#I actually drew this sometime last year but just fixed his hair

[ravenpoefan]

It’s almost summer

[evieismol]

Gt Big Bend - Chapter 26 - Revelations

Cw: cursing, violence, death (non graphic)

Word count: 1440

Previous chapter

Dave

I heard Angie inhale sharply, but I kept my gaze fixed on the ground in front of me. I had never spoken about what had happened before - hell, I’d spent the better part of the last decade trying to forget about it. It was too late to go back now, though. I could practically feel Angie’s eyes boring into me as she waited for me to continue.

“I - my grandpa used to live in this cabin, in the middle of nowhere,” I started, trying to force myself to keep my voice steady. “When I was a kid, I’d go there in the summers sometimes. He’d take me hiking, and fishing, and camping, just the two of us. It was what made me want to become a ranger, actually. At least until what happened when I was 12. My grandpa had started letting me explore the woods around his property more and more as I’d gotten older, and on this particular day I wandered further than I’d been before, real deep into the mountains in this section of woods that had been ravaged by wildfires a few years prior. I spent the first part of the morning looking around the burnt remains of the woods, enthralled by the almost otherworldly appearance they had. I didn’t find anything too interesting at first. Some trash, plenty of charred wood. At one point, I saw a campsite off in the distance. I purposefully went in the opposite direction from it, not wanting to run into anyone else. It was around lunch time that it seemed like my exploration was finally paying off. I found this cave near a cliff face, and curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to see how deep it went. Stupid, I know, but that decision ended up saving my life.”

11 years ago

My flashlight only lit up a thin strip of rock in front of me, darkness otherwise consuming the narrow passageway. I glanced back over my shoulder. I shouldn’t go too far - I had no idea how long this cave went on for, or what types of animals might have decided to call it home. Still, standing at the entrance, on my own, I felt like one of those explorers from various adventure movies I’d seen. It wouldn’t hurt to go a little further in, I decided. After all , I was almost 13, which was practically an adult - at least im my mind - and practically an adult meant I was old enough to do so, and old enough to handle whatever trouble I might find in there. My sense of bravado didn’t last long, though, for moments later, everything around me shook.

My first thought was that it was an earthquake. Those weren’t common at my grandpa’s cabin, but my parents lived in California, so I had some experience with them. The shaking outside wasn’t like the earthquakes I’d experienced before, though. My first thought was that I should get out of the cave. In case it collapsed. Before I could do so, though, a figure appeared from behind the hills across from the cave. It looked almost human in shape, but there was one major problem with that. The figure towered over the burnt remains of the trees, easily reaching over a hundred feet high. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I’d heard about giants existing on Earth, but I’d been told the ‘smaller’ ones were the only ones I’d likely ever meet.

The figure in front of me was not one of the smaller ones.

Which means they’re an aphirial.

I felt my blood run cold at that realization. The figure drew closer, now fully visible from behind the hill. It was a man, a strikingly human looming man with pale skin and equally pale hair. He hadn’t seen me yet, namely because his attention seemed focused on something else.

Someone else, I realized moments later. There was a smaller figure across the burnt expanse as well. I almost didn’t notice them in comparison to the giant. The giant, however, had definitely noticed them. They had obviously noticed the giant as well. They were attempting to run away, an attempt that was quickly cut short as the giant caught up with them in ease, blocking their path with one foot. They were yelling something. I couldn’t make out what it was from my distance. I could, however, make out the giant’s voice. It boomed clearly across the expanse between us.

“Now what do we have here?”

I found myself frozen in place. My heart was beating so loudly I half expected both the human and the giant to notice me. Fortunately - or unfortunately for the human - the giant’s attention was focused solely on them. I watched in horror as the giant crouched down, picking the human up by one arm. The human struggled futiely against their grip. The giant raised them up so they were level with his comparatively huge face. They were still yelling, though I suspected it was more panicked screams than actual words at this point.

“So, I take it you’re the one that little campsite belongs to?”

If the human replied, I couldn’t make it out.

“You know, I’ve never seen a human up close before. You’re smaller than I imagined,” the giant said, looking unconcerned at the human’s panic. I felt like my own almost matched theirs. I desperately wanted to turn and run, but I found myself rooted to the stone floor of the cave as I watched the scene unfold.

I didn’t think it was possible for my level of horror to increase anymore. That assumption was proven wrong as I watched the human continue, jerking upwards in the giant’s grip. The sudden movement apparently caught the giant off guard. Things seemed to happen in slow motion after that. The human’s arm slipped from between the giants fingers. I watched as their small form plummeted to the ground. The giant crouched down, still looking unpertubed. When he picked the human up again, they were limp.

“Shame,” I heard him murmur. I wasn’t sure why that was what broke me from my trance, but I found myself able to move again. I scrambled towards the back of the cave, not stopping until I felt cold rock against my back. Then I started to sob. I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there, but when I finally found the courage to make my way to the front of the cave again, it was dark out. I hurried home after that, half expecting the giant to appear from the shadows and scoop me up at any minute.

That didn’t happen, though. Instead, I arrived home to find my grandfather organizing a search for me, having grown worried when I didn’t return by nightfall. He asked where I’d been. I found myself unable to tell him, unable to recount what I’d seen. I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me anyways - aphirials weren’t supposed to be on this planet, after all. So I just said I’d gotten turned around, and it had taken me a while to find my way back home. The story that I’d gotten lost accounted well enough for the fright still shimmering in my eyes, and my grandfather accepted the explanation. I was banned from exploring the woods for the rest of the summer, something I hardly minded at that point. I waited for weeks after that to hear something about a disappearance, the guilt of my silence growing. Fear of what moght happen if I did say something kept me quiet, though. Fear of being disbelieved, fear of being called crazy. Or, even worse, Fear of having to face that what I saw really happened. I never did hear anything. Eventually the summer came to an end, and I went back to California. Still, I couldn't forget what I’d seen. No matter how much I tried to.

Present day

I finished my story, realizing that tears were freely running down my cheeks.

“Fuck,” Angie said. “That’s-“

“Yeah. I-I’ve never told anyone that before,” I said quietly.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. Seeing that, keeping that to yourself for this long.”

“I wish I hadn’t sometimes,” I said quietly.

We were both quiet. After several moments, Angie broke the silence.

“You don’t have to answer this, but…why on earth did you agree to work with Easton after that?”

I’d asked myself that same question thousands of times, and I had yet to find an actual answer. “I don’t know,” I said. “Face your fears, I guess?”

[voidfkedup]

tw: domestic abuse, narcissist parents, atheism

.

Sometimes I feel like I might be a bad daughter. Sometimes I wish to be born on a different family, or not even been born at all. 

But I wouldn't have the people that I care about. Maybe I would have better friends if so, who knows. 

I don't know why she's so angry at me. Of course, we all have bad days and the last thing that we need is someone to say the wrong thing before you snap. 

But it doesn't excuse to grab my hair and press my head against the kitchen counter, or the wall of my bedroom. 

While I do understand and appreciate the things she did for me, the things she had to go through during her life to raise me. Obviously I do, but it doesn't excuse when she raises her hand at me when I have a different opinion from her. 

I'm not gay, even as hard as it is to like man when all they ever do is flaunt to each others and cheat. I'm not trans, and I actually do feel very comfortable in being a woman, aside from the annoying periods. But it doesn't give me any peace of mind when she tell me that I dress or act too mainly, demanding an answer she already know out of me, saying that she can fix it with a good beat up. 

I cried and was hurt because of that. Not because I am, but for the fact that even if I was, she wouldn't accept me. That it was only another thing for her to become violent about. 

I'm sorry that she's on a rough path of her marriage with the step-douche, but yet again, it's too hard to live under the same roof as her, where you don't have the permission to do your own thing without her criticizing. 

Pushing me to tell him that I miss him, I hope he comes back soon. Tell him that she is a strong and a good woman, that she had battled for everything and she's my role model. That I want to be just like her when I grow up. 

I don't. I don't miss him, he's an asshole most times than don't, but he never let her raise her hand at me — at least when he was around. She can be a good person, to others. And she can be a good mother when she wants, but like we always say, the bad things overshine the good ones. 

Because nothing can erase when you threw me out of the house with nothing but a bra and shorts. Nothing can erase the headlock she put me on and the despair I felt when you left me like that almost passing out without air entering my body. And right after that demanding me to clean the scratches that drew blood I made on your arm while I was fighting to breathe. That I am the guilty one because I didn't tell him the things you wanted me to. 

He knows it would've been fake. But it wouldn't matter any way, because the moment he opened his mouth to tell her to stop asking me to say things, she would also get mad at me for not being convincing enough. 

This marriage is in ruins not because of me. It's because she can't control herself. 

Guiltripping me, saying that I'm a bad daughter, that I don't have enough empathy for you. That I rather focus on my studies to pass my last year of university, and stating she wouldn't let me do my test, and she would break my wrist as a way to prove herself. 

Telling me I'm ungrateful, she gives me everything and I give her nothing in return. That I'm always cold, never asks how she's doing, how she feels. Never tells her anything. That I lack God in my heart.

I wonder why…

Telling me that my father left us to starve, when I had talked personally to his lawyer and she has proof that my mother is lying, and my dad never left us in any state of need. 

But the way she tells me, it's like it's true. And yet again, I don't remember anything from my childhood. All the memories when I was in between 4 to 11 are more than gone. 

And my father knows all about it. He's always the one in shit talking her every chance he gets. He's always telling me to tell him when she does it, that he will do something about it. 

It's all bark and no bite. 

Because if so, he wouldn't let the step-bitch walk over me. And even if he did get me out of here, he doesn't have anywhere for me to be. His other kids took over my old room, I had no space there. 

Too much for being “the one he loves the most”, huh?

My grandparents do nothing but defend my mother's actions when she does that. And the paternal ones are dead. I don't have a space there, either.

I don't have money, I can't find a job, I can't pass an internship. My friends, even of how much they may love and care about, wouldn't be able to help me either way. The last time, it got so much worse.

I have nowhere to be. 

I can only stay in this god forsaken house, hoping that tomorrow will be better than today. 

But even with all of this, I can't help but feel like I'm a bad daughter. That I could've done something better. Even if I know that nothing would be good enough. 

I'm just very tiring.

I do have trouble believing in a God, when my entire life I had to go through this. Brcause how good a God can be when he let this happen to me, and let bad and worse things happen to many others. What a shit God there is, then…

Because why she keeps winning, getting everything she wants when I have to live this misery bullshit. 

That's just not fair. But then again, that's how the world is, right? The bad always get what they want. 

[eepiebeepy]

ARTFIGHT 2023 COMPILATION POST

hi hi hi i didn’t get much done this year but i really like all the attacks i did get to! work has just been so hectic :,)

First up is Raindrop, owned by @/M1lkdraws on instagram!!!! i actually still really like this one and i’m glad i’ve come so far when it comes to drawing anthros :3

Next is Piña by @yo-no-fui3 !!!! She was on my bookmarks list since last year and i just had to draw her! Like i said in my original post, the color space of krita go really weird on my which is why there’s some discolouration around the gradients; i eventually fixed it by factory-settings the app but by then the damage was done finding. still i really really like how this turned out, she’s so freakin cute

And the third attack is Taz, she’s a dnd character played by @/Fruuths on instagram! I experimented a lot with my shading on this one abd im not sure how i feel about that, but overall i’m pretty happy with this piece :D

Fourth is Crystal! She’s so freaking cute and she belongs to @/godtegnomen on instagram! I love love love the way this came out and even though i purposefully tried for a messier/less time consuming linework style, it actually came out looking fantastic (in my eyes) and was SUPER fun to work on!

The fifth attack is on my boyfriends character Reyner!!! I really meant to do a digital version since the attack he did on me was so amazing and intricate but i didn’t get to it in july :( stay tuned tho :3 he’s @juiceb0x !!

Next is @abstractredd ‘s Lilith. uhhhhhhh boobies. i really like how the pose came out! hair shading is something i have to work on however, although i do like this i’m interested in trying new styles!

Next is Tila by @always-any-art !!! she’s so cute i just had to do an attack on her!!! i drew her on night shift and finished up the colouring at home :) she’s so frckin cute i love her fins and tail and silly hair

Last but not least is Sunny! Shes a big monster shifter who belongs to @/ellie.j.raws on instagram!!! I designed a short of halfway point of her transformation because i really wanted to do the best of both worlds! also i’m still not great at drawing reptilians yet :,)

But yeah!! That’s artfight 2023! I was on team vamps, i wish i could have contributed more but i was just too busy. i’d love to do art trades or something sometime during the rest of this year, though! I love drawing people’s character :)

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Random ask: share something weird/funny/quirky about your creative process (could be writing, could be art) that you've discovered recently and went "huh."

Hi!

I can share a few things, been thinking about my painting process a lot because of the tutorial I'm making, though I don't know if they're unique or anything XD

I spend my doom-scrolling time looking for art references, Pinterest, goggles, I buy a lot of reference packs, whatever for inspiration. Sometimes during a doom-scroll I find a reference that gets my mind working and I have to drop everything immediately and draw it. It basically becomes an intrusive thought until I spit it out in Photoshop. This has been more frequent since going off of my old medications, I got my brain back.

I can not, have never and probably will never make thumbnails or practice sketches because I see the image in my head too clearly. It's not an amorphous concept, I do not feel the need to play with it. (My brother has a similar thing with his music).

I essentially use a bastardised version of the oil painting process when I make my art. And there's a heavy, heavy influence from Baroque styles since I fully admit to being in love with that art style completely. I say this as someone with zero formal training in fine art whatsoever. I just read a lot of books, got hounded by a shiddy partner who gave me a bunch of art-related hang-ups and watched a shit ton of youtube tutorials as I developed my painting process.

I start with a sketch, though when I do this I prefer a white canvas and royal blue (it's a holdover from when I used to scan all my art for digital painting, back when I used a mouse and drew exclusively anime vampire boys). I differ quite heavily from more classical styles here just because I don't like black or dark red for drawing. I still use Loomis though.

I layer values starting with mid-tones and then blocking in darks and lights, though I put them mostly together as opposed to leaving them for last. I always skip the eyes and mouth though, no idea why, it's just a preference.

Then I blur the shit out of it and carve it all back in!

Background colour-main base tones-skin-mouth-eyes-hair-clothing-metalics-background detailing if any is necessary.

I may rely too heavily on references but Vermeer traced using the world's most easy light magic trick so...ner!

Like I have 5 up right now for skintone alone.

I've used the same 3 brushes for the last 9 years and I don't want to change them. I modified their settings to my exact liking over the years and nothing else feels right.

I fix all my main lighting at the end of painting, and even out colour mistakes.

My reliance on chiaroscuro as a crutch, there's so much of that. But it gives skin a glowy effect that I'm obsessed with right now.

I actually love painting hands a lot. So I started painting a lot of hands XD

[allqrcoded]

Devlog 5: Where are we headed? + Year end origin stories

Welcome back.

In all seriousness, I don't know how to number these things. Does the counter restart once the game you were talking about last dev log finishes production? Do you just keep on continuing despite now starting a new project? Either way, I'll go on & keep this as is. The year's almost ending and I feel like it's about time to announce the new game I'm working on (as if it weren't obvious that the MCs were revealed in my art blog months ago, but either way...)

With angel care officially being released on July of this year along with into sun&dark being a mini game jam project I sent out within the same time, there left a hole in my heart where handling a big project such as a game cemented itself in. Albeit, working on angel care has been a wild journey to say the least, but throughout it, I found out that telling stories through games allows me to merge the 2 things I love doing (writing & art). If making comics didn't click for me and solely writing a novel makes me worry about the specific character designs that might get lost, then making games is perfect.

Whilst the characters of angel care were solely made out of new OCs, Lucas and Del from sundark were actually repurposed characters from an old story I never completed. The universes weren't exactly the same, but the concept of doomsday remained. Rex from this new project, Descent to Negative Zero, follows the same repurposing. This time, it's about someone who comes back… Again, yes, but that trope is my favorite.

Origin stories

If you've been a follower of my art blog since last year, you might've seen a character I drew during October, Ace, with another character from a fandom I was active in (Daybreak.) He was a submission in a contest, but never got in, so I shelved him for a bit until this year, thinking that I could use him for an RPGMaker game in the future, since I always had the dream to make one (and guess where we are right now...) A bit dismayed because I had a fondness for him at that time, I clung onto that "maybe." And so, he sat there for a while, and eventually, my fondness for him faded away once I got the idea of angel care. Long live his skater boy and bunny motif along with his pink dyed hair.

And, look! Some drafts of the AC trio from last year too. But, moving onto Ace and fast forward to the final stretches of the AC bug-fixing hell...

(^ I remember back then that I really liked this final piece. Sometimes I keep thinking to myself that last year's events were from 2 years ago.)

