are always a feast, usually something big and festive. then you have the seasonal changes: october brings pumpkin-infused everything, winter means more roasts, few first weeks of summer term leans into fresher, lighter meals. but yes, the mainstay staples are always available. if you want treacle tart on a wednesday, it will be there.

　❛❛ there's wizard candy and drinks, but is there any other food? i’m sure at some point wizards put magic in any food they could think of just to see what would happen.

oh, absolutely. you’re thinking like a true hogwarts student. you know someone, at some point, tried to put magic into a loaf of bread just to see if it would slice itself (it did, but then it also tried to slice other things). beyond the standard chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice, wizarding cuisine includes a fair bit of magically enhanced food. firewhisky actually warms your throat as it goes down. fizzing whizzbees lift you half an inch off the ground. there are soups that change flavour as you eat them, pies that hum lullabies if you’re up late studying. and don’t even get me started on the experimental drinks at the three broomsticks, someone once ordered a 'black hole brew' and forgot what year it was for a full hour. but the cuisine is basically muggle...just hexed.

　❛❛ do the meals cater to dietary restrictions?

100%. vegans, vegetarians, allergy-havers. you're covered. a muggleborn slytherin from third year complained about the lack of plant-based options, and the next morning, an entire section of the breakfast table was dedicated to oat milk, tofu scramble, and wizarding equivalents of nutritional yeast. hogwarts may be stuck in some medieval ways, but food evolves.

　❛❛ what happens if you miss a meal?

if you're lucky, a friend grabs you something before the food vanishes. if you're unlucky, you’re breaking into the kitchens akin to a desperate raccoon. the house-elves don't mind, though, if you're polite, they'll feed you like a long-lost child. if you're rude, they'll 'accidentally' give you a soup that turns your tongue blue for a week.

　❛❛ is there coffee?

yes, but it's wizard coffee, stronger than espresso, borderline narcotic. one cup and you're writing your entire transfiguration essay in ten minutes. two cups and you can see through time.

　❛❛ how do holiday feasts work?

absolute carnage. christmas and halloween feasts are legendary. enchanted decorations, endless courses, puddings that explode into confetti when you cut into them. the easter feast is basically a chocolate overdose. sometimes on valentine's day the desserts start murmuring love poetry. dumbledore's delighted. everyone..... horrified.

　❛❛ is there a limit to how much you can eat?

only in the sense that your body is a fragile, mortal thing. the food itself is infinite. the house-elves could, in theory, keep producing it indefinitely. but, you know, you eat four servings of steak-and-kidney pie and you're just going to be that person in the common room later.

　❛❛ do different houses have different food preferences?

subtly, yes. the great hall offers everything, but certain tables lean into certain dishes. gryffindors love big, hearty, comforting food. ravenclaws lean into the more intricate, delicate meals, think pastries and complex soups. slytherins have an eye for the finer things, often going for the more gourmet options. hufflepuffs love food that feels like a hug: freshly baked bread, warm pies, things that remind you of home.

　❛❛ are there midnight snacks?

not officially, but yes. common rooms have snack stashes. and if you're clever (or just have the marauder's map, wink wink), you can always sneak down to the kitchens. the house-elves will feed you, no questions asked. some students take it a step further and befriend the house-elves outright. those students never go hungry.

　❛❛ how does the food appear? is it just magic or is there a system?

magic, but with logistics. the food is prepared in the kitchens directly beneath the great hall, then it's levitated up and appears on the tables at the precise moment it's ready. no waiting, no serving, just instant gratification. dangerously efficient.

　❛❛ how does hogwarts source its food? is it all local, or do they magically import things?

combination of both. they have magical greenhouses and farms for most fresh ingredients, but certain things, exotic spices, imported sweets, get brought in magically.

　❛❛ are there ever surprise meals? do the house elves ever just decide to switch things up randomly?

sometimes, if there's an occasion or they just feel like it. but the menu is largely set because consistency is part of the magic.

　❛❛ are meals ever used as punishment? do detention students get different food or are they made to help the house elves prepare meals?

not officially, but some professors (like astronomy) have been known to send students to do menial kitchen work as a form of discipline. nothing cruel, just hours of potato peeling.

　❛❛ has there ever been a kitchen-related disaster? a spell gone wrong, a cauldron explosion, a food fight?

yes, frequently !!!! misfired enlarging spells, self-chopping vegetables getting too enthusiastic, enchanted ladles starting fights. house elves keep it under control, but it's not unheard of for a whole batch of treacle tart to suddenly gain sentience and try to unionise.

[tgirlfeeedeee]

In reference to my previous post, heres the gluttony month challenge

This is just a rough draft so recommendations are greatly appreciated!

Month of gluttony

(Feel free to adjust the numbers to make sure the challenge suits you, if the current challenge is too easy, add more, if its too hard eat less, but i do encourage that you only make it easier if you absolutely can’t)

Day 1 add 1000 calories to whatever you eat on a normal day

Day 2 full pizza in one sitting

Day 3 everything you wanna eat, eat double

Day 4 stack a burger as high as you can and add as many fries as can fit on the plate

Day 5 weight gain shake chug

Day 6 4 eggs, 4 pancakes, 4 slices of bacon (or meat alternative)

Day 7 tacobell binge, get AT LEAST 3 items

Day 8 2 liters of soda and a footlong sub

Day 9 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 10 add 2k calories to what you usually eat

Day 11 do a food challenge at a local restaurant or desert place

Day 12 no turning down food for the day, anyone asks you to eat something, you have to (to make this day best, make sure to let people in these communities know youre doing this challenge)

Day 13 eat 2 pints of ice cream in one sitiing

Day 14 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 15 add 3k calories to what you usually eat

Day 16 break day, youve worked so hard and the hardest is yet to come, you get one day to eat normally

Day 17 a full pt of pasta for you

Day 18 eat a full cake/pie

Day 19 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 20 add 4k calories to what you usually eat

Day 21 break day, youve worked so hard and the hardest is yet to come, you get one day to eat normally

Day 22 move as little as possible, lay in bed all day and have your meals brought to you or bring snacks at the beginning of the day

Day 23 go into your local grocery store/gas station with $10 and get the most calories you can out and eat it in one sitting

Day 24 grazing day, no big stuffing just continuous snacking, make sure theres always food by your side

Day 25 add 6k calories to what you usually eat

Day 26 break day, youve worked so hard and the hardest is yet to come, you get one day to eat normally

Day 27 “bulking” a full pot of rice

Day 28 pick 3 fast food restaurants to get a full meal from in one trip

Day 29 a dozen donuts in one sitting

Day 30 10,000 calories in one day

If you’re looking for fun names for this depending on the month you could go with Balloon June, thick thigh july, stuffing september, fatober, and those are all I can think of, I’ll probably try and do it in balloon june or thick thigh july, not sure which 🤔

[frostgears]

the crab-doll

"this doll has read eleven books on crabs now, some of them quite dense, and it has learned what there is to know about crabs, and slipped very cleverly away from its Witch to watch crabs at the aquarium for an afternoon."

the doll prods the crab-doll gently with a broomstick. it bats the broomstick away with a brass-edged claw, equally gently.

"and there is simply no way that you are a crab, except in shape. that should have provoked a defensive response. but you seem to understand that this is not meant to hurt. how much do you understand, it wonders?"

three chimes ring through the manor.

"picnic time already? come along, then."

it tugs at the crab-doll's leash of white silk ribbon.

---

"i see you've brought a friend, Cedar."

the interrogator is a doll just like it, at least on the outside: deep forest green hair, pale porcelain, red smoked glass eyes, a tidy grey wool jacket over a flared dress. on the inside, the doll suspects something is wound far too tight.

"Juniper. this doll acknowledges your presence. now go away."

"you know, when i said you should make friends, i didn't mean it literally! although… that'd probably be the most reliable way for you—"

its sister Juniper's little cruelties are cut short when their Witch strides onto the lawn, cloak billowing gloriously in the light breeze. both dolls rise from their seats on the edge of the gingham blanket and stand at identical wordless attention.

at its side, the crab also rises. out of the corner of its unmoving eye, the doll can just see the crab knocking over Juniper's teacup and… eating it? its porcelain mouthparts move busily.

the doll hopes that this is a long inspection, because at the end of it, it is going to have to deal with Juniper, who will no doubt make a fuss about the ruin of her lunch.

---

later, the doll is carrying a basket of groceries and light oil up to the pantry from the basement garage.

the crab has been tethered in the doll's small room for the moment, as it has trouble negotiating the narrow spiral wrought-iron service staircases in the back of the manor.

it pauses as it passes the laundry, overhearing raised voices:

"—all my summer uniforms, ripped to ribbons. honestly, how careless can you be?"

annoyed and petty: Juniper.

"are you suggesting i don't know how to do laundry?"

a low, unconcerned purr: Lacuna.

Lacuna is one of a handful of dolls which came with the Witch from somewhere else when the house was begun. it moves like a panther and the Witch seems to hold it in some regard.

"well, you tell me how they got like this, then!"

"sure: you're a few cogs short of cogitation and you brought me damaged clothes without noticing. the other summer uniforms are fine—"

the doll continues up the staircase before anyone notices that it was listening. Lacuna does not need any help.

---

once it has unpacked the last of the groceries into neat rows on the pantry shelves, it returns to its room to check on its charge. the crab rests in the middle of the doll's crocheted circular rug.

the white silk ribbon with which the doll had secured it to a water pipe has come loose again, but there are no new claw gouges in the furniture, so the crab doesn't seem to have gotten up to any mischief in its absence.

the doll re-ties the ribbon around the bulk of the porcelain carapace, and then slips an apron over its own head. "time to do the dishes!" it tells the crab cheerfully.

it hums a washing-up song with music-box precision. it likes dishes, always has. stacks of porcelain like its own, painted with little swirls and fanciful scenes, and it gets to clean them up and make them shine, ready for the next meal.

another doll brings over a teetering stack of plates.

"wait," it says, "don't put those there, the sideboard's soapy—"

a saucer falls off the sideboard and shatters on the floor.

the other doll shrieks and begins to cry. many dolls do not do well with the gore of shattered dishes.

"ah," it says, "it happens. all there is to do is to mark its passing, and maybe you can go out to the garden for a bit and look at pretty flowers, until… are you all right?"

"the c– c– crab is—" the other doll points down. on the floor of the scullery, the tethered crab is eating the remnants of the departed saucer.

"definitely go out to the garden for a bit," it says, nudging the other doll towards the right door.

"what's gotten into you?" it asks the crab. "this doll won't need to fetch a broom, so thank you, it supposes, but why the sudden interest in china?"

the crab, as always, says nothing. there is only a brief crunching sound.

---

another day, another picnic. today, it is packing lunch boxes in the kitchen: curried chicken on wheat bread, chilled chartreuse tea in steel vacuum flasks, charged and fizzing with power. the crab has clambered onto the counter and watches the process patiently.

"ah, it's my favorite quiet misshapen porcelain mistake. and also the crab!"

"get out of the kitchen, Juniper. it knows you're not on lunch duty."

she picks up a flask. "Needles is really stretching the definition of tea with this stuff, isn't she?"

"the blend is called Summit Frost, and this doll likes it."

