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xxfaithlynxx · 2 months ago

Text

Bad Decisions

Word Count: 10k

BETA-READ by the wonderful Needle_Wand_and_Thimble!

Please DO NOT steal or plagiarize my work. Much appreciated! As always.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Chapter 17:

I looked between them curiously before settling my gaze on Xavier, “Should an Alpha not be able to use commands on another’s pack members or something?”

“There are a lot of things we don’t know or understand about pack dynamics, Ori. So, I can’t give you the proper answer.”

I nodded slowly, before turning to look up at Sylus. He’d gone unnaturally quiet.

Reaching over, I pressed my palm flush against his chest. “Hey, we’ll figure this out, right? Zayne’s your friend, isn’t he?” I glanced between Raf and Xav, they both nodded. “He’d let us stay here.”

Nary a blip down our link, nothing but silence greeted me as I reached for him. His eyes were dark, narrowed. “Sylus…?”

I jumped as one moment he’s sitting beside me, and then he’s up and walking out of the cafe. My eyes trailing after him, my mouth parting in shock as I watched him stuff his thumbs into the pockets of his pants, hunch his shoulders and stride away. Disappearing across the street.

Xavier sighed, reaching across the table to gently rest a hand on my shoulder, the same shoulder Sylus had just moments prior, been gripping like a lifeline.

“He’ll be back, cutie.” Rafayel tried to assure me, his eyes still locked on the spot Sylus had disappeared across the street.

“This wasn’t easy on any of us when we figured it out. None of us knew that presentations could change.”

I thought about that for a second. My father’s presentation did. Should I tell them that? I looked down and wrapped my fingers around the base of the cup of, now, cold coffee that Sylus had brought earlier.

A waitress walked up to our table, holding two plates of steaming food. I offered her a small smile as she placed them down on the table. “Is… your boyfriend coming back?”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, I had no idea. He’d shut out our connection, blocked me from feeling, or navigating what could only be a kaleidoscope of emotions going through him. “I….”

Rafayel smiled at the young girl, sliding the steaming plate of… creamy looking noodles over to his side of the table. “Probably not, sweetheart , but if it’s paid for–” He winked at the waitress and I felt second hand embarrassment for the young girl as she blushed, more like nearly turned into a fucking tomato, before bashfully lowering her eyes, giggling and walking away.

“You really can’t turn that shit off, can you.” I stated, resting my chin on my palm as I leaned against the table while I watched him.

“Are you calling my personality shit , missy?” Rafayel asked, dangling a fork above the dish of food, an eyebrow raised as he rolled his jaw. “You better not be.” He pointed the fork at me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Xavier roll his eyes before reaching over and snaking one of the thick pieces of bread off the edge of the dish, stuffing it in his mouth while Raf threw him a glare.

‘Siri… should I tell them?’

I can’t force you not to, my Ori. The choice is yours.

I sighed, looking back up at the other two as they bitched about sharing Sylus’ food. Looking down at my own dish, I noticed it was the same as what Raf and Xav were bickering over. Some creamy noodle concoction. With sliced mushrooms, minced garlic, shrimp, red pepper flakes, some basil and if my nose wasn’t mistaking me, there was smoke paprika blended into the sauce.

I sighed once again, feeling a weight settling over me from my mate’s growing absence.

I felt Xavier’s eyes on me before he spoke, but when he did his tone was loaded with care, but also worry. “He’ll be okay, Ori. He just needs a moment….”

“I know.” I responded, picking up the fork to poke at some of the noodles in my dish, “It just physically hurts to be away from him right now….”

When I glanced up through my lashes at the two men, I could see their cheeks tinted pink, the color flowing into the tips of their ears. “When was your last heat– or I guess, have you experienced your first heat yet?” Xavier asked, his tone betraying a level of embarrassment from having asked.

“His rut, my heat. They just ended.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

Rafayel choked on the mouthful of food he’d just shoveled into his mouth. He reached over and snatched my coffee, tipping it back into his mouth before replacing it on the table and coughing a couple times. Regaining some of his composure.

“ Last night ? And the prick just left you? Why I oughta…” He fisted his free hand in front of his face, waving it around like he was in some imaginary boxing match.

“Raf.” Xavier threw the purple haired man a look, and Raf returned to what remained of his food.

I inhaled heavily through my nose, “I know it’s not exactly ideal… having to babysit me now that your former Alpha more or less just ditched the reunion.” I popped a mushroom in my mouth, chewing on it slowly, contemplatively.

“Also having to explain things to me like I’m a pup… but I do appreciate you both staying, and not leaving as soon as he did. Even after my comment earlier.”

Xavier smiled, a genuine, toothy smile that had me blinking dumbly at him.

“We wouldn’t abandon you, Ori. You’re part of the pack now. Sylus… will come around, like we mentioned, he’s been gone a long time. Things have changed.”

Rafayel was dabbing his mouth with a fabric napkin, rolling his tongue underneath his upper lip, cleaning his teeth before he agreed with Xavier. “Yeah, we'll be your faithful bodyguards while he’s away. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing!” He winked before he flexed an arm. Bicep bulging.

I nodded, twirling my fork around a portion of noodles. Better not waste this…

As Raf pushed aside the now empty and nearly polished clean plate, he leaned forward against the table. “So, what should we do once you’re done eating? How much of the city have you seen? Where did you two stay through your cycles?”

I felt some sauce go down the wrong pipe at Raf’s quick-fired questions, and had to hold a hand over my mouth as I tried to catch my breath again.

“Jesus, Raf. Stow the prod, let her eat first. Hotel food during a rut or in her case, a heat was less gratifying than this, but maybe I’m wrong.” Xavier cast me a sidelong glance, watching my reaction to his words.

“The hotel food was okay, and it was some place called Azure Peak, it was a really pretty place.. Though it looked like a bombshell went off when I woke up this morning.” I froze mid chew, realizing what I’d just said.

When I peeked up through my lashes and bangs at them, they were both grinning from ear to ear. The sight caused a sweep of heat to flood through my cheeks.

A couple undignified chuckles from the boys later, and they were both gossiping about something or other while I ate. Mentioning things about their salon, appointments and bookings. Schedule changes and other things about appliances and products that I didn’t understand.

“She’d look amazing with red hair, or maybe a tattoo, don’t you think?” Raf suddenly said.

“Raf, don’t start. You say to everybody.”

“Oh come on, Xavy. I’m serious!”

“You say that all the time too.”

I looked between them as they spoke, bickering like an old married couple about this and that. Rafayel with his exaggerated gestures, and crudely executed expressions of annoyance or sulking. While Xavier was far more subdued, relaxed. Obviously comfortable in Rafayel’s flamboyant presence.

Taking them in, I finally noticed some nuances about them I’d missed upon our first nerve wracking meeting. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but Rafayel had ink. Tattoos down one arm, the art stopping at his elbow. Still chewing, I tilted my head, trying to decipher what I was looking at.

Water? Waves? Something to that effect. The ink covered his bicep and over his shoulder, leading up his neck and even behind his ear. With him moving his head so much, it was hard to tell exactly what the design was behind his ear, but it looked like cross hatching… a net, maybe?

Xavier on the other hand, looked like he’d just had his hair cut. It wasn’t painfully obvious, but I could smell the fresh scent of shampoo and conditioner on him, and I caught sight of the back of his neck when he bent his head over from Sylus’ command, freshly shaved up over his neck.

He also had a tiny star tattoo in an odd green colour just behind his left ear. With his abundantly clothed outfit, I couldn’t tell if he had any other designs on him other than the one.

I was a little over halfway through my dish of pasta, it was surprisingly delicious. I’d never had something so… luxurious before, and certainly not something portioned like this all to myself. The shrimp and mushrooms were an odd combination, but they’d surprised me. I found I’d enjoyed it far more than I imagined I would.

I covered my mouth with an open palm as I chewed and swallowed my last bite, feeling like my stomach might explode from being so full. “So, are you two together ?”

Raf barked a laugh, and then paused. “Wait– how do you– we– are you serious?” He slumped back in his seat, throwing the back of his hand like a dramatic play act over his forehead. “She thinks I’m with this meathead… oh, what a world.”

I glanced at Xavier, who was smirking but shaking his head at his friend’s antics.

“We grew up together. We work together. We’re best friends; but we aren’t together. Not like that.” Xavier answered as Raf continued his dramatics, now faking tears with both hands covering his face, peeking between fingers to make sure he had both of our attention.

“Has he always been so…” I gestured broadly with both hands at him.

“Yes.”

I smirked when all of Raf’s theatrics abruptly ended and he tossed me a pensive glare.

“I’ll remember that, Missy.” Then he looked at Xavier and jabbed a finger against the blonde’s shoulder, “And you , puh-lease , I am not. ”

Xavier’s and my eyes met and we both rolled them in unison, like we’d done it for years, and not just in the last hour or so. Xavier smiled again, “Sure, Raf. Whatever you say.”

—

I wasn’t sure how we’d ended up here, but after I’d finished my food and let it settle. AKA- letting my tummy have time to realize it wasn’t about to burst. Raf convinced me that we needed to go shopping.

So, now… we were inside some designer shop. My arms loaded to the tits, with brand name dresses, shirts, pants, shorts, jackets, hats. Xavier too, was nearly toppling over from how many pieces of clothing Raf had draped, thrown or otherwise tossed at him.

I huffed, “Uh.. Raf, I really don’t think this is necessary.” Rolling the weight of the mountain of clothing I was holding down on to a nearby armchair.

“Oh, c’mon cutie.” He hefted the length of fabric he was holding over his shoulder before he looked me up and down, “First of all, you look homeless.” He stalked towards me, one hand tapping his chin while the other started hovering over me, making a point to articulate my apparent spectrum of depravity. “Second of all, you’re a princess now! And we can’t let our new princess look homeless, now can we.”

‘Princess? What?’

Sylus might not be the pack’s Alpha anymore, but he is still the son of the former Alpha, the one who founded the pack itself, so, technically that would make him a Prince, and you… being the big jerk’s mate, makes you a Princess, my Ori.

‘Are you mad at him, Sirius?’

Yes. Her answer, short and to the point. I suppose he deserved her ire, sort of.

It was still a matter of confusion for me. I didn’t know why he’d just got up and left. I didn’t know how he was feeling. While the three of us had walked out of the cafe.

It turned out to not even be a cafe, like I’d initially thought– but a full restaurant– much to Rafayel’s amusement and my shock.

I’d felt embarrassed by mistaking it and was going to comment on it, but Xavier reassured me that with my lack of experience with the way the real world worked, now that I was free of the oddity that was the Sable pack, that it was fully within my right to be confused and a little lost in a place as big and strange as the shifter city of Vandre i Undring.

I was also a little surprised that Xavier and Raf called it that, and not Grasslands like Sylus seemed to prefer. Although, personally… I thought Vandre i Undring was far more fitting.

“Okay! Let's get out of here! Shall we, Missy?” I blinked, my train of thought stopping back at the main station. Rafayel was standing in front of me, arms loaded with bags. Xavier stood just behind him, shaking his head, but also holding about a dozen bags.

My eyes blew wide, “Did you buy out the store?!” I nearly shrieked at him.

“ I didn’t.” Raf grinned like a cat that got the cream, “ Sylus did.”

“Wait, what? How? He’s not even here?” I’d been feeling the loss of his presence and his warmth since he disappeared, but it was surprisingly, yet slowly, getting easier to breathe the longer I spent with Raf and Xavier.

“ Cutie , he owns this city.” Raf winked at me before turning to the door.

My mouth fell open in my awe. He comes from THAT kind of money? Oh, fuck.

Xavier was biting his lip, failing to keep his amusement at bay as he stood there, waiting.

“We better get going, or else we’ll lose him.” He said, nodding his head back towards the door.

I just nodded and followed them, still mentally stupefied by this revelation.

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you he was loaded.” Xavier quietly said to me as we walked side by side down the sidewalk, following a length of buildings and shops.

“Well… no, he didn’t tell me necessarily… I just sort of assumed .”

��Oh? How could you have assumed anything pertaining to his wealth when, from what I understand, you two were wandering the wilderness for days before you found a highway?” Xavier asked as we approached a tall man in a black suit, with an earpiece, who stood next to the road and Xavier handed off all of the bags he carried off to this unknown figure before turning back to me, waiting for my response.

“Take everything back to my penthouse, yeah?” I overheard Raf say to the man in black before returning to my side.

“Uh,” I looked between the strange man and Raf for a moment before averting my gaze back to Xavier. “Well, when we finally broke off from the Sable territory, we walked down the edge of a highway for a bit… but it was when he bounded into the woods just off a side road and walked out with a far too shiny motorcycle that gave me my first hint.”

Raf and Xav exchanged a look before rolling their eyes. “Of course he’d get a motorcycle.”

I queried a brow, “He didn’t have one when he left?”

“Sweetheart, he left with a duffle bag, boots and the clothes on his back.” Xavier said, resting his hands on his hips and tipping his head up to look at the sky.

“Yeah, after…” Raf glanced at me, “... did he tell you about Aurora?”

I nodded as I chewed on my cheek.

“Okay, that’s good.” Raf reached up and combed the fingers of one of his hands through his hair, “So, you know how devastated he was after her rejection, and then losing his father.” Raf sighed, his shoulders drooping, “It really took a toll on him.”

I furrowed my brows, “Did he explain to you guys why he was going west?”

Xavier answered that question, “Something about an old acquaintance he went to visit with his father when he was young.”

I froze. An old… acquaintance?

He did tell you that he knew your father, my Ori.

She was right. “I think… he went to meet my father , only… he met with Ephraim’s pack.” I swallowed heavily.

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly as he mulled my words over. “You said you were the daughter of Liam and Vivica Ashmourn…” I saw Raf give Xav a confused look, “Liam Ashmourn was his generation’s Enigma, Raf.”

Raf turned to me so fast, it looked almost unnatural. “ You are one of the daughters of the Enigma?”

I pursed my lips before nodding, “Did I not say that during my monologue?”

“Not in so many words, cutie.” Raf winked at me before moving closer to my side and slinging an arm over my shoulders, “Well, that changes things! Xav and I are yours for the rest of the day, Princess! What would you like to do?”

I sighed, my shoulders drooping, but not from the weight of his arm. “Am I allowed to request a search party for Sylus?”

“Nope.” He popped the P as he said it.

“I thought not.” I looked around, taking in the tall glass buildings, the rushing traffic of humans and shifters alike, the shops and common named retail lines that lined the sidewalks. I chewed on my cheek again, “What would you guys recommend then?”

Raf grinned, all teeth. Xavier made a face at him, like he knew what he was about to suggest.

“Let’s go back to my penthouse, try on some of those new clothes that your mate so graciously bought for you, and then let's hit the town.” Raf trotted away from me, running back to the long black sedan, “Thomas! We require a ride.”

“Yes, Sir.” The man in black said from inside the vehicle.

I tossed a cautious glance at Xavier, and he had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, but he didn’t say anything, he just sighed and gestured for me to walk ahead, giving me the slightest nod.

‘What am I doing…’

—

Rafayel’s penthouse was… not what I expected. I wasn’t sure, but frat boy came to mind when I thought of him, with his flamboyant personality. His tattoos, how he dressed.

The main room when you walked in, was aesthetically pleasing to the eye upon first glance.

Dark parquet wood flooring, multiple spaced out floor-to-ceiling windows with gossamer curtains lined the far wall, revealing the city beyond. A long persimmon-orange leather couch sat backed up against those windows, strewn across the length of the couch were seven pillows. Some were longer, with an almost garish blue wave pattern across them while others were also blue, but solid and darker. On the floor in front of the couch was a wooden coffee table with a small looking cactus plant at its center, a crystal pitcher and a matching tall crystal glass, beneath the coffee table was what looked like a shag carpet in a lighter cream color.

A massive metal art piece hung from the high arched ceiling in the center of the room, like a chandelier but bigger .

Against the far right wall was a massive hearth, an intricate curved metal cover stood as the gate while a fire burned softly behind. Giving the room a very warm, homey feel. On either side of the fireplace were massive, bookshelves built directly into the wall with arched tops. Loaded with books, plates, things that looked ancient, and a very plain looking silver lamp.

A matching persimmon-orange loveseat and armchair were placed closer to the hearth, each with more matching pillows, the armchair had a soft looking blanket in matching blue thrown across the back.

The walls, and spaces between the windows held large paintings, carrying the same, or similar colors as the couches and pillows. Otherwise most of them were greyscale, filling the space nicely.

All in all this main room looked like it’d walked right out of an eighties Sears magazine. Bright and chic. I found myself feeling quite at home here.

“Yeah, no one expects this after they meet Rafayel.” I bit my lip as I turned to look at Xavier. “Now, go into any other room, and your stereotype will ring true.” He winked at me before stepping by me, walking further into the brightly lit room.

“I heard that, asshole!” I smirked as I heard Rafayel’s voice ring from another room. He’d gone ahead with the plethora of shopping bags he’d wrangled, letting Xavier and me take our time.

He’d wanted to know if I’d experienced an elevator before, seeming nervous about it if I hadn’t. He relaxed a bit when I told him I’d been in a couple, and may not necessarily like them, but understood their use. Something about being lifted off the ground into the air made my stomach roll.

As I made my way deeper into Rafayel’s home, I peeked around a corner. It was a bedroom, much smaller than I expected to see in a place like this, but still bigger than anything I’d ever had. A large bed dominated the middle of the room, the headboard flat against a wall, tall dark wood frame with posts sticking high into the air at each corner. It looked almost similar to the one from the first hotel Sylus and I had stayed at, sans the canopy.

I heard a noise from further in, craning my head around, I peered into the room without actually entering and saw Raf rifling through the bags of clothes, mumbling to himself as he went.

“Do you want some help?” I asked softly, hands clasped behind my back.

He looked up at me, freezing in place like he’d forgotten I was present in his home.

“No, no. Go, ask Xavier to get you anything, he knows this place like the back of his hand. I’m trying to find something perfect for tonight, and… well, I wanted to surprise you, cutie!” He’d straightened and reached up to brush a hand over the back of his neck, shoving the length of hair to the side in the process. His eyes downcast as a blush crept into his cheeks.

Why is he so adorable? I smiled at him, a genuine one. “Anything you pick out will surprise me, Raf. It doesn’t have to be anything special.”

He grinned back at me, “It’ll knock his socks off, is what it’ll do.” As he bent to start going through the bags again, he tossed me another wink.

I just shook my head this time, and turned away. Seeing Xavier sprawled on the long orange couch on his back, one leg tossed casually over the backrest, his phone in his hands. Oh yeah, he’s comfy being here. I wish I could feel that relaxed…

Spend enough time with them and you will be, my Ori.

I internally sighed, ‘Have you heard from Stayrus at all?’

I’m sorry, my Ori… I haven’t. They’ve shut both of us out completely. Bastards.

I smirked at that before lowering myself down in front of the sofa, enjoying the texture of the area rug against the skin of my palms. I glanced over my shoulder at Xavier, he now had his phone resting on his chest, his hands crossed over his stomach. He’d shed the sweater and was now only in the loose white shirt and the plaid jeans. His bare arms were inkless.

He’d tipped his head back a bit, his eyes were shut. The pose actually looked really comfortable. Given Rafayel’s personality, I was fairly certain he’d be searching for a bit before he found this perfect outfit. I leaned my head back against the leather of the couch cushion, eyes locking on the thing that I think was supposed to be a chandelier as it hung motionless from the ceiling.

He’d need to find the dress, shoes… accessories, maybe? Did he even get those? I hadn’t been paying much attention after a bit while Raf shopped, I’d got lost in my thoughts, so if he did, I hadn’t noticed. He’d then have to do something with my hair… makeup? I shuddered at the thought of being dolled up, but… it also sounded fun.

“What’re you thinking about?” Xavier’s soft voice brought me back from getting caught up in wandering thoughts.

“Just thinking about what this magical outfit Raf wants to surprise me with is going to be like.”

A soft chuckle and then, “Well, whatever it is… I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.” Fingers brushed through my hair suddenly, making me pause, “Would you let me do your hair?”

I couldn’t help the little squeak of excitement that escaped me as I grinned. “Would you?” Then I paused, thinking further on it. “What would I owe you?”

Xavier blinked, his blue eyes wide as he stared at me, “ Owe me? What do you mean?”

I tipped my head to the side as I turned to face him, my legs crossing as I dropped my hands to my knees. “Yeah, I don’t have money…” I could hear the tension in my voice, feel it down my back. “I could pay you back another way. Cleaning, cooking…” my eyes met his, because I knew the innuendo was there, as much as something inside me was barking at me to stop talking, to not dare finish that line of thinking, I still felt the words pass my lips, “...anything you want.”

Xavier froze, “Are… you– wait. Ori… you’re not– are you ?” He’d sat up before swinging around to face me. Eyes wide, hands gripping his knees so tight his knuckles were white.

I swallowed. “I– I.. don’t know.” I sighed, my brain catching up with my words, “I’m sorry. It’s just… that was how I had to do things before .” I peered up at him, seeing the blush across his cheeks, “It’s muscle memory to jump to that when I’m offered something, or given something, it wasn’t ideal… but it was how I survived.”

Xavier didn’t say anything, but I heard him suck in a breath.

“Well that’s bleak.” I turned, seeing Raf leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom he’d been in, a pair of high heels dangled from a finger of the hand he had crossed over his chest. Over his other crossed arm was a shimmery looking piece of red fabric.

“You told us how they treated you… how you had to live, so I suppose, by that standard… your offering shouldn’t be so surprising.” He pushed off the door, his long legs striding across the room in their typical confident manner.

Xavier cleared his throat, “Try not to do that, okay?” I turned to look at him again, he’d faced away from me and had a hand rubbing the back of his neck, “You need to remember, you’re an Omega now, an unmarked Omega… and that means something very, very different.”

Right, shit.

“We may be Beta’s, cutie, but we’re still men. ” He slid the items in his arms onto the coffee table before crouching in front of me, his index finger pressing underneath my chin, “Sylus’ mate or not, you’re unmarked and thereby still available.”

“I didn’t think Betas were interested in Omegas, those presentations aren’t compatible, right?”

Rafayel scoffed before rolling his eyes. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that aside from our presentations… we’re still compatible as males and females . If you don’t want to bring sudden death down upon us or anyone else for that matter, try not to offer anything up that you won’t be able to get back later.”

I couldn’t do much else but nod at him, my eyes wide. I should try and get some clearer idea of how things work here before letting my mind jump to drastic, unrealistic conclusions.

I glanced between them. “Okay… would you two be able to help me understand more about what I am then? Sylus hasn’t exactly been very forthcoming, then again I don’t think I’ve asked anything outright… I’ve just kind of back burnered it, thinking I’d go with the flow.”

Xavier perked up a bit, and Raf smirked at me before bobbing his chin in Xavier’s direction. “He’s the book worm, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to try and answer anything you ask him.” He moved to sit in front of me, crossing his own legs until our knees touched. “I, on the other hand, care more about blowing Sylus’ socks off and making him regret walking out on you like he did.”

After that, Xavier sat on the couch behind me as he worked his fingers through my hair, he’d run to grab a small black leather case from the front entrance before he’d placed himself back on the couch. I’d never had someone else brush my hair, I’d always dealt with it myself, keeping it on the shorter side so it was easier to maintain. The length hung just past my shoulders now, longer than I’d ever had it prior.

Raf was hunched over, my hands resting over his knees while he painted my nails a sultry looking sparkly red that glowed gold in certain lights. His wavy purple hair smelled good, and I could see the different tones hidden within each strand. Soft lilac, dark teals, and the sombre indigo, even with him bent over, our height differences still brought the top of his head closer to my face than I’d anticipated.

His scent reminded me of the ocean. The smell of the salted water rushing over the sand and dirt. It reminded me somewhat of home. Being on my father’s shoulders as he pointed out to the horizon as we watched the sun set over the endless expanse of dark water. Hearing his voice again in my head, about watching for the green flash, keeping my eyes peeled for signs of sirens or mermaids, sea serpents and dragons. The memories brought a heavy weight to my chest, over my shoulders, but they were also happy memories I’d thought I’d lost.

So, to find them again, had that weight lifting, not gone, never gone. I found that after letting the two Betas, Sylus’ friends, care for me, it made me feel cherished in a way I hadn’t been since my mother, since my father.

“Why are you crying, little Oreo?” I hadn’t noticed when Raf finished with my hands, looking up at me as he blew on the still wet red nail-polish. “Far off in thought?”

I only nodded, sniffing lightly, before giving him a small but real smile. “You smell like the ocean. It made me think of my parents.”