My mind then drifted to Ace again... Disappearances and mist snatching, huh? Well, disappearing sounds good for a plot point, but I still need to work around the mist thing (Daybreak character entrails he left that I needed to clean up before he's completely separate from it.) The bunny motif and the pink hair were cute too. I wasn't too sure about the skater thing, so I decided to change it.

Long story short, he transformed from a skater to a shoegazer (my projection. I just wanted to include that song genre into this because I love it and for the sake of OST potential too). Kyle (the dude I used to draw him with a lot) needed a replacement too, so thus, his skater boy gene got transferred to Josh, his new best friend. Whilst that whole tangent was a big factor in the repurposing stage, in terms of clothes, Rexosh both wear some items in my closet that I just took and adjusted a bit -- both came from thrift stores, actually! Knowing that, I decided to make them thrifters and have them go to one in an early game flashback.

Right now, I don't have the jacket Josh wears because that's being tailored, but most of the elements are inspired by that.

I won’t spoil too much of the plot, but I will say that it’s connected to one of my previous games. Dt-z almost became a short summer visual novel until sundark came along and replaced it instead. Whilst its main element in the story stayed the same, it turned more puzzle-focused in the end.

Progress report/since when?

Starting up the project during summer, it’s been around four months since I made the first (yes, since it did get corrupted in some instances) RPGMaker file for it. Right now, I’m around coding the mid-point of the game with a bunch of placeholders in the project to get the ball rolling in the coding space since making parallax maps takes a while for me. Dt-z is more visually out there than AC, with the use of shadow overlays and what not. Making them for dozens of maps is a bit tedious (so, that’s why I’m putting that job in the late coding stage), but the end result is stunning.

As I’m writing this, I’ve paused on coding one of the mid-game puzzles. Surprisingly, I get a lot of stuff done in the weekends with this project. Making the solutions for them is a bit time-consuming, yes, but seeing it play out makes it worth it. Unlike AC, I don’t have all the time in the world to work on this game because of IRL matters, etc. So, the fact that I still managed to get a good amount of progress in just 4 months is pretty good. The dialogue doc for this game is also done in areas regarding important cutscenes, including a rough draft of what the end game would be like (right now, it's longer than AC's script page count wise! Maybe that's because I included some flavor text there.) I still have to adjust aspects of the script to keep their situation plausible there, but other than that, it's good. Without any context, here are some screenshots of what the maps look like from October and a recent one I took:

Albeit, I still need to adjust some things accordingly, but since this project is still in its baby stage, I'm not prioritizing that sort of thing right now.

So far, I'm trying to avoid the trend of RPGMaker game puzzles needing to find a key in every room and while puzzle making is a thing I'm not that experienced with, I realized that I took most of my inspiration with them with the games I've been playing these months, Death Mark and Spirit Hunter: NG.

Of course, me picking up those games wasn't because of wanting to take inspiration from them first — I just wanted a way to de-stress, but after a bit, I took some mental notes in my mind. NG's puzzles are very satisfying to solve. Whilst this dev log isn't focused on what games I played for the month, let's just say that I preferred NG over DM for a variety of things.

Moreover, I've been adjusting the endings and the way you get lore tidbits through the story to make the true end of the game pack more of a punch so that by the time you go ending hunting, you won't get dragged down by the same realizations the characters go through. There's a lot of flavor text I have to write, essentially.

Let's talk about themes

Continuing the trend of wanting to explore themes close to my heart in my bigger projects, Dt-z is in the same light with AC. Whilst the mood is entirely different (color palette not so cool/winter, characters being younger, even the premise being puzzle focused), Dt-z's themes were the ones that more or less defined my summers, just like how AC defined my winters (even if where I lived didn't snow, but, nevertheless, the phrasing still sticks).

I like to think that making art, helps me process stuff a bit and that's why I still got an itch in me to take up another big project similar to AC despite me knowing that this year would be busier than the last. I'm remaining vague here to not spoil the entire plot of it, but let's say that I hold the message I want to say through this dear to my heart. There's a lot I want to say regarding these two games (including sundark!), but I want to work on letting my audience make up their own conclusion on the work just based off the content without my involvement.

Albeit, as an artist, I've always had this selfish desire in me to want everyone to get this one conclusion — this one reading on what I worked on because with every piece I make, there's always a message I want to tell. But, through the years, I've gotten to the point where I stopped pseudo-denying the fact that people aren't like that. I've started even enjoying other readings of my work because through them, I get to see more perspectives I haven't even considered whilst keeping the main point in mind. So, let's just say that AC is about death and angels and winter and friendship and love. And with Dt-z, it's about love too because love is just universal.

Thanks for coming

Restraining myself from talking more about Dt-z's details… In summary, I've been enjoying working on this project. Rexosh really are fun to draw & I want to share their story sometime once I'm finished. I want to write more trivia blogs later on with my released games (especially AC because I have a lot to talk about there), but for now, I'll keep on going.

[arvandus]

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta.  You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face.  You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed.  You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note:  A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder​​. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??).  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar.  Some looking to win romance.  Some looking to win money.  While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends.  Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band.  It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits ��� some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched.  You checked your phone for messages but found none.  It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up.  It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response.  Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up.  A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point.  You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now.  Sometimes it was them.  Sometimes it was you.  But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best.  At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date.  And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing.  Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians.  Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din.  Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs.  Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage.  All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club.  Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch.  Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was.  Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips. ��He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans.  He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing.  The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star.  The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck.  It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This.  This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out.  You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people.  But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new.  And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump.  Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed.  But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel.  Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away.  Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble.  His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral.  To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze.  You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis.  “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons.  He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly.  “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down.  “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles.  “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow.  “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’.  You know who I’m talking about.  If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done.  But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened. 

Watching him from a distance was one thing.  But actually meeting him?  Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body.  “No, it’s okay.  I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention.  You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage.  No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him.  The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at.  And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you.  You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance.  Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift.  The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins.  You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him.  Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time.  Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did.  Only rarely did he linger for a drink.  What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you.  He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep.  It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten.  You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured.  You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit.  He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him.  No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him.  In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied.  “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied.  Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass.  Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip. 

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar.  “Duty calls, friend.  Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him.  Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later.   You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice. 

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight.  A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred.  “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold.  “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned.  “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl.  It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat.  Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi.  He had a way of handling drunken idiots.  But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him. 

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind.  Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face.  A well-placed kick to his shin.  Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder.  The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort.  You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips.  But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare.  “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered.  “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.  His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission.  For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay!  I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good.  Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him.  “Hey, fuck you man!”  He shouted.  But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables.  Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse.  Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess.  The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had.  But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded.  “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine.  But next time ask for one of my bouncers.  Or Hizashi.  Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin.  “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents.  “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay.  Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.”  She crossed her arms.  “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand.  I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration.  “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better.  And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before.  “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love.  I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

 Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

 “And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment.  I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi.  “Get her a fresh drink.”  

 “Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

 She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

 “Thank you.” You replied.

 Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

 You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now.  “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

 “Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath.  Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display.  Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied.  There was a long silence before he spoke again.  “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then.  Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely.  The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked.  “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking.  The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.  

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown.  How long had he noticed you’d been coming here?  Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment.  You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh.  He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused.  Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time.  I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True.  I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice.  You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin.  “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back.  This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective.  Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval.  He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought.  It felt natural.  Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself.  After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face.  His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri.  You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own.  Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life.  You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory.  He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed.  “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed.  “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look.  “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink.  “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation.  You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now.  You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him.  “How about you?  Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No.  No special someone.  Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand.  Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.  

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him.  Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched.  If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned.  Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there?  What if you were wrong?  

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter.  The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy.  It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations.  Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.  

He was interested.  In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned.  Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind.  It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most.  You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.  

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers.  Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin.  That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment.  “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club.  Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day.  How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement.  But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could.  “Leave me the keys to the place.  I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug.  He placed a set of keys on the counter.  “Don’t tell Nemuri, though.  She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left.  You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze.  Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space.  He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile.  “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you.  “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips.  You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own.  Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass.  You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head.  “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid.  Used to mess around on it.” He explained.  “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails.  You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing.  “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head.  “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them.  Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat.  He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty.  The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him.  The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C.  Everything else will center around this.”  He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space.  “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys.  Like this.”  Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm.  “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.”  He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out.  Then, he removed his hand.  “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried.  The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured.  “Let’s try it again.  Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol.  It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness.  You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience.  “It’s okay.  If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it.  You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit.  And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop?  How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay.  Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys.  “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his.  His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land.  Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said.  “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval.  “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time.  The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled.  “Good.  Now, for the other hand.  You’ll start one octave lower.  Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect.  Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys.  “Like this?”

Shouta nodded.  “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand.  The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you.  You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap.  His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his.  The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod.  “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily.  “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No.  Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him.  He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them.  You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this.  The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes.  To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly.  The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake.  You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down.  And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys.  All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen.  His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.  

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys.  His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable.  But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted.  But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting.  Finally, he spoke.  “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now.  “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you.  Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results.  Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need.  Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did.  It was obvious you did.  Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him.  He needed to hear it.  A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you.  At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own.  You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.  

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs.  This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing?  How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence?  And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties.  The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation.  His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps.  Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock.  Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements.  “You better stop that…” he warned.  

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end.  But you didn’t care.  You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction.  In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck.  His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw.  There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap.  The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control.  But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back.  “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath.  With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel.  He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance.  The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered.  Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit.  A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage.  With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release.  Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you.  With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching.  Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer.  You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly.  “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers.  The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake.  Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched.  Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.  

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure.  Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch.  His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs.  The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips.  Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him.  But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh.  “Much.”  You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you.  “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans.  “As much as I like that idea, no.”  He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap.  His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place.  “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.  “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms.  “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.”  You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered.  You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access.  “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind.  Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes.  He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was.  You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

 You couldn’t wait.

[spiderling-space]

Hey so this thought has been on my mind for like ages and I think that you'd be able to write a headcanon about it in a wonderful way, so I'm presenting this idea to you hehe ( I love ur blog so so so much btw!)

So let's say that whatever miracles of seven happened, that Yuu overblots. Being constantly pushed around by other students by being magicless, solving the idiot trio's problems, trying to survive overblots and dealing with Crowley's neglectful ass cheeks sure is not easy. With all the piled and bottled up negative emotions, Yuu like the previous boys, overblots. Yuu wasn't that hard to defeat cuz you know, they're magicless, but the twst boys did struggle and Yuu's quite the challenge too. So what if, after Yuu's overblot, they had a full on mental breakdown. Not like crying mental breakdown, they're full on SCREAMING, their voice are cracking too, and very painful to hear. They started to unconsciously harm themselves so they have to be tied down to prevent to hurt themselves further. How would the dormleaders react to that?

(Sorry for my English and if I ever break a rule, it's OK if you decide to not do this too. Btw I got this idea when I watch ATLA aka Aang the last airbender, for reference of the breakdown of Yuu just search "Azula's breakdown" that practically how their breakdown looked like :D)

I cant write headcanons because you basically wrote everything. I will just make comments and additions to this. first I mention the background, secondly Azula’s breakdown so non ATLA watchers can understand a little and lastly, MC having breakdown like Azula. For the record, I could write about ATLA for pages since it is something I love since 2005. LOL This became a bit meta xd

You can join the discord server here 😉🤣

Firstly, the back ground:

I was 7 years old when ATLA started airing. I’d be excited to get back home to watch ATLA after school. Azula’s breakdown was awful back then when I first watch it as a kid. And of course, when they aired the episodes again and again. I rewatched again because I remembered the show being dope when I was in 12th grade which was stress relief while studying for university exams, and then I rewatched last year and even founded a Zutara server. Now I’m getting back to the point. In the last two rewatching, I saw Azula in a different light and her breakdown at the end of the show was understandable. I can recommend some ATLA meta that you might like. 

Secondly, Azula’s breakdown: 

Azula lost everything. In the flashbacks, you saw she was getting along with Zuko, laughing and playing tag until Ozai’s influence on her grew while Ursa showed more affection towards Zuko since Ozai basically hated Zuko. These two triggered each other and it grew like snowball effect which came to the point that Ozai-Azula and Ursa-Zuko. She didn’t get love from Ozai, she was just a puppet, someone to empower him more, not his daughter meanwhile to Ursa, she was a monster. Azula was 8 years old  Ursa disappeared. Imagine how this would affect the child. After this, she had estranged brother that she was jealous of because of Ursa’s love, a father who manipulated her, and an uncle who was too in pain to do anything and he was more focused on Zuko. She only had Mai and Ty Lee as “friends” but it was toxic and Azula used fear to control them. After Zuko got banished, Mai and Ty Lee went to their own places, leaving Azula alone with Ozai. Just when Zuko got back, she was being like the last times, cruel teasing, Mai and Ty Lee with her. Later, Zuko went away and probably got lectured by Ozai for her lie. Mai and Ty Lee stood against her. In the end, she had no one. Ozai didn’t want her with him either because he only wants power. Being alone drew her to the edge. In the Royal Hair Washing, the girl sje fired had her face. Her self hatred was palpable. She started to reflect this via Ursa, the mother who thought her as monster and didn’t love her like she did Zuko. I believe she would have had breakdown if she actually killed Zuko. At the end, she couldn’t handle it anymore. Being all alone, not being loved, self hatred and finally failing at something which is something she knows Ozai would never tolerate like he did with Zuko. This 14-year-old wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore and had breakdown.

Now last section, MC having breakdown like Azula’s:

Let’s see the things MC went through:

Stripped away from home

Doesn’t have much memory of it

Is thrusted into a world so foreign to them, where everything is foreign to them. There is no familiar thing that can make them recall home or feel at home

Is forced to study things that they have no prior info where the others have prior info and they are expected to ace the tests. This puts on pressure on regular students, can’t imagine the pressure they would feel since they barely understand the magic.

Is treated like trash by everyone at least once. From the first moment they came to Twisted Wonderland, they were like dirtbag. Dire gave them a house where they could get Hepatitis A to C, tetanus, hypothermia and any other disease. They have lived in that state for months and the house barely got fixed by the end of exams. They got belittled or used by almost all characters at least once. Examples: Vil calling them nobody; Azul trying to take the only thing they have from them, the dorm; Riddle calling them uneducated because not having magical parents; Leona acting like they are a toy in E2; Jamil literally manipulating their choice; sometimes NPC characters talked; Cater making them do his work etc.

They are given more than a person should handle. They are not certificated psychologist, they aren’t superhuman, they don’t have super healing... They are just human but has to fight enemies than can easily kill them if it were not the magic users around them. They are given the task of dealing with the emotional breakdown of the other people.

All of these are building up more and more. Maybe they started to get along with people after the belittlement and being used but every new character does this. At one point, it will be too much and they will think “they are only nice to me because I did a favor to them. If not for that, they wouldn’t be nice to me” which would lead to self doubt. When one starts doubting themselves, everything else starts to go down. Also, new characters treating them that way adds salt to the wound.

MC isn’t a professional psychologist. They can’t handle other people’s issues without taking a toll at themselves. They don’t even catch a break between everything.

Dire is deliberately keeping them away from home as they all do the errands he say. To him, what MC wants doesn’t matter much. The game doesn’t show but if MC has family and friends or pets, you can’t tell me that they wouldn’t miss them once or see, hug them or know their state, alive-dead, healthy-sick etc. 

Lastly not being invincible. The end of Episode 5 shows this well. They couldn’t stand against Grim who isn’t as powerful as the other overblot characters. They are mortal who can get hurt easily.

Now all these build up meanwhile we don’t see an MC centered chapter, how they are etc. It’s all about the others. Maybe there were a few chapters asking if MC is okay after everything but it feels like it is in the second plan. 

Everything that I mentioned can lead to a breakdown like Azula’s. Everything is just too much to handle and they don’t talk with a professional about it. When they finally let out everything, it feels much better, screaming out their lungs, lashing out like all of them did. They are finally letting out all of their emotions, crying and screaming; yet still feels better than bottling everything up. They think maybe that’s how overblot characters felt.

All in all, everyone in NRC needs a counselor.

[ladyartemesia]

The Secret

◐ PART IV of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 3600

Author’s Note: This update literally made me sob because I edited it and formatted it and it just disappeared when I posted. I seriously felt my heart drop because it took so long to format... ANYWAYS I wonder if anyone guessed the secret.

”You can’t do this, Luna ... Come back inside.”

Your hand tightened on the doorknob.

“I was just going out for some air-”

Jin shook his head, letting his lanky frame collapse onto the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. 

“And after the air... then what?”

Your terse silence was confirmation enough. 

He sighed heavily, hating himself a little for what he had to do. 