"Cedar, you also spend your days in the company of a horrid crustacean of your own construction, so forgive me if i don't share your tastes— oh, my mistake, it seems to be deserting you. guess you're alone now."

indeed, the crab has departed the counter, and scuttles with surprising speed into the depths of the house.

the doll runs after it. the crab has never done this before. something is wrong.

"okay, fine, i guess i'll fill in for you, since you can't even pack lunchboxes properly," Juniper calls after it. "i cannot believe we were built off the same blueprint!"

---

twenty minutes later, it's on the verge of tears, feeling oil welling up and in danger of staining its dress. it's looked absolutely everywhere and there's no sign of the crab. could it have escaped the house? it shouldn't be outside on its own.

another doll comes up to it.

"Cedar?"

"y– yes?"

"are you still looking?"

"of course it's still looking," it snaps. "it hasn't found its crab yet."

"there's something you need to see, in the cellar."

in the gloom under the house, it is shown porcelain shards. big ones. it holds two together, and sees what might be the curve of carapace.

"this can't be all of it."

"that's all there is in the cellar. it's sorry."

dollish screams echo down the cellar stairs. the timbre and reverberation are deeply familiar to the doll, as if they were its own voice.

---

it reaches the source of the screaming in the kitchen at the same time as several other dolls. mercifully, there is no damaged crab, as it had feared. there is, instead, Juniper, motionless as only a very frightened doll can be.

there is also another doll. the other doll is not familiar to it. it is naked, and short, and some of its massive gears are visible, and from what the doll knows about gear ratios and tooth counts, it is the doll equivalent of impressively muscled.

it is holding a pair of sharp brass scissors on either side of Juniper's neck.

"you will apologize to my Mxtress," it says. "it just walked in, lucky for you."

the strange doll opens its scissors, and closes them again on empty air, and shoves its way through the crowd to kneel at the doll's feet. it presents the scissors to the doll, letting them rest on two open palms, just as the doll would if presenting an item to its Witch.

"Mxtress," it says. "my creator. my apologies for not dealing with this wretch sooner. i was temporarily the wrong shape."

as the doll looks down on the huge pair of scissors and the strange doll holding them, something clicks in its mind.

it says, wonderingly, "it understands now: crabs molt…" □

[klemen-tine]

Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

Part 2

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot. 

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting. 

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs. 

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it. 

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?” 

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and– 

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.” 

“Dami!” 

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing. 

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair. 

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life. 

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about. 

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham. 

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne. 

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads. 

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.” 

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.” 

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book. 

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.” 

“Jay, I swear to God.” 

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.” 

“Little wing–” 

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.” 

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words. 

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs. 

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?” 

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–” 

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!” 

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched  Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present. 

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it. 

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee. 

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. 

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle. 

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’ 

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason. 

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?” 

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass. 

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze. 

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission. 

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home. 

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something. 

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here. 

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine. 

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight. 

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over. 

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child. 

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance. 

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing. 

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away. 

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them. 

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why. 

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here. 

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder. 

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.” 

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up. 

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others. 

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn’t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred. 

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home? 

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence. 

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered. 

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking. 

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea. 

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.” 

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector. 

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?” 

In the L/N Manor 

Y/N walked  the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere. 

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm. 

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it. 

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham. 

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him. 

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window. 

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl. 

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?” 

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face. 

“Did F/N do this?” 

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?” 

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice. 

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!” 

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory. 

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.” 

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.” 

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go. 

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip. 

“Guys, you’re scaring me.” 

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move. 

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing. 

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor. 

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages. 

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” 

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably. 

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–” 

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands. 

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.” 

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.” 

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say. 

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–” 

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile. 

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. 

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong. 

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different. 

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his. 

“I-I should change first–” 

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.” 

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something. 

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted. 

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty. 

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air. 

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about. 

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family. 

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like. 

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick. 

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.” 

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman. 

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers. 

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.” 

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper. 

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say. 

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly. 

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-” 

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance. 

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–” 

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family. 

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly. 

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.” 

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.” 

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.” 

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.” 

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in. 

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.” 

“Language.” 

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company. 

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!”  Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.” 

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper. 

“Just… just please don’t do that again.” 

“It won’t happen again. I promise.” 

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.

[gunwoo-bh]

you like because, you love despite part one [that question] - myg

that question

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

summary »» Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that. Or were they?

cw »» fluff, angst, reader is korean for story’s sake, reader is an overthinking queen, yoongi is quiet and broody, sweetness, besties are best friending

wc »» 8.6k

author's note »» Welcome back everyone to my new series! I am nervous but so excited to begin literally a new chapter of writing. I hope you love these characters as much as you loved the night shift ones. There's definitely gonna be more intensity (smut, angst) in this story for sure. Well, here it begins and I plan on posting a chapter a week (hopefully on the same day) to give me some time between each to carefully write each new one! ENJOY :D

Celebrating a big event in your friend group required a lot of planning. To get everyone in one spot was a herculean task in and of itself. That’s why when you waltz into your best friend’s restaurant about an hour after your shift you are frazzled and out of breath, walking through the kitchen and to the front of house where you stop dead in your tracks with a gasp. 

“Wow!” 

You smile, taking in the slightly different layout changes and decorations that have been put up. Two or three tables are lined up together to make one large one, candles lined up neatly in the middle alongside some congratulatory flowers, kept as far away from the candles of course. Each seat already has plates set up with a small name plate, designating who sat where. 

“This looks amazing!” Unable to hide your excitement over it all, you wander over to it as you look up to your friend. “How long have you been at this?” 

Yoongi shrugs, “Just a little while.” 

Ever nonchalant, Yoongi will never admit just how much he’s touched when people appreciate his thoughtfulness and this here is yet another great example of it. 

“I mean it, they’re going to think it looks amazing!” 

“It’s not much…”

You groan loudly, slipping your coat off and tossing it over one of the unused tables, cocking a hip and crossing your arms over your chest, “Yah. Min Yoongi. Once, just once in your life can you just say ‘thank you, I put a lot of thought into it’…”

He turns to you, smacking his lips together, “Thanks?” 

You inhale sharply, holding that breath in your chest before huffing a laugh and glaring at him, “I have to remind myself that you do this with the sole purpose of annoying me…”

He doesn’t grin, but even the slightest crinkle at the corner of his eyes tells you he’s amused as he nods, “So, how was work?” 

It’s your turn to shrug, lips pursed, “So-so. I had appointments back to back, it felt like I got nothing done and I have a pile of paperwork waiting for me tomorrow when I get back…” you rub at your stiff neck. “How about yours? Was it hard explaining to customers you weren’t open for dinner service?”

“What can they do?” You snort, shaking your head. “I opened for lunch, had a note on all week and closed the doors at 3 p.m. And still, some were surprised.” 

Your eyes follow him for a moment, grabbing spoons and chopsticks from a stack of them on the counter as you begin putting them down at each place setting. 

“I wish I had that gift. Letting people be.” You pout as you round the table.

“What do you mean?” 

You glance up quickly, catching a glimpse of his mousy blonde hair disappearing behind the bar, “Like…I wish I didn’t care about inconveniencing people, especially when I’ve given plenty warning or carefully planned for it, like tonight?” You hear him hum for you to continue. “It’s been weeks in the making, and I planned meticulously not to have a shift tonight. So, when a doctor called in and someone had to extend their shift by a few hours I felt awful because I was asked and said I couldn’t…” 

“A lack of planning on their part doesn’t constitute an emergency on yours.” You snap your head at him, his head barely peeking out from behind the bar. 

“I wish it was that easy for…” you point to your head, grabbing neatly folded napkins and going around the table the same way you did with the utensils.

“You can do it, I’ve seen you. You’re just too nice. You don’t like to make waves.” You scoff, thinking of a retort before jumping when you feel heat at your neck. 

You go to turn but Yoongi walks around you, grabbing the napkins from you as he points for you to sit down. You reach for the warmth at your neck, feeling it between your fingers and recognizing the shape of the heat pack as you smile. 

You pull a chair out, plopping down on it, “I just hate disappointing people…” 

Your answer gets a reaction, Yoongi looking up from across the table at you, “People are gonna use that kindness against you, y’know…”

“I know…” you shrug, resting the pack higher on your neck. “When is everyone arriving?” 

“Around five.” He looks at the clock then back to you. “Can you go fire up the stove and start heating the two pots I have on there? Medium-low heat, please.” 

“Mhm.” 

Standing up, you hold onto the heat pack at your neck and walk past Yoongi, feeling his eyes on you until you disappear in his kitchen. You feel privileged every time you get to step back here, fully aware of how protective Yoongi is of his restaurant but mostly, his kitchen. Once they’re on and head back out, you see him placing three portable BBQs on the table.

“Can you grab me some propane from behind the bar?” 

When he lifts his head to look at you, you’re grinning because you’re already grabbing them, sauntering them back to him as he takes them from you with a sly grin. 

Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that. 

“Has Hoseok told you he’s bringing his girlfriend around?”

You glance up with a smile, “I did! He shot me a text the other day asking if I’d mind. I told him it was silly for him to ask.”

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

A silence hangs for a beat.

“Is Daehyun coming tonight?”

There it is. 

The question you were waiting to hear from him. 

You don’t know why you dread any of his inquiries about any relationship you’ve had. 

Stop lying to yourself. You know exactly why. 

Yoongi is everything a friend should be when you’re in a relationship and going through the ups or downs of it. He’s supportive, a good listener and lets you vent your frustrations without belittling your boyfriend or your relationship. But he’s also brutally honest too, he won’t sugarcoat when you’re being too passive or when you’re obviously unhappy. And he’s unfortunately been right about every single one of your relationships.

Damn him, sometimes. 

“We broke up.”

He doesn’t look up. Instead, he’s still fiddling with the propane tanks but stills for a split second. 

“You okay?”

He looks up then, standing at full height as he watches you. He’s concerned, you can tell. Anyone else might think he was indifferent to the news but his taking a moment to just look at you is how he shows he’s concerned. He waits to hear from you that you are okay. “Yeah,” his head tilts just a little, “it was…mutual.”

He doesn’t believe you one bit and puts his hands on his hips, disapproving of your lie. 

“I mean it, I’m fine. And no, it wasn’t mutual but I’m not heartbroken over it either, which is the biggest hint that I should have ended things before…”

“So, you broke up with him?”

You glare at him, giving him a pointed look and he raises his hands in surrender, giving up on asking any more questions about it. You are both quiet briefly before he asks again.

“You okay, though?” 

Looking up to watch the way he tries to level eye to eye with you makes you relax, nodding gently, “Yeah, I’m okay. I promise.” 

He seems to believe you because he doesn’t push it. 

“How’s your neck?” 

You remove the heat pack when he mentions it, “Better, thank you.” 

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” 

As you get closer to the end of the hour he brings out side dishes which you help him plate carefully while he busies himself in the kitchen making sure everything is in order. He pokes his head out to check on you but you know how he likes things to be, meaning Yoongi doesn’t concern himself with you getting things done. He knows you will. 

A loud knock against the glass startles you, twisting your body around on the stool and seeing some of your friends already present. You laugh at their silliness as they dangle bottles of wine and soju in their hands. 

“Yoongi! They’re here!” 

You run to the door giggling already when you unlock it and are suddenly enveloped in a group hug, giggling when you nearly get trampled. 

“You guys are early!” 

Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin are the firsts to arrive, the three of them still squeezing you as they push inside the restaurant. 

“We wanted to help but it looks like you and Yoongi got that covered!” 

The man in question comes out of the kitchen with an apron around his waist, “Yah! You guys are always early but never early enough to help…I swear, you’re incorrigible.” 

They all cling to you as they look at their friend, Jimin pouting, “We brought booze?”

Yoongi frowns, “I have booze here?!”

You snort, Yoongi glaring at you as you cover your mouth as Jungkook says, “We brought some so you didn’t have to dig into your stuff here…” 

You shuffle back towards your seat, glancing back as the boys have a playful standoff. You mouth a small ‘stop’ to Yoongi when he quickly glances at you and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t make a mess and grab the side dishes, put them on the table…” 

You’re about to protest but he says, “Shhh, you’ve worked enough today.”

When Yoongi gives you that tone you listen, pouting as you move away from side dishes and where your name plate is, right next to Yoongi’s. He walks back to you as he puts the boys to work, heat pack in hand as he places it on your neck again without a word. 

It’s amusing to watch all four of them try to function in this environment. Yoongi is unwilling to release control but the guys constantly try to push boundaries, trying to sneak into the kitchen as he tells them off. Witnessing that is the most hilarious aspect of your group of friends. 

You take your phone out, noticing about a half a dozen messages including one from your now ex-boyfriend. 

Daehyun [4:39 PM]: Call me.

You scoff, glancing up and excusing yourself, squeezing Yoongi’s arm on the way out, knowing he will ask you if you’re alright and you hope the gesture is enough to reassure him as you step out with your phone to your ear. 

“What was that about?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi still watches as you disappear out back, only glancing back at your friends after a moment, “No idea.”

Taehyung cautiously approaches Yoongi, Jungkook in tow, “Is it true Daehyun broke up with her?”

Yoongi’s head snaps up so fast it startles all three guys, “How did you know?” 

Taehyung mouths the air, looking to Jungkook for support as the youngest speaks, “Well, we bumped into Eunseo and she told us…Asked if we knew anything about it but we didn’t.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Is she okay?” 

“We assume you’ve talked…” Taehyung says gently. 

Yoongi nods, “Don’t mention it to her, okay? She’s okay though.” 

They take his word because they physically relax their stance, smiling softly as they look at Yoongi. He sighs visibly, shaking his head, “I swear she’s fine.” 

Yoongi doesn’t even really know that what he’s telling the boys is the truth but he has to believe in his own words, hoping to figure this out himself late too. He always found out eventually, that was the nature of your friendship. Knowing everything about each other. At least, almost everything. 

“I need to grab some makgeolli* from the back…” Yoongi stands straight, “can you make sure not to burn the place down and start the grills at low-medium heat?”

They nod as he walks to the back of the house, walking through the kitchen past the fridge where he’s supposed to get the makgeolli and to the back exit, leaning against the doorway as he watches you pacing on the phone and listening to what he expects to be the end of the conversation. 

“I’m not home right now. I’m at the restaurant…” silence falls, then your groan, “I’m not starting this talk with you again, not right now. I’ll text you tomorrow and I’ll have your things ready for you to pick up…bye now.”

He doesn’t want to be caught eavesdropping but of anyone, you are more likely to not get upset or embarrassed by it being him. You look caught red handed when you turn to head back in but Yoongi steps out to meet you in the back alley. The early autumn season air makes late afternoons chilly, your breaths visible in the air.

“Was that…?” 

You nod, “Yeah.” 

“You okay?” 

“Annoyed.” 

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck, “Wanna tell me what happened? Or you wanna ignore it for right now?”

“Insecurity happened. And…can we not talk about it until after? I don’t wanna be thinking about him tonight of all nights…” he watches you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes, “I wanna be there for Hoseok.”

Yoongi can only nod, watching you, “We’ll talk?”

He watches your annoyance melt into softness, your shoulders relaxing as you nod right back, “Of course. You know me, I’m gonna need to vent sooner or later…” 

He resists grinning, instead huffing the smallest acknowledgement with a quirk of his eyebrow, “It’s cold, let’s go back inside…” he moves off to the side to let you pass, following after you. 

He stops by the fridge, grabs two bottles of makgeolli and watches as you stop a few feet away, “I told them I was grabbing these…” 

You grab them from him, “Stay here for a second. I’ll say I grabbed them from you.” 

“Hey!”

You turn around, “The guys know…about Daehyun. Eunseo told them.”

You smile at him, mouthing the smallest ‘thank you’ and he knows what for. You disappear out front, leaving Yoongi standing in the kitchen as he stares after you. He makes a mental note to remind you to change the code to your door when you get home as goes into the freezer to get the meat. 

Until then, he focuses on the evening ahead. 

Your conversation with Daehyun continues to ring loudly in your head when you bring out the bottle of makgeolli, placing them on the table. You hear squealing, your name being called catches your attention and you break out into a smile when your friends, Harin and Soojin, run to hug you as you giggle. 

“When did you get here?!”

Harin rubs your back, “Just now, we stopped to grab some wine!”

Soojin walks up and gives you a bottle, “We grabbed your favourite but it looks like you already have one here.” 

You twirl around to the table where you see your favourite white wine, “Oh.” You look confused, but Soojin only grins.

“More for you then. I hope you’re not driving.” She teases.

“No, I’m crashing at Yoongi’s.” You don’t catch the exchange of looks between Soojin and Harin as you grab the wine from her. “Thank you. Let me know and I’ll transfer money back to you.”

“Never mind that.”

You shake your head, hugging her tightly, “Well, thank you.” 

“Have any of you met Hoseok’s girlfriend yet?” Jungkook asks out of nowhere. 

Ah yes, you’re reminded how big a night it is. You’ve all gathered to celebrate Hoseok opening his dance academy, in a trendy part of Seoul no less, and having booked lessons back to back for the first month already. Not only that, but he is also introducing his girlfriend of three months to you guys, his closest friends. 

All of you say no at the same time.

“I saw her on his socials but never in person. She seems super sweet.” Soojin comments, shrugging. 

You know just how intimidating it is to meet your group of friends, considering yourself lucky to have been grandfathered in thanks to your friendship with Yoongi. You can only imagine what it’s been like for every single partner to meet everyone. It’s a process, you know that because you had been a wreck prior to Daehyun meeting everyone. You always feel for the girlfriends, or boyfriends, that have had to go through this. 

“As long as we don’t try to embarrass poor Hoseok, I think everything is gonna be fine…” you remind them, always more sympathetic towards these ‘meeting the partner’ dinners than some of your more playful friends. Everyone always has everyone’s best interest at heart but not without any teasing of course. 

“She’s a ballerina. She’s going to teach at his academy. That’s all I know.” Jimin explains, holding his phone up. “Namjoon and Seokjin are just around the corner, Hoseok also just texted and they’ll be here in fifteen.”

You clap playfully, “Alright everyone, don’t scare the girlfriend off and be nice. Otherwise, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Everybody scatters to finalize what needs to be done. Jimin and Jungkook are gathering more booze for easy reach as Soojin and Harin set up the gift table and Yoongi brings out the meat, placing the three large plates evenly across the table. You are grabbing some sodas, specifically some Sprite for the man of the hour right as he, and his new girlfriend, walk in. 

Everyone cheers, clapping for him as he bows over and over, pretending to cry which prompts everyone to laugh, his poor girlfriend standing behind him shyly as he pulls her into his side. Hoseok introduces his girlfriend, Minha, to everyone and as everyone disperses, all the girls converge in a corner to make Hoseok’s girl feel welcomed.

As you would back in school, you all explain to her the dynamics of the group as fast as you can before Yoongi clearly calls everyone to sit so you can all start eating. Soojin links her arms with Minha, tugging her to her designated spot next to Hoseok. You’re smiling softly as you walk around the table to your spot, Yoongi pulling out your chair as he patiently waits for you to sit down. 

Aside from you, couples sit together and the singles are sprinkled between each couple, everyone settling in and the only sound heard amidst some commentary is the sizzling of meat on the grills. 

You grab your already poured glass of wine, quickly glancing at Yoongi in thanks, as you wait for him to finish cooking the meat, trusting his expertise on cooking. Hoseok looks at the spread, touched as he shakes his head.

“Wow, bro, you outdid yourself! Thank you, this is almost too much.” He places a hand over his heart as he smiles. 

Yoongi shrugs, “I could take some away.”

Hoseok stares at you next, “Can’t he ever be normal and just say ‘my pleasure’?”

You raise your hands in surrender, “I’ve tried.” 

The boys chuckle, Harin looking at Minha at that moment, “So, let’s get started,” Minha has a timid smile on her lips, “tell us how you two met?”

Hoseok is far too prepared because he jumps right into it, meeting at a café nearby after teaching dance classes respectively at different academies and Hoseok boldly asking for her number. 

“He asked for my number, and I said no, but he promised that if I agreed to go on a date with him and I wasn’t impressed? He’d leave me be. He’d lose my phone number.” Minha pauses, coyly grinning. “Needless to say, I was impressed.”

“How did he convince you to teach at his academy?” 

She smiles, “Two of my classes were cancelled and finding a good academy to teach at is hard…” she looks adoringly to her man, “and he offered me a job, and I honestly had no idea until then that he was opening his own academy. We’d been dating almost two months when he said his academy was opening soon and that he was looking for a ballet teacher…”

“So, I offered her the job.” He smiles brightly at her, making you envious of how smitten they were with each other. 

Seokjin shakes his head, “Wow. Look at our friend being a romantic through and through. We taught him well…” 

Hoseok groans, “Taught me what? This was all me!” 

Everyone laughs and you hide behind your hand, chewing on a bite of food as Yoongi places more beef on your plate, before asking Minha, “What ages do you teach?”

“Mostly kids. Anywhere between four all the way to twelve year olds.” 

You smile at her before adding, glancing at Hoseok with a mischievous look in your eyes, “Well, if you have the patience to teach children, you will have plenty of patience to be his girlfriend…”

Hoseok gasps dramatically, “You did not!”

You nod, “Yes, I did!" 

He starts pouting, Minha patting his cheek as she turns to all of you with a grin and it isn’t long before stories get shared from all fronts. 

Hours go by, everyone taking the time to really put in the effort to get to know Minha. You find out many things about her and one of them is that you two, specifically, have something in common. You both enjoy hiking and you easily talk about your love of it, making a girl date to go hike nearby some day soon. You’re just sitting back in your chair after showing Minha photos of your last hike, ironically one you did with Yoongi, and you are entering her contact information in your phone. 

“Finally someone who likes hiking!” You lean back in relief, smiling as you raise your phone. “Let’s go soon, mhm?”

She nods, smiling at you, “Soon, absolutely.” 

A quick but comfortable silence befalls the entire group. That is until Minha scans the entire group, still chewing on food when she asks the table. 

“So,” everybody looks up, “I’m curious but how did the couples meet? Were you all friends and some of you started dating or was it like me? Being brought into the group…type of thing…” She almost sounds scared when she finishes asking. 

Soojin looks at Seokjin with a ‘you want to tell her’ look and the man cannot refuse his girlfriend. 

“Well,” he’s so proud and while you’ve all heard this story before, seeing him this way makes listening to it worth it, “we met in University and we were in the same program…”

Soojin interjects, “We’re both lawyers.”

