#I don’t know how to draw fancy clothes so just ignore the other threes outfits please

[ghostingink]

Phil Lesters awful fashion sense for Dan inspired this piece

Anyways it’s still prom season right?

[blushnote]

↳ requested | 1.6k words

↳ dom!wonwoo smut

a/n: HELLO. i’m sure everyone is wondering what’s going on and WHY i’ve been absent for a few months. put simply: things got hectic and i needed a break! i’m not saying i’ll jump back into being completely active again, but that i’m going to come on as often as i can! (which might be every few days or so! i apologize!!)

as a treat for everyone - this features rich girl wonwoo! <3 

wonwoo stands at the street pole, conversing with his friends. the bar is unusually crowded. mostly likely because it’s a friday and there isn’t much else the townspeople would rather do than get plastered, forgetting the atrocities of work. his friend extends a box of cigarettes to wonwoo, offers him one, but he shakes his head.

since getting involved with you, wonwoo has attempted to forfeit smoking. it has always been something he’s done to pass the time at the street corner. plus, he likes the idea of blowing a big, stinging cloud right into someone’s face when they give him attitude. 

instead wonwoo suckles on a lollipop that tastes like an artificially sweet strawberry, pushes up the bridge of his glasses, and folds some silvery hair under his beanie. he knows it’s about the right time for you to be returning from that dinner party your parents forced you into attending.

as wonwoo’s friend exaggerates a tale about getting into a fist-driven confrontation at a bus stop last week, someone strutting by on the packed street bumps wonwoo’s shoulder.

“choose a better place to stand.” the stranger rumbles, agitated.

wonwoo flicks up his middle finger indifferently. “fuck off.” he grunts, the fog of his breath appearing in the night air.

he’s feeling sort of agitated himself. your parents have tethered you to a leash lately, forcing you to all these fancy gatherings and opening ceremonies and dinners. to put it frankly – wonwoo misses you. your laugh, your eyes, the texture of your skin, your voice in his ear. he’s been wanting an excuse to get his hands all over you. every single inch.

that’s when he hears the ding in his jacket pocket. looking away from the dramatic enactment involving his friend driving a fist into his palm, wonwoo checks his phone to see a text from you. a series of images.

23:28 // JPEG.1034

23:28 // JPEG.1035

23:28 // JPEG. 1036

the three pictures load. he chokes on his breath.

23:28 // i know u don’t like when i spoil my lingerie but.

23:28 // don’t i look so cute :( so fuckable?? im srry but I had to :(

his teeth crack the strawberry lollipop into sugary shards in his mouth. that lace is squeezing your flesh in all the right places. the picture with your fingers splayed teasingly over your underwear, hiding your core, it’s enough to make him shudder, salivate even. he’s officially ignoring his friend’s story by tapping a reply, fiddling with the thin stick in his mouth.

(ww) 23:30 // u free now? head to my place.

he receives an answer immediately.

23:30 // hmmm why?

(ww) 23:30 // u know why. don’t act like such a brat.

already, wonwoo can sense the desire form inside him. pounding almost. like a second heartbeat. you’re usually compliant and bending to his carnal whims. maybe all this time away from each other has you forgetting just how well wonwoo can fuck that stubbornness out.

23:30 // it’s new. i don’t want u ripping anything!!

(ww) 23:30 // idc.

23:30 // so mean!! not even gonna let u touch me now :-)

(ww) 23:30 // yeah. ok. we’ll see about it then.

after sliding his phone back in his pocket, wonwoo glances briefly in through the bar window. he sees a bartender pour a glass full of ice cubes before sloshing in a surge of alcohol. at that, wonwoo gets an idea. when his friends question about why he’s leaving so suddenly, he smirks.

“need to teach someone how to behave.” wonwoo shrugs before jogging quickly across the street.

“i’m not gonna tell you again. keep your fuckin’ thighs spread nice and wide for me or else i won’t let you cum – not even once. you understand?”

a harsh dip in your stomach suggests the breath you just inhaled. after a moment of silence, he hears you comply, and watches with his hungry, intent gaze as your legs part open for him. wonwoo has been teasing you with a bowl of ice cubes. at first, he held them to your nipples, had you whimpering into his mouth while he simultaneously rubbed his tongue against yours. but the real fun began when he introduced the ice cubes to your lower region. it was a very different punishment compared to his past endeavours, a tantalizing one.

wonwoo returns the cube to the nook of your inner thigh, then creeps it slowly toward your core. you’re beginning to tremble with the restraint required to not snap your legs shut. the ice cube ghosts transiently up your slit, a contact you had yet to experience, and a beautiful gasp tears from your lungs. he swears that you leak even more onto the sheets.

he takes the cube away, then drags his warm tongue from the bottom of your pussy right to the top, delivering a slow, flat lick which tastes sweet and cold and makes him so unbelievably dizzy with how much he loves it.

“w-wonwoo, please, pl-please keep going.” you stutter, opening your thighs even wider to invite his tongue.

he shakes his head. “what else did i tell you? don’t ask me to do anything. you’ll lie there and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” smiling, wonwoo issues a tight grip on the ice cube and presses it right into your clit. you whine sharp and loud, your hands traveling all over your body in confusion, not sure if it’s more pleasure than pain, or a hot mix of both.