“You cannot go to him. They’ll smell you on his skin and it could cost him... dearly.”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

“I just wanted to see him...,” you whispered. “I wanted to talk to him just once before-”

A sob bubbled up in your throat and your hand flew up to cover it. 

The dawn would come in two hours. 

And then Park Jimin would be gone. 

Jin’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and you fell against him hopelessly. 

“They’re going to make me watch, Jin-ah. I-I have to watch him-”

Bitter tears overtook you, wracking your body with the violence of your despair. 

“I know...,” he murmured softly into your hair, “I know.” 

“Do you think he’ll really show up?”

The chief elder glared fiercely at the young man who dared voice such a question. 

The entire pack had jammed themselves into the clearing where the challenge was taking place and despite the solemnity of the occasion, the atmosphere buzzed with barely contained speculation. 

“Park Jimin was chosen by the goddess herself to be her champion or to be the divine test of her champion. Have some respect,” he hissed. 

The young pup had the decency to look abashed, but the chief elder was already ignoring him in favor of the newest arrival... 

A Luna wore only three ceremonial colors at any given time. 

Green for celebration and harvest was worn in times of laughter and gaiety. 

Blue for mourning and peaceful resolve was worn in times of trial and hardship. 

Red for passion and vengeance was worn in times of war and signified the sacred bonds that wove the pack together. 

Your mother laid out a blue cloak as it was the color chosen by every Luna who had ever faced down a provocatione ritual.

But you arrived in sumptuous Red. 

It was a stunning act of defiance, a wordless declaration of your fury. You were here to obey the goddess, but in a crimson cloak you would not embrace this challenge with peaceful resolve. 

An attack upon your mate, even under these circumstances, was an attack upon you. 

You had come dressed for war. 

Jimin heard the gasps echo around his meditation cell.  

He and Namjoon arrived at the sacred circle a full hour before dawn and sequestered themselves in the small, free-standing hovels on opposing sides of the the site. 

The tiny pods were spaces for an individual to commune with the goddess and center themselves before engaging in the typically life-altering events that brought them there. 

Sometimes it was marriage or celebration, sometimes it was acceptance to one of the guilds or a promotion to a higher rank within your family’s clan...

Today it was life and death and the future of the pack that weighed upon the combatants’ shoulders. 

The sudden swell of movement and sound pulled Jimin from his meditative state. 

What happened? 

He got his answer soon after an elder came to escort him into the circle. 

It was you. 

Your hands and feet were bound to the ornately carved chair they had seated you in. This was a typical precaution because it was natural for a wolf to defend their mate if they were in danger and the restraints kept the Luna from doing so. 

The pain in your gaze was agonizing, but in red, flowing down from your shoulders with fiery obstinance, you were every inch the warrior queen. 

Yet it was not your rebellious cloak or even your incredible beauty that caused his heart to pound and stutter in glorious shock...

It was the familiar praesidium bracelet wrapped around your wrist; an intimate message of devotion that he and he alone would understand. 

Pride and possessiveness roared to life in Jimin’s chest. 

She’s mine.

“You look... surprisingly calm.”

Taehyung jerked guiltily. 

“What? Me? I don’t know anything - I mean I’m not calm - I’m frantic. I - I don’t even understand the question.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised right up into his hairline. 

“Taehyung-ah? Did you put those special mushrooms in your broth this morning? You’re acting a bit strange-”

“No,” Taehyung’s voice cracked. “This is me - this is totally normal me. I’m not - there were no mushrooms-” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “So - uh - how’s Yoonji?”

“Oh my go- really?!” 

The chief elder began to recite his speech, reminding the pack of the profound significance this moment carried...

But Yunli could barely hear his words over the ringing in her ears. Her gaze fixed on Namjoon from the moment the elder brought him forward... yet he had not glanced toward her once. 

He looked so strong and confident. 

So capable of victory. 

A faint whimper of abject sorrow worked its way passed her lips and Namjoon’s eyes flew to her instantly. 

As if he had always known exactly where she was. 

Longing split his features for a fraction of a second. 

Then his gaze shuttered again and Yunli’s wolf howled in silent, mournful agony. 

Anticipation bore down upon the assembly as the chief elder uttered the last few sentences with reluctant finality. 

The moment had come.  

Both alphas stepped into the circle. 

You began to tug frantically - futilely - against the bonds. Jin’s hand gripped yours as a tear slipped heedlessly down his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon whispered - to you - to Yunli - to Jimin -

To himself. 

Then his claws lengthened to a deadly point and he tore forward with a chilling snarl. 

Jimin remained unnaturally still, watching his rival barrel towards him with almost calculated intent. 

Namjoon’s arm drew back to land the first strike and- 

———◐———

Last Night...

———◐———

“Wait - WHAT?!”

“It was... me. I broke the table.”

Taehyung drew back slowly. His eyebrows furrowed in profound confusion. 

“With what? A jackhammer!?”

Jimin tilted his head in amusement. 

“Hammerfist strike... actually.” He shrugged. “I lost my temper.”

“You - You lost your-“ Tae began shaking his head rapidly. “Is it a spell of some sort?! Goddess you know better than to get tangled up with witches! You let them give you a band aid and then they show up ten years later asking for your firstborn!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. 

“Of course not! No... it’s...” he bit his lip. “You remember that time I came to your house a little too early and... Yoonji had you tied to a bed...”

Tae paled. 

“We agreed never to speak of that.”

“And I haven’t - spoken of it - especially since Yoongi still thinks his precious baby cousin is unaware of big bad boy wolves and if he found out you were corrupting her-”

“Wait. You think I was corrupting her?!“

“The point is... it’s a secret. And I know you have your reasons for keeping it that way so... I hope you’ll understand what I’m about to tell you...”

———◐———

Fourteen Years Ago...

———◐———

Jimin’s hands fidgeted nervously over the flyer that the human boy offered him. 

“But I’m only in Seoul for the summer.”

Just long enough to miss Alpha Camp entirely. 

“That’s perfect because it’s only a summer program. Seriously, you were so fast catching that jar I knocked over. Your reflexes are amazing and it looks like you’ve got the perfect build for it too.” He tapped the flyer for emphasis. “Think about it.”

No one had ever told Park Jimin that he would be good at anything like this. In fact most people told him he needed to be better...

Bigger. 

Stronger. 

His eyes traveled over the large letters printed at the top of the brochure. 

“Taekwondo...”

——◐——

“...so thank you all again for signing up and attending the orientation. I will see you tomorrow for our first class.”

A strange sense of anticipation hummed through Jimin as he gathered his coat. He was finally doing something for himself; something that had nothing to do with being an alpha-

“You’re a wolf, aren’t you...”

The young instructor who gave the initial demonstration and spoke for most of the orientation stood behind him with his arms crossed.

Jimin’s eyes widened in shock. 

“How did you know?”

The stranger tapped his nose. 

“My grandfather had a human mate and his pack exiled him for it. I’m mostly human, but this nose can pick up another wolf’s scent just as well as yours.”

Modern packs didn’t exile wolves with human mates anymore, but fifty years ago the practice was still unfortunately common. 

“I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

The young man smiled. 

“He lived a long happy life with his mate and his family. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He stretched out his hand. “Lee Taemin.”

“Park Jimin.”

They shook firmly, and Taemin continued to examine him with unconcealed interest. 

“Tell me, Park Jimin, what’s an alpha wolf doing all the way out in Seoul? The only pack around here married their last child into one of the mountain nations years ago.”

“That was my mother, actually... I’m here visiting my grandmother.”

Taemin tilted his head curiously. 

“I’ve never known wolves to be interested in human martial arts. You lot prefer to fight shifted... In fact, I doubt a mountain wolf could even throw a punch,” he snorted, “not that they’d need to with those fangs.”

Jimin’s shoulders fell a little. 

“So... you don’t think I’ll be good at it.”

“On the contrary, I think you could be incredible.”

The young wolf’s face brightened immediately. 

“Really?! Even if I’m not as strong as other wolves?”

“Taekwondo isn’t about strength. It’s about speed. Master the speed and the strength will follow.”

———◐———

“Relax your body. Focus your energy.”

Jimin drew in a deep breath as he moved  through the pattern Taemin taught him. 

“The power and speed of your wolf is constant, but most wolves do not bother channeling it in human form. Concentrate on your wolf and bring that power into your strike.” 

His hand came down on the thin press wood and-

It hurt. A lot. 

Taemin chuckled as Jimin cussed and swore, cradling his tender fist grouchily. 

“You’ll get it. Just keep practicing.”

“Are you sure I’ll be able to break the boards one day?”

The boy’s face was so round and adorably hopeful. Taemin nodded confidently and offered him some ice. 

“A human with training can break boards, but a wolf who harnessed his natural speed and strength could break much more than that.” 

———◐———

Twelve Years Ago...

———◐———

“You’ve improved a great deal since last summer. Were you finally able to find a teacher near your pack?”

“Yes - but... she’s not as good as you.”

Finding a local Taekwondo teacher had been the easy part. 

Constantly making up excuses to explain his habitual disappearances... 

That was trickier. 

His mother thought he was hunting with Taehyung, Taehyung thought he was sniffing around some human girl and needed a buddy to cover his tracks. 

Sneaking away to practice wasn’t too difficult, but he panicked when Yoongi caught him moving through forms in the woods once and pretended to be doing an interpretive dance. 

With no music.

Yoongi had looked at him a little funny since then. 

Taemin grinned. “Of course she’s not as good as me. I’m the best. Now take position and let’s see if you can finally land this kick.”

———◐———

Ten Years Ago...

———◐———

Jimin glared at the thick oak board Taemin sent him home with this year. 

“It’s a 4x6 solid oak plank. I want you to break it before the winter solstice.”

He snorted, positioning the board between the makeshift vices he fashioned to hold it in place. 

“Sure, I’ll just get right on that.”

“...Who are you talking to?”

Jimin groaned internally.

Of course. 

“Hey guys,” he turned to greet Jungkook and Hoseok brightly (while completely ignoring the question). “Where - where are you two headed today?”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with excitement. 

“One of the elders is going to teach us how to build traps! He invited all the unmated alphas to go with him past the boundary lines to test whatever we make!”

A familiar embarrassment settled heavily in Jimin stomach. 

“Oh... I uh... I didn’t hear that.”

“I’m sure it was just a mistake that they didn’t call for you,” Hoseok rushed to reassure him. “You could come with us. I don’t think the elder would mind.”

The older boy’s gaze was filled with discomfort... and pity. 

Jimin cleared his throat and forced up a sunny smile. 

“No that’s fine - I have work to do anyways so...”

Jungkook nodded quickly, desperate to escape the unexpectedly awkward conversation. 

“Have fun!” he shouted, already beginning to jog away. 

Jimin watched quietly as their figures grew smaller, waiting till their clumsy steps no longer disturbed the stillness around him. 

He should be used to it by now... 

The passive rejection. 

It shouldn’t bother him anymore. There was no malicious intent... just casual dismissal again and again and again-

An angry roar tore past his lips as he brought his hand down on the board. 

It cracked in half. 

———◐———

Eight Years Ago...

———◐———

“It’s strange but - I feel like the better I become at this, the stronger my wolf is.”

“That isn’t strange at all. You and your wolf are two halves of a whole. The more you balance your energy, the more your strengths can be shared. Now - stop stalling and get to it.”

Jimin eyed Taemin’s latest idea with a reluctant groan.

“None of the other students have to break cinder block.”

“None of the other students are wolves. Besides, it’s been 6 years, you’ve broken stacks of boards. It’s time for a real challenge.”

“I’m lucky I haven’t broken a bone,” Jimin mumbled irritably. 

He did that day, but it was healed in a week and he broke his first cinderblock a month later.

———◐———

Five Years Ago...

———◐———

“Remember, timing is everything. Never let your opponent see what you’re going to do.”

“How many times do you think I’ve heard that over the last ten years?”

“Not enough, clearly. You’re still telegraphing with that right foot.”

Jimin’s left hand shot out and connected with Taemin’s jaw.

“Am I?”

Taemin blinked up at him from the floor. 

“Ok. I admit. That was pretty impressive.”

———◐———

Three Years Ago...

———◐———

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I was looking for Jin.”

Jimin scrambled to his feet, dumping the pile of pebbles he collected (for his mother’s garden) noisily to the ground.

“Luna...”

He took a discreet step backward as your gaze scanned the area in frustration. 

“You haven’t seen my cousin, have you?”

Jimin gulped. 

He had seen Kim Seokjin - leading a curvy beta girl (nose first no doubt) in the direction of the old wading pool. It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to laugh out loud each time Jin bashfully declared that he was a ‘good boy’ and to ‘be gentle with him,’ - after all, he’d given the same speech to two other she-wolves last week. 

Best not to scar her for life. Some things cannot be unseen.

His mind darted briefly to the scene he’d walked into at Taehyung’s house yesterday.

“I have no idea where Seokjin is, Luna.”

You sighed, gnawing absently at your lip while you considered his words, and Jimin felt a familiar hint of futile longing whisper through him. 

He’d never been so close to you, and now that he was, his wolf was making all sorts of insane suggestions to keep you near. 

Do a backflip. Climb a tree. Build her a house. 

Jimin bent quickly to gather his scattered stones, ashamed at the direction of his thoughts. 

You were so incredibly beautiful...

It was almost enough to make him forget that he would only ever be Park Jimin.  

He couldn’t blame the others for fighting and fawning over your attention like they did. You were the moon and every man around you was drawn in like the tide. 

“Today is my seventeenth birthday, you know.”

Jimin looked up to discover that you had moved much closer and were now looking down at him expectantly. 

He blinked. Twice. 

“I - yes. I did know.”

The entire pack was celebrating. He’d have to be comatose not to know.

“Should I save you a dance, Park Jimin?”

Up until that exact second, Jimin would have bet his life savings that you did not know his name. 

Yet here you were - so very close to him - gazing down into his eyes almost shyly.

He nodded because he couldn’t think of a single reason not to give you anything you wanted. And when you smiled so brilliantly -  he almost believed that you truly wanted to dance with him...

Almost. 

He never went to your party. 

He never danced with you.

Not that day. Not ever.

Because deep down he suspected that if he held you in his arms - even once - he would never truly let go. 

He was sure you wouldn’t notice his absence...  You wouldn’t remember talking to him by the time the evening rolled around. 

He never saw you search the crowds for his face right up until the midnight bell. 

He never saw you turn down dance after dance hoping that the beautiful boy from the forest would finally come and take your hand. 

He was your only wish that birthday. 

But he never knew. 

———◐———

One Year Ago...

———◐———

“I’ve never seen anything like your skill. You’ve long since surpassed me. I’m not sure what more I can teach you,” Taemin smiled, bumping Jimin on the shoulder, “Perhaps you should find a woman and spend a little less time practicing.”

An unwelcome flash of silver eyes and a laugh like sunshine danced through his mind. 

“No. I’m... not really the type wolf girls go for.” 

Taemin snorted. 

“I don’t believe that. Aren’t you an alpha?”

“Yes, but it’s... complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?”

Jimin laughed. 

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Silence settled comfortably between them as they nursed several bottles of soju on his grandmother’s porch. Taemin had charmed the old hellion quite thoroughly and he would often drop by for a visit even when Jimin was back home with his pack.

“So what will you do now?” he asked. “You can’t compete. I can barely withstand sparring with you, and you’d kill a human - even if you landed a blow at half strength.”

Jimin ran his fingers absently through his hair while he pondered his mentor’s words. 

“I learned to fight because I was searching for something that would help me sort out who I was.” He scoffed. “I don’t know that I’m any closer to that goal.”

Taemin shook his head. 

“No. I think you’ve got it all wrong, Park Jimin. No one achieves what you have without knowing who they are. You’ve always been a fighter and some part of you realizes that.” He sighed heavily and finished off the rest of his drink. “Now I think you’re just... waiting.”

“For what?” Jimin chuckled playfully. 

Taemin pulled out another bottle and met his gaze with a knowing grin. 

“Something worth fighting for.”

———◐———

Now...

———◐———

Jimin remained unnaturally still, watching his rival barrel towards him with almost calculated intent. 

Namjoon’s arm drew back to land the first strike and- 

It was fast. 

So fast it almost seemed like magic. 

One moment the Kim alpha was the barest breath away from a swift and decisive victory-

Then he was crashing backwards onto the dirt. 

Those who watched carefully saw Park Jimin spin into a vicious kick, one that connected solidly with the middle of his opponent’s chest. 

Stunned silence pressed in from every side as Namjoon scrambled back to his feet, his expression wavering wildly between excruciating pain and monumental shock. 

Jimin smiled, letting his razor sharp canines lengthen menacingly as he flowed back into a perfect combat stance. 

“You didn’t think I’d just let you have her, did you?”

Please comment if you would like to be added to the taglist! If you have already asked, you will be tagged automatically in every update. 