“Yes, thank you, and we actually weren’t fond of each other at first.” He looks to his girlfriend, amusement visible as they both remember their early on misadventures. “Actually, we were so competitive…”

“I have no idea how that turned into romance, to be honest…” Soojin laughs, looking at him. 

He frowns, “I was charming.”

“You had your moments, that’s for sure.” 

As Soojin tells the story of the moment things shifted between them, you feel an arm resting across the back of your chair as you give a cursory glance over your right shoulder and you see a hand so you glance to your left where you see Yoongi leaning back in his chair with his arm slung across the back of yours. You smile, relaxing as you focus on your friends. 

“So, us spending an entire night doing research for a case helped us grow closer and that sort of animosity slowly...dissipated…” Seokjin smiles as he listens to Soojin.

“And now here we are, almost four years later.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side with a kiss to her temple.

Minha smiles sweetly, glancing at Harin and Namjoon next, “And you guys?”

Namjoon blushes right away, rubbing one side of his face as he looks to Harin, “We’re…a little bit newer than those two,” he gestures to Seokjin, “but uh…” he trails off and looks to his girlfriend.

Harin happily takes over, “We’ve been friends for ten years, just friends for the longest time. We just started dating this year actually…” she looks at Namjoon as she grabs his hand, “about eight months ago.”

“Woooow! What…what changed in your friendship?”

You feel Yoongi move next to you as he stands and walks behind the counter.

“Well, we actually…actually, I was jealous when we were hanging out one day and a girl came over to boldly ask for his number and I just wondered what the heck it was I was feeling. Why did it bother me? He’s one of my best friends…y’know? That kind of stuff?”

Namjoon continues, “She got really quiet and then wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the day.”

“I was so annoyed, not even at him! At myself!” Everyone laughs at how outraged she still sounds. “When I started thinking even for a second that I could like him I was furious because there I was, about to ruin a nearly decade long friendship…”

“I was really confused…” She smacks him playfully.

“I really did not make it easy for him to figure it out because I was also figuring it out. We had to have these two,” she points to you and Yoongi, “basically spill the beans about the fact that we were so obviously in love with each other yet so oblivious to it.”

You remember that day like it was yesterday, sharing a quick look with your best friend across the room before looking back at them.

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, “Long story short, we went two days without talking and I hated it so, I went to her apartment and basically confronted her.”

Minha’s eyes widened, “How did that go?”

Harin laughs, “Well, obviously, in the end at least…” her cheeks reden at the memory, “he was going on a rant, he was pacing in my apartment and I just grabbed and kissed him.”

Everyone awes and wows at that, making the couple blush as some even start clapping. You sit there, your hands in your lap. You catch Yoongi walking back with a beer in hand as well as something else he keeps behind his back, your eyes sticking to his figure until he sits back next to you. You watch as he pops a can of soda open and places it in front of you without sparing you a glance, doing the same with his beer as he sips it.

“That must have startled you…” 

Namjoon laughs, “My world opened up then,” everyone chuckles, “it was the easiest yes on the planet and things haven’t been the same since. They’ve been better.”

“Was it a weird transition?”

They both look at each other, Harin shaking her head, “Not really. We kinda slipped into being a couple quicker than I think either of us expected…” 

Namjoon sits up proudly, “It was just natural, wasn’t it?” 

As you watch your friends share their love stories you can’t help but long for that feeling, something you regret to even acknowledge you’ve never felt. Not even with Daehyun. You don’t even think you’ve ever been in love before. The realization makes you sad, because a part of you now wonders whether or not you’re just that little bit too demanding with your expectations. 

“And what about you two?” 

You snap your eyes to Minha, surprised when she is staring straight at you with the sweetest smile and as you glance around the table you’re met with some startled looks from your friends. You’re entirely focused on figuring out what is happening to notice just how quiet things are as Minha asks again.

“Yoongi and you, how long have you two been together?”

Now, that is a question. 

You feel Yoongi tense slightly just from the way his arm shifts behind your back, never moving, not realizing how you sit up straight right away as you look at everyone around you. The last person you look at is Yoongi as he meets your eyes. 

Now, you've been asked this question before or similar questions to it. It is not so out of pocket for two best friends, especially boy and girl, to be asked whether or not they're dating. Not entirely uncommon. Somehow, though, not a question you've encountered together before in all nearly 25 years of your friendship. Not even once. 

So, you sit there in stunned silence for a few seconds before you remember you have to gather some semblance of thought in the disorganized chaos that is happening in your head. Why is this question easier answered when on your own rather than when said best friend is now staring at you? He knows the answer too. Right?

Except, this is not the usual question you get. 

Are you dating him? Are you two dating? 

That's what you're used to hearing when you're usually by yourself once he's made himself scarce. You suspect people don't ask him because if you don't know Yoongi he doesn't look like he welcomes this line of questioning. Hence, why people usually ask you that question. 

But it has been so long since this type of question has ever popped up. 

You clear your throat, mouthing the air for a moment when you feel Yoongi's knee gently nudge yours telling you he's right there. That fills you with comfort, even years into your friendship. 

You chuckle timidly, “Uh, well, we aren't dating actually…” you see the realization hit Minha as her features grow apologetic but you stop her, “it's fine! Don't worry. Wouldn't be the first time we're asked that, right?”

You expect Yoongi to be looking at you, agreeing with you but he instead is looking between you and his beer can, chewing his lower lip as he nods absentmindedly and that image strikes you as odd. It isn't the first time he's been asked that, surely?

“Right, not the first…” his voice sends a shiver through your body because it doesn’t feel like Yoongi. 

Minha apologizes but you stop her, smiling reassuringly, “Yah! It's okay! It's certainly not the first time I've been asked about us. Won't be the last. Answer's always been the same though.” You shift in your seat. “We've been best friends since we were kids. Almost 25 years, right?”

You look to Yoongi again for support as he nods, “This year.” 

You turn back to Minha, “We kinda come as a pair, so…don't fret too hard about this. It's all good!” 

Minha relaxes, making you release the breath you've been holding as you lean back in your seat and your best friend's arm at the back of it brings comfort as you smile at her. 

“I am so sorry!” She giggles, shy as Hoseok rubs her back sweetly while giving you, and Yoongi, a quick careful glance like he's checking that you two are okay. 

“It's all good! Don't feel bad about it. I've been told we give off vibes,” you see Yoongi's face snap to you from the corner of your eyes, “so, it won't be the last time I'm sure!” 

You glance down to your lap before grabbing your soda, sipping on it as you wave everybody off, “Guys! It's all good. You're all acting like it's the first time we've been asked this!” 

Finally they laugh, and slowly things go back to normal as the subject shifts to all your friendships. You exhale deeply as you relax for a moment. It feels like you've just crawled through a battlefield to get here. 

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and you’re left nearly forgetting that momentary awkwardness as desserts are had and gifts are opened, celebrating the accomplishments of your dear friend. 

The evening dwindles down and people begin leaving when the clock strikes just past ten. You laugh at how tired you all are now as adults. Your early twenties never would have seen any you anywhere a bed until three in the morning before. 

Minha and Hoseok are standing hand in hand as they thank Yoongi, you standing by his side, for cooking and hosting. He shrugs in his usual nonchalant way as you shove him playfully, “What he means is you're very welcome, I am glad we could do this for Hoseok and we got to meet you.” 

The tension you felt earlier returns for a few seconds when you notice Minha glance between the both of you with a small grin on her lips but you're left no time to think about it when she reaches out and hugs you. 

After your goodbyes you assure the rest of your friends that you'll stay behind to help Yoongi clean under the guise of it being your payment for him letting you crash at his for the night.

The restaurant grows quiet as the door shuts behind the last of your friends as you lock it, staring at your hand for a moment. This evening has felt like a marathon and you're just catching your breath. 

“You okay?”

You relax as you turn to Yoongi, relaxing against the front door as you look at him with the softest look.

You nod, “Just tired.”

“How's your neck?”

You smile, “It's all good, I promise. I'll do a heat pack when we get to yours.” 

He watches you carefully, licking lips as he nods mostly to himself, “Wanna get started so we can go to bed?” 

Your heart jumps as you nod, “Mhm. Let's go. Sooner we start, sooner we're done.” 

As he begins cleaning up the kitchen you start with the dining area, picking up all the recyclables and putting the trash all aside to throw before leaving. You stack up the dishes in a large tray for him to start going through. 

You're busy wiping down tables and chairs, putting everything back in its original position as you stretch your back. You sweep and mop the floor, wiping your forehead when you're finally done some time later. 

You can hear water running in the back as you wander back there to see Yoongi hand cleaning some dishes while the rest goes through the dishwasher. 

“Hey.”

He snaps his head up and smiles softly, “Hey. You good?”

Nodding, you point to the sink, “Need help?”

He takes a long few seconds before nodding, “Yeah. I won't say no…” 

You shuffle over next to him, standing side by side as you both quietly clean the dishes that need cleaning by hand. You both use this time to recharge, appreciating the mutual understanding that an evening like that really takes it out of both of you.

When you reach into the sink for a dish, you find nothing after a while. You look down then back to Yoongi who is smirking just in the slightest and you scoff, nudging him. He grabs your hand and looks it over before dropping it. 

“Make sure to put some lotion on…the soap will make your skin dry.”

“Mhm. I have some in my purse…” you dry your hands, walking back out front as you look at your hard work. 

“Damn. You did great. Looks like nothing happened.” 

You watch Yoongi come out with lotion in his hands, giving him a look, “I had some y’know?”

He shrugs, “Thanks for staying to help clean up. I know you work tomorrow.” 

He squeezes the product in your hands, nodding when you have enough to lather and cover the entire area. You look at him, his blonde hair falling in his eyes. 

“You wanna finish up here and just go up?”

He shakes his head, “I can manage in the morning with Jungkook.”

“Are you sure?” 

He nods, lips curling, “Let’s go to bed.” 

You follow him around as he shuts lights, makes sure gas is shut off and that the doors are locked as you head out front waiting for him to input the code for the alarm. You stand there next to him, waiting patiently until he nudges for you to head out. You wait as he locks the front door, bringing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you to the stairs on the side of the building. 

You love the convenience of where Yoongi works and lives. He began renting the building about seven years ago and when his restaurant took off, not only was he able to buy the restaurant out right and own it, he had purchased the rest of the building and was now paying that off. He not only has his business but also lives right above it. 

He lets you walk up first, following closely behind as you get to the door. You key in the code like it’s second nature, pushing the door with your shoulder as you laugh when he reaches above you to push it open wider. You stumble inside as the lights come on. 

You’ve always loved Yoongi’s home. When he bought it he put a lot of time and effort into fixing it up, which is why having Namjoon as a best friend also helped. The man being an architect simply made the renovation process easier.

When he had told you he was planning on renovating the upstairs to make it liveable, you had not known that his home would be a rooftop apartment. You had spent some part of your childhood in one and had once told him of your dream to one day own and renovate one. 

He shuts the door behind you as you head to the guest room, but he grabs your arm, shaking his head, “Take mine tonight.” 

You stand there, staring up at him, “So, what’s that?” You point to the door at the end of the hallway. 

“The guest room.”

You point to yourself, “What am I?” 

He gives your full name as you smack him, earning yourself the smallest cackle out of him.

“A guest, you idiot. I’m a guest!” You laugh, hands on your hips. 