Without any of his dramatics, his sass or usual quirky indifference I’d somehow grown accustomed to when it came to Rafayel, he surprised me by offering his own small, but very real, very unlike him, smile. Those blue-pink eyes softened to something relaxed as he wrapped a hand around my wrist, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s a pack thing, our scents can help when another is stressed, worried, sad– the list goes on.” He leaned forward and brushed his nose over my wrist again, this time I felt less scandalized by it, now knowing after Xavier explained it to me, that it was normal for pack members to be able to do that, as a sign of affection or care.

“You smell calmer, that’s good. I know without Sy here, without your mate… it must be hard on you, hard on your wolf.” He nuzzled my wrist, but not in a sexual way, before looking back up at me, “I’m glad we can provide something to help you relax.”

It was the most calm, most even toned he’d been since I met him. It was also a speech I expected more from Xavier than Raf. I smiled at him in thanks, “It is hard… before, I thought I was going to hyperventilate from the crushing feeling I felt in my chest, but now… it’s manageable, I can breathe. I can think about him not being here without wanting to crawl into a hole.”

Xavier chuckled behind me, “That’s good. Now,” He leaned forward, grabbing a hand mirror off the coffee table, and held it up in front of me. His other hand rested light but warm over my shoulder. “What do you think?”

In the mirror, I first saw my eyes. Their striking blue, lighter near the iris’ but darkened to a deep navy around the outer edges. What caught my attention about them the most now, was that there were flecks of gold and green spotted within the lighter blue color.

Expanding my view of myself by reaching up to push Xavier’s hand away from my face a bit, I was able to switch my focus to what he’d done to my hair.

The mousy brown color seemed brighter, amplified somehow. My typical side part seemed striated from one side to other down the middle of my head. Hair almost curled, falling like heavy curtains down the sides past my ears. He hadn’t cut anything, just styled it, but it was so unlike what I’d been used to, unlike what I typically saw in a mirror that it stole the breath from my lungs.

“I’ll take her breathless silence as a good thing!” Rafayel said from behind the mirror, I could tell he was smirking by the way I heard his mouth move around the words.

“I-I do.” I reached up to take the mirror from Xavier, only for him to give my shoulder a squeeze as he leaned back, “Thank you, Xavier. I… I truly love it.”

“Good.” He said, before leaning his head in again, as his vibrant blue eyes met mine through the mirror, “Do not let anyone else touch your hair.”

He wasn’t asking, but I nodded anyway.

“Now, let’s get you dressed. Shall we?” Rafayel’s tone made me lower the mirror, my brows pulling together as he pushed himself back to a stand, reaching over to the sparkly red piece of fabric he’d dropped on the coffee table’s surface.

“Cottontop won’t know what hit him when I’m done with you.” He winked down at me before holding out his free hand.

—

“Come on, little Oreo!” I heard from beyond the bathroom door, “Come out, please , I need to know if I got the right size… though, I’m pretty fucking sure I nailed it.”

I stared at myself in the mirror above the sink. ‘Oh Gods… This isn’t a dress, it’s scrap fabric they didn’t know what to do with! Siri! Help.’

My Ori, you look resplendent! Beautiful, gorgeous! Need I go on?

I cringed slightly, but felt a warmth swim through me from her words. ‘No… Thank you. I just… feel entirely underdressed.’

I felt her chuckle in my head. This is part of conforming to a new way of life, my Ori. You are a part of a new pack now, you’ll need to do this eventually. Plus, I think I like those two– they made you feel at home, they cared and are caring for you while your knucklehead of a mate isn’t here.

I smiled at myself in the mirror, smoothing my hands down my sides. Feeling the almost smooth texture of the sparkly red fabric against the palms of my hands. Rafayel had made a note to show me the drawstring at the left hip, letting me know that if I so pleased, I could let the dress hang to my knees, or be drawn up into a rather salacious midi cocktail dress, baring an alarming amount of upper thigh but still remaining comfortable enough to feel like everything was still properly covered.

You should enjoy yourself, my Ori.

I wanted to, I really did.

Yet, the empty cavern that had grown with Sylus’ disappearance had begun to fester. I wanted my mate, here, with me. I wanted him to see me, to see the look in his crimson eyes as they drifted over every nuance of my body. To watch the flare of desire, of need blow his pupils wide. I wanted to feel his touch against my skin, to feel his lingering kiss on my lips.

I wanted my mate. Desperately.

“ Sweet little Oreo Cookie! Come out, pleeaase .” Rafayel’s voice was taking on that whine I’d associated with his personality again, and I sighed. Shuttering off the flowing cravings for Sylus’ presence and warmth to the back of my mind.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming out.” I called back, rolling my eyes as I pulled open the door.

Leaning a shoulder against the side wall, was Rafayel. Behind him, perched against a doorframe across the hall was Xavier. Each of them looked up when I opened the door, and I watched with mild satisfaction when both of their eyes grew wide and their mouths popped open.

“Wow.” Was all Xavier said, his cheeks and the tips of his ears growing pink before he blinked and stood up straighter, coughing softly as he seemed to look anywhere else but at me.

“God. Damn.” Raf looked me over from head to toe, making me blush. “I knew that would look perfect on you.” He lifted a hand, sticking out a finger as he made a twirling motion. I stuck out my tongue at him before doing a little circle, hands pressed solidly against my hips as I did.

“Oh, he’s gonna blow a load as soon as he sees you, Oreo.”

Xavier smacked the purple haired menace on the back of the head. “Raf, a little decorum. Please .” Through my burning cheeks, I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.

When I glanced down, I noticed that both of them had changed.

Xavier had on one of the lightest blue colored dress shirts I’d ever seen, that it almost looked white. Ribbons of lilac and gold designs climbed each sleeve, over the front, the same lilac and gold ribbons climbed up and over the shoulder. He’d left the first two buttons undone, showing off the indent at the base of his neck and an almost polite amount of collarbone. The shirt itself was tucked into his pants. A pair of gray slacks, pleated down the middle of each leg. Black belt and a silver chain with a star dangling off to the side clung around his hips. His look was completed with a pair of black and white dress shoes. A chic Prince.

The look was modern, but also like he’d walked off the set of some Disney movie. Cinderella came to mind.

Rafayel looked like he had just come off the runway of some fashion show. An entirely white suit. Although, I guess it wasn’t all white. There was a black pinstripe down the center of his left pant-leg. White shoes with red stripes down each outer side. Near the cuffs of his sleeves were thick red rings, a wavy black line at each center. A flowing ribbon like line of red and black weaved over his left shoulder that stopped midway down. A straight red and black line followed the edge of the jacket's right hem, following up beneath the open lapel. Revealing a black turtleneck underneath. A gold chain was shown overtop the black, giving him an almost regal, yet fashion savvy look. In combination with his longer, purple hair- he looked really good.

They both did.

Raf looked back at Xavier with a knowing look before facing me again.

“Come on, you can ogle us later. I want to do your makeup.” He said, stepping into my space, making me stumble back a step, nearly toppling over on the four-inch coral pink heels he’d provided.

“Wh-what? Makeup?”

“Yes, makeup. Now let the maestro work his magic!”

Rafayel was meticulous, and paid attention to the littlest detail. If he wasn’t a tattoo artist, I’m sure his calling was some other form of artist. A painter maybe. His instructions were kind, not rushed. Patient and sure, like he’d done this hundreds of times before– for all I knew– he probably had.

He was gesturing to the upper quadrant of my eyelid as he spoke, saying something about my eyes being heavily lidded, that I’d need to drag the brush in a certain way to make it look like they weren’t.

Then Xav piped in with his two cents of advice, but Raf cut him off promptly, whining about how he was the artist, so he would be the teacher. Which made me giggle, a real giggle; which made both of them grin like fools for a long moment before continuing.

“Since you have such devastatingly beautiful blue eyes, I’m going to give you a smokey look. That’s when you use– this brush.” He said, holding up a brush in my face before tapping it into the darkest color on the palette he held in the opposite hand, knocking it on the edge of the plastic edge twice before gesturing with the brush hand, “...eyes closed, Oreo.” When I did, he just barely touched the outside corner of my eye. Explaining how what he was doing was going to make my eyes pop.

When he was done he stepped back and stared at me. Examining his canvas like the proper artist he was.

“I should do this professionally.” He said, a slow smile creeping over his face as his blue-pink eyes shone brightly.

“You do , do this professionally, Raf.” Xavier said from beside him, smiling at me with a firm nod. “You look amazing, Ori.”

I smiled up at both of them, “Thank you, guys. Really.”

Rafayel almost seemed to bounce in place as I stood up from the stool they’d brought me before my glam-up. “I can’t wait to see Sylus’ face when he sees you.” He clapped his hands before rubbing them together maniacally, “this is going to be fucking amazing.”

Xavier chuckled before holding out a hand to me, “He will most certainly be surprised.” I smirked and took his proffered hand, following between them as they led me to the main entry.

—

The air was thick with anticipation when the three of us walked into the main room of the club, the kind of anticipation that clings to your skin like a second layer, electric and alive. Neon lights pulsed in time with the bass, casting the crowded club in a kaleidoscope of colors. Bodies moved as one, a writhing mass of sweat and desire, each person lost in their own world.

I was no different, my body started swaying to the rhythm like it was second nature, the music vibrating through my veins. The music was a primal force, a throbbing pulse that seemed to originate from the very core of the earth.

I felt Xavier lean in beside me, his breath hitting my ear, “Have you drank before? Would you like something?”

I hadn’t drank before, but… with the atmosphere the way it was, and the way I could feel the music in my soul. I was suddenly feeling adventurous, so I turned to him, “Something sweet.” I’d made cocktails before, my aunt loved them, something she called an Appletini and had me make them for her on a regular basis. I remember them smelling almost sickly sweet, but also delicious.

I felt his smirk against my ear, “How about something called a Pornstar , they’re sweet.” I met his eyes, blue on blue as the strobing lights above us flickered in time with the beat.

“Sure! That sounds… interesting.” I curled a brow and saw his cheeks flush before he smirked, nodded and walked away. The beat was a siren song, drawing me deeper into the heart of the club, closer to the epicenter of the sound, pulling me in as I let my eyes drift shut.

I felt it before I saw him, a shift in the air, a disturbance in the rhythm. My eyes snapped open, drawn to a figure across the dance floor.

He was a silhouette against the flashing lights, his body moving with a grace that belied the raw power emanating from him. There was something predatory in his stance, a coiled tension that spoke of untapped energy. Our eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world stilled. The music faded, the crowd disappeared, leaving only him and me, connected by an invisible thread. It was as if some unseen force had reached out and grabbed us both, pulling us together across the sea of bodies. I felt a jolt, a spark of electricity coursing through me as our gazes locked. His eyes, a deep, fathomless green and gold, seemed to see right through me, stripping away my defenses, laying bare my soul.

Ori…? My Ori? What are you doing? Ori!

I couldn’t hear her, my mind was lost to reality. Focused solely on green and gold..

Before I could process what was happening, my body was moving towards him, drawn by an irresistible magnetism. The crowd parted, clearing a path for me as if they sensed the inevitability of our collision. Each step brought me closer, the air growing heavier, charged with anticipation.

He stood there, unmoving, his eyes never leaving mine. His lips curved into a slight smile, a knowing expression that sent a shiver down my spine. I felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated.

As I reached him, the music swelled, the bass vibrating through the floor, up my legs, and into my core. Our bodies were inches apart, the heat radiating from him palpable. I could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, mirroring the rhythm of the music, a primal beat that echoed in my own chest.

Ori, something isn’t right… He’s… His….

Then, he moved. His hand reached out, his fingers, long and slender, brushing mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. It was a spark, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment our eyes met.

Our bodies began to move, not in a choreographed dance, but in a primal, instinctual rhythm. It was as if we were extensions of the music itself, our movements fluid and effortless, guided by some unseen force.

His hand slid down my arm, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine, the heat between us palpable. I could feel the hardness of his chest, the defined muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid rise and fall of his breath mirroring my own.

The music was a tempest, a whirlwind of sound and light, and we were caught in its eye.

His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. " Omega ," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the music, lost in each other.

His hands roamed my body, mapping every curve, every contour, as if committing me to memory. His touch was firm yet gentle, possessive yet reverent.

I ran my hands up his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart. His skin was warm, his scent intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat and something sweet and floral, something uniquely him.

The music changed, the beat slowing, becoming more sensual. He spun me around, his hands on my hips, guiding me in a slow, grinding motion.

I leaned back, my hair falling over my face, my eyes locked on his. His green-gold gaze was intense, hungry , yet filled with a tenderness that made my heart skip a beat.

" Who are you? " I breathed, my voice barely audible over the music. Yet, he heard me.

He smiled, a mysterious, enigmatic expression that sent a thrill through me. " Does it matter? " he replied, his voice a low purr.

The music built again, the beat accelerating, the lights flashing in time. He spun me around, his hands on my waist, his body pressed against mine. We moved as one, our bodies a blur of motion, our breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

I felt his hands slide down my back, fingers curling into my hips, pulling me tighter against him, my head falling back, my hair cascading over my shoulders. He nuzzled my neck, his lips brushing against my skin, his teeth grazing my earlobe.

" You smell so fucking good, Omega ," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine.

I smiled, a flush creeping up my neck. "You're not so bad yourself," I replied, my voice laced with sarcasm, but my eyes sparkling with amusement.

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through me. "Flatterer," he teased, his lips brushing my neck once again.

The music reached its climax, the beat pounding, the lights flashing in a frenzy. We moved faster, our bodies a whirlwind of motion, our breaths coming in short, desperate gasps.

I felt his hands slide up my thighs, his fingers brushing against the hem of my dress. My heart skipped a beat, my body tense with anticipation of the unknown.

" Do you trust me ?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through me.

I nodded because it was true. Somehow, I did . My eyes locked on his, my body trembling with desire. I felt Siri writhe at the back of my head, a purr like noise accompanied the warmth I felt low in my belly.

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin that made my knees weak. " Then let go ," he murmured, leaning down close enough that his lips brushed against mine.

And I did. I let go of my inhibitions, my fears, my doubts. I surrendered to the music, to him, to the overwhelming emotion that consumed me.

His hands slid up my thighs, his fingers tracing the curves of my body, his touch sending shivers down my spine. I felt my jaw pop as my lips parted, my head falling back, my body arching towards him.

The music began to slow, the beat softening, the lights dimming. He pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine, his lips brushing against my ear.

And as the music faded, the crowd began to disperse, we stood there, our bodies still pressed together, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating as one.

The world around us was slowly coming back into focus, but I didn't want to let go. I didn't want this moment to end. Why? He seemed to sense my reluctance, his arms tightening around me, his lips brushing against my forehead.

And as we parted, the crowd closing in around us, I felt an odd sense of loss, a longing for what we had briefly shared.

But as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

"Wait," he called, his eyes locked on mine, his expression intense.

I turned, my heart racing, my body still buzzing.

He smiled, another slow, enigmatic grin that made my knees go weak. "I never caught your name," he said, his voice a low rumble.

I smiled, a flush creeping up my neck. "It's Ori," I replied, my voice soft, hesitant.

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Ori," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like a promise. "I'm Zayne."

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

…SYLUS…

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Raf:(9:36am) What the fuck Raf:(9:40am) Seriously, dude? Raf:(10:01am)She’s fuckin’ losing it here man. Raf:(4:05pm)Fine, hope you don’t mind if we take her out tonight then! Xav:(10:42am)Real mature Sy. Xav:(4:14pm) We’re taking her to Zayne’s club. Xav:(9:02pm) You should be here.

What those two didn’t realize was that Sylus had been at Zayne’s club for the better portion of the day. He hadn’t seen the man himself, but he knew he was there– somewhere .

He’d wandered through the streets for a long while. Letting his mind wander just as far.

Stayrus had nearly lost control in that restaurant that morning, and it took everything for Sylus to keep himself from bursting into his fur, so he’d done the last thing he’d truly wanted. He’d left.

He knew what leaving would make him, make her feel, but he couldn’t handle the knowledge that another person he knew had changed presentations. What did that mean for him?

For the very solid truth that something else had happened during his rut, he’d felt it.

He’d tried to play it off, act nonchalant about it when he’d woken up that morning to her fiddling with his phone. Completely naked, riling up his already frayed control from the previous three days.

When he got to the club, he sought out the furthest, darkest corner. Watching for his friend , the man who’d turned Alpha. The normally quiet, resolute, stoic and nearly emotionless man he knew, turned fucking Alpha.

Sylus couldn’t even pretend to act like he was happy about this new situation. Zayne as a Delta made sense. He had the level head for it, the control and the even temperament. Yet, Sylus knew better… when Zayne got riled up, or angry… he got scary. Near feral.

Now, to think that he was a fucking Alpha . Sylus felt the worry settle in his gut, what would that be like for a man like Zayne? Would he be more difficult to handle? Maybe he hadn’t changed.

Through the day, Sylus drowned out his concerns, his considerable fear of the potential behind Zayne being the new pack Alpha.

A part of him, he’d realized some time into the evening, after about half a dozen shots, was that he was jealous of Zayne. Arguably, he shouldn’t be. It was absurd to be jealous of a man he’d willingly let take his place.

“ Fuck .” He mumbled to himself as he tipped back the remainder of the amber liquid he’d been nursing for the better half of yet another long hour.

He’d seen their messages, he’d noted that they were bringing her here. Aside from his wandering thoughts, his– quite frankly– childish behaviour from that morning had taken up residence at the forefront of his mind. He was disappointed in himself that he’d simply gotten up and left, that he hadn’t said a word, hadn’t responded to her calls down their link. He’d felt her fear, her anxiety, but had kept the barriers firmly in place.

He’d felt the emptiness that followed when he’d felt her presence drift into nothing.

Pushing himself up from his chair, he made his way back to the bar. Snapping his fingers to the bartender behind the counter, silently requesting a refill.

A body stumbled into his side, and he tossed whomever a glare over his shoulder, watching as the young male, whoever he was, held his hands up, before tipping his head to the side, showing his neck.

Fuck off. Sylus begged with his eyes, feeling a burn at each corner, as he realized once the boy had slipped past another group of people, bodies moving together, that the club was packed.

“Fuck! Sylus, there you are! Where the fuck have you been, man!” He looked up and saw Rafayel pushing his way past a dancing pair of females. He gave them a smile before he stumbled past them, up to Sylus’ side at the bar counter.

“Here and there.” Sylus replied, pinching the tumbler the bartender had refilled, tipping the lip into his mouth.

“Have you seen her yet?” The question was met with narrowed eyes.

“No. You left her?”

Rafayel’s blue-pink eyes narrowed in the flashing strobes, “Pot. Kettle, dude.” He waved over the bartender, “margarita, and no– she’s with Xavier.”

Sylus felt a modicum of calm move through him, at least she was with someone more trustworthy than the purple haired menace that was Rafayel Qi.

Suddenly a very out of breath silky blonde slid up behind Raf, “Guys… we have a problem.”

Sylus froze, eyes scanning the immediate vicinity for his mate, even trying to sniff the air, checking for her scent, but only being met with sweat and a sickeningly heavy amount of cologne and perfume. “Where is she, Xavier?”

“Okay, look… I went to go get her a drink, when I got back, she was gone.”

Sylus straightened to his full height, towering over many of the gyrating patrons as he swept his crimson gaze over the crowd, looking for her within the throng of dancers and drunks.

“She’s wearing a red dress.” Rafayel said, mimicking the Alpha, although Sylus was sure that he had the advantage in scoping the venue.

“I think I see her.” Xavier said suddenly, pointing in the direction of the middle of the dance floor.

Sylus’ eyes followed and he froze. There she was, dancing, with a male.

“Whoa, hold on– Sylus, stop . Think before you do something stupid!” Rafayel moved before Sylus could take a step, his vision flashing red as he zeroed in on the male who had his hands on his mate.

“He has his hands on her. He’s touching her, Raf.” Sylus could feel Stayrus rousing from the back of his mind, a rumbling growl spreading through his mind as he felt his control fracturing.

“Sylus, fucking think for a second! Jesus, she’s with Zayne!”

Sylus froze, Zayne… Zayne had his hands on her?

“Zayne…” He murmured, watching them together, their bodies pressing against each other, grinding . Her smile. How gorgeous she looked in that dress, the makeup, her new hairdo… he felt the air coming in shorter and shorter breaths.

“Sy.” Xavier said, putting a hand on the big man’s arm. “She’s safe. Zayne wouldn’t hurt her.”

Stayrus finally made a noise in his head, a rumble of irritation, Hurt… no. Mark… yes.

Sylus was moving before either Raf or Xavier could do anything about it. He sidled through the crowds of dancers, the drinkers. Shifters and humans alike. His much bigger frame parted them all with ease as he made for the center of the dancefloor. Straight to her. For his mate.

“Sylus, hold on a second, don’t do anything you’ll regret later!” Rafayel was nearly sprinting as he followed the white haired man’s strides. His comment had the desired effect as Sylus halted and turned to face Raf.

“Regret? He’s a fucking Alpha , Rafayel… you said it yourself, she’s an Omega , an unmarked one… and now she’s danci– dance fucking him right there and you tell me to hold on ?!” His voice was rising along with his fury.

He had the pleasure of watching it all click in Rafayel’s head.

“Yeah, now… don’t fucking stop me again. ” Sylus let the command flood into his words and he watched as every shifter within a three foot radius flinched under the weight of his demand, including Raf, who bowed his head, showing the back of his neck.

“ Yes, Alpha.” Raf gritted through clenched teeth. With a huff, Sylus pinned him with a glare before turning away, bee-lining to his mate and his former best friend.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

#love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deep space #sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #prose #lads rafayel #lads xavier #Sylus x oc #Temptations Edge #Faithlyn writes #a/b/o fic #a/b/o dynamics #lads zayne

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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months ago

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Songs of the Heart (m) | pjm | chapter 2

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

You’re only human, and day by day, you find yourself falling for your neighbor—the world-renowned singer-songwriter, Jimin. But behind his dazzling smile lies a hidden fragility, a heart weighed down by unspoken sorrow. When his young daughter shows up at your door, her teary eyes and trembling voice telling you her father is crying, your heart skips a beat. Rushing to his side, you find him on the floor of his studio, surrounded by scattered papers and raw, unfiltered pain. Now, as his quiet strength falters, you’re left wondering—can you be the melody to soothe his fractured soul? Can you help him piece together the remnants of his broken heart?

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: musician!au (not completely idol!au), single dad!au, slice of life!au → Trope: strangers to lovers / neighbors to lovers → Genres: slow burn romance / fluff / angst / smut / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings + triggers: mention of past bad relationships (only briefly mentioned), crying, pain, hurt (emotional), stereotypical assumptions, slight misunderstandings, protective and oblivious big brother Yoongi, Hwa-Young is so cute 😭 → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: waaaah 🤧 This chapter holds such a special place in my heart—it’s one of those moments that feels like capturing a fragile piece of the soul in words. There’s something tender, something magical about it... but I’ll let you discover that for yourself. I truly hope it speaks to you as deeply as it does to me 🫶💖 This whole story is for my dear friend @remmykinsff! I hope you’ll love it 💜

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Jimin is the kind of neighbor who seems almost too good to be true. Warm, thoughtful, and effortlessly kind, he’s the type of person who lights up a space simply by existing. But there’s a shadow beneath his radiance—a quiet sadness that lingers in his faraway glances, in the melancholy chords of his songs. Despite his inviting smile, you can’t help but wonder what burdens his heart carries. Is it loss? Longing? The memory of someone who used to be here—perhaps the mother of his sweet, joyful daughter? The questions tug at your mind, but you hold them back. Curiosity simmers, yet you don’t dare pry into his private pain.

Since the day you introduced yourself, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel at home. In the past week, you’ve unpacked every last box, even posting an ad for someone to take them off your hands for reuse. And in that same time, Jimin has invited you into his cozy, art-filled home more times than you can count, eager to hear your thoughts on his lyrics. His daughter is just as charming as the house she brightens, her laughter filling every corner. Their kindness is so genuine, so disarmingly human, that you wonder how someone so well-known, so revered, could remain this grounded. You’d expected someone of his fame and talent to carry an air of distance, but Park Jimin is anything but.

“So, do you have the hots for him yet?” Namjoon teases, jabbing his fork into a helpless carrot on his plate.

The question hits like a snowball, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, turning them as pink as the cranberry sauce on your plate. “What? No!” you stammer, immediately looking away, out the frosted window of the restaurant. Outside, snowflakes swirl in the brisk wind, blanketing the streets in soft white. It’s warm inside, but the chill of Namjoon’s question lingers. Christmas is just around the corner, and yet, all you can think about is a certain neighbor with sad eyes and a voice that seems to carry the weight of the world.