Please please please let me know what you thought of this chapter! (*insert puppy face here*) I am so excited to hear what you think of everything that went down in this update and I savor each word of feedback like fine wine. Your theories and commentary have been such a gift. It truly keeps me writing. 

[the-cult-of-russo]

No Going Back

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request : good morning. i wanna request number 8.  “Maybe you should just leave now.” angst/fighting dialogue. to be correct it is for billy russo right?

A/N: yes it's my Billy boy :') he a lil soft in this though but also an asshole lmaooo not gonna lie, this one had me swept up in the emotion. It hit quite close to home and now I'm sad :') 

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness and heartbreak. Billy fucked up big time lol

Your hands were shaking as you slammed the door to your apartment. Tears stained your cheeks and you kicked your heels off before storming to your bedroom, grabbing a duffel bag and starting to pack his things that he'd left around. Heartbroken didn't even cover it. 

You knew this would happen, it's why you fought against it for so long. But you were stupid and ended falling for his bullshit and now you were a mess. 

You and Billy had been together officially for 7 months. You'd met a year ago at a bar and hit it off, but when he tried to take you home you'd denied him. That apparently piqued his interest even more. He'd always be at the bar every Friday when you went and it was always easy to just be yourself around him. You didn't take him up on his offer and he would offer every time. He never made it a secret that he wanted you. 

But as the months drew on, you both got to know each other more and it became a sort of friendship. You had to admit you felt something when you looked forward to seeing him. He'd asked you once why you were so against it and you'd been pretty blunt with him. You knew of his reputation and you weren't into it. You didn't do one night stands or casual sex. You wanted a relationship, someone to settle down with. You wanted something real. You told him you didn't think he was capable of that and he'd break your heart. 

Five months into knowing each other and he'd switched from just wanting to fuck you to wanting to actually date you and you'd still put up a fight. But as your feelings for him grew, he wore you down. The moment you agreed to that date, which he'd been over the moon about, everything changed. 

It had been so easy to be with him. He treated you like a queen, was more affectionate than you'd have thought, and you enjoyed each other's company. He was busy with Anvil a lot so you didn't see him every day but he'd call if he couldn't see you or send you sweet texts. He swore to you up and down that he'd never hurt you, never do what you'd thought he would do when you turned him down all those times. 

You'd see the looks women gave him when you went out together or were at an event as his date and sometimes you'd feel insecure. But he only had eyes for you it seemed and it reassured you. It lulled you into a false sense of security that he'd actually changed. That he actually cared about you. 

But you were wrong. So very fucking wrong and now you were paying for it. You'd been having dinner with a friend you hadn't seen in a while when it happened. Your eyes finding Billy across the restaurant. He was sat with a pretty blonde, very up close and intimate as they whispered god knows what to each other. You'd felt your heart crack but tried to deny it. It was just flirting, nothing more. But then… he'd leaned in and kissed her. 

You'd shot out of your seat so fast the chair fell over and ran out of the place like someone had lit a fire up your ass. And you knew he'd seen you because you heard him shouting your name as you jumped into a cab and left. 

You hated yourself for being surprised at what he'd done. You'd told him this was exactly how it would go but he'd swore to you. And you allowed yourself to buy into his bullshit because you loved him. 

Most of his things packed, you padded over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine, pouring a large glass. You swigged it in one and felt the warmth bloom in your chest. It did little to ease the hopeless sorrow that consumed you though. 

There was a rough knock at your door and you heard Billy call your name loudly. You tensed, heart breaking all over again as the tears seemed to be never ending. You didn't want to talk to him, to even look at him. But this was it. You couldn't stay with him, not now. You'd never be able to trust him again. You knew you had to tell him it was done so you could lick your wounds and heal from the pain. 

"Y/N, please… open the door," Billy begged from the other side. You walked over, unlocking it but not opening it as you stormed back off to your bedroom. You knew he'd let himself in. You heard his heavy footsteps entering as you shoved another of his shirts in the bag, one you liked to sleep with.

"Can we talk?" He asked hesitantly. 

"No," you bit out, eyes snapping to him. His face fell when he saw you crying and he took a tentative step into the room.

"Please, Y/N, let me explain," he frowned. You laughed but it held no joy. Only a deep rooted pain that was latched onto your soul. 

"Explain? Really? What, you gonna say you tripped and your mouth landed on hers?! I saw it with my own eyes, Billy! You don't need to explain anything!" You roared, pure pain lacing your words.

He clenched his jaw as he shook his head, eyes glassy as he stared at you. 

"I'm-I'm sorry," he started softly,  reaching out to grab your arm but you smacked it away harshly. He looked like a kicked puppy and you hated it. He didn't get to be upset about this. 

"How long have you been fucking her then?" You asked snidely as you grabbed the duffel bag, holding it in a death grip. 

"I haven't fucked her," he muttered quietly. You snorted deprecatingly and he bit down on his lower lip.

"Yet?" You asked knowingly. His guilty glance to the floor told you everything you needed to know. 

"How long, Billy? How long have you been cheating on me?" You asked, your voice wavered but your gaze had nothing but fire in it and he shifted where he stood. He couldn't look at you. 

"A month. It was always one night, I never went back to someone," he frowned. Pain clawed its way through your chest and you threw the bag at him hard. He caught it but stumbled a little and he looked at you forlornly. 

"Well, I guess that makes it better then, right?" You asked coldly and he flinched. 

You stormed past him back to the kitchen area and he followed quickly. 

"Please listen to me, Y/N. I need to make this right," he pleaded desperately. You whirled around to face him, face flushed and tear stained and you felt like you wanted to scream. 

"Why? Why did you just decide after 6 months together to do this to me? You promised me, Billy! I knew this would happen but you fought for this! For us! Why?! Just so you could break my heart?!" You bellowed, a mix of anger and utter despair in your tone. 

His lower lip quivered and he bit down on it, staring at the floor.

"I never wanted to hurt you. I swear, I didn't. I just…" his voice cracked as his teary eyes landed on you. 

"Maybe you should just leave now," you uttered. Your whole body was trembling and you felt sick. You couldn't stand to look at him. He stepped closer to you, dropping the bag on the floor but you took a step back. It would be far too easy to fall for his bullshit again and if he touched you, you didn't think you'd be able to get him to leave. 

It felt like pure pain ripped through your chest, the weight of the world crashing down around you. You slumped onto a dining chair as a raw sob clawed its way out. Billy was kneeling in front of you in seconds, his own cheeks now damp as he cupped your cheeks. You moved your head from his grip and shook your head. 

"I loved you, you know that?" You whispered brokenly though your tears. You'd never outright said it, mostly in fear of his reaction. But it had all gone to shit anyway. His lip trembled again, scrunching his nose up a little as he shook his head. He looked utterly devastated and it made you angry so you continued.

"I loved you with everything I had. I trusted you with my life. I ripped out my own beating heart and willingly gave it to you because you swore to me you wouldn't do this. You just took it and stomped all over it. How could you do this to me?" Your last words were strained as the tears flowed freely.

"Please let me fix this," he begged helplessly. He was crying openly now, not trying to hide it as he gazed at you from the floor. 

"You can't fix it. I'll never be able to trust you again. It's not just the sex, Billy! You've been lying to me for a month. All those business meetings or times you were away? And you just… you'd come back to me with a smile and tell me sweet words. Looked me in the fucking eye and not feel guilty," you choked out. He shook his head vigorously, hands clasping yours so tight you couldn't pull them away.

"You've got no idea how guilty I felt. It's been eatin' me up from the inside out," he lamented.

"Why would you…? What was it? You just got bored of me? Decided you didn't want me anymore? You should have just ended this because it would hurt less than this," you wept pitifully. He shook his head, clutching your hands tighter.

"Don't… Don't say that, I do want you. I know I don't deserve you, I know I'm an asshole. And… and maybe I shoulda left it alone when you told me this would happen, but I was selfish and I-I couldn't. You were never like the others. I knew that from the moment we met. But then… then things were gettin' serious and I just… I freaked out and went back to my default 'cause I didn't know how to…'' he cried, screwing his face up as he hung his head. 

You sobbed as you stood, his hands falling away and you moved to lean against the table as he stood. 

"It would be bad enough if I'd just got with you in the first place and you did this. But I wanted to avoid this. I tried so hard but you kept on at it. And it hurts so much more because you promised me you wouldn't do this and I believed you. I thought you'd changed, that you…" you ran a hand through your hair, tugging on it as the tears wouldn't stop.

He stepped to you, grasping your face in both hands and you couldn't bring yourself to fight it despite the pain it brought you. His endless eyes were all consuming, his cheeks wet from his own tears.

"Please… please, Y/N, don't do this. Let me make it right," he begged tearfully. 

"Without trust, we have nothing. Everytime you're on your phone I'd wonder if you were talking to another woman. When you're out I'd be paranoid about who you were with. I can't live like that, Billy. I can't live my life in… in an anxious, jealous haze. That's not a relationship," you whispered. 

He made a pained noise and it squeezed your heart so hard you thought it might implode. 

"I was never good enough for you. I knew that. But I wanted… I wanted to try and be-be a good man… for you. And I fucked up so bad and I just…" his words trailed off into a hopeless sob and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wished there was a way to fix this but there wasn't. You wouldn't be in one of those relationships without trust. Checking your partner's phone and always checking in. It would break you.

"You need to leave, Billy," your words were a mere breath and his hands on your face tightened for a moment before they fell to his sides. He looked completely broken and you were sure you looked the same. He opened his mouth before promptly closing it, his jaw ticking as he moved away and pushed the heels of his palms to his eyes. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself like it would protect you from the pain and glared at the floor. You could still feel his gaze burning into you. You glanced at him as he grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. You had to fight the urge to grab onto him as he walked to your door. You felt like you were dying. 

He grabbed the handle but stopped, not looking at you as his body tensed.

"I want you to know… I love you too," his pained words felt like a punch to the gut and you covered your mouth with a hand but it did little to stop the noise that left your lips. He looked over his shoulder at you, still holding the door handle.

"I know that… right now you probably don't believe me, but I do. And I'm sorry. I-I never wanted you to get hurt. You deserve so much better," he muttered despondently. With that, he opened the door and slipped out of your apartment. Of your life. 

You fell to the floor as heaving sobs left your chest. It would have been easier if he came here being an asshole. Cold and emotionless like you knew he could be at times. But seeing him, his emotions so raw and on display, it cut you deeper than any knife could. And you believed him. You knew him well enough to believe that he fell in love with you and freaked out. You knew it would happen which is why you'd turned him down at the start. You believed he never wanted to hurt you. And you wished you could forgive him. You saw how much it hurt him too but you couldn't. You couldn't get over the betrayal and you didn't think you ever could. 

He'd sabotaged what you both had because of his inability to deal with what he felt and the bitter knowledge that if he'd just accepted it, how different your future would be with him, it left a sour taste in your mouth. Billy had opened up to you a lot in your time together about his past and you knew how much it had messed him up. You knew it left him struggling with emotions and relationships and you felt for him. For the lost boy who'd never felt love and didn't know how to cope with it. But nothing could erase the heartbreak. The hurt that he'd given you. Because even if you'd one day be able to forgive him, you'd never be able to forget.

[jonnnysuh]

How To Write Good // Vernon

A/N: It all started with watching Vernon’s English tutor series and now we’re here omg. This is my first series so please give it some love <3 kind of unedited so lmk if there’s any mistakes! PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

PAIRING: Vernon x You

GENRE: enemies to ???, fluff, student!vernon, tutor!vernon

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

SUMMARY: There’s the crisp air of campus, the rush of something new, and a four year degree ahead of you. Your college experience doesn’t go off as smoothly as you’d hoped when you fall asleep on course selection day and are stuck with left over electives. Struggling to get through your creative writing class, you have no idea how you’re going to get through this semester. Fate steps in when the stranger you fought in the library might just be your only chance at passing. This is all just part of the college experience… right?

Orange leaves began surrounding the burnt red brick pathway, and the small green hills of the campus quad.  Fall was fast approaching, without much warning.  The bright summer sky, now often clouds of gray. The wind brushed past you, causing your hair to fly up. Your legs brushed together quickly as you tried to make your way through campus to get to your Writing in the Arts class. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't sleep through course selection but sometimes sleep was an actual priority to you...and it so happened to be on that day.  Not your first choice, but definitely miles ahead of  Economic History on the list of leftover electives.

You flipped over your wrist to take a look at the time on your brown pleather watch. 8:12.

Professor Hampton was an older woman, who always kept her sandy brown hair in a slick tight low bun. She had enforced a rule that the doors to the lecture hall would shut 15 minutes past the hour. If you didn’t make it then you’d have to get notes from a classmate. Maybe it’d be fine if you had a friend in the class that was actually punctual, but you had often sat alone in the same spot in the far left corner of the class room.  Time was definitely never on your side as you reckoned you only had 3 minutes left until your trip downtown was rendered useless. 

You swung the thick metal door open, and began pumping your legs forward, not stopping until you reached the top of the stairs. To your luck, the lecture hall was on the exact end of the hallway. As you took longer strides, your gray backpack bounced behind you. Finally arriving at the end of the long hallway, you came face to face with Professor Hampton, who had a scowl so thick you’d think it was drawn on with a felt tip permanent marker. Without an ounce of forgiveness, that old lady secured the door shut, eyes keen on your betrayed face just a few centimetres from hers.

With the little pride you still had, you contained the urge  to bang on the door repeatedly and say "OPEN UP."

If you hadn't had time to get ready that day, or missed your bus, dammit this would've been the boiling point that would've driven you to  kick the wall. Your saving grace was that there was a cute guy typing away on his laptop in this hallway and you'd be damned if you were about to look a fool.

It was that moment, you knew that if you were going to pass this class without sacrificing a wink of sleep, you were going to have to make a friend that was good at writing notes. And quick.

—

The next day, you navigated your way through the twists and turns of the library, never having had been there a day in your life. You swear you’d gone in a circle at this point. You promised your best friend, Taylor that you’d secure a spot for your impromptu study date. Although you both had good intentions, you knew it was more than likely going to become a gossip session that involved sometimes looking at class material.

Among the rows and rows of occupied tables, you finally found an empty table, situated next to the window that overlooked the architecture and art buildings. You settled in the chair, slipping your laptop out of your tote bag , and typing mindlessly to look busy while you waited for your friend. With a look around the room, you wondered if people actually studied at the library or if they were just faking it like you.

You were so immersed in your game of Tetris you almost didn’t hear the voice that said , “Hey, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You paused your game and surveyed the empty wooden table you were sitting at.  You blinked slowly at the brown haired man.  “I was here first.”

“That might be true but I booked it out for the hour.” The stranger stood with a slight slouch, sporting a backwards snapback and a deep green hoodie. He didn't look like the type to hang out around the library- but then again, neither did you. You swear you had seen him before, but you couldn't place where.

Did I go to high school with him?  you thought.

What if he was ugly and had a glow up and that’s why I don’t recognize him?

You took a closer look at him.

Nah. I don’t think he’s ever been ugly in his life.

“Look. My name's right here." He leaned forward, showing you his screen.

[TABLE 9] 3:00pm - Vernon C.

You pushed the phone away, unimpressed. "But you showed up late."

"It was only 6 minutes." Vernon scoffed, as if his tardiness would automatically forfeit him from his table.

"Well, have you ever heard of finder's keepers?"

Vernon nodded, his voice pointed. "But have you ever heard of fair and square?"

You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were somewhat amused by his elementary-level comeback.

"Could you look into your great, big heart to share?” You pouted tauntingly.

"Oh, yeah, because you need a table to play Tetris." He responded sarcastically but it was as if he had crept into your mind. You dreaded the idea of being on your feet trying to find another place for your game.

Your best friend rolled in between you two innocently, confused at the interaction at hand. It was like a kid walking in on their mom and dad fighting for the first time… except dad is a Tetris-hating stranger you just met 3 minutes ago.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N.”  Taylor interjected, trying her best to mend the atmosphere with a grin.  Vernon's posture went notably straight as he exhaled, returning a sweet close-lipped smile. You couldn't help but notice the way he looked at your friend- you squinted at the shadow of the difference between this Vernon and the one that basically told you to fuck off only moments prior.

Without a doubt, you knew he was suffering from the "Taylor Effect".

Taylor was your textbook girl next door; equipped with a warm demeanour, and a confidence that was endearing rather than cocky.  You could tell that Vernon was trying his best not to stare so obviously, but he was failing miserably.

Because everyone gravitated towards her, many found it odd that she chose to keep you as company. Sometimes you thought she stuck around only because your personalities were so starkly different and would emphasize how great she was, but time and time again she proved she was notable on her own accord.

"Did I interrupt something?"

You and the man shared a look.

Vernon had a feeling that if he let you speak first, that you might ruin his chances with Taylor, and there was absolutely NO shot that he was going to tell her what had just happened. You were quick to take advantage of the situation.