“or are you still interested in acting like such a brat, hm?” wonwoo utters in his deep voice. “ like a smug little princess who thinks she can tease me whenever she wants and she’ll still get my cock all the way inside her? nice and full, just how she likes it. is that it, babygirl?”

he feels the ice melt under his fingers. you can hardly piece together a response, just a very incoherent, “no wonwoo” as tears start slipping down your cheeks. wonwoo takes the cube away, then massages your clit with his thumb, warming you up slowly. a few jolts pass through your body. he can tell you’re falling apart inside with how badly you want to cum, though wonwoo had strictly told you to hold it. he rubs and rubs and rubs, barking at you to control yourself, your pussy so slippery with arousal that it’s running all down your skin and wetting the bed.

right when he feels you’re about to snap, wonwoo completely removes his touch. you wail at that, suckle in a shaky breath and cry his name.

“please, wonwoo! i-i’m sorry, m’soso sorry! i’m sorry for acting so bratty and sending those pictures, t-teasing you like that! but i just c-ccan’t take this anymore. treat me however you want, but please let me cum!”

he’s truly missed the sound of you begging for him. his cock twitches in his pants, reminding him of how hard he currently is. each time you cry the boy’s name in such a lewd manner, there’s another surge of pleasure and he aches even more, to the point where he could cum just from touching himself over his clothes. still, wonwoo must ensure you’ve really learned your lesson. so, he offers you a deal. he’ll get to watch you pleasure yourself with the ice cube until he cums.

and so wonwoo sits in a chair based at the end of the bed, a hand stuffed down his pants, watching you swirl an ice cube at your sensitive core. he guides you every now and then: “hold it right there, pretty baby. let it melt all the way down. that’s it, sweetheart. n-now rub it, okay? f-finger yourself too. nnrgh, f-fuck. fuck you sound so wet. m’gonna c-cum—”

his strokes lash faster until wonwoo’s head rolls back against the chair, his eyes blinking shut while he chases his high. he hears you continue to whine as he cums, his cock throbbing in his hand, still so hard and heavy. in fact, wonwoo requires a moment just to breathe and let the heat circulate properly through his body.

with his fingers covered in the sticky mess of his cum, wonwoo approaches the bed again, fingering it as deep as he can inside you. he’s unable to remove his gaze from the filthy sight. there’s something so raw and intimate about watching his own seed getting pumped into you that sets his whole body aflame. he decides to let you orgasm as well, stimulating your g-spot consistently, letting you clamp down tight and ride his hand until you’ve got a full fix.

wonwoo supposes he’s done his job.

“i don’t think i’ll ever be able to look at an ice cube the same way again.” you laugh, sitting back against the headboard, tucked into his t-shirt.

drawing a warm washcloth between your thighs, wonwoo blinks at you, a very sly grin forming on his mouth. he plants a kiss on your nose.

“good. means it worked.” the boy says.

he folds the cloth over and finishes the last of his cleaning, ensuring there’s nothing more of his fluids that are still leaking out or anything sticking from your orgasm. grabbing your overnight bag off the floor, wonwoo pulls out a fresh pair of underwear and helps you slide into them. your lingerie sits in a pile off to the side, a few lace straps ripped.

“sorry about your little outfit.” wonwoo apologizes, staring at you earnestly. “it was pretty. you look good in everything.” he squeezes your hip and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay.” you murmur. “i’ll order something even better. and i’ll surprise you with it. maybe for your birthday. sound good?”

“mmhm.” wonwoo purrs, pulling you down with him to cuddle up close for the night.

“as long as i can take it off you, sweetheart, i’m fine with that.”

[mandoalorian]

Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed. 

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that  much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem. 

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you. 

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work. 

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes. 

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point. 

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug. 

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s. 

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled. 

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… “Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt  a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.” 

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental. 

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best. 

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home. 

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly. 

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…” 

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile. 

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both. 

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders. 

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.  

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

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[dreabbles]

twinkletoes

giyushino modern au where giyuu is a ballerino, and shinobu finds him interesting

shinobu is very much attracted to this ballerino named tomioka giyuu—she just doesn’t know to what extent

shinobu thinks her attraction is entirely science and anatomy-based: she likes the way giyuu’s muscles are shaped, she likes how they flow so smoothly with the music (”like the peaceful flow of water!” mitsuri once compared), she likes the way his veins protrude from his arm—and list goes on.

she does admit, however, that she finds his face aesthetically pleasing as well. she claims that it’s hard to ignore, really. not everyone has such deep blue eyes that draw her in.

because she’s friends with mitsuri, a costume designer for the ballet company giyuu is in, shinobu gets mitsuri’s extra free tickets to every show. of course, out of gratitude for her friend, shinobu attends each one.

being the best friend that she is, mitsuri tries to indulge shinobu with more than just the front-seat of the auditorium and attempts to give shinobu backstage access to meet the ballerino, but shinobu often declines, lest she come off as creepy and stalker-ish. shinobu claims she’s fine with watching from the audience.

shinobu does, however, sometimes linger a bit longer after the curtain call when the actors are out to meet some audience members, but stays away and decides against introducing herself (she’s seen him decline all conversations, save from the woman who looks to be a family member, and this orange-haired friend with a scar on his face).

mitsuri does her best (she also can’t believe her friend is that dense)

aside from tickets, and the possibility of a backstage visit, mitsuri deliberately dresses shinobu in eye-catching outfits during each show shinobu attends. it serves its purpose for the most part, just not for the person it’s intended for.

mitsuri has offered to directly introduce the two. the conversation happened like this:

“hang out at the lobby for a few minutes after the show. i’m sure i can find time to introduce you.”