When you don’t respond—don’t even lift your gaze from the table—Namjoon chuckles, the sound low and teasing. “So you do like him.”

A heavy sigh escapes you as you practically collapse against the table, your arms folding under you like a crumpled paper. “How can you blame me?” you groan, voice tinged with exasperation, though the tightness blooming in your chest says otherwise. Jimin’s face flashes in your mind—his warm smile, his soothing voice, the gentle way he looks at his daughter—and your heart betrays you, skipping a beat. “He’s just… he’s so good-looking, so sweet, so—kind. And don’t even get me started on his daughter. She’s the most precious kid I’ve ever met.”

“Wait,” you say suddenly, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as though afraid the other restaurant patrons might overhear. “Did you know he had a daughter?”

Namjoon pauses, his glass of water halfway to his lips. He raises a brow. “I didn’t,” he admits, taking a sip. “But, honestly, it makes sense. The guy keeps his private life locked up tighter than a vault. I didn’t even know he lived out here in the sticks.”

You laugh softly, though there’s an edge of disbelief to it. “Right? I mean, the Park Jimin, living in some rundown neighborhood? When I found out he was my neighbor, I thought I was dreaming. But, seriously, why would someone like him live there? He’s famous. He has money. He could live anywhere—penthouse, sprawling mansion, you name it. So why here?”

The thought makes your cheeks burn, and you look down at your hands, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. You’re not sure if you’re embarrassed at the audacity of your questions or the fact that you’ve been thinking about this way too much.

Leaning forward, you rest your elbows on the table and let your words tumble out before you can stop them. “Joonie…” Your voice is quieter now, almost tender, as though you’re confessing something sacred. “Jimin seems so sad. He lives all alone with his daughter, and all of his songs—they’re so full of pain, of longing. Do you think…” You hesitate, swallowing hard, then press on. “Do you think all his songs are about his wife? Do you think she left him? Or…” You don’t finish the sentence.

Namjoon lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes as he sets his fork down with a clatter. “Slow down there, Miss Investigative Journalist.” He leans back in his chair, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. “First of all, did you even check if he had a ring on his finger? That might save you a lot of speculation. Second…” He points his fork at you for emphasis. “Why are you asking me? What do I know? I don’t have some magical hotline to his personal life. All I know is the guy is a phenomenal singer. If you’re that curious, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

His bluntness sends a blush creeping up your neck, but you manage a small laugh, shaking your head. “Ask him? Yeah, sure, Joonie. Hey, Jimin, so who broke your heart and why do you look so sad all the time? That’ll go over well.”

Namjoon smirks, raising a knowing brow. “Hey, you’re the one who’s dying to know. Maybe it’s time to stop speculating and start finding out.”

You let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the stool, the wooden legs creaking softly under your weight. “I didn’t see a ring,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “But… his daughter, Hwa-Young—she looked so sad when I asked about her parents. I don’t know. I don’t want to pry, but at the same time…” You trail off, glancing at Namjoon, your voice quieter now, hesitant. “I also don’t want to get involved in something complicated, you know?”

Namjoon doesn’t miss a beat. He throws his head back with a laugh, loud and carefree, drawing a few curious glances from the nearby tables. “You’re already thinking about dating the guy, and you barely know him?” he teases, shaking his head as he spears the last piece of chicken on his plate.

“I am not!” you shoot back, your cheeks flushing. You cross your arms, pouting slightly. “I’m just… trying to protect myself, okay? You know what happened last time. I’m not exactly great when it comes to men.”

Namjoon sets his fork down with a scoff, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh, trust me, I know. Thank god you never told your brother about Mark.”

At the mention of him, you groan, covering your face with your hands as a whirlwind of memories comes rushing back. Mark, with his sharp words and subtle lies that chipped away at you piece by piece. Controlling. Manipulative. Always holding you at arm’s length, but never letting you go. Everything Jimin doesn’t seem to be.

You peek at Namjoon through your fingers, your lips twitching into an incredulous smile. “Yoongi would’ve kicked his ass.” The thought is enough to make you burst into laughter, the sound coming unbidden and pure, like the first light after a storm. “Honestly, it’s probably for the best that he never found out what really happened with Mark.”

Namjoon’s grin widens as he nods, clearly enjoying the idea of your overprotective brother delivering swift justice. “Oh, no question. He’d have tracked the guy down, dragged him out of whatever hole he’s hiding in, and sent him running for the hills.”

You shake your head, laughing, the tension easing from your shoulders. The restaurant’s warm glow feels softer now, like a comforting blanket against the frost-laden world outside. You glance out the window, watching the snowflakes tumble lazily from the darkening sky, and push aside the lingering thoughts of the past.

By the time you’ve both polished off your plates, the conversation has shifted to lighter things—memories of college pranks, ridiculous holiday traditions—and the laughter between you and Namjoon feels like medicine.

After settling the bill, the two of you make your way to the cinema, the cold biting at your cheeks but doing nothing to dim the warmth between you. You tuck your scarf tighter around your neck as Namjoon buys tickets to the cheesiest Christmas movie playing, grinning like a kid as he hands you your popcorn.

The night stretches out before you like a quiet snowfall, soft and full of potential. And for a while, you let yourself get lost in it—lost in the glow of the screen, the sound of your best friend’s laughter, and the feeling that, maybe, just maybe, better days are finally ahead.

Days later, you find yourself nestled in Jimin’s living room, the soft hum of warmth from the fireplace wrapping around you like a blanket. Hwa-Young is curled up beside you, her bright, innocent energy a stark contrast to the quiet gravity of her father’s voice as he strums his guitar. The song he plays is one you heard last week, but hearing it live—here, in the heart of his home—feels different. Intimate. Raw.

“I’ll put it all on the line.I’ll be that someone she can count on.One, two, three, four, five…So many people to see.Places to go,”

His voice floats through the room, hauntingly beautiful, the kind of sound that lingers in the corners of your mind long after it’s gone. It’s even more mesmerizing live than it was over the radio. How many singers can claim that? His voice is unfiltered, rich, filled with a vulnerability that pulls you in like a tide you can’t resist.

You bop your head gently, letting the words soak into your skin, but your mind drifts, lingering on the mystery that surrounds him. Who is this song about? His lyrics feel personal, like fragments of his soul laid bare, and you can’t help but wonder about the story behind them. He’s not wearing a ring—but not all married or widowed men do. And then there’s Hwa-Young, undeniable proof that a woman once held a place in his life. Where is she now?

Hwa-Young slides closer to you, her small hands tugging at your sleeve as she giggles, her laughter light and free. “Ain’t daddy amazing?” she says, her voice brimming with pride. She flashes you a smile so bright it could rival the glow of the lights strung along the window. “He writes all his lyrics himself.”

You glance at her, then back at Jimin, who’s still lost in his music, his blonde hair falling slightly into his eyes as he leans into the melody. You nod, lowering your voice to a whisper as you reply, “That’s incredible. He’s amazing.”

And he really is. Every note, every word, every small kindness he’s shown you since the day you knocked on his door confirms it. But as much as you’re drawn to his talent and the warmth he and his daughter exude, there’s something else—a shadow in his gaze, a sadness woven into his songs. You know sadness isn’t a fault, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s a key to the puzzle of who he is and the life he’s lived.

You find yourself staring at him a moment longer than you probably should, the sound of his music echoing in your chest, making your heart ache for reasons you can’t quite name.

Jimin’s fingers glide over the strings, each delicate stroke coaxing the guitar to sing. His voice follows, soft and earnest, like a confession carried on a fragile breeze. The melody wraps itself around you, filling the room with a warmth that seems to melt even the winter frost outside.

“We never met, but she’s all I see at night.Never met, but she’s always on my mind.Wanna give her the world. And so much more.Who is my heart waiting for?Is she someone that I see every day?Is she somewhere a thousand miles away?”

The words weave their way into your chest, stirring something unfamiliar yet comforting. You can’t help but feel the faint flutter in your heart, your cheeks heating as his voice dips lower, like a secret meant for only you to hear. And in that moment, you understand. You understand why millions of people adore him—not just because he’s an artist, but because he’s an open wound made beautiful, a man unafraid to bare his soul in his music.

It isn’t just his voice or his lyrics, though both are stunning. It’s him. His presence, his kindness, his quiet humility. The way he feels so human and yet otherworldly at the same time. It’s impossible not to feel flustered under the gravity of who he is, as if he has a way of making you forget the rest of the world exists.

The song begins to fade, his voice softening, the strumming of his guitar slowing like the end of a heartbeat. A stillness settles over the room, fragile and delicate, as if even breathing too loudly might shatter it.

Hwa-Young, oblivious to the sudden weight in the air, turns to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Y/N, do you have a boyfriend?”

Her question feels like a pebble tossed into a quiet lake, sending ripples through the silence. Jimin’s fingers falter, the music stopping abruptly, leaving the air heavy with unspoken tension. His gaze flickers to you, unreadable, and you feel the heat of his attention settling on your already burning cheeks.

You laugh nervously, a sound that feels too sharp in the gentle atmosphere of the room. “I don’t,” you manage, your voice betraying the sudden tightness in your chest.

But why does your heart race? Why does the admission of your single status feel like something monumental here, in this room, in the presence of Park Jimin? You haven’t thought about relationships in so long—not since Mark left you in pieces, his manipulation and control carving wounds you thought would never heal. You’d sworn off men like him, sworn off feeling this kind of vulnerability ever again.

So why, now, do you feel as though a single glance from Jimin could undo all those walls? Why does the quiet between you feel louder than the song he’d just played?

Hwa-Young giggles, her innocence breaking the moment, but your thoughts linger, circling around questions you can’t yet answer.

Jimin offers you a soft smile, the kind that feels warm but weighted with unspoken thoughts. You sense his gaze lingering, yet you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. Something about the moment feels too tender, too fragile to face head-on.

“My dad is single too,” Hwa-Young chimes in, her cheerful tone catching you off guard. Your cheeks burn again, and you feel as though your entire face might combust. Is she… is she trying to play matchmaker with her father? The idea stirs an unexpected mix of flustered amusement and… something you can’t quite name. But if he’s single, then does that mean…?

Jimin shifts in his chair, resting his arms casually against the curve of the guitar, though his expression turns gentle, serious. “Hwa-Young’s mother passed away shortly after she was born,” he says softly, his voice carrying a heaviness that lingers in the air, wrapping around the room like a cloud.

The words hit you like a sharp wind. Your heart clenches as you glance at Hwa-Young, who sits beside you, still smiling, though it’s tinged with something wistful and bittersweet. She probably doesn’t remember her mother at all. And Jimin… Jimin is a widower. A young widower. You can’t help but wonder how he’s carried that weight for so long, raising his daughter with such love and kindness despite the ache that must linger in the quiet moments.

“She was daddy’s best friend,” Hwa-Young adds, looking up at you with a small, melancholy smile. Her words make your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected, the sweetness of her tone laced with an understanding far beyond her years.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, the lump in your throat growing harder to swallow as you address them both. Your thoughts are tangled, a mix of sorrow for their loss and admiration for the strength it must take to carry on.

A question bubbles to your lips before you can stop it, driven by the weight of curiosity and compassion. “Is Hwa-Young’s mother who you’re singing about?” The words escape before you can think better of them, and your face instantly flushes with regret. You bite your lip and lower your gaze, berating yourself for prying into something so intimate.

But Jimin doesn’t seem offended. If anything, his smile remains, soft and calm, like the steady rhythm of a tide. He leans forward slightly over his guitar, the warm tones of his voice easing your nerves. “Not really,” he replies with an almost bittersweet chuckle. “I just like singing about love… because I’ve never really experienced it.”

His confession catches you off guard. You blink, taken aback, his words echoing in your mind. Never experienced love? How could someone like him—a man who seems to pour so much longing and devotion into his music—have never truly felt the very thing he sings about?

“But what about…?” you begin hesitantly, the words fumbling on your tongue as you glance at Hwa-Young. You don’t know how to frame the question, don’t know how much Jimin has shared with his daughter about her mother. You don’t want to tread on sacred ground, but the curiosity burns too brightly within you.

Jimin tilts his head slightly, watching you with a knowing look, as if he can read every thought racing through your mind. The room feels smaller now, quieter, as you wait for his response.

“Oh. Jiwoo and I were never in love,” Jimin says softly, his words gentle but sure, carrying the weight of a truth long settled. “She was just my best friend.” His tone holds no bitterness, only the quiet grace of someone who has long made peace with the past.

Before you can respond, Hwa-Young slides down from the couch, her laughter light and airy as she runs to her father. Jimin sets the guitar carefully on the floor, opening his arms just in time for her to leap onto his lap. She settles there with the ease of someone who knows she’s always welcome, her joy radiating as he threads his fingers tenderly through her chestnut hair. She giggles at his touch, her laugh as pure as a bell.

The sight pulls at your heart, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest. There’s something about the way Jimin looks at her, his entire being devoted to this moment, that makes it hard to look away. You feel a small smile tugging at your lips, your eyes prickling with tears you can’t explain.

“So…” you venture, your voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the delicate warmth in the room. “You’re looking for love?”

Jimin glances up at you, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Kind of, yeah,” he admits with a soft chuckle, and then grins, teasingly adding, “But love songs also make me a lot of money.”

Before you can react, Hwa-Young chimes in, flashing a proud smile. “We’re rich!” she declares, her enthusiasm unfiltered and unapologetic.

Jimin bursts into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he looks at his daughter. “Hwa-Young,” he says with gentle patience, “we’ve talked about this. We don’t go around saying we’re rich.” He leans down slightly, catching her gaze. “Yes, we have money. But we’re just like everyone else.”

Hwa-Young’s cheeks flush pink as she looks down, sheepishly nodding. “Oh, sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin says, brushing off her embarrassment with a warm smile. He tousles her hair affectionately, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, which draws another giggle from her.

The scene before you is almost too much—too warm, too full of love, too foreign to your own experience—and yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. Instead, you sit there, taking it all in, the ache in your chest mingling with a kind of longing you don’t quite know how to name.

This bond Jimin has with his daughter—this easy, overflowing love—reminds you of something you once had, something you still miss deeply. It’s the kind of connection you shared with your dad, back when his hugs felt like a shield from the world and his laughter made everything seem lighter. Warm and unconditional.

You swallow hard, suddenly aware of how rare this feeling is in your life now. Men have always seemed distant, their affections guarded or transactional. Whatever Jimin has in his heart, it’s something entirely different—something you haven’t found in romance and can’t help but yearn for.

And as you sit there, watching him whisper something to Hwa-Young that sends her into another fit of giggles, you wonder—not for the first time—if you’ve spent too long searching in the wrong places.

Days have blurred into weeks, a gentle rhythm forming in your life. Most evenings, you find yourself at Jimin’s house, Hwa-Young nestled comfortably in your lap, her laughter ringing out like wind chimes as Jimin’s fingers dance over guitar strings. His voice fills the room, tender and haunting, and you let it wrap around you like a warm blanket after a long day. On the weekends, when you’re not exhausted from work, you sit there longer, hours slipping away in a haze of quiet conversations, soft melodies, and the kind of peace you haven’t felt in years.

You wouldn’t call it romantic—at least not yet. But there’s something about being near him, hearing his voice, watching the way he interacts with his daughter, that makes your chest feel a little lighter, your smile a little wider. It’s enough for now, and that alone feels like a gift.

Today is a rare day off, a pause in the steady hum of life. Bundled up against the cold, you step outside to toss your trash, the crisp winter air nipping at your cheeks. As you near the bins, you notice Jimin on the same errand. His silhouette is soft against the gray sky, breath rising in small, fleeting clouds. When he spots you, his expression brightens, and he lifts a hand to wave before crossing the short distance to you.

“Not working today?” he asks, his voice warm against the chill as he offers you one of those soft, heart-stopping smiles that always seem to linger on his pink lips.

You shake your head, a grin tugging at your own mouth. “Nope. I’m on vacation until after New Year’s.”

“Lucky you,” he says, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“I did,” you say with a nod, the memory bringing a flicker of warmth to your face. “What about you guys?”

“We had a great time,” he replies, his smile widening. “Hwa-Young’s grandparents came over, along with my parents and grandparents. It was nice.”

He pauses, tilting his head slightly as his eyes sweep over you. “Are you freezing?”

You laugh softly, though your chattering teeth betray you. “A little,” you admit, bouncing slightly on your feet in an attempt to ward off the biting cold.

Jimin chuckles, the sound low and warm, and then his expression shifts, thoughtful. “You know,” he begins, “you’ve never shown me your place. Mind if I come over and see it?”

His question catches you off guard, and your cheeks flush a shade of red that has nothing to do with the temperature. You fumble for a response, nodding quickly, your breath misting in the air as you manage to mumble, “Sure.”

“Great,” he says, and you swear his smile softens even further as he falls into step beside you, his presence as easy and natural as the falling snow.

As you lead him toward your door, you can’t help but feel a flutter of nerves mix with excitement. For weeks now, you’ve been a guest in his home, soaking in the warmth and love that radiates there. And now, for the first time, he’s stepping into your space, a piece of your world.

You let Jimin step inside, his presence filling the quiet space like a comforting hum. You’ve never known someone who could so effortlessly invite themselves over without it feeling awkward, but somehow, with him, it’s different—endearing, even. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, or the subtle confidence in his smile. Still, you can’t help but wonder what could possibly interest him about your small, modest home.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he says as his gaze drifts over your living room, and something about his tone makes you pause. You realize he must have known the people who lived here before.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you murmur, shifting your weight slightly before offering, “Would you like some tea?”

He nods, his smile softening as he walks to your sofa and settles onto it, as if he belongs there. “Yes, thank you,” he says warmly, his voice carrying the quiet ease of familiarity.

You move to the kitchen, the gentle clinking of mugs and the quiet hiss of boiling water filling the air as you prepare the tea. When it’s ready, you return, the cups warm in your hands, and you sit down beside him. It’s only then, as you hand him his mug and feel the heat from his arm so close to yours, that it hits you—this is the first time you’ve been alone with Jimin. Without Hwa-Young’s cheerful chatter filling the air, the room feels heavier, more intimate.

“Where’s Hwa-Young?” you ask, the question escaping your lips before you can stop yourself.

Jimin’s smile deepens, his expression softening in that way it always does when he talks about his daughter. “She’s at school. They’re offering extra classes today.”

You nod, sipping your tea, the delicate warmth spreading through your chest. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged in a way you can’t quite explain. It lingers, stretching like the glow of sunset before nightfall, until Jimin shifts slightly, turning toward you.

“I actually wanted to thank you,” he says, his voice low, sincere, and when you glance at him, your brows furrow in confusion. He chuckles at the look, shaking his head slightly before continuing, “For being so kind to Hwa-Young.”

His words catch you off guard, and your heart twists as you see the gratitude in his eyes. You can’t help but smile back, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course! She’s so sweet and cute—it’s impossible not to love her,” you say, the image of her bright smile flashing in your mind.

Jimin chuckles softly, but there’s something else in his expression—something wistful. He takes another sip of tea, his gaze drifting for a moment before he murmurs, “Not everyone finds her sweet.”

His words are quiet, almost as if spoken to himself, but they linger in the air, heavy with meaning. You blink, surprised, your curiosity bubbling to the surface before you can stop it. “Why?”

The single word slips out, unguarded, and as soon as you say it, you feel your cheeks flush. But Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He sets his mug down gently on the table, his fingers brushing against the handle, and his gaze meets yours.

Jimin’s lips part, and you know he’s about to say something—something that feels heavy and important—but before the words can form, the faint scrape of metal against metal cuts through the moment. A key slides into the lock, followed by the soft click of the door swinging open. The chill of winter slips in, brushing against your skin and swirling into the warmth of the room. You instinctively turn your head toward the entrance, your breath hitching as your brother, Yoongi, steps inside.

You recognize him immediately—not just by sight, but by the familiar rhythm of his grumbling and the huff of annoyance that escapes his lips as he wrestles with an armful of grocery bags. Only Yoongi, you think, would crash into your life unannounced and utterly unapologetic. After all, it’s only him and Namjoon who have a spare key to your place. But still—why now? Why does it have to be now of all times?

Yoongi’s presence is as it always is: sharp-edged, protective, and oddly comforting. For a man who once told you to “be a grown-ass adult,” he sure as hell has a habit of showing up with groceries and cooking dinner for you like it’s a duty he’s assigned himself. You’ve long since stopped questioning it. This is how Yoongi loves—through the quiet, practical acts of care that speak volumes even when his words don’t.

He steps into the living room, his boots leaving faint marks of melted snow on your floor. But then he stops, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of you and Jimin sitting side by side on the sofa. His gaze flits between the two of you, sharp and assessing, and his lips press into a line.

“Hi,” he says at last, his voice low and raspier than usual, the single word carrying more weight than it should.

“Hi,” you reply flatly, trying to mask the unease creeping into your chest. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jimin glance at you, his brow furrowing in quiet curiosity. He doesn’t say anything, but the unspoken question hangs in the air.

You wave a dismissive hand toward your brother. “Just put it in the kitchen,” you say, gesturing at the bags he’s still holding. Anything to break the tension, to redirect the moment back to something mundane. But as Yoongi moves toward the kitchen, the clatter of grocery bags and the hum of the fridge door opening do little to quiet the storm of thoughts brewing in your head.

What had Jimin been about to say? Would he pick up the thread again, or was the moment already gone?

When Yoongi finishes unpacking, he saunters back into the living room with the slow, deliberate gait of someone who knows how to make their presence known. His gaze flicks between you and Jimin once more, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” he asks, his voice light but tinged with mock annoyance.

It’s such a Yoongi thing to say—half-serious, half-teasing, his version of poking at you just to see how you’ll react. You sigh, rolling your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite yourself.

You huff, crossing your arms as you fix your brother with an exasperated glare. “Yeah, yeah, thank you so much,” you mutter, waving him off with a flick of your hand. But Yoongi doesn’t head back to the kitchen. Instead, his eyes widen, darting between you and the man sitting beside you.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, his voice low but loaded with incredulity. His gaze locks onto Jimin like he’s just uncovered a secret scandal. “Is that… is that Park Jimin?”

You groan, rolling your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t stay stuck. “Yeah,” you reply, deadpan. “He’s my neighbor.”

Yoongi’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s struggling to process this groundbreaking revelation. “You never told me that,” he accuses, his tone dripping with disbelief, as though withholding this information is some heinous crime.

Jimin, to his credit, sits there gracefully, his eyes flitting between you and Yoongi, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He shifts slightly in his seat, clearly unsure whether to be flattered or just let the moment pass.

You sigh, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. “This is my big brother, Yoongi,” you say, gesturing toward him with the weariness of someone who knows this interaction is going to get worse before it gets better.

Jimin tilts his head in greeting, his posture as warm and composed as ever, and then extends his hand, palm steady and inviting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, his voice velvet-smooth.

Yoongi, of course, isn’t one to miss a beat. He grins, flashing his signature gummy smile as he takes Jimin’s hand in his own. “The pleasure’s all mine. My wife is obsessed with you.”

And there it is—that word. Obsessed. You cringe, the flush in your cheeks deepening until it feels like your face could rival the color of the setting sun. You sink slightly into the sofa cushions, wishing they’d just swallow you whole. Who isn’t in love with Jimin? you think, casting a side glance at the man in question.

Jimin chuckles softly, a sound that feels like the crackle of a cozy fireplace, and you catch a faint blush rising up his neck, settling on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but it’s there—proof that even someone as seemingly untouchable as him can get flustered. He doesn’t say anything to Yoongi’s comment, just offers a polite smile and a quiet laugh.

Yoongi, oblivious—or maybe purposefully oblivious—plops himself into the armchair directly across from the two of you. The chair creaks slightly under his weight, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as if settling in for a long interrogation.

“So…” Yoongi begins, his tone annoyingly casual. “What were you two talking about?”

You clench your teeth, trying to stave off the irritation rising in your chest. Yoongi might as well have brought a flashing neon sign reading “Third Wheel” and planted it in your living room. Couldn’t he see that he was interrupting? Couldn’t he feel the delicate atmosphere he’d just shattered?

You shoot him a pointed look, silently willing him to disappear back into the kitchen—or, better yet, back to wherever he came from with those damn groceries. But Yoongi doesn’t budge. He sits there, grinning, blissfully ignorant—or perhaps intentionally obtuse—as if his mere presence isn’t practically cockblocking you.

You glance at Jimin, wondering if he feels the shift, the way the air between you had been light and full of possibility just moments ago, only to be deflated by your brother’s untimely arrival. But Jimin doesn’t seem annoyed. Instead, he looks… entertained. Like this is some private little comedy show unfolding before him.