“Vernon just wanted to take the tab-“

He shook his head, "No, no, no I was just leaving."

You raised your eyebrow, smugly.

“I'll see you later,” He bid.  Your eyes widened as he went closer to you, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you forwards into an almost embrace. He dapped you up. Vernon dapped you up. What? Did he think you were bros now?

Ya, right. You thought. This is my first and last time in this library. You will never see me or my Tetris again.

And with that, he swung his backpack over his shoulder  coolly and headed down the long carpeted aisle in the other direction.

Only a few moments later did he return to go through the north exit. “Wrong way.” He mumbled, charting past both of you.

—

“So you don’t know anyone in that class?” Taylor said in disbelief as you two sat at the table you had only marginally won.

“No, I missed the first two weeks so by the time I actually went to class  they already had their groups.”  you responded, blowing air out of your mouth in frustration.

School had only just begun and Taylor had swept up a bunch of friends, including you, in just this one semester.

You, on the other hand, were awkward, but not in the forgivable way. You never knew the right thing to say, and your sarcasm drew a fine line between a joke and the truth. You felt like you always had to bite your tongue to hold a decent conversation with someone. In turn, this scared a lot of people away, and resulted in a small but good group of friends that understood you.

For some reason though, you did well with confrontation. That was the only time you could force yourself to not care about what someone else thought about you. Other than that, your communication skills were almost useless.

“So go up to those kids and say hi.” Taylor responded.

You knew your best friend was being well meaning, but sometimes she felt like she oversimplified your problems because she saw it through her own lens. Of course it would be easy for Taylor to do so, but for you it would be a different story. Your stomach turned at even the mere thought of introducing yourself to the group of strangers that always sat all the way in the front of the lecture hall.

“I’ll just figure it out. I don't know how to just talk to people."

“What about that guy that I just saw you with? What was that about?”

You cleared your throat, fixing your attention to your laptop screen. Getting work done suddenly seemed more interesting.

“No, no, no look at me.” Taylor dragged your laptop away.

You begrudgingly looked at your friend. “What about him?”

“Who was that? He was kind of cute.” She cupped her cheek with her hand and sat closer, clearly interested. It was rare to see you with anyone other than your usual friend group so Taylor was invested in your endeavours outside of it.

You knew that if you told Taylor about your weird argument with a stranger, that she’d explain that you were unfriendly, that you needed to be nicer, etc. etc. You didn’t need a lecture today.

“Just some dude who finished using the table.”

Taylor chuckled, “What kind of guy says bye like that to a person he just met?”

Her guess was as good as yours.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Determination is setting 25 morning alarms, pre-picking your clothes and opting for an on-the-go breakfast in order to just make it on time for class. You took your final strides towards the class slowly, knowing you finally had time on your side. Would it be crazy to call waking up at 6am a victory? Doesn’t matter, you were just so happy, you could answer Professor Hampton’s questions… that is, if you listened.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, sat the aforementioned groups, while the top were lonesome stragglers looking at their phones in an effort to look less lonely. You knew they were probably just reviewing their settings; turning their wifi on and off.

Professor Hampton cleared her throat into the microphone at the front of the class, prompting you to pick up the pace to your regular spot at the far left corner.

No way.

Your speed slowed down again, as you craned your head to get a better look at a brown-haired boy sitting by himself.

Despite the numerous empty seats to choose from, your caffeine rush assisted you in making the possibly dumb decision of sitting exactly right next to him. He seemed unbothered, though as he didn’t look up to question it.

Professor Hampton played her slides, while you pulled out your laptop out of your tote bag.

“Hey.” You whispered.

The man’s light brown eyes flickered towards you.

“You’re in this class?” Vernon whisper-exclaimed.

It registered in your brain that this might’ve been a mistake.

You nodded.

Vernon kept his focus on the front of the class, his pencil swivelled  away on his lined paper. You had never seen anyone actually take real-life notes before. You scanned his paper, pleasantly surprised at the organization.

“Why did you dap me up last week?”

“I honestly don’t know what I was doing.” He admitted.

Boys do dumb things around pretty girls. You'd seen it happen so many times with Taylor.

“She’s cute isn’t she?”

“Who?” Vernon was quick to play dumb, but he clearly knew. 

You were fascinated by how he was writing and listening to you at the same time.

“Taylor—my friend.”

Vernon squinted his eyes, either to think or because he couldn’t see the projection clearly. It made you wonder why he sat in the back of the class if that was the case.

“Yeah, she is.”

Bingo.

You silently relished in your impromptu decision to sit next to a stranger.

“What would you say if I got you a date with her?”

Vernon put his pencil down. “You strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart.”

You snorted. “You’re right.”

Vernon let out a deep sigh, pushing his hoodie sleeve up his arms. He relaxed back in his seat and stared at you as he waited for your proposal.

“What is it?” His deep voice was littered with impatience but it was clear he was at least curious.

You weren’t  prepared to gain his full attention. Your mind went several ways as you collected your thoughts to be as concise as possible.

“I’m struggling in this class, okay? I can’t always make it on time, and creative writing? Not really something I’m interested in.”

“Then why’d you take the class?”

“Why does anyone do anything here? For the credit.” You responded as if the answer was obvious.

Vernon’s raised eyebrows was enough to tell you that he was actually passionate about this subject— which was perfect for you if you wanted to pass the class.

“How do I come into this, though?” His patience running thin from your incredibly interesting backstory.

“If you tutor me up until midterms and I pass, I’ll get you a date with Taylor.”

He shook his head “What if you fail?”

“Then you can take that as a reflection of your teaching skills,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Okay maybe that was a bad joke. “but on the plus side you’ve gained a new friendddddd.”

Professor Hampton gave you two a dirty look on her way back from shutting the lecture hall’s door. Vernon picked up his pencil to look busy and you tapped on your trackpad to turn the screen on.

“And what if I say no?” Vernon said between his teeth, catching the professor glare right at him with her scowl turned up to one hundred.

“Then I’ll shit talk about you to Taylor so you never have a chance.” You threatened. Your mom always urged you to use your brain, and boy, were you using it.

“You want me to teach you how to be creative?”

You shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Vernon looked down at his notes contemplating his choices. He was silent for so long that you actually started typing notes.

“Y/N” Vernon whispered. You seemed to be fully immersed in the lesson now. Your eyes absorbing the information... Maybe writing was kind of fascinating.

“Y/N” He tried again, snapping you out of a trance.

“My bad.” you apologized. “I didn’t know the interesting part of the story was called the climax like ew—”

“I can only tutor you on Thursdays between 6 and 8 in the library. Bring your laptop and be prepared to learn.”

You knew you didn’t have class at those hours, so it should’ve been fine, but you also dreaded staying after school longer than you had to.

“What about 4-6?” You pleaded.

Vernon looked offended at your counter offer. “No. 6-8”

“4:30…?” You tried once again.

Vernon snorted at your no-quit attitude. “You wanna pass or not?”

You stuck out your hand defeatedly and Vernon shook on it before either of you could change your mind. Vernon was your new tutor.

Maybe Taylor was right. All you had to do was go up to someone and say “hi.”

And blackmail them. And use your friend as bait.

Making friends was easy.

[90spumkin]

Masterpiece

Summary: Who knew art could lead to an awkward meeting that would later lead to beautiful relationship.

A/N: I know I said I would post this Friday, but oh well here we are. All inserted pictures are from Pinterest. I absolutely loved writing this so please send me your feedback.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Artist! Reader

Warnings: swearing, implied/slightly descriptive smut, mention of alcohol and addiction 

Word Count: 2.8K

Spencer doesn’t know how long he had been zoned out not listening to a word Emily said to him. They were standing in an obnoxiously long line at their favorite coffee shop. Spencer was admiring the art in front of him, the way the yellows and oranges flowed together was mesmerizing. They were so mesmerizing that Spencer didn’t realize the art was on the back pocket of the stranger’s shorts standing in line in front of them.

It wasn’t until Emily nudge Spencer’s shoulder, “Quit looking at that girl’s ass!” Spencer saw where Emily was pointing as she spoke. As he went to say, “I was not checking out her ass.”, the stranger with the mesmerizing art on her ass turned around to see the raven haired woman pointing down at the lower part of her body and the tall curly haired man blushing as he was caught in the act.

The woman smirked at them both and said, “Well my shorts do say ‘this butt is art’ so I guess technically you were just taking in all its beauty.” This made Emily snort and Spencer stutter. He tried to stutter out an apology, but by the time his brain allowed him to access words again Emily’s phone rang loudly.

She answered quickly and hung up just as fast, “I have to go to a meeting apparently. Sometimes I hate being the boss. I’ll catch up with you later, Spencer.” And with that she was gone, leaving Spencer there with the still smirking woman.

“You know the least you could do is buy my coffee to make up for this adorable fiasco.” She said causing Spencer to blush. He nodded his head and said, “Yes of course. I’m really sorry about all that. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid by the way.”

She smiled at him as he went to stand beside her in line, “Oh doctor, fascinating. I’m y/n.”

Once they had finally gotten their coffee and found a small table, conversation between the two flowed so effortlessly. “So, doctor, huh? Care to share with the class what kind?” Y/n asked as she took a sip of her dark beverage.

Spencer chuckled, “I have PhD’s in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering along with BA’s in psychology, sociology, and philosophy. I’m not a doctor who works in a hospital, but one who works in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Y/n smiled at him over her cup, “That kind of makes sense you look like a very intelligent man. Plus, you look way better in a cardigan than you probably would in scrubs.”

Their conversation went on without a hitch, no moments of awkward silence. They talked about their careers, y/n explained how she was an artist and Spencer adored the way she lit up as she talked. They constantly were bouncing ideas and questions off one another. The conversations stretched over many different topics, each just as interesting as the last. Y/n even listened and question Spencer on several of his fact dumps.

They both seemed to have forgotten the outside world existed until Spencer happened to notice the sun setting through the coffee shop windows. As he admired the colors in the sky he said, “The sky is always so lovely at sunset, but I hate that it could mean the end of this.”

He looked back at y/n who was smiling at him. “Okay I don’t usually invite strange men to my home, but would you like to come see some of my art that I’ve been working on?” Spencer smirked and narrowed his eyes, “You think I’m strange?” Y/n laughed, “Only in the best way.”

The first thing Spencer did when he entered y/n incredibly spacious apartment was admire all the art lining the walls. He had thought the art displayed on her jean shorts was mesmerizing, but the art that was in front of him now was simply breathtaking.

Spencer walked the walls, admiring and analyzing each piece. Y/n stood beside him as he smiled at the painting of a cow. She laughed softly as she spoke, “There is always a story behind each of my paintings. Some are silly, some are painful. However, this one happens to be my favorite. I grew up on a farm and I had a cow named Milky” She looked at Spencer who was trying to hide a laugh, “Hey I was 8! Anyways she was my best friend. It was funny when I first started to draw and paint, I would always use her as a model. Sometimes it seemed as if she was posing for me.”

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off y/n the whole time she was talking. Once y/n finished her story she looked at Spencer. Both of their smiles growing bigger. He looked back at the painting and said, “You know in another life I would love to be a cowboy with cows and other animals on a small ranch somewhere.”

Y/n giggled, “Would you name one of your cows Milky?” Spencer looked at her fondly and said, “For you, I would.”

Spencer turned his head to the right and noticed a canvas with several different shades of red bleeding into one another, there was broken glass scattered across it. He made his way closer, he turned towards y/n and asked, “What’s the story behind this one?”

Y/n’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she drew in a deep breath. She was hesitant at first but finally explained, “The glass is broken beer bottles, I was- am an alcoholic. I am currently 5 years sober, almost 6 now. I made this to remind myself of all the hate and pain drinking brought to my life” Y/n turned towards Spencer expecting him not to understand, but instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sobriety chip.

Y/n’s eyes started to tear up at the fact that someone finally wasn’t judging her but understanding her. She too pulled out a chip and both y/n and Spencer let out laughs full of pain but also full happiness. Spencer reached out a hand and placed it on y/n’s cheek. His thumb ran smoothly across her face to wipe a tear that had escaped.

When Spencer spoke again his words were soft, “Out of all this art, I think you are the one true masterpiece.”

One minute they were staring into one another’s eyes, and the next they were getting lost in the feel of the other’s lips neither one really sure when they had made it to y/n’s bedroom. Spencer held y/n against him firmly, but it felt delicate all at once. His fingers traced over every edge and curve of her body bringing sounds of pleasure from her beautiful lips.

Spencer planted soft kisses across y/n’s body as if he were painting and her body was his canvas. With every roll of Spencer’s hips, flashes of color seemed to blind him. When y/n arched her back, Spencer let her know she was more beautiful than any art piece.

The next morning, Spencer woke up to the sun shining through the windows. He felt y/n stir next to him, he couldn’t help but take in how lovely she looked. The sun seemed to only amplify her beauty.

Y/n opened her eyes to find Spencer staring at her. She smirked and closed her eyes again, curling up closer to him, “You’re staring.” Spencer chuckled causing vibrations to run through his chest making y/n giggle. “I’m admiring.” Spencer told her.

Y/n sat up to stretch, the sheets falling around her making her look like a sculpture of a goddess. She smiled down at him and scrunched up her nose “Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever you say.”

While they started to dress, well y/n was getting dressed Spencer was still looking for his shirt, he noticed the shorts y/n was putting on had art on them just like the ones before. However, these were not shades of yellow and orange. These shorts had little planets painted on them.

Y/n turned around to see Spencer’s eyes once again focused on her ass, “Why are you smiling like that?” At her question Spencer let out the laugh he was holding in as he said, “Ummm- well- it’s just that- your ass is out of this world.”

Y/n snorted and threw a pillow towards Spencer who actually caught it, “Oh the doctors got jokes this morning.”

Spencer spotted his shirt in the floor and as he bent over to get it, he said, “Not jokes, facts.” This only made y/n smile more.

Y/n watched the muscles in Spencer’s back flex as he fixed his shirt to put it on. Right before he put it over his head she asked, “Can I- can I paint something on your back?”

Spencer stopped all movements to look at y/n, he noticed the blush tinting her cheeks. His heart seemed to scream with emotions. Spencer through his shirt back on the ground and asked, “Where do you want me?” Y/n giggled and pointed to the bed.

Y/n had been straddling Spencer’s back for about 15-to-20-minute minutes when he no longer felt the softness of the paintbrush against his skin. Y/n had been humming while she worked and with the gentleness of each stroke of the brush, Spencer kept dozing off.

Y/n removed herself from Spencer causing him to turn his head to look up at her, she was smiling so brightly Spencer never wanted to look away. Y/n was staring down at the work on Spencer’s back and jumped slightly when he asked, “Can I see it?”

“Oh yes! Of course!”, she rushed to put down her paints and brushes. Y/n grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled him towards the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Before handing him the handheld mirror she said, “Close your eyes. I’m going to count to 3.” Spencer just chuckled and nodded.

“1…”

“…2…”

“…3”

Spencer opened his eyes and let out a gasp. The art that now covered his back was simple but so pretty. There were no defined lines, the colors overlapped in some places which just made it all the more beautiful. He looked from the mirror to y/n to see her hands clasped together and held against her mouth. She moved her hands slightly to ask, “So, what do you think?” Spencer looked back at the mirror and said, “I never want to take it off.”

After the time Spencer spent with y/n he was scared he would never see or talk to her again. Right after she revealed the painting she had done on his back, Emily called him with a new case. He ran out of there so fast he didn’t have time to remove the paint or give y/n his number. The plane ride was slightly uncomfortable with his clothes sticking to the paint.

However, it turned out the universe was on his side. They were leaving one case going straight to another, so Spencer’s spirits were kind of in shambles and his mind was consumed with thoughts of y/n. His sadness was starting to take over his mood when his rarely used cell phoned chimed, signaling that he just received a text.

Hi, doc. It’s your favorite artist. I hope it isn’t weird I’m texting you. I got a call from someone named Penelope. She said Emily thought you would like to hear from me.

Spencer looked over towards Emily who was smirking as she read over the case file, she knew who was texting him. Spencer just shook his head as he typed out his response, smiling the whole time.

Hello, y/n. That would be my best friends medaling in my life. Luckily, this time they were right.

Y/n response came back fast, and Spencer chuckled softly imagining the teasing look she was probably making as she asked-

This time?

That is a story for another time.

Over the course of the several weeks Spencer was gone, Y/n and Spencer texted every chance they got. A lot of the times Spencer would be too busy and would see messages from y/n he had gotten through the day.

--

I was running late this morning due to me having terrible time management skills and well- I went to brunch with paint completely covering my clothes.