“don’t bother; i’m not that desperate. i’m fine with admiring his muscles from afar. though it would be nice to have a closer examination. do you think he’d let me examine him?”

“maybe? you’ll only know if you ask.”

“do you think he’d be willing to donate some blood at our clinic? i want to see how easy those veins are to poke.”

“...you’re absolutely sure you don’t want me to introduce you?”

“yes. i’ve watched him a few times after his shows. he gets flocked by so many women and absolutely hates it. his expression is a lot harder and less happy compared to when he’s mingling with his friends.”

“you’re honestly already at the point where you notice the changes in his expression. are you sure you aren’t crushing on him?

“of course i’m sure.”

“okay then.”

but, of course, mitsuri has other ways of getting them to meet—if not at his workplace, then maybe at hers.

mitsuri takes a leap and invites the company to a blood donation drive, all of whom agree. (the invitation is mostly for giyuu, but he doesn’t have to know that...not that she expects him to turn up. he never shows up for what the young ones call “company bonding affairs”.)

surprisingly, giyuu shows up. he brings along his relative (mitsuri confirms her to be the sister) and his orange-haired friend.

of course, it has to be shinobu to draw his blood (this, mitsuri claims, is completely coincidental)

shinobu actually expected for giyuu to be quiet, but not this quiet. he responds only when he’s spoken to and speak just enough words—not too little, and never too much. it irks her slightly that he’s so disinterested in the whole donation process, but she decides to keep talking to him regardless.

just as she also expected, the needle enters his veins easily and the blood flows as smooth as his dancing. she tells him she’d be back when the bag is full and leaves to attend to other patients.

she doesn’t realize that his eyes have locked onto her, following her but never letting his gaze stray lower than her hips (he already did once earlier during the brief orientation and is very aware of how those jeans fit her legs and her bottom).

giyuu is slightly upset that it isn’t her who attends to him when the bag is full. only slightly. 

so he chooses to linger. no, he didn’t choose to do so. he just so happened to linger, even telling his sister and friend to go on home without him. (they give him a secret smile each, as though they’d expected him to do something like this.)

mitsuri notices all of this happening, of course

by the end of the shift, shinobu is quite sweaty from walking around to attend to patients and from bringing supplies to and from the cargo vehicles. luckily, mitsuri always has an extra change of clothes in her car for emergencies like this.

the dress misturi lends is slightly too short and slightly too low for shinobu’s liking that shinobu is torn between either pulling the hem down or pulling the neckline up. either action help in nothing to help hide the skin she isn’t used to showing.

just when shinobu decides she’d rather just wear her sweat-soaked polo shirt and jeans, someone extends a jacket towards her. “wrap this around your waist,” says the low voice. shinobu blinks. 

apparently giyuu can speak more than just three words at a time. she’s pleasantly surprised.

then he speaks again, “do you want to get something to eat with me?”

everyone else would later tell them that this was their first date, though they both claim it isn’t

they end up eating dinner somewhere somewhat fancy because it’s the closest to where they’re standing, and shinobu has no more energy to walk too far. (giyuu did offer to carry her, though she declined his invitation.)

though it’s mostly shinobu who does the talking, giyuu does give more reactions to her than she’s ever seen in the whole year she’s watched him.

she catches him off-guard when she compliments his dimples. “they’re really cute,” she says, poking into one of them, and he blushes at her actions.

he catches her off-guard, too, when he tells her, “thank you for always coming to my shows.” that he knew she was in the audience is the last thing she expects.

shinobu nearly drops her utensils when he starts leading the conversation.

everybody say, “thank you, mitsuri”

“you’ve seen me?” shinobu asks, to which giyuu nonchalantly replies, “you’re hard to miss. not everyone’s as pretty as you.”

her heart flutters ever so slightly and shinobu admits that she might have actually developed a tiny, tiny crush on this man. 

shinobu learns that his orange-haired friend’s name is sabito, when giyuu tells her that, “sabito mentioned i should talk to you but i never got the chance. you were always gone when everyone else cleared away. i wasn’t sure where else to look.”

to add to that: “if i knew you and kanroji were good friends, i’d probably have accepted more of her invitations earlier. the other dancers said you’d often be invited, too. i could’ve gotten to know you earlier.”

and to top it all off, he fixes her sleeve that has started to fall off her shoulder. shinobu feels her skin burn under his touch.

when shinobu goes to sleep that evening, it is no longer just giyuu’s muscles on her mind, but also the smile he sent her when they parted

the “date” goes on with casual flirting from both his side and hers. he brushes the bangs from her eyes as she eats, while she wipes the corner of his mouth when he does.

it’s too early for the night to end, so they opt for ice cream. they share a waffle cup with a single spoon.

shinobu has heard enough good stuff about giyuu. topped with her own observations, she concludes that he’s a trustworthy person, so she allows him to drive her home. (mitsuri stowed away much earlier and left shinobu with a midnight commute as the only other option to get home.)

before she alights from the car, giyuu clears his throat and, like a gentleman, asks something shinobu would normally not agree with upon her first meeting with a stranger: “can i kiss you goodnight?”

giyuu meant for it to be a peck on the cheek, but when she leans in with her lips presented for him, he has no other choice but to take them.

they start dating, of course, to fill in the blanks. after all, with how long they’ve been admiring each other from afar, they feel like they’ve already know each other for a while.

three months later, they become official, and shinobu is given explicit permission to examine the muscles she once admired only from the stage.