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

You don’t say anything. The words sit heavy on your tongue, tangled in hesitation, because continuing this conversation feels too personal—too vulnerable—especially with your brother sitting there like an uninvited witness. Jimin, perceptive as ever, is quick to steer the moment in another direction. His voice is a balm, smooth and unhurried.

“I was just asking your sister if she’d like to come see me perform at my concert in May,” he says, his eyes shifting toward you, warm and expectant.

Your head snaps up, and you gape at him, blinking as if you’ve misheard. Does he mean his sold-out stadium tour? Your heart stumbles over itself, and beside you, Yoongi looks just as stunned, his jaw slack. You can practically see the wheels turning in his head—probably imagining being in your shoes just so he could make his wife’s wildest dreams come true.

“Ehm… yeah, if you want me there?” you manage to stammer, the words slipping out in a breathless, uncertain tumble. You can’t tell if it’s a question or an answer. You’re too taken aback to know.

“Of course,” Jimin replies, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, his gaze lingering on you in a way that feels both casual and intimate. “You’ve helped me so much these past weeks. It’s the least I can do.” His hand brushes against your thigh—light, fleeting, but electric.

For a moment, your entire world narrows to the warmth of his touch, the gentle cadence of his voice. The blood rushes to your face, heat pooling in your cheeks, and you feel like you might combust right there on the sofa. If only Yoongi weren’t sitting directly across from you, his hawk-like gaze taking in every detail, his brow furrowed as if mentally cataloging the scene to interrogate you later.

“Backstage pass, too,” Jimin adds casually, as though he hasn’t just turned your world upside down.

You barely nod, unable to form a coherent thought. Yoongi, however, stares at you, his expression flitting between disbelief and muted jealousy. You avoid his gaze, knowing full well what’s going through his mind: Why didn’t you tell me Park Jimin was your neighbor? His wife would combust on the spot if she ever found out.

Moments later, Jimin rises, his presence still lingering even as he moves toward the door. “I should head back,” he says, his voice warm, though you can sense his reluctance to leave.

You trail behind him to the door, your heart pounding. “Thank you,” you manage softly as he slips on his shoes.

He turns back, his smile lighting the space between you. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

You nod, unable to do much else as the door clicks shut behind him, and the room plunges into a momentary stillness.

But the peace doesn’t last.

The second the door closes, Yoongi’s voice cuts through the quiet like a crack of thunder. “Why didn’t you tell me Park Jimin is your neighbor?” His tone is sharp, his eyes narrowing at you with all the intensity of an older brother who feels personally wronged.

You sigh, crossing your arms in a gesture of defiance. “Because I don’t want you telling your wife,” you shoot back, leveling him with a pointed look. “The man deserves some privacy, and I know exactly what would happen if you let her find out. She’d be at my place every day trying to ‘bump into him.’ No, thank you.”

Yoongi scoffs, clearly unimpressed with your reasoning. “You act like I’d tell her on purpose,” he grumbles, though his tone betrays his guilt.

“You would tell her,” you counter, your voice firm. “Maybe not on purpose, but you wouldn’t be able to keep it to yourself. One glass of wine at dinner and it’d slip out.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he leans back in the chair with a resigned huff. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if you end up dating the guy, you have to let me and my wife meet him.”

You roll your eyes, exhaling in frustration as you grab one of the throw pillows and hurl it at him. “Get out of my business, Yoongi.”

But even as you say it, you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. Because for all his meddling, Yoongi is still your brother—and no matter how annoyed you feel in the moment, there’s comfort in knowing he’ll always be there, grocery bags in hand, ready to pry into your life whether you like it or not.

Still, as you glance at the empty spot where Jimin had been sitting just minutes ago, you can’t help but feel the shift in the air—the quiet sense of something new blooming, fragile and undefined, but full of possibility.

It’s New Year’s Eve, and the world outside hums with the anticipation of fireworks and fleeting resolutions, but you’ve chosen solitude. For once, you’ve turned down your friends’ lively invitations and decided against more time with family—Christmas was enough. Tonight, it’s just you, the quiet of your home, and the comforting glow of your playlist.

Jimin’s voice drifts through the room, one of his songs filling the air like a soft embrace. You sway to the rhythm, your body moving without thought, the melody wrapping around you until it feels like a conversation—a secret shared between the two of you.

Then comes the knock, sharp and unexpected. It cuts through the moment like a thread snapping, and you pause the music, your feet hesitating as you move toward the door.

When you open it, your heart clenches at the sight before you. Hwa-Young stands there, her small frame trembling, her tiny face scrunched with worry. Her lower lip quivers, and her breath fogs in the cold air.

“Daddy’s crying,” she says, her voice cracking, a heartbreaking sniffle escaping her. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

The ache in your chest tightens, but there’s no time to think. Grabbing your keys and slipping on your shoes, you pull her into a quick hug before locking the door behind you. The icy air bites at your skin as you walk her back to her house, your heart thundering in your chest.

Jimin’s crying? The thought pounds in your mind, relentless. The man who seems to hold everything together, even when the edges fray—what could make him cry? The worry claws at you as you follow Hwa-Young inside, her tiny hand gripping yours like a lifeline.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you hear it—soft, raw, unguarded. The sound of Jimin crying seeps into the air, low and melodic in a way that only he could make heartbreak sound beautiful. But it’s a beauty that twists your stomach into knots.

Hwa-Young leads you toward his studio, her steps hesitant but trusting. And there he is, seated on the floor amidst a sea of scattered paper, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. A pen trembles in his hand, a few smudged lines of ink staining the page beneath it. Tears drip from his cheeks, dotting the paper like the punctuation of sorrow.

You step forward, slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. Sitting down beside him on the floor, you glance back at Hwa-Young, who hovers in the doorway, her wide eyes fixed on her father.

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly, your voice a whisper meant to break through the fragile moment without shattering it. You want to reach out, to touch him, to offer some piece of comfort, but you hold back. This is his pain, his space—you can’t rush into it uninvited.

Jimin lifts his head slightly, sniffling as he swipes at his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand. “Oh,” he breathes, his voice hoarse but still laced with that quiet magic that lingers even in his brokenness. “I’m just trying to write a song.”

His words catch you off guard, simple yet heavy, as if they carry more weight than he’s letting on. You glance down at the scattered papers and see fragments of lyrics—lines crossed out, others rewritten, the ink blurred where his tears have fallen.

Your chest tightens as you realize the depth of his struggle. Writing isn’t just an act for him—it’s a pouring out of his soul, and tonight, it seems that soul is heavier than it can bear.

“Jimin…” you murmur, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a wish to ease the ache you see in him. He doesn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the paper as if searching for answers in the empty spaces between the lines.

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes still rimmed with a faint redness, and then looks past you to his daughter. “Ah, did you get worried, Hwa-Young?” His voice is gentle, like a melody subdued by sadness, a softness meant only for her.

She nods, her small fists rubbing at her tear-streaked cheeks. “Yeah,” she sniffs, her voice trembling. “I don’t want to see daddy cry.”

Before you can react, she runs to him, her tiny arms flinging themselves around his neck with such force that he nearly topples backward. He catches her in his embrace, holding her tightly, like she’s the anchor keeping him grounded. He presses a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering there as though drawing strength from her. “I’m okay,” he murmurs against her hair, his voice low but steady. “Sometimes writing hurts a little. But it’s a good kind of pain.”

“But I’m good, I promise,” he says, pulling back just enough to cup her cheek. His thumb brushes away the lingering tears as his expression softens, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smile. She studies him for a moment, her worried eyes searching his face for any cracks in the truth, but she seems to believe him—or at least want to.

“Okay,” she whispers, her shoulders relaxing.

You take her calming presence as your cue. Shifting slightly on the floor, you ask gently, “Do you want to talk about the lyrics?”

His lips press together, and you notice the way he chews on the inside of his bottom lip, hesitant. But after a moment, he nods, the vulnerability in his expression clear. “Yeah, okay.”

Hwa-Young slides off his lap, still watching him protectively, and retreats to the couch with a little bounce, her legs swinging off the edge. She doesn’t go far—close enough to keep him in her line of sight but distant enough to give you space. You and Jimin remain seated on the floor, papers sprawled around you like autumn leaves scattered by a restless wind.

“Alright,” he says softly, picking up a page and smoothing out the creases with his fingertips. He pauses for a moment, gathering himself, and then reads aloud, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.

“Even if you try to make believable excuses again, even if you try to close your eyes and turn away, you know that it’s already broken, that it can’t be reversed.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding, like the ache of something lost. You sit with them for a moment, letting their weight settle over you, your chest tightening at the raw beauty of his sorrow.

“Do you really think some things can’t be reversed?” you ask finally, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of breaking the spell.

He shrugs one shoulder, a small, almost self-deprecating smile ghosting across his lips. “I think... maybe some things can. But not everything. There are cracks too deep, things shattered too completely. Sometimes, you just... can’t put it back together.”

His gaze shifts downward, his fingers toying with the edge of the paper, as though the lyrics themselves hold the answers he’s searching for. There’s a quiet sadness in his words, an acceptance of something unspoken, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s alluding to.

You nod slowly, the truth of his words sinking in, even if you don’t fully understand what’s behind them. “Your lyrics...” you pause, searching for the right way to describe them, “they’re painfully beautiful. They feel like they come from somewhere deep.”

His eyes flicker back to you, and for a moment, you see a flash of gratitude—or perhaps relief—in his expression. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word simple but heartfelt. “It’s... complicated, you know?”

You glance at the chaotic scrawl on the page, the ink etched like unspoken confessions. “Do you have more?” you ask softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.

Jimin’s gaze lowers, his lips parting as though the words might resist leaving him. But then, they pour out, raw and unguarded.

“When falling asleep, drunk,And being unable to remember anything,I thought about it, “what am I doing now?”Why am I the only one like this—no, everyone is like this.The me who pretends to be okay every time,I find him pathetic.”

His voice wavers, each word heavy with the ghosts of emotions too painful to name.

The weight of his words hits you like a wave, swelling in your chest, rising to your throat. You feel your eyes sting, and you blink hard against the tears threatening to spill. Is that really how he feels? Or how he has felt? The thought aches, cutting deep into you.

“It’s not really how I feel right now,” he murmurs, but his voice cracks under the strain, a betrayal of the truth that lingers beneath. “But these are feelings I’ve had before, and...” His voice falters, choked by the weight of what he’s carrying.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your own voice thick with emotion. Without hesitation, you slide closer to him, wrapping him in a hug that feels both fragile and firm. Your hand finds his, trembling slightly, and you trace soft circles on his skin, hoping to ground him, to offer something—anything—that might soothe him.

At first, he doesn’t move, his breath shuddering as if holding back. But then, he crumbles, his head falling against your shoulder as his tears come freely. The sound of his crying is quiet but heart-wrenching, and all you can do is hold him, cradling his pain as though it were your own.

After a moment, he pulls back slightly, his face still streaked with tears but his voice steadier now. “I’ve written more,” he says, sliding another paper across the floor toward you. His fingers tremble as they release it.

You pick up the page, your eyes scanning the ink smudges that seem almost like tear stains. You take a breath and begin to read aloud, your voice catching as the words unravel before you.

“The same day all over,goes by, yet again. How long should I endure through this? To be able to return...”

The words linger in the air, heavy and sharp as glass, and your voice falters, the ache in his handwriting so palpable it feels as if it’s cut into you too. You set the paper down carefully, as though it’s something precious and breakable, and look at him, your heart twisting.

“Oh, Jimin,” you breathe, your voice barely audible. It’s all you can say. Words feel too small for the depth of what you’re witnessing. You pull him into another hug, tighter this time, as if trying to physically piece him back together, though you know that’s impossible.

His head rests against yours, and you hear his breath hitch, feel the faint tremor that still runs through him. In this moment, you realize that being here, holding him, is the only thing you can do. You can’t rewrite his past, can’t undo the pain that shaped these lyrics, but maybe—just maybe—your presence is enough to remind him that he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice catching on the edges of his words as he looks up at you, his eyes glistening with lingering emotion. “Sometimes writing can be... exhausting. Emotionally, mostly. It’s like digging up the past, uncovering feelings I thought I’d buried, things I’ve been trying to ignore. But turning them into music—it helps. It’s like breathing life into the pain, giving it purpose.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his confession settle into the quiet space between you. “I get that,” you murmur. “I’m just glad I can help, even if it’s only a little.”

His gaze softens, gratitude radiating from his tired but sincere expression. “Thank you for listening,” he says, his voice almost a whisper before he leans forward to hug you. The embrace feels tender, fleeting, but carries a warmth that lingers even as he pulls away. He wipes a stray tear from his cheek with the back of his hand and pauses, his eyes scanning the scattered pages on the floor. “Do you think it’s any good?” he asks, gathering the papers with a careful, almost reverent touch.

You glance at the crumpled sheets in his hands, the raw emotion woven into each line. “I think it’s painfully good,” you say, the words heavy with sincerity. “It moves you in a way that sticks—it’s the kind of raw honesty that people can’t help but relate to.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet and beautiful. “Sharing the pain... it makes it feel lighter somehow,” he admits, setting the papers down on the desk as though releasing a burden. The vulnerability in his voice tugs at something deep inside you, and when he turns back, sitting beside you, his presence feels closer than ever—like the warmth of sunlight just brushing your skin.

You’re acutely aware of the space between you, or rather, the lack of it. The heat of his thigh grazing yours is magnetic, grounding and electrifying all at once. You turn your head, your gaze finding his profile—delicate, yet so undeniably strong. There’s a quiet grace about him, a dainty elegance in the way he carries himself, even when baring his soul. His honesty, his unfiltered emotions, they pull at you like a tide, drawing you closer without permission.

You don’t know what this is—this invisible thread between you, taut and shimmering in the quiet. Is it just you? Are you the only one feeling this pull? Or does he feel it too, this gentle but unrelenting gravity between you? Is he always this open, this raw, with everyone? Or is this... something else?

The questions swirl in your mind, but you don’t dare voice them. Instead, you sit there, your thoughts tangled, the warmth of him beside you keeping the world at bay, if only for this fleeting moment.

→ Requested series taglist: @13-manggaetteok, @mima795, @hnnnjm, @flaneuseonthestreets, @miniesjams32, @graydolan12, @rinkud, @allie-in-the-moon, @pjmxxjmdipity,

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @fancypeacepersona, @ktownshizzle, @pjmxxjm, @ajoonniice, @kookiewithluv, @mikrokookiex, @rapmonjoon94, @parkitrighthere,

→ Author’s endnote: okay, confession time: I might have totally ugly cried while writing this chapter, and… wow, it hit hard. I’ve poured a lot of myself into Jimin’s character—like, not exactly me, but in the way his lyrics carry that raw, emotional depth (which honestly feels like the whole of Bangtan, let’s be real 😭). Anyway! I need to know—what did you think of this chapter? And more importantly, what pain do you think Jimin is hiding? 👀 Spill your theories, because my brain is doing the little ‘evil laugh writer’ thing right now 🤔✨

#jimin x reader #pjm x reader #jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #pjm smut #pjm fic #pjm fanfic #pjm x you #park jimin x reader #park jimin smut #park jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #bangtan smut #bangtan fic #bangtan fanfic #series: songs of the heart

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hanayori89 · 1 year ago

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Out of Feel or Out of Fear

*Castle Town*

You pumped out glasses of mead as Telma continued to wait tables. Your visible discomfort with the men becoming too handsy prompted her to keep you hidden behind the bar.

The news of Telma's gorgeous new helper had died down, and business was tamer today. According to your work schedule, you were technically off. But mentally, you couldn't afford to be. You needed the soothing sound of endless mead trickling down the sides of glasses to keep you distracted. The consistent flattery also provided a much-needed boost to your injured heart.

But after a while, the more you were lavished with compliments, the more you began to think about Link. You hadn't seen him since yesterday, but he remained omnipresent in your thoughts.

Whenever you saw the twinkling azure eyes of one of your patrons, you saw Link.

Whenever you saw someone with disheveled blonde hair, you saw Link.

Whenever someone showed you a drop of chivalry in the ocean of boorish men surrounding you, you saw Link.

You wanted to believe your mind was stronger than your heart. That belief would be a fallacy. Your mind was just as pathetic as the organ beating rapidly in your chest.

As business tapered down, Telma decided to close for a small lunch break. You weren't particularly hungry, but you couldn't refute her offer. She was worried about you, and feeding you ample times a day seemed to be her way of demonstrating that. Besides, the soles of your feet wouldn't mind a respite.

Telma filled two chilled glasses with ice water. She set some crusty bread in a basket on the table. In accompaniment, there was fresh goat butter to dress it up with.

"Now you have a seat and eat some bread. I have some baked cucco legs. I'm going to warm them up." Telma waltzed into the back, her voice tumbling out into the front. "I better not see any bread when I come out there! You're also getting two cucco legs!"

You knew Telma's command was more of an essence of eager hospitality. You took a piece of bread, not bothering to spread any of the goat butter on it. The crunch of the crust seemed to cover the inner chamber of voices in your mind.

As Telma returned with the cucco legs, her eyes instantly fell on the breadbasket, taking inventory of how much bread remained within it. "That doesn't look like an empty basket."

Her worry couldn't help but provoke a weak flash of a smile from you. "Telma, your food is delicious. Truly. My appetite just isn't particularly strong right now."

She set your plate in front of you as she settled into her own seat. "Well, eat the cucco at least. Protein is very important for energy. Bread is just carbohydrates. You look a bit gaunt, child." Telma spooned some cucco into her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of it.

For the next few minutes, all that could be heard was your forks scraping around on your plates. Until Telma set hers down, determination knitted into her brows.

"I think it's time to address the obvious. Don't you?" Your face remained stiff. This did not deter Telma from pressing on.

"Y/N, I saw you and Link holding hands." You weren't surprised that Telma had caught you both. She did embody a keen sense of observation. She continued, "I’m not here to accuse one or the other. I don't know what happened between you both. I just want to be here for you. Lend an ear if I can."

"Lend an ear?" How can she lend me an ear?

"Of course. I am here to listen." She took another bite of her food, eyeing you with perplexity. Something about her expression tickled you and you couldn't help but laugh. The laughter that slipped out was the permission you needed to unload. What had Renado said? Sometimes feelings become so heavy that you want to lighten the load.

"I'm not sure what's so funny, but as long as you're laughing and not frowning over there."

"Link kissed me." You became aware of Telma's gaze lasering in on you. You went back into your normal cocoon of protection." I-I didn't kiss back! I- well, he apologized! He told me he wanted to keep boundaries out of respect for everyone. I don't really understand why he did it. I-"

Telma dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clank, banging her hands on the table, unable to conceal her zeal. "Isn't it obvious? Because he's in love with you! I keep telling you that! You know, I know how to tell when a man is in love with a woman."

"Because of Renado?" You tried to make the question sound blasé. You couldn't help but think of Link's insistence about Renado's 'obvious' feelings. You wanted to hear Telma's take on the whole situation. You focused your avid eyes on her, awaiting a response. It seemed like she was silent for hours. Until she finally chose her words.

"Renado can be used as an example. He is a good man. An honest man. Those are hard to come by. But Renado and I reign from different worlds. I'm a loud, fiery bartender. He's a patient, down-to-earth father. I live in this town where the mouths of people constantly talk. He lives in a town where the roaring winds of mountains constantly talk. We are too different."

You thought of you and Link. Your interest was piqued by her response. Did Telma actually reject Renado because of her feelings? Or because of her fears?

"Telma, if you didn't believe you and Renado were so different, what would your feelings be?"

She bulldozed the remaining cucco on her plate into her mouth. She seemed to mull over your question as she chewed. Again, she responded in a deliberate manner. Yet her gaze was wistful as it loomed around the empty bar.

"Exactly as I said. He's a rare man. A special man. Any woman would be lucky to have him. Myself included." She pushed her plate away as though she were disgusted with herself. "You see the types of men that come into this bar. But I never encountered one who is like Renado."

She's in love with him! This is silly! They both love each other and aren't together because of foolish fears!

You knew what Telma needed wasn't a lecture. The playing field was level at this moment. You were both mourning over a love that was being poisoned by silly notions of the light.

Fear.

Envy.

Status.

Insecurity.

But their relationship could be salvaged. Just like Link and yours could be.

You got up and stood next to Telma. You patted her back. An odd gesture of support you picked up here in the light. "If you need someone to lend an ear, I am here." You grabbed your ear, pulling the tip and pretending to rip it off with a loud "tear" sound.

You slapped the table in front of Telma.

"What are you doing, crazy child?"

"Lending you an ear."

The reservoir of pain seemed to drain from her face. She let out a hefty laugh that seemed to make the empty bar come alive. You had never heard Telma laugh in such a manner. The ridiculousness of how boisterous it was soon pulled a string of laughter out of you.

There truly is no better tourniquet for an injured heart than shared laughter with a friend.

Edited:5/22:24

Not all hope is lost, at least for Telma and Renado.

Laying your soul bare to a friend has inspired you to not give up on the love of a lifetime. Yet the hero remains missing with his bride-to-be. Can you keep up this positive tempo? Or will future events knock you down a few octaves?

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

#legend of zelda #loz #link #fanfiction #wattpad #link x reader #romance #the legend of zelda #fanfic #fanfic on tumblr #zelda fanfiction #loz twilight princess #twilight princess #the legend of zelda twilight princess #zelda twilight princess #action adventure #loz midna #twili #loz tp

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professional-benaddict · 1 year ago

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@winterspiderpurrs and i are at it again,,, this time omegaverse😌😌 link here to previous parts (start from top)

tw: ending pregnancy with pills

———

Peter and Tony share a curious look. Who could be at the door? Did Pepper come back with Morgan? That is Peter’s first thought, but it turns out he was wrong.

Harley is in the entrance hall, taking his coat off.

“Hi. I- heh… I thought about ringing the doorbell, but then that felt weird. So, I just used the key.”

Peter waves his hand to show it was no big deal, then pulls his middle child into a hug.

“You’re welcome whenever, Harley.”

Harley hums affectionately. He kisses his Dad on the cheek as they pull away.

“Is Papa home?”

Just then, Tony appears from around the corner. He has a dirty towel in his hands, trying to rub off the oil and dirt from his hands. It is a nostalgic sight for Harley. But, the past memories are at risk of being tainted in this current future.

“Hi, Papa.”

“You staying for dinner?” Tony asks, sounding a bit too rough for Peter’s liking. The omega shoots his Alpha a look.

“If- if that’s okay.” Harley replies.

“Of course it is. Come on.” Peter says, inviting Harley inside.

The trio go their separate ways, for now. Tony promised to wrap up what he was currently doing in the garage, and then he’d start on dinner later. Harley goes to his old room, checking if he needs some books he has stored there. His uni dorm room isn’t the biggest, so he also stores some clothes at home.

Peter, well, he paces. He can tell Tony and Harley are tense. He knows why Harley is, at least. The beta is disappointed in his Papa for pulling back from the family lately. Peter only told him of one instance where Tony snapped at him, but now it seems that Harley has a grudge against his Alpha father.

The atmosphere is enough to occupy Peter’s mind completely, so much so that he doesn’t even notice the first cramps hitting him. The abortion pill is working.

An hour or so later, the three of them are sat around the dinner table, just like old times. It’s been a year since Harley moved out and went to uni, and 3 more since Ben did the same. Ever since the older brothers moved out, the dinner conversations when the family is reunited again usually revolves around Morgan.

“I remember when Ben and I stayed with Auntie Pep. She let us work on her laptop. It was all just keyboard smashes, but she let us print it out and pretend to go to meetings. But, I don’t think Morgan would enjoy the same.”

“No.” Peter laughs lightly. “When we pick her up again from Pep’s, she always has a new nail polish colour on her nails. So, I think beauty salon is the most popular thing there.”

Peter and Harley laugh together, but Tony hasn’t said much. Peter can tell Harley is looking for an opportunity to address what is going on. The omega puts down his fork, and sips on some water. The cramps are getting worse, and food is no longer appetising.

“Papa…?”

“Hm?”

“How… how’s the car?”

“It’s fine. But, that’s not what you really wanna ask, so I suggest you spit it out, son, whatever it is you wanna say.”

“Anthony.” Peter’s tone is sharp.

“Fine! I wanna know how you are! Is that such a bad thing!” Harley snaps back.

“I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not! Dad’s… dad’s been telling things. And- and you’re not yourself. I can tell. You’re my Alpha father, for god’s sake. I know I’m a Beta, so I don’t understand everything, but I want to.”

Tony has put down his fork too and is holding his head in his hands. The Alpha is breathing heavily, his veins pulsing and muscles tense. Peter can feel his violent energy, like a heat wave, next to him. It adds to his growing discomfort, so he rises calmly from the table.