--

Ha look what I did. I’m starting to think I’m the real genius here. click here for image

--

SPENCER REID. DID YOU REALLY HAVE PENELOPE GO BUY ME THIS AND BRING IT TO ME?!?! I love it! Thank you! click here for image

--

Spencer would always laugh and respond every time he got the chance. One night he was actually able to call her.

“Hello?”

“Are not sure how to answer a phone or are you questioning if I’m really calling you?” Spencer teased.

“Well, isn’t someone feeling sassy today.” Y/n laughed; she was overwhelmingly happy to hear his voice.

They spent most of the night just catching up. Y/n never once asked about the case and for that Spencer was thankful. Spencer saw the sun start to rise and realized what time it was.

“I should probably try and get at least a few hours of sleep.” Spencer said into the phone. He heard her gasp and then frantically started apologizing, “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! I was just so happy to talk to you I didn’t realize. I-“

Spencer cut her off with a “Hey. It perfectly okay. I love talking to you. If it were possible, I would never sleep if it meant I could talk to you forever.”

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling, “Well guess what doc. You’re kind of stuck with me get ready for me to never stop talking.” Spencer laughed softly, “I am definitely okay with that.”

As soon as the jet landed, Spencer texted y/n to let her know they were back. What he didn’t expect was for her to be standing in the bullpen with Penelope. Spencer couldn’t help but practically sprint to her, ignoring the knowing looks from his teammates.

When reached her, he wrapped her in a hug. Y/n giggled as she hugged him back. When they pulled apart Spencer asked, “What are you doing here?” Y/n shrugged and looked towards Penelope who had left her side to join the others and said, “Reasons.” She looked back at Spencer and winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head as he wrapped her in another hug.

Spencer and y/n left with Spencer promising to finish the paperwork first thing the following week. Once they were outside y/n turned to Spencer and said, “Okay so the main reason I couldn’t wait any longer to see you is I want to ask you something?”

Spencer turned his head and squinted his eyes, “Should I be scared?” Y/n barked out a laugh and grabbed Spencer’s hand. He stared where their hands were joined. Y/n must have thought he didn’t want to hold her hand because she noticed him staring and let go.

Y/n became a little nervous as she asked, “I- I wanted to ask you to be my plus one at an art show tomorrow. This will be the second art show my work has been in and I’m extremely nervous and would love for you to be there.”

Spencer smiled, feeling beyond flattered that she would want him there. He grabbed her hand the same way she had before and said, “I would love nothing more.”

That following night at the art show Spencer knew for certain he was completely consumed with feelings for y/n. He couldn’t help but to admire how her face lit up every time she talked about her work with other guests. It fills him with pride every time she would turn away the champagne that is offered. What really sets his heart ablaze is how y/n would reach for his hand every time she moved on to another art piece or to speak to someone else. It was as if y/n wanted, needed him. Whether it was for comfort or confidence Spencer was happy to be either of those things for her.

Towards the end of the night Spencer and y/n had finally found a moment to be alone. They stood in front of a painting that kind of reminded Spencer of the mermaid from that one Disney movie Penelope made him watch.

Y/n must have thought so also because as she looked at the painting she said, “You know I am really glad you have become a part of my world.” Y/n turned her head to look at Spencer there was a gleam in her eye. Spencer responded by saying, “Is there any way I can always be a part of your world?”

Y/n responded by kissing Spencer, putting ever amount of emotion she felt into it. The kiss was more vibrant and meaningful than any art she could ever dream of creating.

*

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*

Permanent Taglist: @criminalmindzjunkie​ @brooklynxnicole @the-queen-of-moons​ @imdefinitelyfloating​ @muffin-cup @theintimatewriter @averyhotchner @spenxerslut​ @spenciegoob​ @april-14-blog​

[igotanna]

Is this a bet??

Summary: Jinyoung takes your words seriously. And he loves proving his point. You should think twice before teasing him again.

Warnings: smut, sort of orgasm denial

Genre: fanfiction, smut

Pairing: reader x park jinyoung

Rating: 18+

A/N: pic is mine

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Please tell me you didn't just eat that popcorn that fell into your bra..." Jinyoung sighed as he heard you munch again after a long time. He sat in his favorite armchair and didn't bother to look at you. The movie was more interesting.

"Shut up I can’t hear it now."

One would say that after three years of dating and living together, you two would stop bickering. But that was the dynamics of your relationship, and you still kinda enjoyed it this way. But sometimes he got on your nerves with his lecturing.

The movie ended and Jinyoung got up to stretch and to put the dirty dishes in the sink.

"Y'know, it was really goo-"

"It was bullshit." you cut him off.

You scrolled through your phone and didn't really pay attention to him when he came back to look at you with his 'what did you just say?' face.

"Come again?"

"I said it was bullshit. It was absolutely unrealistic during the sex scenes," you explained and sighed like him.

He frowned and sat down, now actually interested to hear your thoughts "What do you mean?"

"I mean c'mon! One could never make woman cum without touching her clit - when they were together for such a short time! You couldn't do that and we’ve known each other for quite some time now!"

You were so serious, and didn't really see the shadow of deep shock that flew over his face. He blinked a few times in disbelief. "Do you really think that?"

Putting the phone down you looked at him "Yes, it's really hard - maybe even physically impossible for a woman to cum completely without touching her clit. It's the most ac-"

"Wait," he stopped you, picking up his words and thinking your statement through "is this a bet?" His eyes pinned at your face.

You had to laugh - this was more of a "scientific" discussion for you and here he was dirty minded as usual thinking you're teasing him.

"I'm just saying,-"

"Is this a bet?" he repeated, voice lower. Now it was you blinking quickly to adjust. When he said it out loud you were even more sure - it is impossible.

"What would be the prize for the winner?" you narrowed eyes suspiciously. You knew he was able to pull your leg all the time.

"Anything." he said deadly serious.

"Anything?"

"Anything. Completely free options. If I don't make you cum without touching your clit you can make me do anything you want. One time. Make me go up on stage and do stand-up comedy, make me say something stupid in front of your mother. Whatever you say."

"And if you do make me cum?"

His expression darkened, a low-key sadistic smile flitting across his face. "Anything as well."

You laughed again, shaking your head "This is too.. too much you. I don't trust you."

"What? Whyy?" he looked at you like a surprised puppy with his big round eyes.

"Because!" you exclaimed and got up, almost shoving him off the couch. He followed you with his eyes and regained confident expression. He already knew you're in.

"Because games like these never end up in my favour!"

"Well, if it won’t end up in your favour now, I don't know when it will!" he laughed and left to take a shower. Jinyoung was well aware to give you some space to consider his proposal after presenting you a new idea or assumption.

While he was showering, you had a moment to consider your options - either way you were going to have some solid sex. And that was all you needed to head to the bathroom and lean on the shower door.

"Alright."

Jinyoung laughed and looked to where he heard your voice "So is this official?"

"Yes." you sighed, almost like he pushed you into doing it. Which he did. In his own way. "It is a bet. If you won't make me cum without touching my clit-"

"But I can be inside." he demanded

"Of course, that's not the point. Apart from touching my clit you can do whateve-"

"Careful with your words," he smirked.

"You can do almost whatever might help you make me cum." you finished strongly.

The water stopped. A muscular torso appeared next to your face and with it Jinyoung's fresh scent combined with the soap.

He looked at you, satisfaction written all over his face and dried his hair like nothing happened. Continuing to your bedroom he put the towel down and raised his voice as if he was looking for you "Are you coming?"

You walked to the room like if you were about to do a job interview, even your stomach was slightly squirming with excitement and partly with nervousness.

Jinyoung was busy adjusting the light and pulling down the curtains.

"So," his voice was low and muted, intimidating.

"I don't know what game are you playing...you simply cannot win this." you laughed and started to unbutton your shirt.

"Ah-," he stopped you before pointing at your hands – you were obviously stealing his job "Don't." his eyes found yours and he tilted his head a bit "But do repeat what you just said. C'mon."

You laughed as he got near you and slowly touched your arm with index finger sending a shiver down your spine "I said you won't make me cum."

"That's it." he whispered to himself.

You felt his body behind you, heard his breath, your hair swinging in its rhythm. By stopping you from undressing yourself he was showing you who’s in charge. You wanted to stay strong, not willing to submit to his methods you knew all too well. Something in Jinyoung’s demeanour changed, he’s going to outperform himself today you were sure of it. He's going to come up with something new, trying out stuff he always wanted to but never did. And most importantly - he’s going to take advantage of this.

His fingers moved inch by inch up to meet the inner elbow and to the hips.

"Say it again." he muttered through gritted teeth, daring you. As if searching for reasons to punish you. His warm hand roughly pushed the shirt fabric aside, forcing its way between the buttons by stealth.

"I said you can't make me cum." you said clearly, but it was undermined by the breathless gasp that escaped your mouth unwillingly. At that very moment, his hand undid the buttons and your shirt landed next to your ankles like snake's skin.

Despite the intensity he barely touched you yet.

His arm rested on your shoulder and with tips of his fingers he drew over your chest up to the collar bone. His face was so close to your ear you heard every breath and even movements of his tongue in his mouth.

The goosebumps raised across your skin excited him so much, but he kept his head clear. He knew exactly what to focus on. Having a mental list of your erogenous zones he needed to use, and saving few new ones to try out. He dug his face in your hair and kissed you below your ear. Your body reacted faster than you wanted. You crumbled into him as if he pushed some button, your knees bending a bit. But he didn't want it to be this fast.

He bit your earlobe in warning.

Surprised by his nip, your hand went up for revenge but his was quicker, smacking yours away like annoying insect.

Sliding his palms down to your panties he slowly pulled down. You felt a sudden gust of coldness as he kneeled down and your back were left unprotected. His heart started to beat faster as your panties revealed your bum. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips on your left butt cheek. It took you by surprise – he never was this gentle. Still only with the tips of his fingers on your sides, he got up. Parting your hair and putting them on one side he uncovered his most favorite part of your body – the nape of your neck.

He pushed you to the bed.

Enough of warming up.

"However bad it's going to be..." his voice was dark, wild and almost aggressive because of the long silence "Rule is- you can't touch your clit either." he said locking eyes with you.

"It's either me making you cum," he continued and leaned on his elbows above you, only inches above your face, "or nothing." you opened your mouth to kiss back, but he pulled away. Pressing lips on your neck and going down, between your breasts, your belly.

You felt yourself getting wett, heat pooling in anticipation.

The thing is - it was usually never this slow - Jinyoung was more of a rough, fierce sex type. He didn't need any time to prep and wasn't really a fan of foreplay. Lube was always there to fix everything.

But now- he was careful, sensual, paying attention to details - dancing with his fingers on the inner side of your knee. You almost forgot this place was so sensitive. He harmonized the feeling with his lips on your thigh, temptingly close to the clit.

Closing your eyes you didn't watch what he's doing - just bathed yourself in the feelings.

He was already almost rock hard, given the sight of you closing your eyes with pleasure. He had to focus on the edge of his limits. It was so tempting to imprison you in his arms, to thrust into you, deeply and fully.

But a bet is a bet, and he had his plan.

You felt like you were ready for him, so much so you unknowingly spread apart more. His hand moved your leg up to rest on his hips, facing you again. Still not opening your eyes, you turned your head a bit to make him space for more neck kisses.

As his hands pulled yours up above your head, his fingers intertwined with yours.

Jinyoung left the best for last – he finally pressed his body fully on you, and inch by inch dived in you. You heard him smirk as he found it amusing how easily he could slide in as you were already so wet and open for him.

He moved slowly. Not just because he knew it’s stimulating, but because he focused on your nipples. He knew you were sensitive, and it helped him on many occasions to make you cum. Kissing, licking and carefully biting them he took you on the edge of pain and pleasure. Your fingers found his hair and you wanted to pull it, to participate somehow. But he was the leader here and immediately put your hands back in place – above your head.

It was all so good.

His breath so close to your neck, the heat from his body. The precision he moved with, how much attention he paid to you. How he held your jaw like he needed it to breathe.

But something was missing, the tension just kept cumulating and piling up, peak nowhere in near sight. You could even feel yourself stretching your arm up, as if to grab the orgasm that was just inches away.

But apparently your other hand headed down again because Jinyoung smacked it angrily "Don't even try it." thrusting in over and over.

"Fuck the bet, I want-"

"Rules!" he hissed as his movements quickened. Placing hand on the concave of your neck and shoulders, he squeezed a bit as a warning.

You bit your lip in frustration and pleasure. He bend down and kissed your jaw, following with his mouth parting yours, being dominant even now. Leaving you only to wait for his next move. Pulse racing, he repeatedly broke the kiss to look at you, to burn this exact picture of you into his mind.

Feeling him inside, holding your hand up, your breasts on his chest... everything felt like a flash of a fire, but the flame didn't appear. You almost fell his heart beating in your own veins.

He was close, so close.

Face next to yours, his lips found the spot below your ear again, biting the earlobe.

Breathing faster you knew it was coming.

Was he right? Can he do that? C'mon just a bit more- it's so close.

But he suddenly stopped moving, head buried in your hair heavily breathing. You tried to keep up with the wave of pleasure that was inside of you, waiting to be released, you tried so hard to slide it on your own. But it was gone. He was gone, leaving you in the water searching for a way out.

As he rolled down from you letting you alone with the helplessness and frustration he propped on one hand and looked at you "You were right." he caught his breath and put away lock of hair from your neck.

"You did it on purpose! You knew I was close!" you cried out loudly, hands rubbing your face.

"Yes." he admitted, glad you revealed the truth.

Looking directly at you like a teacher wanting his answer he asked "Lesson?"

After the minute of silence you gave to spite him, you felt a quick, light smack on your thigh. "Never. Try me out again."

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

First Date

Summary: The reader accidentally sends an angry email off to a co-worker but winds up with a date instead...

Pairing: Landscaper!Dean x reader

Square: First Date

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​​​ . Enjoy!

_______

You yawned as you trotted out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand down to your home office. You plopped down in your chair and got on your computer, checking your email with a tired hum. You saw an email from the facilities manager and sighed.

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m work from home now, jackass. Refund my parking pass. That was like five hundred bucks.”

You growled and typed out an angry email in response, getting so fed up when you finished you knocked your coffee all over your computer.

“Shit!” you said, grabbing some tissues and moping it up.

You saw a sent message appear on screen and you shook your head.

“No. No. No, I didn’t send that. Recall, recall,” you said, shoving the tissues aside. It’d already been opened though and the recall failed, your jaw dropping. “No! I just moved into this house! I can’t afford to get fired.”

You grabbed your phone and decided to bite the bullet, trying to dial the guy when you got an email back.

As highlighted in my original message below, your refund will show up next month along with all other refunds to staff now working from home.

You hit reply and started writing an apology, praying he didn’t report you to HR.

I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I wrote it to express my frustrations and had no intentions of ever sending it. I’m deeply embarrassed, Mr. Winchester, and apologize once again.

You bit your bottom lip and waited a minute, getting a response back.

Thank you for your apology, Ms. Y/L/N. Seeing as today is my last day and it was a mistake, I see no reason to pursue this further.

“Ah, thank you, thank you,” you said. “Now let’s deal with this coffee.”

Two Weeks Later

“So what’s the damage?” you asked. The man in the flannel and baseball cap wrote up a tally on his clipboard before looking back at the house and yard again.

“Normally, for total lawn maintenance, that includes your weeding, trimming, spring and fall clean up, etc. for a lawn this large, you’re looking at around eighty a week,” he said. “But we’re trying to break into this neighborhood so let’s call it fifty a week. We get ten yards around here, we’ll knock it down to forty. How’s that sound?”

“Fifty for everything?” you asked. “Including the snow removal?”

“We’ll negotiate a separate contract for that but I’d call that about 350 for that season,” he said. “So. We have a deal?”

“For fifty bucks, you got a deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Perfect. I will have a contract written up and sent over to you this evening,” he said. He dug around into his back pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Super Natural Lawn Services,” you said. “Winchester.”

“Hm?” he said, writing something down on his clipboard.

“Name sounds familiar is all,” you said.

“Used to be in charge of managing the grounds at a local place until they decided to have their staff work from home. Ms. Y/L/N,” he said with a smirk. 

“Oh my…” you said, Dean chuckling. “I am so-”

“I like running my own business a lot better,” he said. “Besides, you apologized. We’re all good. We’ll get that contract straightened out and I’ll get a team over Friday morning to start on your landscape design.”

“I really am sorry, Mr. Winchester. I-”

“Y/N. It’s good. I promise. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded and he headed back to his car, giving you a wave as he drove off.

Two Weeks Later

“Hey, Dean?” you called from your front porch. He poked his head up from where he was head first in a notebook, staring at the dirt edge around your house. “You want a drink? It’s really hot out.”

“I’m okay,” he said, sweating pouring off of him.

“You want to come into the air conditioning for a minute?” you asked. He was about to say no when he took off his hat and his hair was soaked with sweat. “Come on.”