He makes a face, like he disapproves of what you’ve just said, “You’re not but okay. Now, take my room for the night, please.” 

He’s stubbornly standing in your way, guiding you to his room as you sigh, “Fine. You always do this. Why do you always do this I swear?” 

You see him snickering as you walk past him and down the second but shorter hallway which leads to one place only: his room. You walk in, again, like this isn’t weird but you start wondering if maybe it is. Paying no mind to your brain, you get comfortable in some clothes you’ve left here the last time. When you realize they’ve been washed you smile, getting changed as you head back out to see Yoongi also already in sleeping clothes. 

He’s at the stove already as he looks across the counter to you, “Want ramyeon?”

And even though you’ve just eaten a feast, the potential of a late night snack is far too tempting as you nod, “Yes.”

He immediately rips into the packets, earning your laughter as you walk to the kitchen, “Cut the green onions? Grab two eggs too?”

It’s easy between you two, always is whenever you’re here with him. 

You start cutting the green onions, careful not to hurt yourself as you stand near him. You feel him glancing at you, prompting you to stop chopping and look at him. 

“Yes?”

He shakes his head, stirring the pot again as you laugh. You’re cleaning up after yourself, moving around his kitchen as you tie your hair in a ponytail. You take it upon yourself to clean the few dishes that are already in his sink, allowing yourself to relax. 

“Have you ever been asked that before?”

You snap your head up and then your entire body towards him, “What?”

He’s dropping the eggs inside the boiling pot, swallowing thickly as he rubs his neck, “That question earlier…do you get asked that often?”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “Which one?”

“About us dating.” 

You feel a chill crawl up your back as the words leave him. Looking down at your hands at that moment seems easier. 

The truth is, you and Yoongi have never spoken about this before. You assumed he had been asked many times during your friendship, considering you had too but it was never acknowledged. Nothing was off limits for you guys and truly, you don’t even think this subject is off limits either but the air had been awkward around it earlier that evening.

In all your years of friendship you had truly never been asked that question when the both of you were in the same room. You can remember vividly whenever that question had been asked and it was always easy to just give the obvious answer. We’re childhood best friends, that’s all. 

So, being confronted with the question in front of all your friends had been a shock to the system that you were just now processing. Especially after Yoongi’s question.

You finally look back up and he’s already watching you, “Mhm. Yeah, a few times.” 

“How often?”

You sigh loudly. Why does that matter?

“I don’t know…” you think, “when we got out of high school and went to university? Almost every other day…usually by girls who wanted to date you. Sometimes because a guy didn’t want to ‘overstep’ if I was ‘your’ girl…” 

You wince at the annoying amount of times a girl approached you back then to ask about Yoongi. To say you were irritated at the time was an understatement. 

“Do you still get asked?” 

You turn your entire body to him, curious by his sudden interest since this kind of thing isn’t something he cares about. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Is it why Daehyun…” he stops when he realizes what he’s about to ask.

You open your mouth to retort but you stop yourself. You don’t snap at each other, that isn’t something you do. You’ve never yelled at each other. You’ve been mad at each other, furious even, but never once had he ever raised his voice towards you. And you won’t start now.

The truth is Yoongi isn’t wrong. 

Your phone call with Daehyun earlier reiterated your earlier argument with your now ex-boyfriend. The main reason being your lack of time spent together but the second reason being your friendship with Yoongi. 

“Yes.” 

His eyes widen, mouth falling open as he stares at you, “What?” 

“Look, we always said it would happen, right? That someday someone would be insecure. Well, Daehyun was. I don’t hold it against him but I do hold it against him that he tried making a decision for me like I was a kid being scolded. He ended it because I fought back…” you sigh, obviously irritated as you rub your neck. 

“He asked you to…what?” 

“To stop being friends with you. Didn’t ask, really. Told me I had to stop being your friend.” 

You don’t even have to ask him how he feels about it because for all of his nonchalance, Yoongi’s anger always shows in his features. And you can easily tell from his furrowed eyebrows, the way his lips are in a thin line and how his nostrils flare. It’s also better for you to just let him stew in it. 

“I said no, obviously.” You grab the cutting board as you slide it over to him. 

When he doesn’t move an inch, all you can think of doing is nudging him and he looks at you, jaw clenched as you pout, “Ramyeon. Please.” 

He grabs the bowl on the counter and makes you a bowl, adding green onions on top for garnish as he silently walks it to his table, you following diligently behind him. You sit down as you watch him go back to get himself one too, still silent and staring into nothingness. 

He sits down across from you, both of you slurping on noodles in relative silence as you glance up to him every once in a while. He’s deep in thought. He’s also carefully choosing his next words, you can tell. You stand, grabbing a soda from his fridge.

“You never thought about it?”

You freeze on your way back to the chair, watching Yoongi stare into his bowl.

“Thought about…what? Us?”

He turns to look at you so fast, you’re startled back and you bump into the kitchen island. He’s mouthing the air nervously and you’ve never seen him like this with you before. 

“No! I meant,” he inhales deeply, “I mean…” he goes quiet for a moment, “telling me to back off so he feels less insecure…”

You squint at him, “Who are you and what have you done with my Min Yoongi?”

He stumbles again over his words, this being the second time within minutes and so unlike him.

“What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t asking me to tell you to back off. He was telling me I wasn’t allowed to be friends with you because he was insecure.” Yoongi finally turns his chair to you, arms crossing over his chest as you sigh. “One, I won’t be treated like that because anyone is insecure. Two, I’m not a dog who can be ordered around. And three, you’re my best friend. In a situation like this you always come first.” 

He stares at you, truly taking in every word you say as he nods. 

“So, he dumped me. I honestly think he thought I held my self-esteem in our relationship and that I would crawl back on my hands and knees begging for him not to do that…” you purse your lips, “and I’m not sorry to say I would never do that. I won’t ever beg for a guy’s attention.”

Right there you see the subtle hints of a smile beginning to tug at his lips, licking his lips to try to stop it from spreading as he clears his throat. You glare at him, shaking your head as you sigh. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. I’m just…proud of you.” 

You stride over so fast he pushes his chair back as you raise your hand to flick his forehead and he starts laughing, grabbing your hands to stop you with ease as you look down at him. 

“Proud of me, huh? I don’t need you to be proud of me…” you’re fighting the urge to smile as you say this, nudging his knee with yours.

He holds your hands as he brings them down, “What do you need me to be then?” 

Oh. 

Oh? 

Why does your chest feel funny?

You smile as you sigh, “Here.” 

Yoongi’s lips purse just barely, mouth falling open as he exhales, “You know I am. Always.” 

He lets go of your hands, clearing his throat as you step back to sit in your spot across from him. He reaches over to pop your soda open, thanking him when you take a sip as you watch him. 

“Anyway,” he carefully listens, “when he said he wanted to break up, I wasn’t as sad as I felt I should have been…”

“No?”

You shake your head, “We were almost a year in and I never felt anything other than…affection for him. He was nice, treated me nicely until, well, y’know…and took me on nice dates, overall the experience was great and why does it sound like I’m writing a review for a restaurant?!?”

Yoongi snorts, hiding behind his hand, “I don’t know why but it really does sound like it…” 

You cuss him out under your breath, sighing as you stretch out, “Fuck it, I’m just gonna be celibate. I’ll be the fun aunt when everyone starts having kids…”

“You don’t mean that. You say that every single time.” 

You scoff loudly, “What if I do mean it now?” 

“Wanna bet?” 

You open your mouth to speak but shut it, pouting and groaning as you shoot up from your spot, grabbing the empty bowls, “I’m gonna clean and go to bed…” 

“Yah…Yah! Come on, I’m teasing…”

You huff and continue pouting as he groans when he pushes himself off the chair, following behind you, “Don’t! You’ve done enough tonight! I’ll clean this up and go to bed.”

Yoongi sighs, knowing nothing will convince you otherwise as he shakes his head, “I’ll get ready for bed then, mhm?” 

With a sleepy smile, you nod, “Mhm. I’ll see you in the morning then.” 

“I’ll make you breakfast. What time do you work? I’ll set an alarm.” 

You bite your lip, “I have a late morning. I work at ten.”

He nods, says nothing else as he wishes you good night and he reluctantly steps down the hall to the guest room. Once the door shuts, you finish the dishes quickly and shut the lights everywhere before heading to bed. 

The door clicks shut as you sigh, glancing around Yoongi’s neatly kept room. You wash up and crawl under the covers, smiling to yourself as you scroll on social media for a bit. Looking at the time tick by on your phone makes you aware of how tired you will be the next morning. 

You’re startled when your phone buzzes in your hand, a notification popping down from Yoongi. 

Yoong~ 🍊[12:03 AM]: I can hear you tossing and turning, leave the phone alone and go sleep.

Yoong~ 🍊[12:03 AM]: Please. 

This again.

You stop smiling as you put the phone face down on your chest, swallowing thickly while staring at the blank ceiling. The tightness in your chest has been there since dinner, ignoring it since then but not anymore. Not when, in the darkness of his bedroom, all there is to do, aside from mindlessly staring at the bright screen of your phone, is thinking. 

That damn question shouldn’t have put you in such a state, yet here you are wondering something that you had only thought of once, describing it then as a teenage indiscretion. But now, it feels more real. Being an adult always makes it more real. It’s easy to be in denial as a kid. 

But your mind is racing now because for the first time in fifteen years you are left asking yourself that question. The one question you had buried so deep down in your brain you were certain it would never surface again. Your heart dares flutter when you think of it and you promise yourself right here and then you won’t let it ruin things. 

It should have been obvious that you’d ask yourself this question more than once in your life, but until today, it had never happened. Being friends with Yoongi for so long and being as close as you are, of course people mistook you for a couple. But you remembered how quick your parents were to defend your friendship as just that – friendship. And then it was your turn to defend it, over and over again when people teased or harassed you. Yoongi always remained quiet, explaining it away as ‘people will believe whatever, there’s no use in arguing’ and you had been the opposite, vehemently going at everyone’s throat who dared question your friendship. Even when you were in the midst of your crush on him when you were fifteen, protecting your friendship above all. 

So, why is it that as you lie in his bed, under his covers after eating his food, you finally ask yourself the question you had evaded for so long.

Why haven’t you ever seriously considered dating Yoongi before?

author's note »» Here we are! I am truly embarking on a childhood best friends to lovers one, one of my favourite romantic tropes ever! I hope you enjoyed this chapter & that you're gonna look forward to what I am gonna put these characters through! Please, comment on any of these posts if you want to be added to the masterlist :D

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[lovesick-desires]

Could I request the following?

Character:Yandere Caitlyn

Fandom: Arcane

Concept: yandere Caitlyn with a darling on hunger strike(bacically refuses to eat unless freed)

Ty 4 reading my request!

MASTICATE

YANDERE!CAITLYN KIRAMMAN X READER — SHORT ONE-SHOT

ABSTRACT: After being kidnapped by Caitlyn, you decide to go on hunger strike to try and get her to bend to your wish for freedom. However, it does not go the way you intended... CONTENT WARNINGS: yandere behavior, dark themes, force feeding, dubious kissing, sensual touching, mentions of suicidal ideation, unhealthy eating habits, mentions of kidnapping TAGS: gender neutral reader, first time writing Caitlyn so probably ooc, (N)SFW?: slightly NSFW WORD COUNT: 1.1k+ CAITLYN'S YANDERE ARCHETYPE: possessive, protective REQUESTED BY: an anonymous user

Hunger.