“Papa… you okay?”

Tony snaps his head up. He briefly looks at his Beta son, but then his gaze flickers to Peter. He looks startled, worried, anxious. Afraid? His voice wavers when he speaks.

“Omega…?”

Peter hums in question. He follows Tony’s intense gaze, and only then does he notice all the blood between his legs.

#baby purrs #omegaverse au #starker #tony stark #peter parker

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nikkiandhercooking · 6 months ago

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diversion

ao3 link

Rien/Nikki

he is a fox and she is a rabbit. fox is a predator and rabbit is their prey. on another note, rabbits are also territorial. in other words Rien and Nikki banter a lot yet enjoy each other's presence.

“..ki” “...ikki” “Nikki”

“Huh?” A girl with cotton candy pink hair opened her eyes and her amber eyes shimmered as the light from the above chandelier reflected itself. “Where am I?” she thought. Her head felt heavy with blurred thoughts and memories.

“Awake?” his red eyes sparkled mischievously as he eyed the petite girl while resting his one palm under his chin, sitting in one of his luxurious comfy chairs across his bed where the said girl is sitting.

Don’t get wrong ideas, let’s just say… things led them here.

He is not Mercury. He doesn’t see Nikki as a threat or anything that Mercury thinks of her. He doesn’t even care about all that styling power, after all to him this place is a mess of ugliness and chaos, not beauty.

And when Mercury disappeared after the fights with god, he decided to play around with people against him for some enjoyment and Nikki was one of them. At first it was just a little nibble here and there, seeing her face get whole red and her eyes opened big like a rabbit. Yes, that’s what she looked like, a cute surprised rabbit. Or sometimes when she showed her angry face at him for his teasing, a cute angry rabbit. She just grew over him. His interest grew and so did his teasing.

“Rien?” caught off guard he looked up. The girl that was sitting on his bed just a moment ago is now standing in front of him, her face hovering over his as her smooth silky pink hair dangled. It's rare for him to be this distracted, no he never distracted himself in front of others.

“Um.. i'll be taking my leave now” Nikki still doesn't have a full image of why she is in his room so before he teases her again like he always does, it's better if she leaves as soon as possible. She can’t let him get a hold of her over and over again and let him enjoy like he always does.

Even though Mercury won, with him out of the way, Nikki was a little relaxed. She has been tirelessly trying to save miraland to the point she even lost the count about the extent she has travelled back in time after failing to protect this continent. Yet she never got the break, the war between apple and north broke up. She even went through a test at savior so that they can see if she is worth joining them.

keep smiling. Everything will be okay. She is exhausted, but everything will be okay. A little more and she’ll be able to achieve her goal, that's what she has been telling herself everyday.

When Rien started teasing her, pestering her, she was annoyed at first but unknowingly she started to feel normal and relaxed at some point. Even though he is crazy, his behaviour did give her mind a much needed break.

Ah break, that’s right, that’s how she ended up here.

This morning Nikki decided to enjoy herself, at the newest cafe opened in the apple. It was a good thing she decided to have some alone time in the early morning as momo will never wake himself up from his beauty sleep.

A strawberry milkshake with cheese souffle was really a good idea. The taste melts in her mouth, making Nikki happy and cheery. Even though she has had her own enjoyable moments with other people in miraland like Loen, Yeeso, Helz… this was different.

“That’s tasty” huh? was she so ecstatic in her own alone time that she didn’t even notice Rien taking a bite of her souffle from her fork through her hand? His fingers still wrapped around hers as the fork lingered over his smirking lips.

She just had to say it early. Alone time? It’s not in her fate.

Snatching her hand away she just scoffed. Yes she scoffed. With the amount of interactions she had with him she knows what will come if she talks back.

“Not gonna feed?” ignored.

Rien’s smirk turned into a pout as he frowned his eyebrows, a little upset.

“You hurt me, i thought we were companions”

“Please never say something like that again”

“hmph” even though she talked back she wasn't looking at him. this time’s banter isn't interesting as he cannot see her rabbit-like expressions clearly.

though his defeat was short-lived, another idea popped into his head as he decided to stare and watch her.

……

“why is the heir of the Mercury group dilly-dallying so early in the morning?” she finally looked. even though she was glaring, she looked.

“hey, I'm a young guy in my twenties, I have so much to enjoy unlike that century old senior citizen. I don't want wrinkles so early cuz of some old fogies”

atleast he wasn't a workaholic, and also not too serious about the styling and beauty, maybe that's why Nikki wasn't threatened unlike how she was with Mercury.

*ding*

the phone's screen brightened, saving nikki for atleast a couple of minutes. it was Loen, he asked her, and momo, to join him for a tour of the new amusement park that just opened, it has a big aquarium too.

even if war is upon head, Loen doesn't fail to travel around, though Nikki felt like there's more to this tour than just taking a look and enjoying. maybe a mission? it's not the first time he has used such occasions as cover up while being with them. still, she smiled and happily agreed.

“ooh, somebody got a boyfriend?” ah she almost forgot about him. he is at it again, smirking.

and the banter continued until Nikki dozed off. her body finally felt loosened. Rien watched as she fell asleep infront of him.

this miraland stuff was taking a lot of toll on her thin body, even if she wasn't showing it and acting normal about it.

sigh. he cannot leave her alone here now can he?

first he thought of throwing her on his shoulders… but that won't be too comfortable… so he picked her up bridal style and got into his private car parked away from prying eyes, taking her to his apartment.

…

oh, she remembers now. with the burden getting off her little by little while bantering with him, she felt at ease and her body gave out to recover.

still she needs to leave as soon as possible, if somebody sees her with him it won't be a good headline.

not letting him say anything she dashed off towards the door and unlocked the knob to open it. but before exiting she turned around one last time and saw him watching her. he was quiet, it should be a good thing for her but she felt weird. though that's not what she stopped herself for, gathering her strength, she looked straight into his eyes and,

“Thank you Rien” with that she left and closed the door, leaving him all alone in his apartment, bewildered.

After everything he has been through, he wants nothing in life and he couldn’t careless about anything. Nikki was someone fun that enlightened his life with her expressions as he teased her. After all she had her eyes set on Mercury just like him, so he was in a good mood and thought to go around with her.

She wasn't a normal girl, he saw it clearly during that day at the peace talk council. she was admirable. no… what he has for her is just a mutual situation against mercury. nothing more nothing less.

#shining nikki #shining nikki rien #nikki #mercury shining nikki #shining nikki mercury #shining nikki loen #sn #shining nikki fanfiction

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redrosesartcabin · 2 years ago

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10.Scenario: “Tell me of the Nemesis...”

Megatron x reader fanficition ( can be found here as well https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrosessoulcabin)

Link to the previous chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/redrosesartcabin/722532228849139712/double-posting-my-fanfic-now?source=share

Link to the first post: https://www.tumblr.com/redrosesartcabin/722529797578833920/double-posting-my-fanfic-now

Link to the next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/redrosesartcabin/723018023104036864/11scenario-at-the-mountain-lake?source=share

A little bit of angst, though with hurt/comfort

There were some days where Megatron awoke in a somber mood. You could feel it radiating of him and you absolutely despised it. Not because it made you angry, but because it hurt you to see him like that.

You tried, many times, to get him to talk when he got that way, but he would just give you a warning look and you would sigh in defeat, knowing it would just end in a fight with no outcome. So, on days like these, every meal was taken in, in contemplative silence and no body-contact was shared. It was just existing next to each other. The first time this happened, at the end of the day you had said to him. “I’m here for you”, but he only had answered with a mumbled, “I know”, voice cold and blunt, and then had disappeared into the barn again with to further explanation.

Until, suddenly, on one of these occasions, as you two sat outside by the fireplace, eating dinner, he softly spoke, “You know…”, almost making you jump out of your skin. The fork you had been holding in your hand fell with a loud clunk back onto the plate. However, undeterred by your reaction, he continued, “…I used to own my own warship. Had mechs and femmes work under me, groveling on the ground for my mercy and my blessing, even when I stood with my ped on their faces and bodies, crunching them half to death… Sometimes I wake up, knowing I have been brought back to that time in my sleep and I don’t know how to feel, because I regret much of what I did, but something inside of me also strangely misses it”, you just sat there, quietly listening, seemingly waiting for a specific point to be made, so he added, “I miss my ship, do you understand? I miss my people”, he stated, voice wavering and the way he said it almost broke your heart.

You lay a hand on his and simply said, “Tell me of the Nemesis. Tell me what your days were like and how it made you feel”.

At first, Megatron didn’t seem to follow the request, but then began to speak, suddenly letting everything flow out of him:

“There wasn’t much sleep for me to be found. I worked almost around the clock, ordering my minions around to find relics, fight Autobots, resolve issues in the ranks and so on and so forth. Our life here feels like a long-needed vacation to be honest, yet sometimes I long to have so much to do again, having so much power- And I loved my ship, you know? It had been built within what I would guess is what humans call a decade, back on Cybertron shortly before it fell. I called it ‘The Nemesis’, honestly just because it sounded epic, and in a way I and my troops were Nemeses to somebody else, and I had been a Nemesis to somebody a good chunk of my life when I was still a Gladiator in the pits of Kaon. I was branded the enemy since my youth and now I wore it like a second armor, it became my ingrained identity for many thousands of years to come. I think in a way it is what shaped me into the tyrant I had eventually become. That is no excuse of course, I know that, and I am not trying to excuse, but still, I believe it is worth mentioning.

“The Nemesis was built off the best technology on Cybertron. The Decepticons had always been further ahead with technology than the Autobots. Though not really thanks to me, or if anything only indirectly. The tale that I had spun and the words I spoke that inspired, had attracted just the right kind of people, like Shockwave. I have told you of him, right?”, you nodded, “Good- he was, until the very end, one of my most loyal followers, which, as you may recollect of other times I have spoken of this, was not very usual. Most bots in my ranks (except my vehicon soldiers) were power-hungry back-stabbing little scraplets (especially my good for nothing second in command Starscream) that wanted to find any excuse imaginable to write me off as dead or if I was well and alive, they tried to assassinate me. How I survived so long is absolutely beyond me and I should have died even long before Bumblebee had stabbed me in the spark-“

“Excuse me who did what to you? And you didn’t die?”, you suddenly interrupted, putting the plate aside and standing up, outraged.

“I never told you that I already died once?”, he asked much too calmly, even having a small smile tucking on the corners of his mouth.

“NO!”, you exclaimed, throwing your arms up in the air, “WHAT THE HECK, MAN!”

“Calm down, sweet spark”, he rumbled and somehow, the way he said it immediately let the anger flow out of you, pit pattering down your nerves until your legs gave away, and you sat down again with a heavy huff.

“Bumblebee”, he explained, “Was- or I highly assume still is- one of the finest scouts and soldiers in the Autobot ranks and had been a pain in my aft ever since his youth where he had joined them after his apprenticeship in the academy had been completed. Once, we managed to capture him and when he refused to speak, I tore his voice box out of his throat, though even with that ruthless deed I had always wished I had killed him, later on, throughout the years, when he turned out to be as skilled as he is”, you couldn’t help but cringe a little at that retelling, but it came as no surprise anymore. War was a beast that had the power to create monsters, even those that started with a noble cause as Megatron once had. The power-hungry beings he had wanted to overthrow became ingrained in himself until he wished for the same power. The oppressed becoming the oppressor.

“…And well then”, Megatron kept speaking, “At the battle of the second Omega Lock, where Optimus and I once again fought over who would revive Cybertron, it seemed Bumblebee had come to an end, falling into the substance of the Lock, with a deep hole in his spark. But apparently, the essence within the Omega Lock seemed to have revived the scout and even repaired his voice box. He yelled something I should remember but I do not, though I know for a fact it was a cry of pain, of revenge and of victory- for my defeat had come: The scout had previously tried to safe the blade of Prime and intended to throw it over to Optimus. Hence his previously thought demise… he had scarified himself for the blade for it to not get into Decepticon hands. The blade had been in his very grasp when he had fallen, and so it was once again when he struck it right through my chest as I stood with my back to the Lock. All I remember then was pain and anguish and I died… only to wake up later, on the grounds of your oceans, possessed by Unicron”

“So that’s how Unicron was capable of doing so”, you concluded with a whisper, not ready yet to digest the rest of his retelling beforehand, “But why did you not go to your proper God? Why didn’t you properly die?”

“Because Unicron was my God now, his blood having flown through my veins once”, Megatron explained a little agitated at the memory.

“Oh, your drug issue”, you said, “I remember”

“Don’t call it that”, Megatron sighed with an eyeroll.

“Oh please”, you huffed, but didn’t say anything further, though neither did Megatron.

Instead, you sat next to each other again in a rueful silence.

“What was it like, to die?”, you asked after a while.

“I don’t know”, he said, “Perhaps one can explain it to be like liberation, but that would be wrong to say as a general explanation. It was only for me because I died so painfully- and eventually it wasn’t liberating either, just for some time. I must’ve been stuck in a limbo for a while that felt like a dreamless sleep before Unicron informed me I wouldn’t go to join the Allspark, though I hope I shall do so when my time has come for good, now that Unicron’s spirit is imprisoned where once the spirit of Primus was- But anyway: Life is much better, I believe. At least if you make something of it, which you have shown me how to do.”

That made you involuntarily smile, especially with the genuine smile he gave you in return.

“Thank you for speaking to me finally I… I can barely stand it when you have those days”, you said, admitting your pain to Megatron.

“I am so sorry. I did not ever wish to hurt you. Not you, ever.”, he whispered, unable to speak any louder without his voice box cracking.

“It’s ok”, you assured him, “Loving someone also means taking some of their pain. Shared pain is half the pain, as my parents always say”.

“Am I really worth that?”, he asked you, truly unbelieving.

You kissed the part of his arm you could reach, nodded with tears welling in your eyes and answered, “Every second, my lovely Megatron, every second.”

#megatron transformers #megatron #megatron x reader #tfp megatron #tfp post predacon rising #tfp transformers prime #some other autobots and decepticons mentioned #transformers #transformers fanfic #megatron fanfic

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iamwritingsanders · 1 year ago

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Inherited Mess Pt. 9

First: Link Previous: Link Next: [TBA]

Worries

Hours passed, and everyone was oddly quiet as Patton served dinner, placing plates of chicken in front of them. They all waited until Patton served himself and sat down before beginning to eat. Roman caught on to that habit fairly quickly.

“Will Remy be able to join us tomorrow?” Patton asked. “I can make his favorite.”

“He should be on his feet in the morning. The medics want to check how drowsy the pain medicine makes him before giving an estimation on how long he’ll be out of commission,” Remus said, poking at his food with his fork.

“He’s going to be pouty until he’s cleared.” Virgil weakly laughed. “He’ll be giving you a run for your money.” He added to Roman.

“I do not…” Roman let his annoyed protest trail off when he noticed that Virgil’s joke got the others to laugh. He liked that change in mood a lot better. “If he gets grumpy, he’ll be giving you a run for yours.” Roman decided to tease back instead and relaxed when that also got a few laughs.

“Shit, Roman, I was supposed to talk with you,” Remus spoke like the realization literally hit him, a hand going to his forehead.

“It can wait till tomorrow,” Roman said with a shrug, just catching the hint of a proud smile Virigl had, and he did not know how to feel about how that got his face to go a bit warm.

“We can go back to the store tomorrow, Patton,” Janus said. “And then you and Roman can work on that sushi stuff you were talking about.”

“Just the two of you going out?” Remus asked. “I’m not sure-” He stopped at the feeling of Logan’s hand on his thigh under the table. “Be careful, alright?”

“Always.” Janus grinned while Patton softly giggled about why Remus changed his sentence. He didn’t need to see it to know what happened.

“Remy likes sushi, so you’ll get a two-for-one with that dinner plan,” Virgil said.

“You know a lot about Remy,” Roman commented.

“It’d be shocking if he didn’t.” Janus hummed with a chuckle. “Kind of hard not to know things about-ow, fuck! Virgil!” He snapped after Virgil kicked his leg hard under the table.

“I didn’t do anything,” Virgil said and took a sip of his drink.

“Wait, why is it not shocking that he knows a lot about Remy?” Roman tried again.

“He’s likely referring to-shit!” Logan started answering and got kicked as well.

“Virgil!” Remus’ sudden harsh snap got everyone to go still. Logan felt the strong, protective hold on his leg, and he placed his hand on top of Remus’

“I’m okay,” Logan said softly. Remus’ eyes widened when he realized what he’d done.

“Shit, sorry. I’m just-shit.” Remus shook his head and stood up. “Sorry, I think I need to call it an early night. Thanks for dinner, Pat. I’ll see you all in the morning.” He shook his head more at himself before walking away.

“I’m going to call it an early night as well.” Logan stacked Remus' plate on top of his own. “Dinner was delicious, good night, everyone.” He gave a quick nod and walked off as well.

“It’s…weird seeing Remus like that.” Roman didn’t mean for that to be said out loud.

“It is.” Virgil agreed.

x~x~x

Dinner finished, everyone else split off to do their own thing, and Patton was alone in the kitchen doing the dishes. He was beyond talented at hiding his own worries, keeping a happy face, and laughing through it all to help others stay calm. His job wasn't just cooking, it was also helping to keep the energy happy. People went to him to feel better, to get a sweet treat, and a positive attitude. It was easy to turn off worried thoughts with others around, but when he was alone…that’s when the wall breaks.

Patton was scrubbing a clean plate, lost in his head as his hand moved in a sharp, repetitive movement. He was unaware of someone else coming into the kitchen as well and didn’t hear his name until it was said for the second time.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Patton put his smile on when he saw Janus and sat the clean plate aside before working on an actually dirty one.

“What’s on your mind?” Janus had been with Patton long enough to be able to tell his real smiles from his trying-to-hide smiles.

“It’s nothing,” Patton said out of habit.

“What’s on your mind,” Janus repeated to remind Patton that it was just the two of them. There was a pause as Patton placed the new plate aside and was now working on cleaning the silverware.

“You were supposed to go with Remy.” Patton finally broke the silence, speaking in almost a whisper.

“That was the original plan, but Adrien insisted Remy would be able to handle it on his own.” Janus moved closer to Patton and noticed how he seemed to be fixating on a specific spot on a spoon.

“You were supposed to go with Remy, and Remy got hurt because someone snuck up on him, and he got lucky the person missed, and if you-if you had gone-if you had gone, they might have…” Patton’s hands started to shake as his vision blurred with tears. “If you had gone they might have shot you, and they might have hit where they wanted and-and you-and you’d be-and you…” He was trying not to cry and sniffed as he watched Janus gently guide him to drop the sponge and spoon.

“I’m okay, Remy’s okay, we’re all okay.” Janus took the dish towel and dried off Patton’s hands.

“He got hurt. You could get hurt. You could die-” Patton’s voice cracked at the last word and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He grabbed Janus into a tight hug, hiding his face in the crook of his neck as he cried. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, honeybun.” Janus used the pet name for Patton which was only ever used when they were alone. “I’m not going anywhere.” He rubbed Patton’s back with both hands.

“You don’t know that.” Patton’s voice was muffled.

“I do.” Janus moved Patton to straighten up just enough to be able to see his face. He placed his hands on Patton’s cheeks and used his thumbs to wipe away his tears. “Do you really think my stubborn ass is going to get killed?” Patton couldn’t help from giggling and put his hands over Janus’.

“You are always careful out there, aren’t you?” Patton asked with a soft smile.

“Of course, I am. I have the most important person in the world waiting for me to come home.” Janus smiled back as Patton giggled more and pressed their foreheads together. “You’re stuck with me.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way, sugarplum.” Patton used his own pet name he only used when they were alone. Janus chuckled and pulled Patton into a light kiss.

“Let’s head to bed.”

“It’s still fairly early.” Patton leaned into another kiss as Janus lowered their hands.

“It won’t be by the time we’re done.” Janus chuckled.

“Done with-oh!” Patton took a second but he caught on to what Janus was implying. “Okay.” He squeezed Janus’ hands and was back to giggling as Janus walked them out of the kitchen.

#sanders sides #assassin!au #intrulogical #prinxiety #moceit #sandy writes

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iamvegorott · 20 days ago

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Superheros Need Magicians Pt8

Previous Story: Link First: Link Prev: Link Next: TBA

-----------

“Are you ready to go?” Marvin asked Jackie as Illinois and Yancy walked off after saying their goodbyes.

“Our date!” Jackie perked up when he remembered their plans.

“Yes, our date.” Marvin chuckled, feeling much better seeing Jackie as his usual goofy self.

Usually, he’d want details about what happened with Night, he’d go back over to Dark and ask him to explain fully what he wanted to do with Jackie, but he pushed that down, hid it all because it wasn’t just Jackie who needed some time away from the chaos; Marvin needed a break too, even if just for a handful of hours.

“Hope you saved room for dessert.” Jackie grinned as Marvin placed a hand on his shoulder and sent them away, having them land in an alley with a fire escape and the back door to a long-closed restaurant.

“I double-checked with Chase, and there isn’t anything planned. We can take our sweet time,” Marvin said while they walked, smiling a little when Jackie took hold of his hand. Jackie had taken Marvin’s hand for two reasons. The first was one anyone would assume: he wanted to hold his boyfriend’s hand. But the other reason scratched the back of his head. He felt more comfortable and confident walking along the sidewalk holding Marvin. He also had himself on the side against the road. Marvin was safest like this.

“We’re going to eat all of their cake.” Jackie joked with a playful shimmy.

“We? More like you. I swear you are a literal bottomless pit. Where does it all go?” Marvin joked back.

“It all goes to my ass.”

“Explains why it’s such a nice one.”

“I mean…” Jackie held out the word and then broke out into a laugh.

“I think that was the first time you took a compliment without blushing.” Marvin teased. “And there it is.” He was now the one laughing as Jackie rubbed the back of his head, and a tint of pink was on his cheeks. “You go claim a table and I’ll go order. Looks like it’s not too busy this time around.”

“Yeah.” Jackie felt a twist in his chest from remembering the last time this place was busy for them. What had happened. And it took everything for him not to grab Marvin’s hand back when he let go to head over to the counter.

Marvin was fine. They were fine. He could see him. They were safe here.

Jackie swallowed away the sour taste in his mouth and found an empty table for himself and Marvin to sit at, picking the spot that would let him see the front door and have his eye on Marvin while he waited in line. There was only one person in front of him, so it wouldn’t take long.

Marvin looked happy; he had a big smile as he spoke to the worker, nodding to questions about their order. Jackie relaxed more as Marvin drummed his fingers along the tray as he waited, giving himself something to do aside from chatting. He helped organize the large order, having the drinks on either side of the tray to keep it balanced. Charming, helpful, smart. How the hell did Jackie end up with someone like Marvin? And how did Marvin like someone like him?

“This might be too much since we just had lunch, but I just couldn’t resist some of our favorites,” Marvin explained as he set the tray on the table. “I also got us some of those smoothies we kept threatening to try. This one is mango, and this one is strawberry.” He pointed at the drinks while sitting in the seat across from Jackie.

“There is never too much dessert.” Jackie picked up a cookie and ate half of it in one bite. Marvin just chuckled and unwrapped one of the forks he had grabbed. Jackie finished his cookie and took another one.

“I have a question,” Marvin said.

“Yeah?”

“How are your atoms feeling?”

“What?” Jackie looked up and saw the muffin in front of Marvin and the fork in his hand. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? I don’t know what the problem is.” Marvin said with the biggest grin as he stabbed the muffin with the fork.

“I thought we were going for peace.” Jackie held his face with his hands, elbows resting on the table, as Marvin held up a forkful of muffin.

“There’s no war in how I eat my muffins.”

“Duckie, no.”

“Duckie, yes.” Marvin winked before putting the fork into his mouth.

“Right in the soul.” Jackie played up a fake groan of pain and placed his head on the table.

“You’ll survive.” Marvin chuckled, tapping Jackie’s head with the bottom of his fork.

x~x~x

“I still can’t believe you ate all that and can walk.” Marvin laughed as he and Jackie made their way back to the alley.

“You were the one who called me a bottomless pit.” Jackie chuckled. “Takes a lot of food to fuel all this energy.”

“Explains why you’re always bouncing off the walls.” Marvin hummed while Jackie pulled out his mask and put it on.

“Like this?” Jackie suddenly took off and jumped up, catching the bottom of the ladder to the fire escape. He swung his body around, hooked his legs around the lowest rung, and hung upside down in front of Marvin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Marvin stepped closer to Jackie so they were only inches apart. “Remember the last time we were like this?”