[heartfragment]

Heart Fragment Walkthrough: Kay

When you discover the secrets of your family's past, Kay is the first ally to appear. Kay does not define himself by the fact that he is blind; rather, he is dependable, energetic, and cheerful - like sunshine. But sometimes his happiness somehow feels like a mask that he puts on...

Note: Most endings have multiple ways of getting to them. This is a guide to guarantee you get them all, but feel free to mix and match or experiment with your own ideas!

Endings Overview

(for those who don't want a full guide, just the general idea of how to get the endings; if you want a step-by-step guide instead, keep reading!)

Kay branch 1 criteria: Certain traits will add points towards this branch. Branch 1 can be unlocked by focusing on the following traits: cautious, paranoid, nosey OR by having a heart that is orange or lower.

Kay branch 1, good end, romantic: end the route with a pink heart or higher

Kay branch 1, good end, platonic: end the route with an orange heart or lower

Kay branch 2 criteria: Branch 2 can be unlocked by focusing on the following traits: extremely high trust (bar to full is dark colored or almost fully dark colored), extremely low ego/selflessness (bar is pastel colored or almost fully pastel colored) OR by avoiding the traits paranoid, cautious, and nosey OR by heart that is pink or higher OR by selecting dialogue options that reinforce Kay's dependence on you.

Kay branch 2, good, romantic: end the route without any bad endings and you are guaranteed this, as there is no platonic end in branch 2

Kay bad ending 1: two potential moments can bring on this ending. 1st option is to keep your points with Kay low (a green heart or less is recommended) OR have the paranoid trait unlocked during Friday of Act 2. 2nd option is to have the paranoid trait unlocked during Sunday of Act 3

Kay bad ending 2: on branch 2 of Kay's route, have the nosey trait OR select to "search a bit more" when prompted

Kay bad ending 3: on branch 2 of Kay's route, have a dagger heart next to Kay's name

Kay bad ending 4: on branch 2 of Kay's route, choose "leave now" when prompted

Full Walkthrough - Common Route

Speak your mind

Steam achievement granted when meeting Shannon: "Best Friends Forever"

Talk to her anyway

Ignore him and say nothing

Sit across the room

Search your father's name

Read the obituary as well

Steam achievement granted when finishing on your laptop: "Finding Answers"

I guess that wouldn't be so bad

Don't ask her

Nice to meet you

Steam achievement granted when meeting Kay: "Mr. Sunshine Smile"

This is a bit too much to take in

No

3 updates will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check all of them

Knock first

Say you don't care

ask all the questions available

Pull away

Have a quick nap first

Steam achievement granted shortly after choice: "Nightmare or Daymare"

Tell Kay about it

You can

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check it

Wait for him to speak

Admit that's the reason

Sure

CREATE SAVE POINT 1

Go back home

Steam achievement granted shortly after choice: "Can you hear me!?"

RELOAD SAVE POINT 1 after getting the achievement

Go look at clothes

I'll try some things on too

CREATE SAVE POINT 2

The black and white one

You look great

RELOAD SAVE POINT 2

The pink and blue star print one

You look great

RELOAD SAVE POINT 2

The aqua blue one

You look great

No

Ask if you can draw Kay

Talk about something else

It would have been bad either way

Don't disturb them

1 new update will appear in the bottom right corner phone at night time after a scene transition, click it for a bonus CG

Search anyway

Try turning it back on

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check it

Steam achievement granted shortly after viewing phone update: "Project NMCI"

Yes

Yes

Kay

The panacea

No

Superpowers

...a good power to have

I won't do it again

I hope you open up to me more

Your father

Where have you been?

Your father

Not really

Jasper

Sure, let's go

Sit down beside him

Nice outfit

Steam achievement granted when meeting Natalia: "Fancy Outfit, Odd Demeanor"

The smoothie bar is nearby

Something simple/classic

You can come tonight if you want

Suggest joining StarxSocial

Yes

Kay

Scream

Who are you chatting with?

Talk about Kay

Yes

What was that post all about?

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner, check it

Tell me more about his powers

Am I going to survive this...?

Shannon will worry if I'm late...

Tell Shannon about Kay going missing

Why would I tell you that?

Steam achievement granted when meeting Clive: "Suspicious Werirdo"

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner at night in your bedroom, check it

Steam achievement granted when meeting Jasper: "Knife-Wielding Antagonist"

type in the name "Ceaton"

Steam achievement granted when you type in the name Ceaton: "That's Your Name, Right?"

Reach out to the hand

Steam achievement granted when you grab the hand on the first choice: "Trust in the Hand"

I don't trust him enough to tell him

You can come again

Select the orange/red fragments

Steam achievement granted when you select the fragments: "Fantasy Select"

Fantasy Intro / Act Zero

CREATE SAVE POINT 3

I don't think so

Tell him about the dream with Kay

Don't text her

I'm going to stay inside

I am scared, to be honest

Ask her about it some more

an eye symbol will appear at the bottom right of your screen, click it to read Lana's heart

I'm sorry for my outburst last time...