It was all you could feel at this point. It tugged at your internal organs like a leash, making you yearn to consume the beautifully-curated breakfast Caitlyn brought up to you this morning, long gone cold due to its abandonment. Your eyes were unblinking as you stared at the food, wondering if the hunger strike you went on really was worth it. Your mouth watered over the fluffy pancakes besides you on a literal silver platter, a delicacy many people would fight over back in Zaun. Yet, here you were, refusing such a luxury as you cradled your rumbling stomach.

You could hear footsteps coming up the stairs towards your room that was shared with you and your captor. You knew it was her. The way her boots clacked against the finely polished tile stairs was unmistakable.

The door to the shared quarters squeaked open as Caitlyn stepped in, her icy blue eyes raking over your starving form then to the discarded breakfast. A sigh escaped her lips as she began to approach you, pulling her faded sapphirine locks back into a ponytail as her cape billowed with a purposeful flutter.

"Again?" She queried coldly, her thick brows knitted together in a soft scowl. You couldn't even look her in the eyes as she picked up the plate, hearing her scoff softly. "How long are you planning to keep this up?" She derided, looking down at the breakfast she made you before her eyes flickered to yours.

You go to turn away from her as you usual do; however, a firm hand grabs your shoulder, her nails digging into your flesh.

"Answer me. You've been doing this for a week now." She demanded, her voice cold yet holding slight empathy.

"Until you let me go." You uttered, your voice crackling from lack of use. To this, Caitlyn scoffed before putting the plate aside on the bedside table.

"That's not going to happen. You'd starve."

"So be it."

Your response seemed to snap something in her. With a firm yet gentle touch, Caitlyn grabbed you by your jawline, forcing you to look at her.

"Do you want to die?" She asked with total seriousness in her eyes, her hand trembling slightly under your chin.

No. You didn't want to die. You wanted to be free. Yet, those words couldn't leave your mouth as if they were failing you.

Caitlyn took your silence seriously as her glaucous eyes held a glint of determination.

"That will not happen." Caitlyn declared, her gaze dancing over your exasperated face. The dictator soon joined you on the bed, her thighs hovering around yours as she straddled you. Shocked by her effervescent movements, you sit up to pull away from her only for her to push against your sternum, pinning you to the headboard.

"What are you doing?" You asked as she kneeled on your hands which were by your sides, pinning them in place. She leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed the plate of cold pancakes.

"You are going to eat." She stated matter-of-factly, using the fork to slice a segment out of the pancake stack.

"N—" Before you could protest, Caitlyn inserted the fork of cold pancakes in your mouth. The taste was stale and chewy, only accentuated by the sticky, saccharine maple syrup. You tried to thrash you head away from the fork, but Caitlyn grabbed you by your hair, pain raking your scalp.

"Chew. Thoroughly." She demanded, her eyes glaring into yours. Her knees dug into your hands as you were kept effectively pinned to the mattress. She slowly pulled the fork from your lips only for her other hand to move from your hair to your mouth, keeping it pressed over so you couldn't spit out the cold, soggy pancakes. You tried to pull away, to find any way to get out of this. To this, Caitlyn dug her knees further into your hands as she leaned forward, causing mild pain and numbness in your palms. You whimpered at this only to reluctantly start chewing, your teeth mashing the food inside. To this, Caitlyn's curved into a small smile.

"Swallow." She decreed, her intense eyes watching you. You looked up at her with pleading eyes only for her to grab your face tightly, keeping her palm securely over your lips. With great reluctance, you swallowed the mashed-up pancakes, feeling them travel down your throat. Caitlyn slowly removed her hand from your mouth, smiling softly. The smile could be perceived as heartwarming if not given the current circumstance.

"Good job." She praised, brushing some of your stray hairs out of your eyes. You grunted softly at this, her fingers gently dancing against your forehead.

"You got what you wanted... Happy now?" You questioned curtly, only for Caitlyn's hand to freeze as her eyes locked on yours. Her smile slowly withered away as she looked neutral once more.

"No, no I am not." She replied as her hand slid down the side of your face, cupping your cheek. "You are going to eat the rest of the pancakes, okay?" She continued, making your blood run cold.

"N-No—"

"Yes, yes you will." She interjected, getting another forkful of pancakes ready. You pursed your lips, keeping them sealed shut between your teeth as Caitlyn raised the fork of food up to you. You shook your head vehemently only for Caitlyn to grab your jaw once more, this time more forcefully. Caitlyn kept applying pressure until it got to be too overwhelming, causing you to open your mouth. This immediately led to Caitlyn stuffing your mouth with more cold pancake bits.

This seemingly went on for what felt like hours but must have only been about fifteen minutes. You were held down and forcibly fed bite after bite of the pancakes you discarded this morning. Soon enough, all that was left on the silver platter was crumbs and cold syrup.

"Good, very good." Caitlyn praised once more as she watched you reluctantly swallow the last bite. You sighed pensively as Caitlyn finally moved her knees off your hands, leaving them red and numb in her wake. Your brows knitted together as you looked up at her as she beamed with pride.

As you went to speak, her lips passionately collided with yours. While the kiss was full of an animalistic fervor, it still held a delicate undertone to it as if she was kissing something delicate and priceless. With great reluctance, Caitlyn pulled away from the kiss, her breathing coming out in soft pants. Her eyes once again met yours as a soft smile spread across her lips.

"Next time, eat your damn food."

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[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Violence, suggestive content

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Cassian shook his head, almost impressed.

Quite literally two fucking months. 

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He half-coughed, half-laughed up the wine he’d been drinking. Nesta thumped his back, a mischievous smirk plastered on her normally severe face. 

Rhysand had finally gotten word that you and Azriel would be arriving… well, anytime now. Everyone had piled onto the House of Wind’s roof to await your return, the taste of new gossip already in the air. 

Nesta lounged in Cassian’s lap, searching the horizon line for the tell-tale flicker of Azriel’s wings. Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor were too busy placing bets on which of the males — if any — would come out of the fight unscathed to stare at the sky. 

“Fifty on Azriel.” Emerie said without hesitation.

There was a clatter of coins. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about Helion. The paternal protectiveness might make him especially vicious.” Gwyn reasoned. 

“Brotherly protectiveness may prove just as strong. If not stronger.” Was Mor’s opinion. “Lucien and Helion both won against Azriel last time.” 

“Az wasn’t trying then.” Emerie argued back. “Sad male that he was.”

The father-son pair tried not to let their egos grow or be injured by the conversation happening so close by. Instead, they engrossed themselves in their third chess game of the morning. It was becoming rather tedious by now. Being the early risers — and overprotective males — that they were, they’d been waiting for hours in the training ring for the first sign of your return. 

Alas, nothing so far.

A spread of breakfast plates cluttered the table they played on, silverware stacked neatly on porcelain plates. Save for the knives. Those were kept in close reach.

Rhysand tried to join in on the game, but the two males refused him time and time again. They knew better than to play with a daemati. 

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

She smirked, but slid into her chair beside Nesta and Cassian, and across from her mate. She folded her finger neatly beneath her chin, her wall of adamant strong and impenetrable. 

Rhys was about to make his first move — pawn to E4 — when a twinkle in Feyre’s eye told him they had visitors. 

Cassian stood up straighter, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whooped.

A full house. You remarked as the House of Wind came into view above the city. Its red stone spires crawled into the sky. Reaching like outstretched fingertips.

The wind sang in your ears, ruffling your hair as you clung to Azriel. 

Lucky us. You teased.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched at the flash of red hair and crown of black locs waiting on the roof. 

Helion and Lucien rose slowly, twin smirks gracing their lips as they started unclasping necklaces and tying back their hair. 

Is it too late to go back to the Cottage? Azriel growled, dropping to his feet on the House of Wind’s roof.

I’m afraid so. We’ve committed. 

You slowly untangled yourself from Azriel’s hold and planted both feet on solid ground. He caught your arm before you could stray too far, tugging you back to his side and wrapping a wing around your shoulders. 

“You’re baaaaaack!” Cassian sang, throwing his arm out in a gesture of welcome. “Gods have we missed you both. You especially, Y/n. You look lovely. The mating bond suits you.” 

He winked seductively, blowing a kiss in your direction. 

Azriel figured Cassian could do without his remaining arm. 

“I hope Azriel sufficed for your first time.” Rhysand chimed in. His voice was liquid velvet. By now, Azriel had gone stone still — a dangerous look for the Shadowsinger. “But if you’re ever interested in sampling better fares, Cassian and I—” 

Helion slammed into Azriel’s side before he could reach Rhysand, wrapping his powerful arms around Azriel’s middle and throwing him across the room where Lucien waited with fist pulled back. 

Remember what we talked about. 

Azriel was slippery and cool as he wove in and out between Helion and Lucien’s bodies. He threw out a collection of strikes that had blood splattering on the ground.

Nothing permanent. He growled.

Thank you. 

“Did you see that?” Rhysand looked aghast as he settled deep into his seat. “He was going to hit me!” He flipped his cane end over end. 

“He has no honor, brother.” Cassian agreed. But both had to admit, there was some satisfaction in getting to watch the fight instead of participating in it. 

You slunk around the edges of the training ring, trying to avoid getting too close to the tumble of bodies that were being thrown around like rag dolls. 

It would seem there was someone else trying to escape notice.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here, High Lord?” 

Eris Vanserra leaned against a stone pillar, foot propped up against the wall as he swirled a glass of wine between bejeweled fingers. Aside from the gold glittering on his knuckles and along his ears, he was dressed like a commoner. His brown riding boots were well-worn with love and his shirt was left open at the top to reveal scarred and freckled skin. He chuckled when Lucien slammed his fist into the side of Azriel’s face with a growl that rattled the columns.

“None of that High Lord business.” He said, swatting the air like the very term offended him. “Call me Eris.” He smiled sideways at you, never taking his full attention off the fight. “Lucien asked me to come as backup, and I would never pass up the opportunity to help my brother,” he glanced down at you and cocked his head to the side, “And my sister.” 

“Is that what we are now? Siblings?”

He shrugged. “We always did want a girl in the family.” 

You were about to ask who Eris meant by “we” when there came a loud bang. 

Azriel held the shattered legs of a chair and Lucien kneeled on the ground, spitting splinters from his mouth. 

“You’re doing your brotherly duty wonderfully.” Your words were drier than a desert. 

Helion came to Lucien’s aide and used those powerful legs of his to drop kick Azriel in the chest and crack a rib… or two. 

“I’m also here for the entertainment.” Eris winked. 

When he turned back to the fight, Azriel was already staring at him, and he was livid. 

“Ahhhh, that’s my cue.” He tousled your hair, earning a roar from Azriel as Lucien and Helion latched onto his arms and held the Shadowsinger back. “We’ll talk again later.” 

He sauntered over to the trio, reared back his fist, and punched Azriel in the stomach. 

Nesta waved you over from her spot at the table with Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Feyre. It was a safe enough distance away from the brawl, even if the glasses shook every time a body hit the floor. 

“Leave the males to their fighting and eat. You must be starved.” Nesta slid over a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in a healthy amount of butter. 

You hated that Nesta was right. The frenzy had left you with little patience for eating most days. You descended upon the food. 