“Alright. Just for a minute,” he said. He hopped up onto the porch and stepped into your foyer, letting out a sigh. “Okay, that’s nice.”

“You like lemonade?”

“Sure,” he said. He took off his boots and followed you to your kitchen, taking a seat at the table when you waved him down. You brought over a large glass, Dean gulping it down. “Do you have a minute? Now that your lawn is in good shape, I have a few ideas for landscaping near the house if I could pick your brain.”

“Sure,” you said. He flipped open his notebook and showed you a drawing, your eyes wide. “You drew that? It’s great.”

“Do you like that kind of style? It’s minimal upkeep but it’s not barren out there this way,” he said.

“I love it. How much does that cost?” you asked.

“It’s part of your weekly bill. I have a few other ideas in here you can take a look at and tell me which you like best,” he said. You flipped through the notebook with him, still liking the first one the most. “Alright. We’ll get that going for you then.”

“My neighbor was asking about you the other day. I gave her your name,” you said.

“Fingers crossed we get a bit more business around here then,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the drink, Y/N.”

One Month Later

You hummed as you sat on your front porch with your morning coffee, watching Dean across the street and walk around a yard with his team. They’d already done your yard for the week and you knew Dean was up to about six or so houses in the development. With a big stretch you glanced over to your car and saw something on the windshield. You got up and walked over, plucking off a note.

Found a problem with one of your plants. Rabbits were eating it. I’ll replace it later today.

You looked across the street just as he looked over. You gave a wave and he returned it before you headed back inside.

Four hours later you were getting home from the store to find another note stuck up against your front door.

Plant should be all good now. Enjoy your weekend.

“Hey,” you heard behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry.”

“Hi, Dean,” you said. “S’alright. I got your note.”

“It was a simple fix,” he said. “I actually am looking for my work gloves. I either left them at your place or the Jones’ but I didn’t find them over there.”

“Are they black?” you asked.

“Yeah. You find them?” he asked. 

“Maybe they’re near my new plant,” you said, nodding your head. He looked over and they were on the grass beside it.

“Ah. That’s what I get for taking calls while working,” he said. He grabbed them and started to leave, pausing at the driveway. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You single?”

“Why?”

“Cause if you’re dating someone, I don’t think my odds of getting a date will go very far,” he said as he spun around. You smiled and leaned against the porch post. “Single?”

“Why would you want to date me? I was very rude to you once.”

“You were pissed about throwing money away for no good reason. Trust me, I got plenty of emails that day. You’re the only one that apologized. Plus you may have once told the grumpy guy in the cafeteria to go do a job that makes him happy.”

“You knew who I was when I emailed you, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. I looked you up at work. You were nice back then. You always offer my crew cold water if you’re home. I just like you,” he said.

“Pick me up at seven,” you said as you spun around. “You decide what we’re doing.”

“Alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise a dress and heels.”

“Now I’m intrigued. I’ll see you later then, Dean.”

“Yes you will, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” said Dean when you opened your front door just before seven. You laughed when he held out a packet of flower seeds. “They’ll go great in a planter on the porch.”

“Thanks,” you said. You put the packet inside and locked up, following him to his car. “So what are we doing?”

“I figured we could do something and grab a bite after if that’s okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “Were you thinking of a movie?”

“Hopefully it’s more fun than a movie,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Okay, that is the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date,” you said, Dean chuckling as you both turned in your helmets. “I did not even know there was go-karting in this town. Like really nice go-karting too.”

“We could come back sometime,” he said. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Same,” you said. 

“Well follow me then,” he said, walking past his car in the parking lot and headed for the street. He took your hand and you walked across over to a diner, Dean walking the two of you inside and to a booth by the corner.

Twelve minutes later you had a double bacon cheeseburger with jalapenos in front of you along with a basket of fries and onion rings. You dug in, Dean smiling to himself as he enjoyed his own burger.

“Too much?” you said.

“Save room for dessert. They have out of this world sundaes,” he said.

“If it’s as good as this burger, I’m sold,” you said. “So what made you want to have a landscaping business?”

“I get to be outside, do some hard work but some mental work too. We’re doing pretty good for our first year,” he said. “I didn’t like my old job very much.”

“It sounds like this one is working out for you.”

“It is. Probably would have taken me longer to ask you out if I hadn’t sort of known you already but I don’t mind,” he said, taking one of your fries.

“You flirt with all your customers or just me?”

“Just you,” he said. “How’s it working out so far?”

“Pretty good. Want to go catch the music fest downtown after our meal? Main act comes on at nine,” you said. “Unless you’re not into rock.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You and me are gonna get along just fine.”

_____

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Risk

Summary: Chris couldn’t believe he was finally meeting you and you were even more more perfect than what he’d seen in your music videos.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Black!Pop Star!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Daddy Kink, Face Riding, Oral (female receiving), Girl on Top, Missionary, brief doggy style

(A/N: this has been sitting in my WIPs for a minute so it’s kind of a relief to finally put it out. Anyway, like, comment, or reblog.)

Tagged: @titty-teetee, @harrysthiccthighss, @iam-laiya, @mariahthelioness29, @night-of-the-living-shred, @liquorlaughslove, @blackmissfrizzle, @whiskey-cokenfanfic, @olyvoyl, @zaddychris

There was no way Chris could have possibly focused on the interviewer’s questions when you were so close. Your tight shirt showed off your tits so well it was distracting. As you laughed, they jiggled and he couldn’t help the half smile that came on his face as he couldn’t help himself, but to take a glance.

What was fucked up was that this was for a charity. You were a pop star that was very involved in investing in programs to protect the arts. He coming from a family of theatre nerds was of course interested in the same thing. The two of you got paired up for an interview. Only meeting for the first time today as there’d been a fundraiser event. Though Chris had been obsessing over you since he’d found out your name.

The first thing that struck him about you was how goddamn gorgeous you were in person. All of the pictures of you online didn’t even do you justice. He’d went through all your albums surprising himself with how much he actually liked them. You sounded like an angel yet your lyrics could be downright filthy sometimes. When he’d watched your most recent music video, he found himself growing hard seeing you in that tiny outfit and shaking your ass.

He’d seen your music videos. Watched a few live performances. Maybe clicked on a few interviews because he needed to know how your voice sounded. None of it prepared him for reality.

Those eyes and your lips. Fuck he could kiss the fuck out of your lips. You looked like you’d just walked straight out of his fantasies.

Nothing prepared him for how your ass looked in those jeans. His hand twitched as he managed to fight off the urge to just grab it. Then there were those perfect tits. Perfectly swelled under your t-shirt. Being distracting.

His eyes raked up and down your body another time. This time you’d laughed at something he had said. He wasn’t prepared for how giggly you were. How bubbly you were.

It honestly felt like he’d known you for years with how comfortable he found himself. Like you two were old friends catching up instead of strangers. As he made a shitty attempt to respond to something the interviewer had said your head turned as you listened. “Well, the arts have always been important to me,” his voice low and raspy like he’d just woken up. “My family was insanely involved in theatre when I was growing up and I jumped around from piano to tap dancing. I even did ballet for a little.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile spreading on your face when he’d said that. “Really?” You perked up. “I did ballet.”

Of course, he knew that already because he’d taken a look at your Wikipedia page. “Really? How long?”

“I did it for,” you drew out the last word as you thought, “ten years, I think.”

He nodded almost losing himself as he looked into your eyes. “Wow that’s a long time. You must have loved it.”

“I did.” You smiled. “It was such an important part of my life growing up. All the friends I made. The things I learned and discipline. It’s also why I’m so flexible.” You giggled looking over at him again with this look in your eyes.

Were you flirting with him?

He quirked an eyebrow also grinning. His eyes darting from your eyes to your lips then back. How were you so goddamn pretty?

The interview moved forward with you sending signals that you were definitely flirting with him. You giggled at everything he said. Had played with your hair making you crane your neck to the side. The way your tits were fucking jiggling anytime he said anything mildly amusing. How you’d positioned yourself so they were perked up towards him.

Once everything had wrapped up, the both of you had been whisked away by your respective teams. He got one last good view of you walking away before being told to move onto the next thing.

It took two hours before your paths would cross again. This time at the panel the two of you were part of. You were once again seated beside each other. You were once again giggling at everything he said, while fixing your hair craning your neck to the side, and perking your tits in his direction. His hand twitched again as he fought the urge to grab your hand when you touched his bicep playfully to add onto something he’d just said.

This time when this had come to an end he’d manage to avoid being whisked away by his team. Getting off of stage fast enough to where they didn’t even see him. You lingered behind sort of blending in with the crowd as you managed to slip away.

The two of you bumped into each other smiles immediately spreading over your faces. “Hey.” The two of you said at the same time.

You bit your lip as the corners of your mouth were turned up. He let out a sigh before swallowing. “And here I thought I’d found the perfect hiding spot,” he said. 

“Actually, I’ve been eyeing this spot since we got here so I think I found it.” You joked back.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe we should wrestle over it.”

You shook your head with a pout. “Sorry I can’t do that. I’m a lover not a fighter. “

He chuckled. Fuck you were cute. “Could I be a lover and a fighter?”

“Ohhh I don’t know. I feel like that’s cheating.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes you have to play dirty to win.”

That fucking giggle. Those goddamn jiggling tits. That goddamn hair. That fucking neck. And you perking your tits out. Except this time, you gave him a pretty generous glimpse down your shirt.

“You busy after this?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Does catching up on Netflix count?”

He laughed. “Yes, but well I was thinking of going out for dinner after this thing,” he said, trying to suppress whatever urge he was constantly getting to touch you. “And, I didn’t want to look like a dick and eat alone.”

At this point we got the point of how you were trying to convey your flirty ness with him. “And?”

“And,” he started, “I was wondering if you’d wanna join me.”

You nodded. “Where we going?”

He shrugged. “Wherever you want, Honey.”

“Don’t tell me that. I can be expensive,” you seemed to purr. Everything about you was making him feel like he was fifteen again and waking up from a wet dream.

He nodded eyes drifting down to your lips. “You’d be worth every penny. Gimme your number so I can find you after?”

You nodded. “It’s a date.”

“Yeah,” his mouth twitched as you walked away from him. He eyed you up and down as your backside was to him. Damn your ass looked good in those jeans.

—

It’d been a pretty long day, but finally it was over. Like promised through text, you and Chris managed to get away from your teams in order to be whisked away in a town car to a bar he said was great.

The two of you talked on your way over. This time you were a little more subdued. Your voice was lower, sensual. It made him feel like someone had hugged his heart and dick at the same time.

He was sitting so close as he’d managed to get the most private booth in the place so the two of you could talk. He was so damn close to you and you hadn’t moved the whole time his arm was around you. In fact, you seemed even closer than before.

He wanted to kiss you so damn bad. “You gotta man?” He asked, before taking a sip of his beer.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ in the word.“You gotta girlfriend?”

“Nah,” he sighed. “Been single for a minute.”

You nodded. “Oh damn. You poor thing.” You rested your hand on his thigh.

“Yeah? How long you been single?” He asked grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers. That twitch in his hand had finally won. Your skin was just as soft as it looked like it’d be.

You shrugged. “For like a year,” you answered. Liking the feel of his rougher hand against yours. “I get so busy I don’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, same.” He somehow managed to scoot you closer to him. “Then sometimes you meet a cute stranger and then maybe you end up taking them home to smoke.”

You chuckled. “How do you know I smoke?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone in this town smoke?”

You nodded shrugging your shoulders. “True.” You smiled. “Fine.”

 After calling another town car and him paying the tab you were on his way to his place. Chris was still finding ways to touch you. Not that you were complaining that you were sitting so close.

Now the joint was resting between his lip as the television played in the background. Chris let out a big puff of smoke.

You were still sitting way to close. As he grabbed your hand again. Running his thumb across your knuckles. You were telling him a story about this photo shoot you had a few weeks ago that just so happened to be with you in lingerie. Then in turn he told you about a photo shoot he had to do for a free weeks ago where he just so happened to be shirtless the whole time.

Then you started talking about your favorite movies. To him telling you stories about all the shit that went down behind the scenes. Which led to you telling him stories about being on tour. Then you talked about music and he felt someone tug at his heart strings with the way your face lit up when talking about your favorite musicians.

He had to kiss you.

With the joint in between his fingers he leaned down to finally brush his lips against yours. “God, you’re fucking beautiful,” his voice once again at that low tone, raspy like he’d just woken up.

“You think so?” You looked up at him so innocently, peering up at him through those lashes.

He took another hit of the joint before leaned back down to your mouth. He blew the smoke into your mouth before kissing you again.

You started to make out deep. Stroking his cheek with your thumb. His tongue slid against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. You moaned into his mouth suddenly feeling all airy. If Chris wasn’t holding onto you, you may have drifted away.

He leaned to the side so he could put out the joint. When both of his hands were free, he put them under your ass so he could get handfuls of each cheek in each hand. Then making it jiggle.

You broke away from him so you could finally pull that top over your head. “Fuck,” he hissed seeing the tops of your breasts. You quickly reconnected your lips. One of his hands grabbed at you through your lacy white bra.

You let out a whimper that was like music to his ears. His mouth trailed down to your neck hoping to kiss you in a spot where you’d be forced to make that noise again. You shivered as his lips left hot opened mouth kisses on your skin.

Then it was time for Chris to pull his own shirt over his head, exposing his muscular physique. You put your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him more. He reached behind you to undo your bra. Your nipples all sensitive as they were exposed to the night air. Your body felt all fuzzy as you giggled when he smacked your ass.

His hands reached up to play with them. Fuck it was better than any thought he’d had about them since you’d met. Rubbing your nipples with his thumbs and making you moan.

You got off of him so you could undo your jeans. Except before you could even pull them off, he made you lay on the couch as he slid them off of you. He kissed along your stomach at first. Then he proceeded to take off your jeans and panties at the same time.

When you were finally completely exposed to him, he kissed you again. Then his mouth started practically worshipping your breasts. He licked your nipples with the tip of his tongue. He came to suck it wanting to hear that goddamn whimper again and then reeling at the other little noises you were making. “Fuck,” you moaned. He gave your other boob similar treatment before kissing a trail down to your lower half.

He could have died and gone to heaven after seeing that pretty pussy. He flicked his tongue over your clit loving the taste of your arousal. He’d pushed your thighs up so he could properly feast on you. Fuck you were so wet for him.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs so he could get as deep as possible. You were moaning so much for him. The noises you were making were fucking pornographic.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

He stopped to kiss up your body so he could kiss your lips again. You could taste yourself on his lips. His fingers stayed on your pussy as he kissed you again. You gasped against him, throwing your head back.

His moved to your tits again. His tongue was craving to suck on them again as he finger fucked you. As you exploded around his fingers he decided to rub your clit to draw it out.

“Daddy!” You screamed.

“What’d you just call me, Baby?” He asked still rubbing your clit as you clung to him.

“I- I,” you stuttered, but it was hard to talk when he was doing that to you. “Ugh, Daddy!”

“That’s a good girl,” he kissed you again.

 He finally carried you off to his bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist. He’d taken you apart so easily. Like he’d done this to you so many times before. Instead he’d just been thinking about it so much he didn’t want to fuck it up.

He sat down with you still wrapped around him. His jeans were still on, but you could feel him through his jeans and fuck. He felt so huge against you as he moved you right over it.

His fingers reached between you two so he could rub your clit again. Chris wasn’t your usual type, but you couldn’t deny that he was fine as fuck. Or that he was dangerously charming.

When he’d finally taken off his jeans and underwear, he sat you back in his lap so you were straddling him. He was holding you tight against him so even when you tried to sink down onto him because fuck you wanted to so bad, he wouldn’t let you. Like he needed you to know who was in control.

“Ride my face,” he said, slapping your ass.

You giggled. “Really?”

“Yeah you taste fucking delicious.”

You looked down at him as you could see his eyes peeking out. From underneath you. He really was eating you up like you’d be his last meal.

He felt like he was in heaven with his head between your legs. Like you were sweeter than any candy he could ever eat. Better than jelly beans. “Oh my god,” you breathed out a moan.

You moved your hips trying to ride his tongue, but it was almost too much. His beard was burning your thighs only adding to how good it felt. You grabbed at his hair while he smacked your ass again, palming it in his large hand.

He felt like he could taste your orgasm. The way you leaked out into his mouth. He didn’t even care that you were making such a big mess on his face. “Daddy, yes!” You gasped. You put your hands on the headboard to brace yourself because as your stomach started to tighten you could tell this one was going to be much more powerful. “I’mgonnacum,” you rattled off.

He chuckled into you pushing his fingers into you again making it so you had to ride his hand, too. How the fuck was this man able to get you like this and you hadn’t even taken his dick yet. Fuck you needed to take it.