Touch his arm

I promise

Well...

Mention Kay going missing

Refuse to be friends with him

I don't trust him

Pancakes are great!

I don't want to talk about it

Walk in silence with him

an eye symbol will appear at the bottom right of your screen, click it to read Clive's heart

I need to keep an eye on him

when the beach search screen appears, find the orange feather in the water towards the center left of the screen

I'm happy

Kay Act One

So... what shells did you find?

Fine, I admit defeat

I should plan my next move

I need to look eventually!

Don't set it up for him

Cream and sugar

I'm not sure

I really miss him

Make something up

I prefer you don't pry anymore

I need to save Kay!

an eye symbol will appear at the bottom right of your screen, click it to read Jasper's heart

Investigate

Find the letter on top of the cliffs, close to the center of the screen

Climb anyway

I dunno...

Don't give up

I still want him back!

Kay Act Two

We are friends

Maybe a little... (for romantic ending) OR Quit teasing me (for platonic)

We'll just say we're friends

I'll get a sleeping bag for you

Whisper that he'll be okay

Ask Kay if it's okay

I'll help him interact with others

Go somewhere with Kay

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner in the kitchen during breakfast, check it

CREATE SAVE POINT 4

Jam

RELOAD SAVE POINT 4 AFTER GETTING THE BONUS CG WITH JAM IN IT

Syrup

Don't offer

I liked your smile

Yours makes me feel different

Tuck him into bed

Wake him

I promise

I do

Hold onto his hands (boosts romance) OR emphasize that he's safe (for platonic ending)

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner while in the living room prior to texting Shannon and/or calling your father, check it

Don't text her

...

It's rough

No

CREATE SAVE POINT 5

The Pirathon nature trail

I'm trying my best

Romance (boosts romance) OR happiness (for platonic ending)

Their music helped me through a lot

I wish I could show it to Kay

Cheer

That is a reason

I don't think of it that way

Grab his hand (romantic) OR reassure him (platonic)

They're not you

Run away

Steam achievement granted when you choose 'go back to him' or if you have high enough romantic points: "I Believe In Him"

Leave

Kay Act Three

Jasper is your past

...raised to hate me

No

...he's kind of cute (romantic) OR he's a good person (platonic)

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner when you get the Kay chibi CG, check it

You were pretty close

Say you aren't sure

I like short people (note: option boosts romance. If you want the achievement but want to ensure you get a platonic ending, create a save point here and then reload to choose the other option)

Steam achievement granted when you choose 'I like short people': "Short = Cute"

Go check on him

Stay back

Don't beat yourself up about it

I am afraid

Hand them to Kay

Ask Kay if he wants to tell her

You ARE Kay

Steam achievement granted if you selected all the choices above so far: "Come To Terms With It"

Why would you want me to do that?

I don't mind

Tell him what he wants to know

Kay End Branch 1

Hold him close (romantic) OR continue holding his hand (platonic)

I don't mind (romantic) OR either other option (platonic) (note: choice only occurs if you have at least a yellow heart with Kay at this point)

Ask him again if he has a preference

I want to see you (romantic) OR Yes, definitely (platonic)

I feel that way too (romantic) OR I care about you, as a friend (platonic)

Steam achievement granted for reaching Branch 1 ending: "The Sun Will Rise"

RELOAD SAVE POINT 3

Fantasy Intro - Guide to Branch 2

Maybe we can hang out

Tell him about the dream with Kay

Text her

let's meet up soon

I guess I'll go sit outside for a bit

I am scared, to be honest

Leave the subject alone

I'm sorry for my outburst last time...

Touch his arm

I promise

I definitely don't regret it!

Mention Kay going missing

Give him the benefit of the doubt

I do prefer waffles, actually

Yes... I want to talk about it

Ask about his interests

Maybe I should give it a try someday

find the feather in the water near the center left of the screen

I'm happy

Kay Act One

So... what shells did you find?

Fine, I admit defeat

I should get some rest

I need to look eventually

Don't set it up

Tea

I'm not sure

I really miss him

Make something up

It's alright

I need to save Kay!

Rest for a while

Sure

I still want him back!

Kay Act Two

We are friends

Maybe a little...

We'll pretend to be dating

Steam achievement granted when you choose 'pretend to be dating': "Fake Date"

You can sleep in the bed

CREATE SAVE POINT 6

Whisper that he'll be okay

Ask Kay if it's okay

I'll help him interact with others

Spend the day together at home

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner in the kitchen during breakfast, check it

CREATE SAVE POINT 7

Jam

RELOAD SAVE POINT 7 AFTER GETTING THE BONUS CG WITH JAM IN IT

Syrup

Of course you can

I liked your goofiness

You will

Because I trust in you

I like having you around

Let him sleep on your shoulder

Wake him

I do

Hold onto his hands

Send a message to Shannon

I'm safe

It's rough

Yes

The Pirathon nature trail

I'm trying my best

Romance

Their music helped me through a lot

Maybe I'll redraw it someday

Cheer

You're right, it is

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner soon after the concert, check it

I don't think of it that way

Grab his hand

They're not you

You don't mean that

Tell the truth

Stay

Lay beside him

Kay Act Three

Jasper is your past

...raised to hate me

Yes

...he's kind of cute

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner while you speak with Gray in the kitchen, check it

It's okay

Agree with Lana

Approach him

Hold onto his arm

I felt afraid

Hand them to Kay

Ask Kay if he wants to tell her

That's for you to decide

You'd be happy I'm having nightmares?