“Yeah…you’re not going to pull my hoodie over my head, right?” Jackie asked with a light chuckle.

“I think I should follow through on that tease I made all that time ago.” Marvin placed his hands on the back of Jackie’s head and kissed him. He tilted his own head and smiled when Jackie couldn’t hold back his happy sound. Marvin pulled back just far enough to be able to speak. “How do you feel now that you’ve gotten a Spider-Man kiss?”

“That I want another.” Jackie blurted out.

“I think I can handle doing that~”

-----------

Tag List: @rainymae523 @narutofoxlover

#magicians dont need superheros #superheros need magicians #marvelsepticeye #veggie writes #just so much fluff this chapter

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psychics4unet · 4 months ago

Note

Hello!! would i be able to get a free reading?

I’ve just started university and i’m getting a weird vibe from two of my roommates. I’m pretty sure they don’t like me so i was wondering if you could do a reading on what they think of me.

their initials: BO and J

Thank you xx

- AP

Free Psychic Reading By Egyptian Sand! (7$ PAID READINGS ARE ALSO OPENED!) 🔮✨🌙

First symbol: A Mask 🎭 – They are not showing their true thoughts. There’s a level of pretending or holding back, which means their energy might feel off. They could be sizing you up, unsure of how to approach you, or keeping their own judgments hidden.

Second symbol: A Wall 🧱 – There is distance here, emotionally and energetically. They aren’t open to fully connecting, but it’s not necessarily about you—they might be guarded or just not looking to bond deeply. This can make interactions feel cold or forced.

Third symbol: A Fork in the Road 🚦 – This shows indecision. One or both of them haven't fully decided how they feel about you yet. They may have assumptions, but their opinion is still forming. There’s a chance to shift the energy, but it depends on whether you want to or not.

Altogether, there’s tension, distance, and uncertainty, but nothing outright hostile. They might not dislike you personally—just keeping their space and unsure about you. If things feel weird, trust your gut and focus on people who make you feel comfortable. 🎭🧱🚦

Got questions or need some insight into your life? I'm here to help with personal psychic readings! For just $7, you can get answers to up to 7 questions! More info at:

In case anyone else here on tumblr would like a free psychic reading, Click the link and follow the instructions (I answer only to those who follow the instructions, thank you): https://www.tumblr.com/psychics4unet/773593300218314752/free-psychic-reading-with-egyptian-sand

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sugartwst · 3 years ago

Text

Benefit of the Deal

Azul x GN! Reader [Warnings: NSFW]

~AO3 Link~

After his overblot the Mostro Lounge's reputation needs a little help. After getting the idea on how to rebuild, Azul invites MC to a meeting where there is a bit of a misunderstanding...

Azul sighed, tapping his fork on his plate, too distracted by his own thoughts to eat. It seemed like every solution he came up with a wealth of new problems shot it down before he could even say it aloud.

“You know,” Jade began, a grin somewhere between innocent and sinister beginning to play on his face, “if you’re looking to build back trust with your consumers you should simply start with being honest with them.”

Floyd snorted, “Yeah! Tell them all you overblotted over a grade school class photo!” He suggested, his mouth full with half chewed food.

“What?! No— keep your voice down.” Azul bit, “-- and finish chewing before you speak.”

Floyd just opened his mouth wide, pushing around the half eaten mess in his mouth, loudly chewing. Azul grimaced and shook his head.

“Well if that’s not on the table, and people don’t trust you,” Jade pointed out, putting weight on the wound as he spoke, “You could just get someone more likable to be the face of the Mostro Lounge.”

Azul rolled his eyes, “Oh, like one of you?” He bit.

Jade chuckled, “I think we’re pretty darling, right Floyd?”

Floyd had his tongue out at this point, still stuck on his first bit. At his name, he finally stopped the disgusting display, “Eh I don’t wanna do that. What about Shrimpy, everybody likes them.” He shrugged, going back to his lunch.

Azul furrowed his brow at the thought. It could work. People definitely did like them.

“Ah the only trouble is they don’t owe me anything.” He grumbled, more to himself, “I’d have to make an offer.”

“I’m sure our conniving— I mean esteemed boss will figure something out, right Floyd?”

Floyd had finished eating and was licking his plate clean. Azul grimaced.

…

Azul stood by the bar, watching the entrance to the Monstro Lounge. He had settled a list of what he was prepared to offer in exchange for their help rebuilding the Lounge’s reputation. He’d start with a simple offer of a salary and number of free drinks and meals while working, though was prepared to escalate his offer to academic aid and as a Hail Mary if nothing else worked… babysitting Grim. He cringed at the thought.

MC came to the door, the little monster at their heels. He’d had enough of that cat while he was employed at the Lounge... still, he smiled, “MC! Welcome. Great to see you.” He greeted, meeting them halfway.

“Hey— yeah good to see you too,” they chuckled, “What’s with the warm welcome?” Their tone was joking but still genuine.

“Just glad to see you.” Azul grinned, brushing it off. He put a hand on their shoulder and looked down at Grim. The cat was glaring at him. Feeling the inside of his jacket he pulled out a small tin. “If you don’t mind I’d like to speak with you alone for a moment.” He lowered the tin to the monster. His eyes immediately turned sharp as he snatched the tin from him.

“Oh! These are the fancy sardines!” Grim shouted, holding the box up to show MC. They smiled and nodded, and Grim continued, “Yeah you can talk to them! I’ll be here!” He announced, jumping up onto a chair and opening the box.

Azul sighed, relieved the first part of his plan had gone without a hitch. His hand on their back, he led them through the Lounge into his office. Once inside he gestured for them to sit while he hung his coat on the rack. He was going for a less formal vibe. He’d thought they’d respond better to a more casual proposal rather than the professional contract signing they’d already seen once and ended badly. He had it all planned out.

Leaning against his desk, he suddenly remembered why he didn’t go for the casual approach. He was bad at it. His grin was lopsided, his gaze anywhere but theirs, and even though he took off his jacket he felt warm. Mentally, he slapped himself. He’d been doing this for years and it was a simple proposal, help the Monstro Lounge, get paid and free food. Easy deal! Clearing his throat, he looked down to them. They were watching him, clearly waiting for him to start.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice!” He began, his voice a little more pitchy than he would have liked.

They smiled, “No problem.”

The room was silent again, the ball in his court. God— why was this so difficult! Maybe because he was asking the person who both ruined his plans and fixed his shit to come back in and fix his shit again? It was a bit like groveling, wasn’t it? Azul bit his tongue, pulling himself back to focus.

“I wanted to… talk to you… about perhaps an arrangement between us?” Azul began, carefully choosing his words and looking back at MC.

They nodded, their brow lowered, an apprehensive look on their face as they waited for him to finish.

He backtracked, “I mean— we are friends, are we not?” He explained one hand gesturing vaguely while the other held onto his desk, white knuckled under his gloves. “I just think we could… benefit each other.”

MC’s eyes widened, their brow raised looking as though they’d just put something together. Azul paused, caught off guard by the reaction— he didn’t think he’d said enough for them to get the picture yet.

“You want to be… friends with benefits?” They asked.

Azul stopped, his mouth opened, but nothing came out. All of the sudden the room was unbearably hot, swelteringly hot. He’d said the wrong thing, the wrong words. He—

MC stood up, looking briefly behind them at the closed door and approached him confidently. They leaned against the desk, placing their hands on either side of him, one on top of his. Azul looked down at them, his eyes wide.

“As long as you don’t make a contract about it, I’m down.” They huffed, grinning up at him.

Azul’s throat was tight, making it nearly impossible to talk but managed to squeak the word, “Okay.”

MC chuckled, “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Oh.” He offered dumbly, his mind all but turned off as their arms reached around his neck, pulling him down to meet them. They had closed their eyes as their lips met, but he was still staring, frozen until something in his mind just clicked into place. Closing his eyes, he followed their lead, matching the pace they’d set. His hands fell on their hips sloppily.

Azul hardly noticed as their fingers hooked behind his bow tie until they pulled away, dragging his tie with them. He lurched forward, his breath hiking in surprise. MC laughed, pulling him a few steps forward until they stepped to the side. Azul instinctively turned to them, playing into their plan as they pushed him backwards. The sound he made was… undignified as he fell back onto the couch. His face felt like it was burning, his glasses crooked as he looked back to them. They easily climbed onto his lap, kneeling on the sofa.

Running their fingers through his hair they pushed the hat off his head where it tumbled onto the floor.

“You’re shaking,” they cooed, grinning as they settled their weight onto his lap.

“I am not—” he began, though he realized he very much was shaking. “I…” he began, looking anywhere but them.

They just laughed and immediately he felt the hot spike of shame stab through his chest. Immediately he just wanted to run and hide, crawl away and never come out. Never be seen again. Of course they were laughing, he was a laughing stock— a fuck up— of course it was funny! Of course—

“Azul— Azul, I’m sorry,” they breathed, “Come on, please, I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” They began, their hands on either side of his face, thumb swiping under his eye. He didn’t realize he was tearing up or that he was near the verge of hyperventilating. “I just… laugh a lot when I’m excited.” They explained, chuckling a bit then biting their lip to stop themself. “I’m sorry, please don’t be upset. Do you want to stop?”

Azul paused, taking the moment to gather himself. This… was not what he set out to do. Not what the meeting was for and yet… he looked up to them, his hands gripping their hips for life— he’d be lying to say this wasn’t a favorable outcome. His breathing began to even out, his death grip loosened. He liked MC— everyone liked MC— mostly as a friend to his knowledge but he… he’d definitely thought about something like this. A far fetched fantasy before and now… their lips on his, their weight on his lap, the look in their eyes— it was real.

He shook his head, “No— no.” He brought his own hand up to dry his face. God this was awkward. “I’m sorry— I just…”

“It’s fine.” They offered, shrugging off his apology, “I mean… I’ve definitely cried during before. It’s… not a big deal. Happens to the best of us, y’know?”

Azul looked up at them, “Really?” Both confused and interested.

They shrugged again, “It’s… not really that uncommon actually. Lot of emotions, lot of feelings, pretty easy to just start crying.”

“Oh.” He answered. He supposed that was actually somewhat comforting.

“But… if you want to continue…” they trailed off, their hands falling into his chest.

“Yes! Yes.” Azul coughed.

They smiled, “Okay.”

Leaning forward they met his lips briefly, but moved along quickly burying themself against his neck. Their fingers loosened his tie, tossing it aside and making quick work of the buttons. They trailed wet kisses down his neck until they were able to push his shirt off his shoulders. Diving below where they knew his shirt would cover they were rougher, dragging their teeth along his collar bone, leaving behind marks that would bruise and a thin sheen of saliva.

Azul sighed with relief as his shirt fell from his shoulders, the cold air soothing hot skin. His hands followed from their hips down to their ass and under them where he squeezed the fat. MC bit down harder, forcing a small wine from his throat. He immediately bit his lip in reaction; however, it was a bit of a wasted effort as MC ground their hips into him. Azul gasped a strangled sort of moan. His hand shot up to cover his mouth as they repeated the motion.

MC pulled back, resting their head on his shoulder. Whispering into his ear their breath was hot, “How am I supposed to know you’re enjoying yourself if you don’t tell me?” They hummed, their weight pressing into him again as their hand gently pulled his away from his mouth.

They reached their hand down cupping him over the thick fabric. Gently massaging they whispered, “You’re so cute.”

Azul flushed, a sudden spike of heat rushing to his pants, making them just unbearably tight. That… wasn’t something he knew affected him so much. MC giggled but took a deep breath to stop themself.

“You like that sort of thing then?” They asked, he could feel them smiling against his neck. He just nodded. Was it that obvious?

Biting and kissing along his neck, they unbuttoned his pants. Carefully they pulled his waistband down until his member sprung up. Azul flinched as he was suddenly met with the cold air.

Pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw, they whispered again, “What do you want to do?”

Azul took a moment to process the question, their hand on his thigh, rubbing circles dangerously close to the base. He couldn’t think of an answer to the question. He couldn’t think of anything really. It may have been a distressing feeling for an overthinker like him if he could think about it.

“Uh,” his voice failed him, hitching as he spoke, “Whatever you want?”

“Ah— always a good answer.”

He’d gotten it right. Go him.

They pulled away for a moment removing their pants and underwear, the long dress shirt of uniform just barely long enough to cover them. Climbing back onto him, they ran their hand along him, their thumb just brushing over his head. Azul whimpered, his voice tight. They lined themself with him and slowly lowered themself down.

Azul couldn’t help the instinct covering his mouth as a desperate moan escaped his lips, his other hand gripping their thigh like he was holding on for his life. Stealing themself on his shoulder, MC sighed, sinking further down on him. As they became more comfortable they ran their hand through his hair, grabbing a fistful of the silver locks at base of his skull, forcing his gaze up. They settled back on his lap, worrying their lip and losing a bit of their previously cool composure. Azul’s was long gone.

His breath came out ragged and rough, wines mixed in anytime they moved even a bit. He bit his hand hoping to stop the slew of obscene noises rolling from him but only worked to muffle it. MC took a deep breath and began to move, their pace was slow but even then Azul wasn’t certain how much he could take. He already felt his head spinning. Lowering themself back to his lap Azul gripped them tighter. Their hands fell to his chest, nails digging into flesh as they rose again, this time quicker as they fell back. Their breathy moans were drowned by the intense sound of his. Muffled wines and whimpering filled the office, their intensity only increasing as MC moved faster.

He whimpered under them, uncovering his mouth he wined “I… MC I’m going to cum.”

“Yeah?” They cooed, “Hold on a little longer, okay? For me.” They hummed, capturing his mouth in theirs. They reached their hand down, pleasuring themself as they lowered themself a final time. MC gasped, hot into his mouth, their breath coming fast as they drew closer. Quickly, they pulled themself from Azul and the moment they did he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Waves of pleasure shot through him, his vision meddled with black dots around the edges as white hot ribbons of cum painted their undersides, dripping down their thighs.

Resting their head on his shoulder, their hand pushed them the last bit over. Their legs shook, their breath coming hot and quick from their chest. Slow and careful, MC removed themself from him, picking up a nearby tissue box they cleaned off the mess. Redressing themself they looked back to Azul, still wide-eyed and hazy.

They smiled, a bit of pride stirring in their chest at the sight of the usually so collected business man totally disheveled, “Have fun?” They asked, handing him the box of tissues. He nodded.

“Hey… uh,” Azul hummed, collecting himself, “That was… the first time I… that I’ve had…” He trailed off.

“Oh…” They started, looking a bit lost for words, “ah… if I’d known that I would have tried to make it a bit more special.”

Azul just shook his head, trying to figure out how to argue that it was definitely special enough, but just sort of shrugged as he started fixing his uniform.

Picking up his hat from the floor, they dropped it sloppily on his head, “I’ll make it up to you some other time, hm?” They grinned.

“Another time?” Azul squeaked, then cleared his throat, “Uh— yeah. I mean you don’t have to make it up to me this was… this was good, but… another time would also be… good.”

“Good.” They chuckled. Azul fixed himself, standing up to tuck in his shirt and checking in the mirror to fix his hair as much as possible.“Oh, and by the way, I wanted to ask about picking up some shifts at the Lounge sometime? It would be nice to have a little money in case since— god knows Crowley doesn’t pay me.”

Azul’s eyes widened in the mirror. He turned to face them, “Of course— I’m more than happy to squeeze you in.” He smiled, “Throw in a free meal per shift.”

“Oh now you’re spoiling me,” they teased, “text me the schedule when you have it. I’m free in the evenings mostly.

Azul nodded.

“I should go check on Grim.” They offered, standing by the door, “I’ll see you around though.”

Azul nodded again, “Yeah. Great! Good.”

They chuckled and left, waving to someone nearby as the door shut behind them. Azul sat at his desk, reeling. He didn’t hear the door open, and shot up as Jade snickered, “So, how did your meeting go?”

#twst azul #twisted wonderland #twst #fanfic #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut

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grimmjowswoman · 3 years ago

Text

Wild Morning

Back with another filthy fic with Vergil and this time is a lot longer so buckle up :)

~~~~~~

Warning: Smut

Pairing: Vergil x f!reader

Word count: 2196

~~~~~~

Another morning, another day, and same routine. You woke up in the morning feeling an arm wrapped around your waist, of course you know who it is. Vergil. Your husband of 2 years, sleeping peacefully. His white hairs falling on his face resembling his brother. You wished to stay forever in bed with him but you had to get on with your day.

You slipped out of his grip very slowly so you don't wake him up and went to the linked bathroom to freshen up from your sleepy state and put your hair in a lazy and light ponytail then go prepare breakfast for yourself and your sleepy husband. You walked in the kitchen and pulled all the stuff you need for making food and you started with your duty. You decided to make some pancakes and coffee for yourself since Vergil isn't awake yet you won't make him his tea.

You put on the last piece of pancakes on the plate before putting it on the table with your coffee on the side and you sat down and started eating what you made and sipping on your drink enjoying the taste of the pancakes melting in your mouth. You took your time finishing your breakfast, you put down the fork and knife and wiped the syrup from your lips then stood up with the dirty dishes to put them in the sink and start washing them.

You cleaned off the dirt from them and made a fresh bowl of water and dish soap and you started washing the dishes. While doing so, you were too busy to notice someone walking behind you bare feet wearing only blue pajama pants and too busy trying to push your now fallen hair away from your face, you only noticed Vergil when he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your temple you let out a small breath because he scared you a little but you didn't stop doing your chores.

"Vergil, you're awake" you said as you turn your head to him and peck his cheek

"Yeah I am" he said and his hand traveled to get a hold of your hair that had been annoying you

"Yes thank you" You said smiling at Vergil and continuing with the dishes

You felt a pair of lips landing on your neck taking you by surprise, a breathy moan left your lips, and Vergil kept leaving kisses all over your exposed neck. Soon kisses turned into gentle licks by him, your hands stopped working on the dishes wanting to put your arm around Vergil's head and hand on his white slicked back locks but they are soaking wet from the running water

"Vergil? What are you doing? Let me finish washing these dishes" another moan escaped you after finishing your sentence

"Don't stop then" Vergil said after his lips left your neck

You tried to keep doing what you were doing while ignoring Vergil's nonstop abuse on your neck but when his hand left your hair to let it fall back down and both his hands slid down your sides, one of them sliding in front and inside your shorts and panties making contact with your already wet pussy

"Seems like you're very eager to be taken right here" you could hear the cockiness in his voice

"Vergil please-" you moaned leaning your hips forward to get Vergil's fingers to be inserted in your pretty tight hole

"Please what? What do you want?" Vergil asked as he puts his hand on your neck and pulls you back so your head is laid on his chest and his nose brushing your rosy cheek

"Please fuck me" You managed to let out before a series of “ah's” and “oh's” leaving your lips

"Good girl" After his sentence, Vergil pulls his hand out of your soaked panties and push you gently on the sink.

Vergil's hands went to unbutton your short and unzip it before sliding it down to pool on your feet, your panties followed suit and his pants as well. His hand held your thigh and put it up on the edge of the sink before guiding his hard cock to your keen, wet hole. He then rubs his dick all over your pussy lips to gather as much lubricant as he can so he can easily insert his veiny cock in. As soon as you feel the tip of his dick slide inside you with ease, you start to moan out

"Put it all in already- please Vergil" You cried out, wanting to feel the rest of his dick in your pussy

Vergil wasn't going to slide himself fully at first but hearing your desperate cries and beggings for him to fuck you, his sudden thrust making you jolt forward your stomach hitting the cold edge of the sink

"Mmhm yes like that" You moan out enjoying the feeling of his cock inside you

Vergil pulled out completely before ramming it back in hard making you jolt forward again, so he kept going in that pace not once did you stop your moaning

"Faster Vergil- please" you closed your eyes and bite your bottom lip to suppress your loud moans to which Vergil didn't approve of

"I want to hear how good I'm making you feel" Vergil demands after he grabbed you by your throat and pulled you so your back is on his naked chest without stopping his thrust or even go slower instead he fastened his pace

"Yes- yes- yes- Vergil please- I'm gonna cum-- mmm" you said, hearing Vergil starts to groan as well

The only sounds heard in the kitchen were your filthy moans combined with Vergil's grunts and the skin slaps of Vergil's balls hitting you each time he thrusts forward and hard. Vergil's free hand traveled to your tank top and pulled one strap down enough to let your right nipple out to the cold air and he grabbed your peak between his fingers twisting and pulling on it making you get even closer to finally cumming

"Vergil I'm gonna cum, fuck-" You closed your eyes and the knot in your stomach unfolded and your juices coating Vergil’s cock and your pussy clinched around him making Vergil grunt and follow you suit

You feel Vergil's thrusts come to a stop, his hands left your neck and nipple to grab your hip and his seeds flow inside your now abused pussy expecting him to pull out as soon as he finishes his load but no. Vergil starts thrusting back inside you taking you by surprise, his hand goes to your clit and rubs it fast trying to make you reach your second orgasm of the day (more like morning)

"Don't think I'm done with you" Vergil smirks at you

Vergil went back to thrusting hard in and out making you feel another knot form in your stomach, a few more thrusts from Vergil and you're already close to your second orgasm, Vergil felt your hole clenching again around his cock and tightens

"Still so tight" Vergil commented, hips not missing any beat

"Vergil I'm gonna cum again-" You replied, hand wrapped around Vergil's hand that's busy rubbing circles around your clit

Your legs starts shaking from getting overstimulated, Vergil's hand over your hips holding you up so you don't collapse yet until he finishes breeding your pussy. You moaned so loudly as you felt your juices flow on Vergil's cock for the second time, Vergil's hand stopped rubbing around your soft bud and his thrusts slowed down and this time he pulled his cum coated cock out of you and you feel everything spill out down your thighs, you laid your stomach on the sink trying to catch your breath.

Vergil went and grabbed a cloth and wet it under the water before coming behind you again and he started to clean you up, you jolt forward and a small moan leaves your lips after feeling the wet cloth on your pussy, Vergil then finished cleaning you up and himself, he wears his pants back on and slick his messy hair back meanwhile you are still catching your breath and holding yourself on the edge of the sink so you don't fall, Vergil looked at you and saw you in that state so he decided to help you and take you to the bathroom to take a bath and relax

Vergil held your half naked body in bridal style and made his way to the bathroom, he sat you on the toilet seat so he can fill the bathtub with warm water before slowly easing you in. You feel your body relax so you close your eyes to enjoy while Vergil kneels beside the bathtub to take care of you

"I'll take care of you" Vergil said and gave you a small smile that showed his dimples

“Join me" You told him as you grab him by the arms, giving him puppy dog eyes.

"Can't promise you anything" He replied and you knew well what he meant

"I know"

After your sentence, Vergil stood up and pulled his pants down and his cock slapped on his stomach, the scene made you lick and bite your lip and Vergil saw your reaction but tried to ignore it ..... for now

He slowly got in the tub opposite of you but you were having none of that. You decided to make your way to him and lay your right side on him, your left arm wrapped around his neck, legs tangled with his and his deliciously red cock was close to your stomach you could even feel it, you lean up close and wrapped your lips around Vergil's pulling him in a sweet kiss, a kiss turned into a make out session as soon as it started. You decided to risk it even more by grabbing his cock with your free hand, you started pumping his now hard cock under the water, kissing noises filled the bathroom along with water splashing from your hand movement on his dick.

You pulled away from the kiss and stopped the motion on Vergil's dick and you pulled yourself up to straddle Vergil's hips and guided his girthy cock close to your pussy and you sank down on him with moans escaping your lips and grunts coming out of Vergil

"Ah Vergil- your cock is so good- mmm I can't help but want to feel you inside me" You dirty talked to Vergil making him close his eyes and lean his head back before moving his hands to grab on your hips to help move you up and down his dick

"You dirty girl" Vergil said between his groans

You got tired from putting your hands on the edges of the bathtub so you lean down to lay on Vergil's chest while still moving up and down. The water splashing sound filled the bathtub and soon it started to die down when you stop your movement on Vergil's shaft to coat his cock again with your cum and his mixing up inside your hole.

You laid on Vergil for a few more minutes to catch your breath, arms wrapped around his neck and you two are still joined together from your intimate parts, Vergil's hand stayed on your ass kneading and slapping it making your cheeks red, you were enjoying it so much that soft moans are leaving your mouth but like everything good, it has to end.

"Let's get cleaned up" Vergil said as he sends one last slap to your ass making you flinch and pull away from his chest

"Hey! What was that for?" You asked staring knives into Vergil but he just smirks at you

"We are here to clean up not stay here all day" Vergil said before turning you around so your back is facing him and he grabs the shampoo bottle before squirting some of it on his hand and put it on your hair. Vergil started helping you clean up before cleaning himself up.