Gwyn was still watching the males. There was a strange fascination in her eyes as Helion spit out a mouthful of blood and Azriel punched Eris in the teeth. “I wonder how many wars could have been prevented if the males simply gathered in a room with their right hands and a ruler.” 

Emerie snorted. “I reckon at least ten.” 

Gwyn shook her head. “So.” She turned her attention to you and leaned in close. “How was it?” She did not speak the words quietly.

You blushed through a mouthful of eggs. “It was… very nice.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nesta shook her head so many times that flyaway strands of blonde hair escaped her coronet. “How was it?”

Cassian moved in close, resting his head on Nesta’s shoulder. “We want details.” 

“Oh, stay out of this, Cass.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed huffed when Feyre enclosed the females in a wall of silent air. He settled for laying his head against Nesta’s back, feeling the vibrations of her body as she spoke.  

“We do want details. Spare us nothing.” 

The females hovered, breaths held in their chests for every salacious detail you were certain to tell. Their excitement made them forgetful of one very important fact — you had always been, and likely always would be, very private.

You looked at Feyre and swallowed. “We um… We broke the windows at the Cottage and need them replaced.” 

The females blinked. 

“Which ones?” Feyre asked, arching a dark brow. 

Azriel smiled at you from across the training ring, a trickle of blood spilling out from the corner of his lips as he wrestled Eris to the ground with his legs locked around the redhead’s neck. 

“All of them.” 

It was near noon when the fighting started, and the males still hadn’t ceased though the sun had set hours ago.

You walked onto the roof smothered in one of Azriel’s sweaters to escape the air’s chilly bite. This high up the mountains, the wind always whisked away heat like the sea to sand. 

Scraps of fabric littered the ground. Bloodstains lay sprinkled across stone floors like salt. It was all to be expected after a mating frenzy, and it did not surprise you that Azriel had kept up with your father and brothers for so long, but, enough was enough. You wanted your mate back.

“Ahem,” You coughed loudly. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered to you before you even opened your mouth. He had felt your presence before you’d even walked up the stairs and stepped onto the training mats. 

My love. He sighed.

Eris got the last swing in, but he missed the Shadowsinger by a half-margin. Poor Lucien, who’d been holding back Azriel’s arm, got a fistful of gold rings instead.

Lucien’s head snapped back. “What the fuck, Eris?!” He stood grasping at his nose. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. 

Eris winced. “Sorry, little brother.” 

You made another little noise and the males shoved each other away, bodies sweaty and bloodstained. Eris’s shirt was ripped to shreds, barely hanging onto his narrow shoulders as he wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a fox. Helion was missing a nose ring and the top tip of his ear. A bruise sprouted along Lucien’s cheeks courtesy of his brother. 

But Azriel? The only evidence he carried of the fight was the thin line of dried blood between his lips. It was not unpleasant to look upon.

Less than ten seconds ago they’d been at each other's throats with tooth and nail. But as males were ought to do, once the fight was over they were quick to grumble half-hearted compliments and began picking jewelry and abandoned blades off the floor.

Azriel tipped his head towards you in the smallest of bows. When you held out your hand for him, he didn’t even bother walking to close the distance between you two. He winnowed directly to your side.

About time you finished. I’m ready for bed and I’d like to have my mate beside me.

I like it when you call me that. I like it when you call me yours.

You smiled softly at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of smiling at his hazel eyes. 

You looked to the rest of your family. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to worry about us, dear Y/n.” Eris snorted. The smirk on his face was a friendly one, highlighting his handsome, but impish, features as he gathered his cloak from the corner of the room. He swung it around his shoulders, magically repairing his clothes with a flutter of red velvet. “We’re fine. And I would never pass up an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowsinger.” He winked at Azriel, who only scowled in return. 

That scowl turned into a barred teeth snarl when Eris brushed past you both.

His warm, amber eyes betrayed what you already knew from that brief moment of contact before he went off to his room — he hadn’t been lying when he said they always wanted a girl in the family. 

“Goodnight, sister.” Lucien said, kissing your forehead. It took everything in Azriel not to pummel Lucien once more. Your brother’s eyes flickered up to the Shadowsinger. “And congratulations on your mating bond. Truly.” 

You mouthed the words, Thank you, before accepting a final goodnight embrace from your father. 

“It’s good to have you back.” He smoothed back your hair. Then Helion clicked his tongue and thumped Azriel on the shoulder. “Greedy little Shadowsinger. Keeping my daughter away for two months.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

The pair soon disappeared down the hallway leaving you and Azriel to linger in the night’s silence alone.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched — the only sign he was in any pain when you gently brushed against his ribs. 

You smirked. It would seem that your family members had done a number on the Shadowsinger. He’d just been hiding it beneath layers of leather and male pride. What a shame that the females’ bets had been for nothing.

My Y/n, whose side are you on? He asked as you began unbuckling the gauntlets on his arms. Piece by piece, leather armor fell to the ground as steam curled up into the air. It never failed to amaze you how large Illyrian tubs were—and how long they took to fill. 

I’m on both your sides.

That is a very noncommittal answer. 

It’s a very judicious answer. 

Azriel smiled, cheeks brushing against yours as he kissed the curve of your ear. I do agree you are anything if not sensible. 

Azriel hummed in satisfaction as the last of his Illyrian leathers dropped to the floor. You knelt beside the tub, pouring in a concoction of oils as Azriel stretched out his wings. It was easy to admire the curve of his neck and the muscles of his back as his wings flexed open and close. 

When he was deep beneath the waters, eucalyptus and lavender opening up his lungs, he asked you to clean his wings. It was heaven whenever you touched them. Your soft fingertips seemed to hold all the power in the world — the power to light his blood aflame like whiskey or to soothe him like a sleep draught. Tonight your touch was peaceful as he wrapped his mind around the bond and felt your souls melt and mix like gold. 

This is to be our lives now. Azriel reminded himself once again. 

You buried yourself beneath the covers and made a little noise of contentment that never failed to make his chest grow warm. 

It is. You agreed. Would you like me to remind you? 

It was a pattern of words you’d grown used to while at the Cottage. Azriel would marvel at the mating bond—the peace that came with it—and you would take to carefully kissing the expanse of his chest, his neck, his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been painted by your gentle lips. 

You began that ritual now, winding your way up his chest and ending at his eyelids. Black eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you finished performing the magic that was your love and devotion. 

I love you, Azriel. You reminded him. You would remind him of that truth every day of your lives. 

I love you too, Y/n. I adore you. 

You settled into his side and Azriel draped a wing around your shoulders in a move that was as natural as breathing now. Heads bowed together, shadows curled close by, and scarred hands met scarred skin as he traced the curve of your spine.

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird. 

Together. 

As they were always meant to be.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

This is the last chapter before the epilogue y'all. I don't think I can say anything right now because it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this story so... I guess I'll save my thoughts and emotions for another time...

[ohmaswife]

heyoo it’s me🤭 (again🤕) so something funny came to my brain and i rlly wanted to ask you what are some icks or quirks you think ohma would have? LMAO😭 (you can add raian as well if you want🫣) i love my bby girl but i personally think he would do some annoying shit like pee on your leg while showering with you PLEASEE😭😭 Another annoying thing i think ohma would do is the he would eat YOUR leftovers and then gaslight you if you confronted him💀 saying shit like “but i literally saw you eat those yesterday” “i dont know what you’re talking about” LMAOO 😭 but i would love to see your take tehehe🤭

Ohma Tokita Headcanons V

*AFAB body reader, ‘girl’ used

Word count: ~1.2k

A/N: OFC MY BABY!!! 💗🥹do we love this man? yes. would he be annoying as shit in a relationship w you? YES 😫 but would it be worth it? again, yes 💗c: def wanna do a separate one with Raian bc boy would be a MENACE and prob worse omg 😫as always enjoy and lmk how i can improve my writing <3

Masterlist

Significantother!Ohma who eats your leftovers without asking. You were saving that last slice of pizza? Not anymore. Ohma swears you weren’t gonna eat it, even if you explicitly told him not to touch it. “C’mon, babe, I’m doing you a favor.” But he always lets you steal food from his plate in return.

SignifcantitherOhma! who pees on your leg in the shower. He absolutely does this just to mess with you. Laughs when you freak out and dodges your retaliation attempts. “Oh my god, Ohma! I just washed my legs!” You’ll screech.“It’s sterile, babe! Means I really love you.” The worst part? He does it with a completely straight face, like it’s a normal thing.

SignificantOther!Ohma who refuses to take more than one trip for groceries. He will stack twenty bags up his arms like a man on a mission before taking two trips. If he drops something? “Tch. It wasn’t important anyway.” But he always makes sure to carry the heaviest bags so you don’t have to.

SignificantOther!Ohma who leaves the toilet seat up. You’ve fallen in at least once in the middle of the night, and Ohma laughed so hard he almost choked. “Damn, I wish I saw that.” But he’ll always lift you up and put you back in bed if you fall asleep somewhere else.

SignificantOther!Ohma who steals the blanket in his sleep. Starts the night cuddling you but somehow steals every ounce of warmth by morning. If you try to take it back, he’ll grumble in his sleep and yank it harder. Yet, if he wakes up and sees you shivering, he’ll tuck you into his chest and wrap you in his arms like a human furnace.

SignificantOther!Ohma who drinks out of your cup instead of his own. Every single time. Even if he has a drink, yours just tastes better, apparently. “It’s got your energy in it.” And if you tell him to get his own? He just smirks and takes another sip.

SignificantOther!Ohma who forgets his own towel and drips water everywhere. Showers, walks out completely dripping, and then asks you to grab his towel because he “forgot.” Now there’s a water trail all over the floor. But he always pulls you into a damp, shirtless hug as thanks. So, technically, it’s worth it.

SignificantOther!Ohma who plays with your phone when you’re using it. If you’re scrolling through your phone, he’ll randomly tap the screen or scroll for you just to be annoying. He loves messing up your doom scrolling flow. And if you glare at him, he’ll just lean in and kiss your cheek, saying, “Pay attention to me instead.”

SignificantOther!Ohma who thinks farting around you is a love language. Not even ashamed of it. Will lift a leg, make direct eye contact, and laugh if you react. “You should be honored.” But if you ever do it back? He’ll pretend to be deeply offended, but loves that you feel comfortable enough to just be human with him.

SignificantOther!Ohma who never closes things properly. The chip bag? Half-open. The peanut butter lid? Just sitting on top. The fridge? Barely closed. “It’s fine—look, it’s resting there.” But if you ever forget to close something? Ohma will stare at it dramatically and say, “Wow. So this is what betrayal feels like.”

SignificantOther!Ohma who calls you over to look at something and it’s just his muscles. You thought he found something cool, but no, he’s just flexing. Again. “Look at that. That’s peak form.” But if you roll your eyes, he’ll pick you up effortlessly and say, “You like it, though.”

SignificantOther!Ohma who gets distracted in the middle of a story and never finishes it. Will start a sentence, get sidetracked, and never come back to it. If you ask later? “What? Oh, yeah. I forgot.” But if you ignore him mid-story, he’ll suddenly remember every word and demand your full attention.

SignificantOther!Ohma who steals your shampoo and denies it. He reeks of your expensive hair products but claims he definitely didn’t use them. “It just smells like yours, that’s all.” But he’ll say your shampoo makes his hair extra soft when you run your fingers through it.