Kay End Branch 2

You don't need to prove it

I don't see it that way

CREATE SAVE POINT 8

Go back upstairs

CREATE SAVE POINT 9

Search for Kay

I will be

Hand him the phone

Steam achievement granted if you have been consistently checking the phone for updates: "Kay Fan"

I'll go with you

1 update will show up on your phone in the bottom right corner while at Shannon's party, check it

Steam achievement granted for reaching Branch 2 ending: "Brighter Days"

Bad Ending #1

RELOAD SAVE POINT 5

The Pirathon Beach

Steam achievement granted for reaching bad ending: "Goodbye, my friend"

Bad Ending #2

RELOAD SAVE POINT 8

Search a bit more

Steam achievement granted for reaching bad ending: "The demon's lover"

Bad Ending #3

RELOAD SAVE POINT 9

Leave now

Steam achievement granted for reaching bad ending: "Death By Blonde"

Bad Ending #4

Note: There is an achievement in this ending that can only be achieved by having a low relationship with your father. If you've followed this guide so far, you should have the right stats to get this achievement.

RELOAD SAVE POINT 6

Let him sleep

Tell Lana

I want to keep him close

Spend the day at home together

Syrup

Of course you can

I liked your smile

You two aren't anything alike

I want to look out for you

Let him sleep on your shoulder

Let him rest a bit more

I do

Hold onto his hands

Send a message to Shannon

I'm safe

It's not that I need a break

Yes

The Pirathon nature trail

You're right

Romance

I had a crush on the lead singer

Maybe I'll redraw it someday

Stay quiet

It's not because of him

You aren't difficult

Say nothing

They are you

Run away

Lie to him

Stay

Lay beside him

Jasper doesn't exist anymore

... a hateful person

Steam achievement granted for having a low bond with your father: "He's Not Important :)"

Yes

... he's kind of cute

It's okay

Say you aren't sure

I have a preference for tall people

Approach him

Stop in front of him

I'll stay

Don't

You're not Kay

You'd be happy I'm having nightmares?

Just stay by my side

Any reason to get better counts

Go back upstairs

[notnctu]

CONGRATS ON UR MILESTONE BBY!!! SO PROUD 😭😭 (also hehe can i request quote #4 with Jaehyun? with angst, fluff, and suggestive/smut- lol gimme all of them flavorssss) (also no pressure if it’s not all three haha ik it’ll be great anyways)

THANK YOU BB <3 we’re so happy to have ppl who actually... care and read our shit ? LOL i hope you enjoy reading your request! i tried my best to season it with all the yummy flavors hehe you can read it under the cut

-author doie ❀

jaehyun x reader prompt #4 - “You can do this but you can’t return my calls?” genre - angst, fluff, slightly suggestive (wow flavor packed)

dating jaehyun isn’t the easiest love you’ve ever experienced. the valentine boy enjoys to test your patience, but always knows how to mend his mistakes. in this relationship, it’s about compromise. however, you aren’t entirely sure how he is going to be able to make this one up.

you’ve been ringing his number for the past hour and to no avail. it’s your second year anniversary and you’ve overly expressed how important this one is to you. it’s a toast to another year together, when every living person has been fighting you for your favorite boy.

“jung jaehyun, where the hell are you?” you sigh and toss your phone. the restaurants are practically closing by now and your extravagant outfit has been sitting uncomfortably on your body.

not that you two had planned anything grand, just a simple dinner at your favorite restaurant and possibly indulge in a bottle of champagne. did he forget? he has been ignoring you the past days, and you’re not one to jump to conclusions, but he has been distant.

and nothing in your brain brings up any bad memories that you two didn’t amend. so why is he giving you the cold shoulder, especially on your anniversary night? it’s slightly hard to blink back tears when you stare at yourself in your bathroom mirror.

jaehyun loves you, right? you two trust each other. perhaps, he’s been having a hard week and needed space. one single droplet falls abruptly and hits your sink. but you wipe it away, remembering the foundation of your relationship is compromise. you had to meet him halfway.

so you sniff away any malice thoughts that threaten to break your relationship, and as you rush to grab your car keys. your phone rings and your heart falls into the pit of your stomach when you see the caller id.

“hey---”

“how was your anniversary date?! you gotta tell me all about it! did jaehyun get you flowers, he seems like the big bouquet type---”

“he never showed up.” you cut off your best friend, and the line goes silent on the other side of the receiver. it hurt more speaking it into existence, finally admitting it to yourself that your boyfriend never came for you.

“oh.. i’m sorry..” your best friend pauses, “do you want to come over here instead? fuck men.” she sounds persistent and a small vigor in her voice.

you take another deep breath, unsure now where to head to. you were so ready to barge into his apartment and check if he was even alive. “hold on.” you say as you check his location to make sure he’s home, but when you’re searching for his goofy contact picture, it doesn’t show up on the map. jaehyun turned off his location.

“he turned off his location.” you begin to tear up, but the gasp of your best friend catches you off guard.

“no fucking way. that piece of shit!” she yells and you cover your mouth to suffice the cries.