Finally finishing up, Vergil wrapped a towel around you then himself and guided you to the bedroom since you're still sore from all the sex you had in the morning

"Hey, you didn't eat your breakfast" You just remember that Vergil did even put anything in his mouth except your tongue this morning

"I'll eat soon, don't worry" He replied while busy drying his hair with the towel and you were oblivious about the thoughts running inside Vergil's mind

As you were wearing your tank top, two arms wrap around your hips taking you by surprise

"Again?" You spoke to him but he decided to ignore you and leave kisses on your shoulder blades and neck "Vergil stop, we did it like two times now let's stop"

"You look ravishing" Vergil complimented stopping the kisses for a few minutes before going back and removing the towel from your body and pushing you back on the bed before he kneels between your legs after he pushed them apart.

Aaaaaaand you really lost count of how many rounds you two had because the whole day Vergil was so insatiable.

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dmc x reader #vergil #vergil x reader #vergil smut #dmc #devil may cry imagines #dmc imagines #vergil imagines

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steddiealltheway · 2 years ago

Text

Part Six of Alone Together :)))))) Part One. Part Five. AO3 Link.

“Steve, wake up. Come on.”

Steve groans in response and tries to turn away from the noise.

“Oh no you don’t,” Eddie says, arms latching around Steve so he can’t move.

He cracks an eye open. “What do you want? Why are you awake?”

Eddie grins. “I thought you would want to wake up to my beautiful face.”

Steve opens both his eyes just to glare at him and roll his eyes before closing them again. He feels a harsh poke on his forehead. “What the hell, man?”

“I need to get everyone Christmas gifts.”

Steve opens his eyes. “You didn’t do that already?”

Eddie gives him a leveled look and sighs. “When would I have the time? We’ve been on Vecna lookout for months now. When did you have the time?”

Steve sits up with a groan and wipes the sleep out of his eyes. The shoulder he slept on is super tight and painful to move around in the socket. He replies when it starts to loosen up after rolling it around a bit, “I went when...” he trails off and thinks.

Every year, Steve goes Christmas shopping throughout the year rather than right before Christmas so he doesn’t have to worry about it. But this year...

“Holy shit!” Steve says fully awake. He has no gifts except maybe one thing he had picked up for Robin when they were working together before Hawkins went to hell again. He jumps up and sways slightly on his feet, always a little unsteady in the mornings.

Eddie appears in front of him grabbing his shoulders to stabilize him. “Mrs. Wheeler has breakfast upstairs, and I made you a plate. Want to make a plan upstairs?”

“You’re the best,” Steve says swaying forward into Eddie’s arms. He’ll blame it on the sleep haze of just waking up if he needs to, but right now he just wants to feel Eddie’s arms around him.

Eddie’s hand comes up to play with Steve’s hair, and Steve’s slumps against Eddie a bit more. “Alright, alright,” Eddie says, hand coming out of his hair and running down his back to pat it twice. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Steve reluctantly leaves Eddie’s embrace with a frown. Eddie laughs and ruffles Steve’s hair quickly before darting up the stairs – probably to avoid Steve’s irritated response. Steve sprints up the stairs after him, but Eddie is faster than he seems.

Steve finds him holding out a plate to him, gesturing towards the kitchen where Nancy and Robin are eating. Steve joins them while Eddie announces that he’s going to get their clothes.

“You guys are leaving?” Robin asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Well, guess who hasn’t gone Christmas shopping yet?” Steve prompts, stabbing his fork into his pancake.

“Oh no, he didn’t,” Nancy says pityingly.

Steve huffs, “It’s worse than that. I forgot too, and with everything that’s been happening let’s just say that was the last thing on my mind.”

“I think all the couples are doing gifts from them to everyone. At least, that’s what Nancy and I are doing. Cuts down the cost and helps with gift ideas if you and Eddie want to do that,” Robin suggests.

“Wouldn’t that be... weird since Eddie and I aren’t a thing?” Steve asks. Nancy and Robin exchange a look. “What?”

Nancy shakes her head. “I thought Robin was joking when she told me that you and Eddie aren’t dating.”

Steve’s heart stops. “What do you mean?”

“You two aren’t very subtle about your feelings for each other.”

“Each other?” Steve questions and Nancy’s eyebrows furrow. “No, Eddie’s just a flirt you know that. He’s just helping me get through the holidays alone, no feelings involved.”

“He told me-” Nancy starts, but she’s cut off when the door to the basement swings open.

Eddie walks into the kitchen – folded clothes in hand. “Who died?’ Eddie asks jokingly. Steve averts his eyes, avoiding the looks he knows Nancy and Robin are giving him. “Woah, wait, who died?” Eddie asks seriously.

“No one,” Nancy says voice tight. “We were just telling Steve about how all the couples are getting gifts together so you two can split the cost and do the same.”

“Well, that would make Christmas shopping faster at the very least,” Eddie says sounding hopeful that Steve will like the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind help with gift ideas,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Nancy says, lips quirking up.

“Sounds like a date,” Robin mutters loud enough for both Steve and Eddie to hear her.

Steve ignores the comment, and if Eddie heard it, he doesn’t say anything. Luckily, the rest of their breakfast goes smoothly with Eddie stealing food off his plate every few seconds even though he says he already had a plate.

After Steve finishes – quicker than usual with the help – the pair quickly say their goodbyes and make their way outside. It’s way warmer than the day before, and most of the snow has melted to their luck, but Steve hesitates before they get in their cars.

“Want to meet in about an hour? I’m dying for a shower,” Steve suggests while Eddie’s hand rests on his van’s doorhandle.

“Sounds good.”

Steve smiles. He really needs to brush his teeth and fix his hair is he wants to feel good about this outing with Eddie.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“So, you never filled me in on your nail bat,” Eddie says, looking through shelves.

Steve glances around to make sure no one is in the aisle. “Technically it was Nancy’s bat. Her and Jonathan made it when the first round of monsters came along, but I used it to beat a demogorgan before we set it on fire, and I just kind of kept it ever since,” he says with a shrug. “Hey, what if we got El a waffle maker?” Steve glances towards Eddie who stares at him blankly. “What?”

Eddie continues to stare. “One of these days you’ll tell me everything in detail from the top, yeah?”

Steve nods. “If you want. I don’t think you’ve heard about the Russian truth serum yet.”

Eddie shakes his head and lets out a noise of disbelief. “Is this why you came to school with your face all... busted in those few times?”

Steve freezes. “You noticed that?”

“Everyone noticed, man. But I was... I was worried about you. Saw you at Hopper’s memorial service and wondered how you got into yet another seemingly near-death fight. Dustin told me how you saved all of them from Billy one time, and I didn’t believe him until... you know.”

Steve glances over at Eddie and leans in to nudge his side with a smile. “Worried about me, huh?”

Someone comes down the aisle, and Eddie takes a careful step away from Steve after whispering, “Always, big boy.”

Steve nearly trips over his own feet and has to apologize to the lady he bumps into. When he glances over to Eddie, all he does is wiggle his eyebrows in response. Steve huffs, “Unbelievable.”

The rest of their trip is spent with Eddie trying to fluster Steve while he ends up picking out all their gifts. Or that’s what Steve wants to think, but Eddie had actually been really helpful, and all his suggestions lined up with Steve’s ideas.

It’s becoming more and more apparent that him and Eddie work really well together, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that information.

They both drive back to Steve’s house after they agree to wrap the presents that day so they don’t put it off until the last minute. Honestly, Steve would rather procrastinate the tedious process, but he just wants to spend more time with Eddie.

They quickly find out they’re both horrible at gift wrapping in very different ways. Eddie ends up trying to make little creations out of the extra wrapping paper he accidentally cuts out. On Dustin’s gift he ends up using a full role of tape. “He needs a lesson in humility, Steve.”

On the other hand, Steve struggles with the tears in his wrapping paper and little bubbles of air that make the presents looks sloppy. As his mother had lectured him multiple Christmases – Sleek and slick is the way to go, Steven, your little creations are inappropriate. Here let me show you how it’s done.

Steve sighs when he notices the way the paper is crinkling in his hands at the memories.

“You okay?” Eddie questions softly, putting down the dragon or something he’s been working on.

Steve lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, just can’t get it to look nice.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. Especially as a base to this little guy,” Eddie says pointing to his creature. “That’s Jonathan’s, right? I’ve got Argyle’s right here. We can create a little display.”

“Yeah, it’s perfect with all the little rips in it,” Steve mutters.

“Dragons have claws, babe. It’s bound to happen.”

Steve snorts. Maybe he’s right. “Sure, babe.”

Eddie has a goofy grin the rest of the time they’re wrapping the gifts. Steve rides on that high, not bothering to suppress his own grin.

Steve is reluctant to finish his last gift – glad to have it over with but sad to know that Eddie will have to leave shortly after. Maybe he should use that time to get a gift for Eddie though. He had thought about washing up his battle vest and returning it, but Steve can’t let it go quite yet.

Steve puts the last piece of tape on the gift and scoots it towards Eddie who puts his mini-Dart creation on top – after consulting Steve about it multiple times to make sure it looks okay since he has no idea what the hell a demodog is.

They pile the gifts together, and Steve laughs. “It’s amazing, Eddie.”

“All the couples are going to be jealous of our wrapping skills,” Eddie says wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist. He leaves it there a few seconds then squeeze his side gently before he lets go. “I have to head out and get your gift ready.”

Steve tries to hide his disappointment, but he knows he’s unsuccessful although he needs to do the same. Christ, finding the perfect gift seems nearly impossible after all of this – nothing seems good enough.

Steve follows Eddie towards the front door but thuds into him when Eddie suddenly stops. “Christ, dude, why’d you stop?” Steve asks then notices Eddie glancing up.

Shit. He knew this was going to happen. His heart thuds as Eddie glances back down at him. His eyes flicker down to Steve’s lips, but he steps back. “It’s a weird tradition, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Steve asks dumbly.

“Step under a hanging plant and you’re expected to kiss. Just... weird,” Eddie says, digging his hands into his pockets.

Steve shrugs. “It’s not too weird.”

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds. Steve thinks he’ll do it. Eddie is about to make a move.

Eddie shakes his head and breaks eye contact. “Bye, Steve. Thanks for the help today.”

Steve deflates. “You too, Eddie. Have a good one.”

There’s an awkward wave exchange before Eddie heads out the front door and closes it behind him. Steve stares at it for a few seconds, wishing he had just made the move, and then they could talk and clarify that this is all real and... He sighs and turns around.

The front door opens. Steve turns around asking, “Hey, did you forget somethi-” he’s cut off when Eddie’s hand cups his cheeks and pulls him into a searing kiss. Eddie’s lips are softer than he imagined, pressing firmly against his for a moment until Steve moves to deepen the kiss, tongue tracing the bottom of Eddie’s lip. Eddie lets him in, tasting every bit like the gingerbread cookies Steve and him had earlier with a hint of spearmint.

Steve can’t get enough, but Eddie breaks the kiss far too early. “Not a weird tradition at all,” Eddie pants out, giving him one last kiss before running out the front door.

Shit, they need to talk. Steve’s feet move slower than he needs them to, and as he opens the door, he already sees Eddie driving away. Shit.

Part Seven.

Tag List <3:

@eddiesbabe95 @hagbaby420 @grtwdsmwhr @mightbeasleep @saramelaniemoon @bidisastersworld @spectrum-spectre @henderdads @wrenisflying @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie christmas

198 notes · View notes

niobe-loreley · 3 years ago

Text

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {i}

breakfast, lunch, or dinner is served! *cue party horn*

(see author's notes far below)

disclaimer: pictures are not mine. BUT THE EDITED VERSION OF IT IS. still, credits to the rightful owners and to canva + weheartit.

Six x Fem!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader

Summary & CHAPTER SELECTION is in the ✨Masterlist✨ [link for next chapter is posted below]

words: 4.9k reader bio: 33y/o. waitress at a Cafe. bartender at a resto-bar. (N/N) = nickname

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

You internally scream before you give a nod and bend down toward him. He carefully raises the fork, and you take it in your mouth. You look at him, the 12-inch proximity lets you study his icy blue eyes beneath the shadow of his cap, and you resist the urge to shudder from the intensity of his gaze boring into yours. You pull back, and he gently extracts the fork.

There's a smidge of icing on your lips, it feels cool, like an oasis amidst the burning desert that is your face. You lick your lips, scattering the cream throughout your tongue, and you swallow. He inspects your lips, blue eyes becoming fiercer—

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

"What are we having?"

"Take-out."

Claire drops back down to her bed with a mighty groan of discontent. "Ugh! Not McDonald's again."

"It's actually Jollibee." Court says like it's a prize he won from the fair, holding up the paper bag decorated with a red, smiling bee.

"I think you're sabotaging this cordial bee." Claire cranes her head up to frown at her, well, father-figure.

He stifles a grin. "What?"

She flips over to her stomach and smothers her face in the blankets. "You're making me eat a lot of Jollibee so that I'll get sick of it and you'll buy some McDonald's for our Friday Night take-outs instead!" she yells, loud enough for her muffled voice to be audible.

His grin tweaks down. "Again, what?"

"You're getting me delirious." Claire abruptly sits up, pointing at him with a glare.

"You're getting yourself delirious." Court points back at her.

"I know I'm not the kind of kid who can always play under the sun. But I can't stay here forever!" she cries, and soon realizes her words and the tone she coated them in. She shakes her head apologetically, keeps her gaze on the bed sheets, and slowly falls back on the bed. "We can't.. stay in here forever."

Claire can't help it— that innate feeling of being shackled despite travelling through five countries in the span of two weeks. That's how long she and the former shadow operative were on the run, he then found places around the archipelago. She was still calling him Six until he asked her to choose where they would stay among the selected countries in Southeast Asia. He also asked her to call him by his real name.

"Court? As in courthouse?"

"Well, yeah.. but it's particularly short for Courtland."

"Courtland Gentry," she says testily. Making a face, she laughs. "It's weird! I think I'll keep calling you Six."

He sighs. "Fine… But don't call me that in public."

"What say you and I take a drive around the city?"

Claire snaps out of her stupor. "What say you, what now?"

"Let's eat outside," says Court, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Really?!" she exclaims with gleaming eyes.

"Yeah, we'll drive around, check out the other restaurants.. or you can find some on the phone I gave you."

"I wanna go to a cafe! That serves local cuisines!"

"That settles it, then."

⚜🍰⚜

When they're both buckled up in the car, Court offers the aux cord, but Claire suddenly clasps his hand in both of hers. He's dumbfounded by the gesture, and as he opens his mouth to speak, she swiftly cuts him off—

"I'm so sorry for my behavior earlier!"

"What?" he asks with a half-laugh.

"I'm sorry," she lets him go. "I know how hard our situation is— I've understood it."

Court keeps his lips in a tight line, yet the fiery waves in his eyes are unmistakable. He has travelled with precious cargo during the 18 years of being a Sierra. Took a kidnapped president back to his home country; saved imprisoned soldiers in North Korea; and even returned a diplomat's children from a ransom kidnapping. But Claire isn't someone he needs to be safely delivered to prevent a genocidal bombing.

She's his only family. Blood or not. And he owed it to Donald to take care of Claire. It immensely worries him how she'll have to grow up— on the run, always skipping town, never settling down. She will make friends only to leave them in the next hour without a goodbye. Court doesn't want that kind of life for any fourteen-year-old girl, especially Claire Fitzroy.

Dani is probably doing a lot right now to keep Suzanne and Carmicheal off their scent. Their last contact with her was before he and Claire agreed on the Philippines; even she doesn't know where they are right now. But if Carmicheal wants to keep their end of the bargain, they would leave him and Claire alone— for good. Until they die from old age.

"I just.. need a bit more time to adjust." says Claire.

Court nods. "I know.."

She takes the aux cord and reclines on her seat. "You did say we could be here for a while." Claire mentions, trying not to smile too hopefully at him.

He shortly clenches the wheel in his hands, looking away and past the windshield, he eyes the insects hovering in the car's light beams. Like dancers trying to steal the spotlight on auditions. Court turns to Claire, matching her not-too-hopeful smile, and ruffles her head. "I hope so," he says with much sincerity. "About time we get a vacation."

Claire suppresses a grin, plugging the aux in her phone, she moves to plug the other end on the stereo— Court blocks her attempt without warning. She's surprised, but manages to focus when she sees his other fist heading for her. Using the aux cord, she wraps it around his wrist, reels it down, and jabs at his face.

Court catches her fist in time, peering at her with a grin. "You've gotten good," he remarks approvingly.

She proudly huffs. "I have to."

"I didn't surprise you too much?"

"I thought you said I should be prepared for surprises."

"And what'd your pacemaker say about that?"

"She's not as angry as she was the first time we had these surprise sparring."

The drive to the Freeport Zone didn't take the usual half hour. As much as Claire wants to oversee the places they'll pass, she's too hungry to be in awe of the nocturnal aesthetics. Court is aware of that and drives as fast as he safely can. It was already 7:30 PM when they left the subdivision, they had a hard time convincing the subdivision guards to take their Jollibee takeout. The guards felt ashamed to be taking free food, they thanked them relentlessly as Court drove the car out.

Claire stops watching the city lights as they near. Glancing down at her phone, she checks the time— 7:50— and scrutinizes the map on the screen. "After we pass the bridge, take the second left."

"Copy that," Court nods.

"I think Uncle Don would've liked to get buried there." Claire chuckles, trying to peer at the mountainous cemetery. "I've never seen such an elevated memorial park."

Court glances, the burial ground is dark yet glittered with dots of fluorescent illumination, and he can see a few candlelights flickering amidst the blackness. "I agree. The view must be nice, huh?" he says, facing ahead.

"Yeah... I'm glad we visited him before we left."

It was the first thing they did after being reunited. Telling Donald that it'll be a while before they could visit him again.. promising to take care of each other.

As they pass the bridge, Claire uses her instant camera to photograph the water shimmering from the moonlight. Court carefully veers into the second left turn, letting Claire instruct him as he drives, and she watches their icon on the map as they near the Subic Bay Boardwalk.

"Left," she says. "And drive slowly."

Court flicks on the blinker, takes a gander, and makes the left. He turns off the blinker and gently cruises through the street, noting the restaurant at the right and the hotel at the left.

"Over there." Claire points at a cafe next to the hotel.

Court glances at the post that points to its cafe— Flour Cake De Liz.

"Witty," he snorts.

"I think that's the parking lot."

He drives the car up the ramp and parks in one of the vacant spaces. Only a white SUV and a moped are in the parking lot, but the cafe seems quiet. The sound of pebbles and sand against heavy moving rubber ceases, Court pulls on the parking brake and cautiously looks around. A few people are pacing through the sidewalks, the restaurant across the street is lively, and there's faint laughter resounding from the beach.

"What's the matter?" Claire asks, unlatching her seatbelt.

"Stay here, I'll just scout the area."

"Seriously?"

Court secures the gun in the holster of his jacket, looking at Claire straight in the eye. "I'm sorry. Take the wheel and keep the doors locked." he climbs out of the car, "I'll be back, Claire."

She pouts. "You better. Or else I'll run you over."

"I'll keep that in mind," he grins, adjusting his cap, he closes the door and heads for the cafe.

He increases his pace when he hears Claire locking the door. For every three steps, he warily glances. Still the same scenery, nothing out of the ordinary.

Just how covert operations like it.

That's why it's hard for Court to shake off the apprehension crawling up his ass. It's very uncomfortable.

Court grips on the gun as he shoulders the door open. A chime signals his entrance, the sound is as sweet as the fragrance in the air, yet there's a tinge of spiciness about.

"Welcome to Flour Cake De Liz!" the guy behind the cashier exclaims. He quickly looks around the place and his face contorts angrily. "Hoy, (N/N)! May customers tayo!"

{Hey, N/N! We have customers!}

He's yelling at a waitress, who's sprawled across the booth by the window.

"Teka, patapos na!" you loudly reply, fingers and thumbs rapidly tapping and moving against the screen of your phone.

{Wait, almost finished!}

The cashier guy huffs and then smiles brightly at Court. "Please, have a seat anywhere, sir." he says, brows twitching from suppressed anger.

"Sure.. I'll just get my daughter." Court steps out and overhears the workers.

"Ano daw sabi niya?" the cashier guy whisper-yells at the waitress.

"Kunin niya lang daw anak niya."

Court takes his hand out of his jacket and gestures at Claire to wait for him. She nods and takes a gander, opening the door when he's a foot away. "Well?" she heaves a brow.

"We're good." he nods.

Claire grins, hastily turning off the car, she gathers her stuff before securing the handbrake. She then hops out and hands him the keys. "Are there other customers?" she asks curiously, fixing the beanie on her head.

He locks the car. "No, it'll be just us."

"I'm kinda relieved about that."

When they reach the door, the waitress opens it for them. With you standing up and not on your back anymore, Court mentally notes that your height reaches the bottom of his earlobes, but remove the pumped up kicks, you're lower than his collarbones.

"Maligayang pagdating— welcome to Flour Cake De Liz! Do come in and sit anywhere you like," you flash your most brightest and charming grin.

It's an effective hit to the teenager.

"Salamat po!" Clare grins back as they walk past you.

You exclaim, shocked-and-awed. "Oh! Marunong ka mag-Tagalog?"

You can speak Tagalog?

She sheepishly laughs. "Kaunti lang po."

Just a bit.

"Still, that's impressive!" you let the door shut behind you, swiftly striding past the customers, you stop by the refill station to hook a tumbler to your wrist and grab two glasses.

The customers have taken a booth near the counter. You head towards them and expertly deposit the glasses to each, popping open the tumbler, you fill the glasses with ice-cold water. "If you're ready to order, line up at the counter over there! Muro-muro will assist you. Don't worry, with fresh glasses of water on your table, any other customers who are willing to venture into our domain will know that your booth is not single, but taken! Sanaol!"

Claire laughs lightly. "What's that word you just said? I think I've been hearing that around SMS."

You close the tumbler, place it on the table, and clear your throat. "Sana all is an expression of comic envy. The Tagalog word 'sana' can either mean wish, desire, or hope." you say in a genius-like tone, which soon diminishes as you continue. "The phrase is practically a shorter way of saying, I hope this or that happens to me too! It's like you're jealous in a good way. You want whatever fortune that was bestowed to someone to also be bestowed to you."

"I didn't know jealousy can be good and funny." says Claire.

"Or poetic," Court chimes in.

You shrug. "For me, jealousy is an emotion that makes us perceive the significance of others, as well as our own. Think about it, when you're jealous of someone, you see what they have and what you don't. It's not really a bad emotion if you don't make it bad. But it typically tends to leave anyone upset, so I can't say it's a completely good emotion."

"You make it sound like it is, though," Court chuckles, "And by the way, your English is excellent."

"I hope so! I've been practicing for three decades," you wink and glance over to the counter. "I have to see if our chef needs any help preparing. See you two at the counter!"

Court and Claire watch as you glide away, it's as though your rubber shoes have wheels beneath them. He scrutinizes you from head to toe; you're in a dark brown collared shirt, denim shorts, and thigh-high Star Wars printed socks. Your hair is pulled back into a dutch braid that looks like it was newly tied.

"Shall we order?" Clair asks, turning back to catch Court eyeing you.

He nods. "Sure," and rises up, reluctant to see the grin on the teenager's face, he makes a beeline for the counter.

Court gazes up at the menu as Claire stands next to him. Adobo sounds nice. He's only tasted it once, but the sweet peppery flavor is exhumed into the back of his throat like he's been eating the meal every day. He glances down at the pastry bar in front of them, feeling his mouth water with famished anticipation.

"You like her." Claire whispers, elbowing his side.

He sighs. "It's not like that."

Claire is unconvinced. "Uh-huh.."

"Been a while since somebody was actually nice to us, okay? She's just," Court shortly finds the words, "like a breath of fresh air."

"I concur." Claire nods approvingly.

"Hi!" the cashier guy waves at them, "You can order over here."

"Have you decided on anything?" Court asks Claire as they near the cashier.

She hums and meets the eyes of the cashier. "What would you recommend for dinner?" she inquires him with a smile.

Court eyes the cashier's nametag and wonders if he's new or just easily feels nervous around foreign customers. "Um, recommend..?" Muro glances over to the menu, "Oh! Best meal voted by customers is our Pork Sinigang."

"But we only serve that during lunch," you quickly add as you exit the kitchen.

Muro stammers. "Ah, yes, sorry! Sinigang is only for lunch. But best dinner meal is our Chicken Hamonado."

"What's that?" Claire asks.

"It's chicken in pineapple and cheese soup."

"I'd love to try that!"

"Hold on," says Court. "How much cheese does this meal have?"