He didn’t even let up when it happened. It was like he wanted more of you. He was drinking you up. Wanting to have you at his mercy. Like this was the last chance he’d get to feel your pussy on his tongue and he needed to take advantage.

It took two more orgasms for him to finally let you up. You fell down onto the bed completely spent. He didn’t even care as he kissed you hungrily. Quickly pushed you onto your back, wrapping his arms around your thighs and didn’t even give you time to realize what was happening before he slammed into you.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you around his dick. And fuck did it feel perfect. You were so tight. So wet. So damn sexy with the way your mouth formed into an O because how was he moving his hips like that.

It should have been illegal for him to fuck you like this. For him to leave your pussy craving more from him. How the hell were you supposed to come back from this.

He fucked into your spot like he already knew where it was. Like the two of you had done this so many times before. All you could do was take it. All you wanted to do was take it and take it and never stop taking it.

You were everything he’d thought you’d be since he’d saw that first fucking music video. Your sparkly acrylic nails scratched his back. “Fuck me, Chris.”

He slapped your ass. “You call me Daddy,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you buried your face into his neck. He should have not been able to fuck you this well. You bit your lip, as he put his forehead against yours.

The burn from the way he split you open was so good. This couldn’t have been the last time the two of you did this. Not when he was this deep inside of you.

The first time you came around him he pulled out of you so he could lay beside you. Then because he didn’t give a fuck about how it was too much or whatever you kept saying he made you sink down on his dick.

Your pussy creamed down his length. You kept telling yourself that you couldn’t take it even though you were riding his dick like such a good girl. The bed was shaking so hard you were scared you might break something.

This was about to be a long night.

—

Chris couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this fucked out. It was like when he thought he had enough you’d pounce on him and when you thought you’d had enough he’d do the same to you. Until finally the two of you passed out with his arms wrapped around you and you buried into his chest.

He kissed your forehead, nuzzling your face with his nose. He felt content for the first time in a long time with you there. Like you were meant to be there in his arms. You’d barely gone to bed at four in the morning so it was no wonder you were still asleep at ten a.m.

When he realized the time, he groaned because he was so late. He reached for his phone seeing the tons of missed called. “Baby?” He shook you gently.

“Mmm,” you hummed as you finally peeked up at him. “Fuck, what time is it?”

“Ten thirty,” he answered.

“Fuck,” you groaned, but didn’t even attempt to move. “My managers gonna kill me.”

He grinned because you looked so cute half asleep. “Same.” He pecked your lips. “Good morning, though.”

“Good morning,” you replied saying fuck it in your head as you stayed where you were. You were too comfortable to move. 

“We should do this again sometime,” he said, tracing patterns into your skin.

“I’d like that,” you replied.

“You busy tomorrow?”

“I have some stuff to do in the morning, but I’m free after nine.”

“Perfect. How about a late dinner?”

You smiled. “Like a date?”

He chuckled. “Of course.” His phone went off right when he was about to kiss you and he groaned because as much as he’d prefer spending time with you, he did have obligations to get to. “Hello?”

“Chris!” His managers voice boomed. “Where the hell have you been! Have you seen Twitter today?”

“No, I just woke up,” he said with a frown on his face. You looked up at him noticing the change in his tone.

“Well, you’re trending. They posted the interview online and fans are going insane.”

“What?” He said. “Hold on let me look.”

It wasn’t just him trending on Twitter. So were you. Together. He shook you so you could look before clicking on the thread.

Damn Chris was looking at her like she was a whole meal.

And at that moment Chris Jamal Evans was ready to risk it all

He over here just eye fucking her

There were a lot. Plus, all the memes people had posted. He hadn’t realized he made it that obvious. You started giggling not being able to stop yourself as he scrolled. “Wait is that her? Is she there?” The faint voice of his manager came through the phone.

“I gotta call you back,” he said before hanging up. “I am so sorry.”

You were still laughing as you grabbed your own phone so you could read through more. “It’s okay. Just glad I didn’t make it obvious that I was doing the same.”

“I knew it!” He laughed before tickling your side.

You tried to push his hand away and all that lead to was a wrestling match where he pinned you down. “Daddy!” You squealed which again music to his ears.

You struggled against him until you finally broke your hand away so you could reach forward to grab at his dick that seemed to awaken immediately under your touch. “That’s cheating!” He protested with a laugh.

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“You better not start something you can’t finish.”

You smirked. “Oh, I can finish it.”

“You know, I can afford to take the day off,” he noted realizing he was not letting you out of this bed anytime soon.

“Me, too.”

He leaned forward capturing your lips with his. Not even caring about morning breath. Just needing to feel you. As he turned you over so he could fuck you from behind he realized that it was true. He was ready to risk it all for you.

And it was pretty funny to watch you laugh at all the memes afterwards.

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Little Bookshop

here’s my contribution for day 28--bookshop au. just one more story to go and i’ll be officially done with rowaelin month!!

cw: very light mention of female infertility. and verrrrrrrry light smutty language. (if theres any i missed, pls dont hesitate to let me know!)

2.7k words

enjoy!! :)

Aelin woke up surrounding by the arms of a furnace. That furnace being her six foot four husband. Normally, she would love waking up like this, but with summer arriving early and the very fact that she could spend all day like this despite the heat and the million things they had to do today it was not something Aelin could love at this very moment.

Kicking off the cotton sheets, Aelin tried to leave the bed but to no avail. Rowan's grip tightened in his sleep and he mumbled something that might have been “five more minutes”.

Knowing very well that “five more minutes” could turn into another hour, Aelin told her husband that she had to pee, otherwise she was going to wet the bed.

That worked, and Rowan planted a kiss between her shoulder blades as he turned over, facing the curtains.

A small mischievous smile found its way to Aelin's mouth as she quietly walked over to the cream blackout curtains and yanked them back, flooding their bedroom with the bright morning sun.

Rowan groaned at the rude interruption, flopping over on his stomach to avoid the sun. But Aelin simply back over and took the sheets and his pillow away from him (and because she could, she admired his muscled back, but soon came back to reality when all the things they had to do came flooding back).

“It's too early to be tortured like this,” Rowan mumbled, his green eyes finding hers. “And I thought you were about to wet yourself.”

Aelin gave him her best simpering smile. “A little lie. Now, get up, because we need to get started on the day.”

Grumbling at the sun still blinding him and the fact that he wife was always far too energetic in the morning, Rowan put on his summer slippers and shuffled into the kitchen behind his wife, who turned into a pale pink blur as she whirled around the kitchen, taking out the slow cooker and the dry ingredients for their dinner, the pumpkins and sweet potato and the peelers, and the Brussels sprouts that had to be halved. She rattled on about the guest room and the living room, going on and on and on.

They had been married for five years, together for seven, and Rowan still had no idea where she got all this energy in the morning from—especially considering that she would often tell people that she was not a morning person. He couldn't even comprehend most of what she was saying until he had his water and coffee.

After downing his water and turning on the coffee pot, Rowan heard Aelin muttered something about the roof gutters needing cleaning as she peeled the sweet potatoes over the sink, Rowan gently placed his hands on her face and kissed her.

“Breathe,” was all he said.

“I don't have time to do something like that, there's just so much to do.”

Rowan kissed her again and again until Aelin relaxed to his touch slightly. “I know how important this day is to you,” he said to her gently, “for us and the store, but I promise that everything will be fine.”

Aelin dumped the sweet potato and peeler in the sink and wrapped her arms around his bare waist, hugging him tightly as she rested her head on his chest. Taking a deep breath, Aelin smelled the homely scent of Rowan. When she had first meet him, he had been a surly bastard, but she couldn't deny that he smelled good. It was the main thing that drew her to him, that he always smelled like home.

His personality, however, was abrupt as her own back then. But they had worked to better themselves, both individually and then as friends and then beyond, when that friendship turned into something more.

To this day, Aelin never thought that she would have married the scowling bookshop owner she met when she moved to Doranelle. That the man who she thought really shouldn't be in customer service would become the most important person to her. She often told people that Rowan was her soulmate, that there was no better word to describe what he was to her.

Rowan ran his hand up and down her cotton-clad back, the motion always making her melt. “It's just,” she found herself saying after long minutes, “this is such an important day not just for us, but for Elide. It's her first book tour and I want it to go well. I would hate it if something went wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Rowan assured his wife.

“Unless you've developed psychic abilities overnight,” Aelin said, her voice taking on her snarky tone when she was getting stressed, “there is not possible way you could know that.”

“No, I have not developed clairvoyant skills, but I know that things will work out because you were there every step of the way planning this event with Elide and her team, it will work out spectacularly.” He had helped when he could, but Aelin was best at planning things in their relationship. She knew when things needed to be better or more organised, her passion for creating eventful nights making them unforgettable—like his thirty-fifth birthday; months later and he was still finding eco-friendly glitter in their apartment. It was her passion that made the shop better, that made it inviting and comforting. Her passion helped Rowan to fall in love with the store he inherited from his late parents again. He had been weeks away from deciding to sell when Aelin first arrived, her golden hair practically blinding him from how brightly it shined.

Rowan didn't really like her at first (he didn't really like anyone back then), because she was just so damned loud and kept buying books that he loathed to restock because that meant dealing with people and orders and delivery drivers when all he wanted to do was to be left alone and look for work that didn't have to deal with the general public.

But things slowly started to change during her visits, when he was actually looking forward to her coming over instead of dreading it. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected of ways—the day that Aelin had purchased a book about living with infertility, and Rowan had sensed that if he said the wrong thing, then she would lash out from her vulnerability; so Rowan confessed to her that he had his own cousin, Sellene, had issues with fertility, but lived a completely well-rounded life and was happy.

The smile that Aelin gave Rowan when he said that...he would never forget it in a million years. It was full of relief, that he wasn't going to go on a tangent about how she wasn't trying hard enough to fix her fertility—all the shitty things he had overheard his older relatives say to Sellene.

And instead of leaving after buying her book, Aelin stayed and they talked until he closed, and hours after that, Aelin ordering pizza in the middle of it and they both devoured the food, and he walked her home. Aelin came over twice a day after that, until Rowan finally gathered the courage to ask her out, and here he was seven years later.

Rowan kissed her once more. “And if things go terribly wrong, then I'll help you forget.”

Aelin raised a golden brow. “And how will you do that?”

Rowan smirked and nipped her jaw. “With my teeth and tongue, Fireheart.” He chuckled at the sudden intake of breath from his wife and planted kisses along the column of her throat. Aelin leaned into him, but he moved away, grabbing his coffee to get the newspaper out front.

With a wink, he left his flustered wife, laughing under his breath when she called him a buzzard.

It was going to be a good day.

X X X X X X

It was the busiest Friday they had in several weeks, and Aelin wondered if it was because they knew that Elide was having her author talk that very night, and maybe some were hoping to meet her for free—but Elide wasn't going to be in the shop for hours. The last time Elide had texted her, she and Lorcan were going to lunch.

Sometimes, she couldn't believe her friend was a fully-fledged author. It was both of their dreams, and Aelin was utterly ecstatic that Elide had the courage to send her books out into the world. It was still Aelin's dream, but she was constantly doubting herself, and would talk herself down from pursuing that path.

One day, hopefully, she would learn to tell herself to shut up and reach out to potential publishers.

Finishing up her gift-wrapping, Aelin handed over the bundle of books to her latest customer when she overheard giggling.

It didn't take her long to find the source of the sound. Two teenage girls were currently ogling Rowan as he reached up to a high shelf for a short customer, his shirt rising up to expose a good amount of tanned, muscled skin.

Honestly, Aelin couldn't blame the girls. It was often she noticed this when she was on the shop floor, as she was often in the back dealing with the financial aspect of the business when she wasn't at her actual job at Doranelle University Library, but she had taken the last two weeks off to ensure that everything went well for this event tonight.

As long as adults didn't do it, she couldn't care less, otherwise she often felt like some damned territorial beast on the verge of baring her teeth and snapping at people to not undress her husband with her eyes.

Rowan liked it when she got territorial, and wished she did it more often.

Oblivious to the girls giggling, her husband kept reaching for more and more books, his skin on continuous display.

Maybe she should take more time off at work, since the views here were much better than looking at the faces of exhausted students.

Smiling, Aelin helped the next customer.

X X X X X X

Aelin's leg was bouncing anxiously next to Rowan, his wife fidgeting with her hands, swirling her emerald and gold ring around and around her finger.

In turn, it was making him nervous because seeing Aelin nervous set his whole system on fire—it was a rare sight to see her like this, but no matter how many encouraging words he would say, she wouldn't be calm until everything was done and went off without a hitch.

They were sitting in the front row, all the seats around and behind them full of eagerly awaiting fans to hear Elide talk about her new book in her series, their excitement-filled chatter reaching his ears. Lorcan was in the back, because Aelin had told him that while she liked that he was going on the book tour with Elide, his considerable height would be blocking people's view of Elide. To which he responded that people came to see Elide to hear her talk, not to look at her.

The scathing look from Aelin had Lorcan rolling his eyes but he went to the back, his considerable height no longer an issue—although Rowan did feel bad for the girl that was sitting behind him, considering he was six-four and broad, but there was no doubt that Aelin would let him move, so he stayed and would do his best not to ruin the night for those that he was blocking.

When Rowan noticed that it was 6:55, he brushed a kiss on Aelin's cheek and wished her luck as she went up to the spot where Elide would be talking, with Aelin asking the questions.

“Breathe,” he mouthed to her, and Aelin did, and as soon as she opened her mouth, the words came out smoothly and without a hint of her nerves—just as he knew they would.

X X X X X X

The night was a success, just like Rowan said and would be, and Aelin was still giddy hours later. After the talk, she helped take photos of fans with Elide, got out all the sharpies that she had purchased recently from the grocery store to ensure that Elide didn't run out of ink—because people wanted her to sign all of the books they owned by here and Elide was more than happy to do so.

Afterwards, Elide and Lorcan followed Aelin and Rowan into their apartment upstairs for dinner and Aelin was feeling just a little bit wine drunk, but she was just happy that everything worked out well and that Elide got to live her dreams.

Aelin and Rowan were currently down stairs, tidying up as they usually did just before they went to bed, with Rowan taking mental notes of all the shelves that were practically empty—because while people were waiting in line to get Elide's signature, they browsed the store and filled their colourful tote bags with mountains of books.

He wasn't complaining, but he still didn't like having to deal with restocking, but he would live.

Aelin was gazing dreamily at the cutout of the main character of Elide's story when Rowan came up next to her. “You could do it, you know,” Rowan said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I know,” was all she said.

“Then why don't you?” He read her stuff all the time, and maybe he was biased because she was his wife and soulmate, but he fucking loved her work, loved the detailed writing and descriptions that made it feel as if he was in the world she made up. But she knew how much he loved her stories, so instead of repeating himself, he said, “Elide could help you. She's been in the industry for a while now. So I'm sure whatever question you have, she can answer.”

“I know,” she said again, still just staring at the cutout. She turned to him, a determined look on his face. “How about we make a deal.”

Rowan raised a brow. “Okay...?” it wasn't often that Aelin included him in her schemes, usually preferring to shock him into an early grave.

She gave him a smile that told him she had been thinking about her idea for a while now, and was just waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. “You start selling your drawings and I'll talk to Elide.”

“What drawings?” he said instantly, the years of having to hide to drawings from his nosy cousins still annoyed him and any mention of them had him wanting to deny he ever knew how to hold a pencil—not that his drawings were ever crude but nothing was sacred in the Whitethorn house he lived in after the death of his parents.

Aelin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I've been with you for seven years, I've seen you drawing—they even line our walls. You start selling them—we have plenty of empty frames hanging around—and I'll talk to Elide. Deal?”

It only took him a single heartbeat to realise why she was offering him this. Rowan's drawings were personal, as were her stories, so if Aelin had to open herself like that by giving the world her stories, then he could give away little pieces of himself, too.

“Deal,” he said because he would staple his drawings all over the city if it helped Aelin get her foot in the door, to help her with her dream that he knew she could achieve.

Her face deflated for just a second before she righted herself. Clearly, she wasn't expecting him to agree so quickly. But if she wanted to take her time, then he would give her all the time in the world.

“Deal,” Aelin said and even held her hand out. Rolling his eyes playfully, Rowan shook her hand.

When Aelin went to drop his hand, he lingered, and brought her closer to him. With a smirk, Rowan said, “I can think of a better way to close our agreement.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “And how would you do that?”

“With my teeth and tongue, Fireheart,” he said, repeating his words from earlier this morning.

Aelin crashed her mouth onto his, and Rowan closed their deal right in the middle of the shop floor, not at all caring that their friends were right above them.

Aelin thanked the gods that she had come into this shop over seven years ago to escape the boredom of her old apartment. Thank the rutting gods for bringing the ever-scowling man into her life.