“i’ll come over.” you barely let out and your best friend wishes you a safe drive, telling you how she is ready to bust out all forms of social media to track if anyone was messing with your man.

but you feel a bit numb, more confused. he’s never turned off his location, is he hiding from you? but there are no secrets between you two. you hurry to your friend’s shared house, with unbelievable and unwanted tears running down your face.

there is no way. you reminded yourself of jaehyun’s loyalty and the trust you had in this man. he could never.

and when you pull up to the drive way, your affirmations are right. he could never.

jaehyun stands with the largest rose bouquet you’ve ever laid eyes on. his hair nicely slick back, in a suit to match your equally dressed up attire. he looks up from your head lights announcing your arrival and he can see the sadness that lingers on your cheeks.

he hurries to open your car door, and you shut the car off. “what the hell, jung jaehyun!” you lightly push at his shoulder when he reaches down for your hand.

he smiles sweetly, dimples deeply in his cheeks. “happy anniversary, y/n. you’re still absolutely breathtaking.”

you take his hand as he guides you to the entrance walkway, the bouquet of roses now in your other. rose petals are scattered on the pavement that lead to the front door and your best friend stands with the biggest grin on her face.

“you traitor!” you jokingly yell at her, but she cheekily hugs you.

“surprise! happy anniversary, y/n!” she guides you into her dining room and the table is full of your favorite dishes, prepped and cooked by two important people in your life.

you marvel at the fancy table cloth and pink balloons that roll around on the floor. it’s over the top cheesy, and definitely something you see in classic romance movies. and you laugh. you smile. you kiss jaehyun with gratitude.

“you can do this, but you can’t return my calls?” you raise an eyebrow at the handsome man, who blinks back at you with a gaze that makes your knees weak.

he chuckles, the baritone sounding lovely, “it’s because i was doing this, that i couldn’t return your calls. i wanted to surprise you with something special on this very important day.”

“you let me wait an hour!” you pout, of course you are more than grateful for your boyfriend setting up everything perfectly. you just wanted to express a few grumbles for more explanation.

“aw i’m sorry, baby. your best friend forgot to set an alarm to wake up from her nap... and i lost track of time when i was blowing the balloons. i swear she was suppose to call you earlier.” his thumb rubs circles on your jawline, as he gently caresses your face.

“i know, i’m the worst. but hey! you’re using my house, so i say we’re a little even.” your best friend laughs, grabbing her keys from the table. “have fun, lovebirds. you know which one the guestroom is.” she smiles before shutting the front door and leaving you two for privacy.

“why are you using her house?” jaehyun’s hand snakes around your waist, drawing you close to his toned torso. he plants a sneaky kiss against your neck, mumbling into your skin the answer to your question.

“jungwoo’s friend is staying over for the weekend. i can’t fuck you properly if we don’t have a bed, right?”

“don’t act like we haven’t done it without one before though.” your laugh is cut short as jaehyun gives your ass a small squeeze, groaning in your ear as filthy memories on his bedroom floor, bathroom, kitchen flood his thoughts.

“i’m a little hungry.. ready to eat?” when you meet his dark eyes, his devilish smirk and the suggestive tone imply something else. he is definitely going to make the lost hour up to you.

[blueeyedrichie]

I'm warning you now that this ask is a personal attack. Ally u awakened something in me that I didn't realize was dormant and now I need more trashy early-mid 2000s aus. I need a Myspace au where Eddie is a Paris Hilton wannabe with a velour tracksuit and a Motorola razor with a phone charm and all of his pics are mirror selfies. And Richie is a rawr xd emo with snakebites and the song on his Myspace page is like nobody puts baby in the corner or something Ally please I need it

I am fucking SCREAMING OVER THIS like this is my entire life now. Literally no cap I’m hhhhhhh so obsessed with this.

Not only am I absolutely sobbing over the image of Eddie in a fucking velour tracksuit (juicy couture brand, and best believe that thing says JUICY on the ass, also it’s baby blue uwu) but it just makes me so happy that he has it and likes to wear it???? Because you know he’d be hiding that from Sonia in the depths of his closet but the moment she leaves the house or maybe late at night he’s putting it on to snap a new photo, definitely just to show off to his internet friends and not at all to catch the attention of a certain someone from his class.

He has a pink razr, with a purple poof ball and a little green turtle as the charms; also there’s a little rainbow sticker on the battery cover :’) and he takes those absolutely horrible selfies in the bathroom from way up above his head and in the mirror that’s covered in fingerprints and toothpaste splashes and half the time you can definitely see the toilet in the background, but it’s easy to ignore because he looks so cute in his lil tracksuit (and when he’s feeling extra fancy he puts some glittery hard candy brand eyeshadow on) and spends literal hours deciding which one to upload as his new default picture, and probably another hour deciding what lyrics to use as his caption. He ends up going with now tell me, who have you been dreaming of? Since it’s from his current profile song “Stars Are Blind” by the one and only Paris Hilton.

Then we have Richie, with thick, black framed glasses, an absolute disaster of curls on his head that falls into his eyes; which are lined darkly to match the chipped polish on his nails. He wears black jeans and hoodies and band shirts exclusively, ranging from Fall Out Boy to My Chemical Romance to Mindless Self Indulgence. His MySpace song is “Shut Me Up”.