Muro blinks puzzledly, glancing at his co-worker, and you pat him on the shoulder, stepping up beside him. "Just enough for the pineapple not to overpower the flavor," you brightly reply.

"My daughter has a heart condition, so I need to know if it's too much cheese or not."

Your eyes widen, glimpsing at Claire, who is astonished that you're more shocked than sympathetic. "Oh... Okay, how about this," you pause to click on a pen and scribble on your inner wrist. "I'll have Mindy, our chef, make two Hamonado— one with the normal cheese and another with much less. Considering if she still wants to try it."

"I want it!" she says, looking at Court with pleading eyes.

"And we'll switch the white rice for brown rice. I read online that it's much better for the heart," you proclaim with sincere certainty, smiling at the father-daughter duo.

Court glances from Claire to you, he's outnumbered, and quietly sighs as he takes out his wallet. "There's a 5-peso add-on for the brown rice, right?" he asks, nodding towards the menu.

Claire fist-pumps triumphantly. "Yes!"

"The beauty of Flour Cake De Liz is not its vintage walls or delicious meals and pastries," you pause to grin, "but its policy of free add-ons for first-time customers!"

"Are you sure you're not the beauty of this cafe?" Claire asks innocently yet suave-like.

You laugh. "If you stay here longer, I probably will not be."

After ordering, Claire and Court return to their table. "Please tell me this is where we'll be eating every Friday night!" she whispers, clapping her hands together.

"If the food is as good as the service, why not?" Court shrugs, fishing out a packet of gum.

Claire pulls a face at him. "Are you serious?"

"What, do they also have a no-gum policy?" he looks around as he unwraps a piece and fastly slips it in his mouth.

"No, but we're about to eat."

"She said the food will take up to twenty minutes."

"You could've taken the free potato mojos."

"And watch your puppy dog face as you ask me to give you more than three?"

Claire flushes. "I have self-control!"

"Not on Friday nights," Court shakes his head with a lopsided grin. He hears your footfalls nearing their booth, watching you in his peripheral vision, he keeps a hand on the table while the other in his pocket.

Claire furtively boots his shin, she knows that his left jeans-pocket contains a switchblade. Not just his gum packet. She knows and understands how to be vigilant, but she can't consistently be on her guard, especially if she's encountering someone as breezy as you. Court internally admits that it's hard to read any ill-intent from you, and letting down his barbed-wire fences around you seems right. It really has been a while since someone is genuine to them.

But to confront you with your unpredictability builds a lot more anxiety in Court's chest than facing down twenty armed-mercenaries.

"While you're waiting, you can check out the bookshelves over there," you point to the adjacent wall, "There's also some board games. But if those are not up your alley, I can just turn on the t.v."

"Let's play some games!" Claire exclaims, grinning at you and Court before she flies out of the booth and jogs across the room.

You chuckle as you watch Claire. "She's pretty enthusiastic."

"Oh, that's not even half of her enthusiasm." Court remarks, eyeing you until you face him, by then you think he's only been looking at Claire.

"Would you like to watch some television?" you ask politely.

"No," he shortly smiles, glancing at your nametag, even though he already knew what's on it. "No, thanks, (N/N)."

"Okay.. I'll play some music then." you sheepishly incline your head sideways, "Unless you mind."

"Not at all."

By the time music is playing over the speakers, Claire finally comes back with two kinds of UNO. Court recognizes the song and resists the urge to react, but his foot betrays him, it taps along with the beat.

♪See the lights of a neighbor's house

Now she's starting to rise

Take a minute to concentrate

And she opens her eyes♪

♪The world was moving, she was right there with it and she was

The world was moving, she was floating above it and she was♪

"Have you played this one?" Claire asks, holding up the violet UNO.

"UNO Flip?" Court reads the box, brows furrowing, he shakes his head. "No.. but we did play UNO once."

She smiles. "Yeah, we did. I can't believe you remembered."

"Of course." he huffs matter-of-factly.

"Good choice!" you step up to their table, glancing at your wristwatch. "Mindy, wants me to tell you that the food can be ready in ten minutes or so. I just helped her with the brown rice. She's now working on the Hamonado with less cheese, because fortunately the normal Hamonado has been prepared and only needed reheating."

"Thanks for the update." says Court. "And that's a nice first song selection."

You give a dramatic curtsy. "Why, thank you, kind sir." you laugh and straighten up, "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen, just holler."

"Wait!" says Claire.

"Yes?" you stop and turn back to her.

"Can you teach us how to play this?"

This time, Court is the one kicking (as lightly as he can) on Claire's shins.

"UNO Flip? It's quite easy," you glance at Court and squat down beside Claire. "Here, get the cards out. It's just the same as normal UNO, but there's a light side and a dark side. Let's start with what's new on the light side..."

After explaining the mechanics, you're about to leave the father-daughter duo to let them play when the daughter asks something that freezes you and her father.

"Are you single?"

You stammer. "Pardon?"

"Claire.." Court says chidingly, jaw clenching when he realizes he slipped.

"Sorry, wrong question." the teenager laughs, "What I meant was.. wanna play with us?"

Court breathes out a laugh. "I'm sorry. Like you said, she's enthusiastic. You don't have to do it if you're busy."

Claire pouts at him, and he gives her the stink eye. You're surprised when she turns her pouting face to you. The demeanor pierces through your resolve and weakens your knees— you rather hope it was arthritis.

"I'll get mad at you if you don't play." Claire declares with a half-frown and half-pout.

You look between the father-daughter, unable to decide quickly which side you're on. It reminds you of those decision-based games with quick time events. Do you select either one of the choices or let the timer run out and do nothing at all? Do you press this button to escape a probable deadly circumstance? Or you don't press the button and see if the consequences aren't as deadly as they seem?

"Alright, well, get mad.. you strange, enthusiastic, little girl. Because I don't know you, and you don't know me." you say sternly, "So, stop that puppy-eyed look or I'm gonna go and ask the chef if she needs help— because if she doesn't, I'll play and crush you in UNO Flip!"

The pair are stunned as you storm off and noisily enter the kitchen, yelling at the chef for permission. They still haven't recovered by the time you march back to them. You have an infuriated look that is swiftly replaced by a face that practically beams out rainbows. "I can play two rounds!" you exclaim like you've won the Nobel prize.

"Yay!" Claire gleefully cries.

"Oy vey," Court sighs in defeat, but truthfully, he's relieved you're joining them. It's been hard to keep Claire and himself safe with no one else to rely on. And it's much harder to raise a kid on his own.

He's trying. He wants to believe that he's trying and working hard to raise and protect Claire. That's why he can't let his guard down too much, no matter how seemingly easy it is to get along with you. No matter how kind you are— or, at least, you act to be. Evidently, Court hasn't been around good people a lot, and the bad people he's been around with have dropped dead at the end of his gun.

That's why Court knows how to read people. To understand them is a different story. And he has decided, for now, that you're one of the good ones. Although, sometimes, evil resides far beneath the surface; but he doesn't have the luxury nor does he want to deeply evaluate you or any other good person whether you're truly good or just acting like it.

But right now, Claire looks happier since the last month and a half they've been together. Court doesn't want her to feel otherwise. So if it means letting a strange woman take care of her temporarily, then so be it.

After one round of UNO Flip, their food is ready. This version of UNO is played longer than the original due to the constant flipping from the dark to light side. Claire won, you're second, and Court lost. At first, you thought he's going easy on you; but after a while, you've concluded that he is just bad at UNO.

"Beginner's bad luck," he says.

"You just need practice." you reply in a consoling yet derisive way.

With the help of Muro (his actual name is Romeo, which he hates), you serve the father-daughter duo their meals and whisk away to help clean in the kitchen. Mindy questions you about the customers, and there's nothing much to say except that they're both charming, especially the girl. You mention about her condition, to which Mindy sympathizes.

Maybe that's why she's excited to socialize with other people. Her dad doesn't appear to be bad, he's probably rather strict because of her ailment. But it's suspicious of him to continue wearing his cap indoors, even while eating. You decide he has hair issues and end your train of thoughts there, intently listening to Mindy's relationship problems while trying not to be disheartened by your own non-existent love life.

Once the father-daughter duo are almost done, Muro briefly enters the kitchen to inform you and takes a bowl of mojos.

"Don't forget to ask them for deserts!" Mindy reminds you.

"Like I don't always ask that!" you playfully shoot back and walk out of the swinging doors.

"The normal Hamonado is better, (N/N)." the girl declares, distastefully regarding the less-cheesed version of the dish.

You laugh. "I couldn't agree more," and exchange polite smiles with the girl's father.

"The brown rice is also cooked very well. But I think this is the best meal we've eaten for the month." he comments.

"I'll make sure to pass your compliments to the chef," you say with a bow. "Would you two like some deserts?"

"Sure," he answers before his daughter can make another puppy-eyed face.

"Really?" she gasps.

He nods, stifling a smile, and looks at you. "Do you have anything to recommend?" he asks, glimpsing at the pastry bar.

"We have our particularly famous carrot cake—"

"Bleugh," the girl expresses and chortles.

"I know," you whisper empathetically and clear your throat. "The red velvet and blueberry cheesecake, and cassava cake are our best sellers. But the most sold desert this week is our strawberry shortcake, it's my favorite by far—"

"She's only recommending that because she's the one who made it!" Mindy shouts from the counter.

"But it is the most sold cake this week!" you retort, too defensively.

"Can we try that?" the girl asks her father with starry eyes.

He suddenly narrows his gaze on you, and for some reason, you feel as though you've done something wrong. You nervously hold his cold eyes as he scrutinizes yours for something. It takes all your might not to look away or close your eyes, something in your gut tells you, like it always does, to keep facing challenges head-on. But this feels more like an invasion of privacy.

Like everyone says, the eyes are the windows to the soul. But this man's eyes are curtained heavily. Everybody is hiding something, yet for him, it's as though it's better nobody knows what he's hiding. Like it's better off if nobody knows whatever secret he has, for their own safety.

"We'll take two slices of the strawberry shortcake."

You snap out of your daze. "Oh, okay!" and manage a smile, "That'll be 240 pesos. Extra condiments, like whipped cream and strawberries, are free for first-time customers if you'd like—"

"Extra whipped cream and strawberries, please!" Claire raises her hand.

"We only offer two condiments for free. But there's also chocolate syrup or—"

Her father hurriedly cuts you off. "Just the whipped cream and strawberries are fine."

"Alright, then." you chuckle and stride away to get their orders.

But just before you're out of earshot—

"Man, Six, you're such a downer!"

"Shush. You can try the other condiments some other time, Claire."

You furrow your brows as questions bounce around your skull. The main one being: her dad's name is a number? Or maybe you heard them wrong. Or maybe it's a nickname.

Muro and Mindy snicker at you as you collect the ordered slices of strawberry shortcake. You make a face at them as you place a small fork on each of the small plates holding the cake slices. Mindy hands you a bowl containing six strawberries, while Muro leaves a bowl of whipped cream on the tray. You grab one of the bill books and feign to hit Muro with it before placing it on the tray and sashaying back to the customers.

"Two strawberry shortcake slices!" you gleefully announce, depositing the slices to the girl and her father. "Plus, six strawberries and a bowl of whipped cream. I'll leave the check here. Enjoy!"

"Just a second, (N/N). Claire, don't eat it yet."

"What? Why?"

Your heart pounds with anxiety. Is there a fly on the cake? Is the icing too excessive? Does it not taste like a strawberry shortcake?

You're practically sweating buckets as you turn back to the girl's father. All your dreams are prepared to jump off the plane without parachutes. "Yes, sir? What seems to be the problem?" you manage to ask without stammering, though there's a vague crack in your voice.

He cuts into the slice, scoops whatever that can fit in the tiny fork, and holds it up to you. "Here.. you eat it first."

Wait.. what?!

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

A/N: anyone want part 2? Cuz I've already written 2k words on part 2 mwahahahaha! I think I'll contain it into 3k words, but we'll see..

I'm also making some changes here regarding Six's biography to fit with the reader's age.

So in this fanfic, Six is:

37y/o (born 1985)

Incarcerated at age 15 (2000)

Recruited by Donald Fitzroy at age 18 (2003)

Officially Sierra Six at age 19 (2004)

Thus, he is 5 years younger than his movie age.

I also want to point out that the reader is who you are physically. I'll try my best to keep the skin/hair/eye color neutral (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Btw~ what did y'all about Claire and Six's POVs? I wanted to try tapping into their characters as a practice, plus I want y'all to find their perspective as interactive as the reader (if that makes any sense lol)

Lastly, I'm still a noob at tumblr so sorry for any mishaps¯\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯ g'day! Hope you enjoyed! The portal to the next dimension part is this -> Chapter 2

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kaimelia · 3 years ago

Text

and maybe we won't feel so alone

"Good morning," Kai whispers as Amelia curls into their body and throws her arm across them. They weave their fingers into her hair from the base of her neck.

"Mm," she sighs, tucking her face into their neck. Their nails gently rake against her scalp.

"I have plans for us today." She lifts her head, stifling a yawn and meeting their eyes.

"I'm assuming you're not going to tell me what we're doing, are you?"

"Nope," they grin, tossing the comforter off their body and standing. "But, you may want to wear something you can move around in." Her eyes widen as she watches them trade their pajamas for proper clothes. "And layers. It'll be cold in the morning and again in the evening."

"Please tell me this isn't too physically intensive."

"I promise it's not," they hold their hand out to her and tug her out of bed, neatly tucking the comforter under the pillows after she gets up. "And, we're just getting breakfast first."

"Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have plans for us that aren't just laying in bed all day. That's not really something we do." They roll their eyes in amusement as she pulls a sweater over her t-shirt.

"I like fall. And, you've yet to explore most of this state or even this town, so I figured we could get out of this apartment for a day."

"Only if our breakfast place has incredible coffee," she grumbles, putting on a pair of leggings.

"Do you really think I would take you somewhere that didn't have decent coffee?"

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

"Are you a regular here?" Amelia takes a sip of her coffee and sets it on the table.

"Not really. I honestly don't eat out much; I either order delivery or cook."

"How do you know the barista then?" Kai's face goes pink.

"Let's just say that there aren't that many queer people in this town," they laugh softly. "It was a one-night thing."

"Now I know how you feel walking down the halls of Grey-Sloan."

"I at least get to take pride in the fact that I'm taller than your exes," Kai winks and nudges her foot under the table.

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

"We'll have to come back in the summer; they have amazing ice cream and a ton of people bring blankets and just set up on the lawn there," they wave toward a grass area. "We can rent a kayak or something and go down the water."

"I'll only agree to that because I trust your swimming skills enough to save me if we tip over." They stick their hands into the pockets of their sweatshirt and laugh.

"Are you a swimmer at all?"

"We lived near a lake when I was little, so I probably wouldn't drown, but I'm not the strongest swimmer."

"So, you would need to be saved in a moment of panic."

"Exactly." Amelia nudges them with her elbow. "I'm glad you know why I keep you around." They nudge her back.

"How about ice skating?"

"I went a few years ago and fell so many times that it hurt to sit down for a month," Amelia mutters. "Why? Were you a figure skater?"

"Do I seem like the type?" They widen their eyes and raise their eyebrows until she shakes her head. "Sometimes, I take a trip upstate in the winter with some friends. The lakes freeze over, and you can bundle up in sweaters while you skate around."

"Did you grow up around snow?"

"Only once during my childhood. When I went to college, I fell in love with snow and everything about the winter up north." They link their arm through hers. "You?"

"I grew up around it. I don't hate it, and I guess I like winter more than not."

"You don't even get real winter in Seattle," Kai shakes their head. "You've gotta spend a week up here in January. We can go to a cabin up north and bundle ourselves in blankets after we ice skate and make snow statues."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"I told you that I love winter."

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

"Do you think we'd still be here if I had taken up your offer for dinner all those months ago?" Kai raises their eyebrows as they twirl pasta around their fork.

"I'd hope in some capacity, yeah. Things may have happened a bit sooner, but I don't think a singular dinner would've dramatically changed the course of our relationship." Amelia nods, taking a sip of water as she holds their gaze. "You think about that a lot?"

"I spent the entire plane ride that night wondering, and I barely got any sleep. I was honestly worried I had passed up my opportunity to go out with you."

"I'll be honest; part of me was a little worried you were just trying to let me down easy." Her head tilts to the side, and she pouts out her lip. "I mean, it was pretty obvious that there were feelings, but I didn't know if you were open to a relationship, let alone doing long-distance."

"Have you done long-distance before?" Kai sets down their fork and clasps their hands together.

"When I was in college, my first real relationship. She transferred schools after our first year. It was a four-hour drive, which doesn't feel like long distance now, but as a broke college student without a car, we were a world apart. And then, I moved to Minnesota and did long-distance with my partner at the time."

"How'd that go?"

"Well, I didn't date again until you came along, so I'll let you take a guess." They bite the inside of their cheek and shrug. "You?"

"Never," she shakes her head. "I was a little hesitant, but I figured we'd both be traveling back and forth for work enough that it wouldn't be unbearable."

"It's much easier when you're both adults and can write off flights as work expenses," they smirk.

"And with facetime. I think it'd be much more difficult if I couldn't see you every day and just sit on the phone with you."

"You know what else phones are good for?" Amelia blushes as they wink at her.

"We're at a fancy restaurant. I don't think it's appropriate to start talking about phone sex," her eyes widen as she speaks.

"I was going to say texting, but if that's where your mind went," they murmur, and Amelia kicks them under the table.

"Yeah, I totally believe that's what you were going to say."

"I'm glad you understand me so well."

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

"Could you grab that for me?" Amelia points, standing on her tiptoes and pointing at a book on the highest shelf. Kai grabs it, gently hitting it on the top of Amelia's head before handing it to her. She pouts and tucks it under her arm. "You realize that I'm average height, right? It's not like I'm obscenely short or something."

"You're obscenely shorter than me," they wrap their arms around her from behind, resting their chin on her head.

"I haven't taken the time to read a book in what feels like forever."

"I didn't for the longest time. Reading just felt like work for school, but I've found that it can be a good way to get out of my head." Their arms fall from her waist, one gently dragging across her back as they step away. "I could justify coming to the library or a bookstore more than sitting in my apartment alone forever. No one will really try to talk to you, but it feels social enough."

"Reminds me of being in school and camping out in the library all night." Kai crouches and pulls a book off the shelf. "Feels like sleep deprivation and stress." They nod in agreement and stand, flipping through the pages of the book in their hands.

"It's almost comforting, huh? We spend so much of our lives cramming our brains with knowledge, and then we get into the real world and become the ones who share that knowledge." Amelia bites her lip and hums.

"Very profound." Kai snorts softly, reaching over and linking their pinky through Amelia's.

"There's a couch back here," they gently pull at her finger. "It definitely feels more homey than my college library."

"Less fluorescent lighting definitely helps." She follows them as they flop back onto the couch. "Am I allowed to ask why we're here?" They shrug.

"I found a lot of comfort in this place. I wanna start sharing things like this with you. We spend so much time in bedrooms and labs, and sometimes I just want to hold your hand in public and explore." The corners of Amelia's lips turn upward, and she leans back into the cushion, watching as Kai opens their book. Her face softens as she sees them settle, their eyebrows furrowing gently as they scan their eyes over the page. She pulls her legs up onto the couch and opens to the first page of the book in her arms.

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

"It's about 30 minutes away. And this is the last thing I have planned."

"Are you, Kai Bartley, taking me to watch the sunset?"

"Are you, Amelia Shepherd, going to tease me for trying to do something nice?" The brunette fastens her seatbelt and lolls her head to look at them.

"No, I love it. I can't remember the last time someone put this much effort into doing something romantic." They turn the radio on and place their hand on her thigh as quiet music fills the car. "Is this going to be a hike, though? Because I don't know if I have that much energy in me."

"It's not that far. We'll drive most of the way up, and then it's just a short walk from the car. And, if you really need, I can always carry you."

"I mean, if you're offering," she shrugs, lacing her fingers through theirs.

"If you do want to go hiking, though, let me know. I spent my first few months in Minnesota exploring every hiking trail within a two-hour drive of Rochester."

"You're into hiking?"

"A bit. It helped me clear my mind. Adjusting to a new state and home while going through the end of a relationship was a lot to handle."

"Why'd it end? If you don't mind me asking." She squeezes their hand.

"I gave her the option to come with me, to move in together and take things to the next level. She was going to and then decided she couldn't right before we were supposed to move. There was a month of her telling me it would happen, but it always fell through until she finally told me she didn't want things to get more serious." Kai exhales heavily as the car comes to a stop at the traffic light. "I think it was good for me in the long run. I took the time to learn how to be independent and figure out what I wanted with my career."

"But breakups still suck." Amelia puffs out her cheeks.

"They really do," Kai chuckles. "Promise me we won't do that?"

"You're not getting any argument from me." Her eyes close in relaxation as Kai softly sings along to the radio, drumming rhythms on Amelia's thigh with their fingers.

Before she knows it, they park the car and turn off the engine, turning to look at her in the light of the car. "You ready? We should make it just in time for the sunset."

"Yeah," she leans over the console and captures their bottom lip between hers.

"As much as I want to sit here and make out with you," they mutter, kissing her again, "let's get moving." She feigns a groan and steps out of the car, following them as they open the trunk. "It's gonna get a little cold, so here." They pull a hat onto her head and hand her gloves before grabbing their own hat. "Alright, ready?"

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

"Here we are," Kai sighs, squeezing Amelia's hand as they tug her toward a bench. She sits beside them and leans her head on their shoulder, smiling as they lean against her.

"You okay?" She asks after a while, running her thumb over the back of their hand. "Not that I mind the day's worth of events, but it's a bit out of the ordinary for our typical weekend activities."

"If I tell you something, can you promise not to get upset?" Amelia lifts her head from their shoulder and raises her eyebrows.

"That's a very loaded question. I don't know if I can promise because if you're about to break up with me, I may get a little upset."

"Just a little?" They chuckle. "No, it's not that." They're silent for a moment as they look up at the sky and pull their legs to their chest. "It's my birthday."

"Today?" There's a layer of shock in her voice. Kai shrugs. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Historically, my birthday has never been a good day for me. Everyone loves making a huge deal out of it, as if I'm the only person to have a birthday, and you know just how much I love attention. And, it normally means phone calls from family and birthday cards signed with 'you'll always be my little girl,' or something along those lines," they whisper, sighing gently as their chin rests on their knees. "Anyway, that's why I asked you to come out this weekend. I want to start making good memories on my birthday to replace all of the dread and fear that surround this day in my mind." Amelia purses her lips tightly before she scooches closer to them and wraps her arm around their body.

"Did it work? Today, making good memories for this day?"

"Yeah," they nod, letting out a shaky exhale as Amelia leans her head back onto their shoulder. "It's the first time I've actually put effort into making this a good day and being honest about things. I got to take the person who means the world to me to the places that mean a lot to me. But, I'm dreading going home and finding whatever mail's been delivered."

"Do you wanna head home and burn all the birthday cards waiting there?" Kai chuckles, wiping their nose with their sleeve as they sniffle.

"That sounds wonderful," they smile, blinking away the last of the tears in their eyes. "Sorry, I'm usually not a crier."

"You're not allowed to apologize for crying when you sit on the phone with me practically every week while I cry," Amelia sits up and kisses their cheek, taking their face in her hands and gently tracing her thumb down their cheekbone. "Crying's good. Better than keeping it all inside. And, for the record, I'm not upset with you for not telling me it was your birthday. Although, you will have to let me get you at least a little gift."

"You don't have to do that," they take her hand in theirs and stand, their tightly laced boots crunching the leaves below them. "You already flew out here for the weekend, and we spent the entire day together. That's more than enough." Amelia sighs as they pull her up and lead her back to the path.

"Then you're not allowed to get me anything for my birthday."

"That's not fair because you enjoy your birthday, so there's actually a reason to celebrate." She groans, and Kai breathes out a laugh at her dramatics. "Although, I do have an idea for a present if you really feel the need to get me something." Amelia grins.

"And what would that be?"

"An orgasm or two. Or, a few more."

"Now that, I can do easily." She swings their arms upward. "Does this start when we get home, in the car, or do you want me to get on my knees right now?" Kai snorts and pushes her gently with their body.

"Happy birthday, you're arrested for public indecency," they mutter under their breath, rolling their eyes. "We'll see how many cars are in the parking lot when we get down this hill," they whisper into her ear and slide their arm around her waist. "Tinted windows come in handy."

#kaimelia #kai bartley #amelia shepherd #kaimelia fanfic #kaimelia fanfiction #greys abc #greys fanfic #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy #my fics #if one person says yes I'll write part two of smut xx

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