SignificantOther!Ohma who snores like a chainsaw. Only claims he snores “a little,” but you’ve considered earplugs or sleeping in another room. But if you ever actually leave, he’ll wake up instantly and pull you right back into bed with a sleepy, grumbling, “Where d’you think you’re going?”

SignificantOther!Ohma who always “forgets” to charge his phone, and then steals your charger at the last second when you really need it. But if your battery is low, he’ll hand it over without hesitation. “Yours is more important, anyway.”

SignificantOther!Ohma who pokes you just to be annoying. If you’re lying next to him, expect random pokes to your side, arm, or cheek. He just has to be touching you in the most irritating way possible. And if you glare at him? He just grins and pulls you closer.

Significantother!Ohma who “helps” you cook but eats everything while you’re cooking. Will walk by, snatch a piece of what you’re chopping, and claim it’s “taste testing.” You turn around and half the ingredients are gone. But he’ll always share whatever meal he’s eating, even if he’s starving.

Significantother!Ohma who uses his shirt as a napkin. If there’s food on his hands? He’s wiping it on his own or yours like a child. Whatever is closer. But if you get food on your face? He’ll wipe it off gently with his thumb and smirk like he’s just done something incredibly romantic.

Significantother!Ohma who would fight anyone who upsets you (even if it’s over something dumb). You rant about someone annoying you at work? Ohma’s already cracking his knuckles. Someone made you sad? He’s asking for names. And if you tell him to chill, he’ll grumble, “Nobody messes with my girl.”

Ohma is unbearable. He is an absolute menace. He pushes every one of your buttons, steals your food, interrupts your peace, and does things specifically to get a rise out of you. And yet, despite how insufferable he is, he loves you with every fiber of his being. No matter how much he teases, no matter how much he annoys you, his devotion is unwavering. You are his, and he is obsessed with you in a way he doesn’t even try to hide. He loves waking up next to you, loves hearing you laugh (even if it’s at his expense), and loves the fact that you put up with him at all. You’re the best thing to ever happen to him, and if annoying you every single day means he gets to keep you forever, then he’ll gladly do it for the rest of his life.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Cooking headcanons ^^

Xisuma and Mumbo cannot cook to save their lives. My brothers cannot be in a kitchen without lighting at least three things on fire. The least Xisuma knows how to cook is cup noodles, and he forgot the seasoning last time he did.

Grian only knows how to make those cake, cupcake and brownie mixes from those boxes :3

Tango makes cooking into a game.(Cough cough* Plate Up *cough cough)

Joe is unbelievably good at cooking. All the hermits come over to Joe's when they're low on food. Nobody knows how he does it, he's just better ig.

Zed cooks anything and everything with varying levels of success *-*

Pearl is a goddess at cooking but she doesn't know it. She could cook a meal for everyone on the server and be completely unaware that she just made some 5 star delicacies.

Doc has an automated kitchen that makes all of his food for him. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Etho only knows how to make Jell-o, and only eats Jell-o (much to iJevin's dismay).

Iskall and Scar can both make lots of things with relative ease, but their work stations are actual nightmares. Nobody knows how they find anything in their kitchens.

Impulse and Gem are good cooks but they can only follow recipes.

Skizz can only make breakfast foods. Literally nothing else. :]

Skizz could make a perfect stack of pancakes and then burn soup when he tries to make lunch. He doesn't know why.

-Mod Mleem

[callme-holly]

hiii! can you do either 47 (touching their elbow to get their attention) or 22 (falling asleep on the other’s shoulder) with Darry please! :D

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 [𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - it's been so long since i've written sorry y'all. school has been crazy busy and i saw grease two days in a row so i've had literally no time to write. I'm still trying to get through requests.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 791 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none

Sunlight streams in through the open kitchen window, bathing the tile in a soft golden hue and casting long shadows across the floor. The radio plays quietly in the background, whatever station is being broadcast lost to the loud thrum of chatter filling the Curtis home, voices blending together to create an indistinct buzz of noise. 

Darry stands at the stove, his back turned to you as he cooks up breakfast for everyone, bacon sizzling on the pan, the smell permeating the room, bringing with it the sweet scent of freshly brewed coffee. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower he’d taken a little while earlier, and even through the fabric of his shirt, you can see just how tense his shoulders are. 

You don’t have to ask to know that he’s stressed, the way his jaw clenches a tell-tale sign in itself, as well as the way his brow creases everyime someone laughs or shouts a little louder than he’d like for 8 in the morning.

He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, which probably has something to do with the steadily increasing stack of bills on the coffee table and the fact he doesn’t slip into bed beside you until late at night, once the boys are both asleep and the house has been tidied the best he can manage in his sleep deprived state. 

You’re yet to mention it, knowing full well that he’ll give you the same answer he always does; a quick “i’m fine, darlin’, stop worrying so much” before returning to whatever chore it is he happens to be working on. You'd be lying if you said you weren't worried about him. 

A soft sigh slips past your lips, heard only by you as the song on the radio fades into another commercial break. It's one of those stations, you note with a sense of exasperation, that seems to play more advertisements than music. 

Someone lets out a particularly loud laugh from the living room and Darry’s entire body stiffens momentarily at their volume. He exhales heavily through his nose, turning off the heat under the frying pan and taking a moment to lean against the counter top, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to drown out the sound. 

Your heart twinges in your chest, sympathy washing over you at the sight, and you reach out a tentative hand, brushing against his forearm with a featherlight touch, hoping to catch his attention. 

“You okay?” You ask softly, voice barely above a murmur despite the volume of the house around you. Darry glances back towards you briefly, a small smile crossing his lips at the sight of your concerned expression, before he turns back to face the food on the stove.

“I'm fine,” He replies shortly, pulling away from you and moving to gather up enough plates for the group of boys in the living room. “Just tired.” 

But, you don't believe him. Not for one second. It isn't just the exhaustion that keeps him tense, but something else entirely. And as he sets down the last plate on the table and goes to call everyone in to eat, you find yourself moving to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands and forcing him to look down at you.

His blue eyes meet yours, unseeing in their focus as he struggles to keep the unbothered façade up. But you’re no stranger to that sort of reaction from him—you’ve seen that same look many times in the last few weeks, though it never lasts. 

“Let me worry about the bills this month.” Your words come out more sternly than you intended them to, but they seem to get through to Darry all the same. His shoulders slump in defeat, and he shakes his head quickly. 

“No. I can take care of it myself. You don’t need to–”

“But I want to,” You reply sharply, cutting him off before he can make any further protest. “I want to help you, Darry. Please?"  He opens his mouth to speak again, before hesitating , seemingly torn between arguing with you over his financial burden and trusting in your ability to handle such a responsibility. Eventually, his face settles into something resembling resignation. 

“Okay,” He mutters, giving in after only a brief bout of silent deliberation. "alright... just this once." 

Your smile grows wider, and you press a light kiss to his lips. you know he probably isn't thrilled at the idea of relying on you in this situation. he never likes relying on others  for anything, let alone this kind of thing, but you're not going anywhere anytime soon and he knows you'll probably help him regardless of what he says. you're both stubborn like that.

[ehlnofay]

the obelisks are pastel coloured and wet and they shiver under their own weight and they are ever-growing btw

they hate me for constructing ungodly obelisks in the workplace

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Sebastian & Co. - Riddle Rosehearts Reader

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I changed it up a bit Anon, and made you Ciel's long lost cousin twice removed and a lord instead of an earl, pre overblot riddle, beheading is literal. But your butler is still Trey and your staff is still the rest of the Heartslabyul cast like we discussed before. Sorry for not posting at an earlier time, my seasonal allergies turned into a very bad cold. —Benny🐰

Warnings -> Passing mentions of decapitation...

                                                                                                   

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🐈‍⬛ Sebastian's first impression of you was... not great. When he opened the front door to let you inside, you were in the midst of shouting at your butler about following rules and then you turned to him and said "It's about time!" So you were another cheeky brat like his master, it seems. The demon didn't mind you all that much though, he was used to dealing with children already.

🐈‍⬛ He was a bit shocked that you were Ciel's distant cousin, but then again your soul was just slightly similar to that of his master. While you and his young master conversed about your childhoods, Sebastian listened in from where he stood off to the side. All he could really offer your situation sympathy-wise was a short muttered "Oh."

🐈‍⬛ Upon your arrival you had brought a few members of your staff with you, which Sebastian thought of as strange since you came here to see his young master only. But he figured that you must have wanted to introduce them to your cousin. Or... to give them an example of how to do their jobs properly, from what the demon butler saw, they were just as incompetent as the Phantomhive Manor's own staff. Ugh. Such misfortune.

🐈‍⬛ Sebastian did however meet your own butler who went by the name of Trey Clover. He was quite impressed with his performance considering he was a human. Though later in the visit you had sent Trey to assist him with dessert, something about "Trey, go make me a tart.". And dear me did Sebastian find out your butler can make a good ass tart.

🎩 Ciel was quite shocked to find that he had any family left after Madam Red's unfortunate passing. You looked a bit similar to his aunt as well, but you quickly clarified that you were his distant cousin twice removed. The young earl was definitely taken aback at your intense dedication to the rules your mother raised you with. Ciel was even more shocked that you hold your staff to the same rules and behead those who disobey.

🎩 Truth be told he finds you quite childish and audacious, such rules are utterly ridiculous, and he tells you so. Fortunately, you can't bring yourself to behead Ciel and the two of you delve into a long talk about your differing childhoods. He learned of your mother and what she put you through, but he can't help but be envious that you still have your parent, even if they aren't the best. Ciel doesn't tell you that though.

🧹 Poor Mey'rin is terrified of you! She was moving a stack of expensive china plates from the storage room to the kitchen and as she walked through the tea room, past you and the young master, she tripped! The plates sailed to the ground and broke on impact. As Mey'rin turned to apologize, she was met with a very angry you, shouting about how she should be beheaded for her mistake.

🧹 Thankfully one of your staff, Ace, made up some excuse that calmed you down and helped her up. Mey'rin instantly fell in love, he was such a 'kind gentleman'. How he looked in her eyes with that boyish smirk and said, "Let's get outta here.", she couldn't hold herself together and sprinted out of the room in embarrassment.

🧯 Bardroy is peak annoyed with you, he already has the young master, he doesn't need another spoiled child to deal with. He was 'cooking' in the kitchen, right, trying to make something for the esteemed guest. So he did the usual, light a stick of dynamite and toss it in the oven, right? Then the oven exploded and Bardroy could hear your shouting all the way from the game room.

🧯 You ended up sending in one of your staff to check out what happened in the kitchen and that's how he met Deuce. Bardroy thought he was a pretty nice kid even if he too had no idea how to cook without being destructive either. He also found the interest in pots to be weird. "Let's just use a pot!" "Eh!? Steak in a pot?"

🪴 You scare Finny sometimes, yes, but he knows that deep down you're probably really nice. While both you and the young master were sitting in the garden having tea, he accidentally let a hedgehog loose. However, his suspicions were proved right when he noticed that you had picked up the hedgehog and sat it on your lap, petting it as if it were a cat.

🪴 A member of your staff named Cater had literally bumped into him while he was walking past the newly installed rose hedges. He and Finnian got along swimmingly as they spoke about their shared interests with one another. He also found that Cater really enjoyed taking photographs in his free time.

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Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