Richie has an orange EnV with a cracked screen and an “it’s not a phase” sticker on the back (the words are like an ombré of the bisexual flag colors bc I say so). His top 8 is literally just Tom and then a bunch of bands because he doesn’t fuck around with that shit.

He ABSOLUTELY has snake bites, and he wears bracelets and shit all the time (he has one of those lil handcuff bracelets from hot topic pls I hope someone knows what I’m talking abt) and definitely has a chain on his wallet that jingles every time he walks. He smokes under the bleachers at school and hangs out with like three people that like the same music as him.

It’s not that Richie and Eddie don’t want to hang out, it’s just that they don’t really run in the same circles. They only have art together, and Richie is always listening to his headphones while he draws, and Eddie stares at him from his spot beside him, always amazed at how well Richie can draw. Sometimes Richie looks up and catches his gaze and gives him a crooked little smile, his silver piercings glinting in the fluorescent light from above them. What Eddie doesn’t notice is how Richie watches him too, and thinks it’s cute the way Eddie daydreams and fiddles with his little phone charms during class.

Richie does a lot of really shitty photo edits in photofiltre bc he doesn’t wanna pay for photoshop. When the day comes that Eddie comments on his profile to ask if Richie can make him one, Richie agrees. And if they start messaging back and forth and Eddie takes longer to decide what he wants just so he can talk to Richie more, then that’s just fine.

And then they start commenting on each other’s photos and messaging everyday and talking more at school and neither of them will admit it, but it’s so much fucking fun. They’re so different but complement each other so well, and next thing he knows, Eddie is hanging out in Richies bedroom sharing earbuds with him and listening to “Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner” and maybe he doesn’t totally hate it. Richie begs him to change his profile song because “the whole Paris aesthetic is actually hot,” he winks, knowing about her ridiculous catch phrase, “but you gotta admit that song sucks shit.”

Eddie scoffs at him, but doesn’t remove the earbud and just keeps listening, stealthily scooting closer to Richie as he flips through a sketchbook and shows Eddie his favorite drawings. He points one out, asking who it is and why his face is like that.

“That’s Pete Wentz, and that’s his grr face,” Richie then makes the same face, sending Eddie into a fit of giggles.

And normally, Eddie wouldnt post a photo of himself without his outfit and makeup and hair done just right, bc his regular jeans and shorts and sweaters aren’t the look he’s going for on his online persona, but he has to get a photo with his crush, because suddenly having people know that he’s hanging with Richie is far more important than a lil break away from his aesthetic. Richie rolls his eyes, but smiles and agrees on one condition, “you have to do the grr face.” Eddie pouts but ultimately says yes. They stand in front of the mirror on the back of Richies door that’s covered in sloppily written lyrics in what Eddie assumes is sharpie. Eddie stares at himself and tries to get it just right, snapping a couple photos, all of which have Richie either laughing or throwing his hands up next to him.

“I can’t do it right.”

“Just do it like this,” Richie makes the face to Eddie in the mirror, who mimics him. “Just like that!” Richie takes the phone from him so Eddie can focus, and then when Eddie gets the face just right, Richie throws his free arm around Eddie’s waist and leans in to kiss his cheek, snapping a photo to capture Eddie with the little sneer, and then another of his cherry red cheeks and dropped jaw when he realizes Richie is kissing him.

They end up going on a date after that, and they both surprise each other with gifts. Eddie makes Richie a little beaded bracelet, R+E are in between the pink, blue, and purple beads. Richie gives him a drawing he did of the photo they took together, except he drew Eddie wearing his tracksuit instead of his other clothes.

They both change their default photos to match (Richie uses the one of Eddie looking shocked; Eddie uses the one with the grr face) and they split the lyrics from another one of Richies fav Fall Out Boy songs for their captions: I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive on Richies and now I only waste it dreaming of you on Eddie’s.

[begrudginglytumbling]

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four,  Part Five, Part Six

Part Three!

...or I suppose technically it’s part two of Part Two since this one will finish up what the other one started.

Shall we return to Grow Up?

(This’ll be long even though I managed to be a little ruthless and cut some of the images.)

We’ll start with the staffroom and finish with the dorm rooms.

I am only assuming it’s a staffroom. For all I know it could be some kind of common room. But they spend a damned lot of time there. They eat. They hangout. They study. And it’s not just the students, so I’m calling it a staffroom.

Anyway! This breakfast bar thing props up a fair amount of leaning, from general side leans.

To the favoured elbow hook lean.

What I find funny about this particular surface is that Bai Yu’s legs are so long that he actually can’t sit ‘properly’ at it. If he sits straight, then he has to lean forward, since his knees are knocking into it. And when he does sit close (his feet aren’t on the floor, since he’s on a stool, so he can sit properly), he has to spread his legs in some form of obscene manspreading fashion that made me cackle and that I apparently managed to not get a screenshot of (and annoyingly I can’t remember which episode it was in).

Right then, on to the table.

Literally.

On to the table.

Because, clearly, Bai Yu can’t resist sitting on a tabletop.

I made a post about it a while ago, but I’m still not over it so, just as a quick break from the sitting - that outfit is certainly a choice of the wardrobe department.

I mean just look at it, with it’s mustard trousers paired with that top, and a lime green tie. It’s like someone threw the 70s at him or something and went with whatever stuck. I feel like it shouldn’t work. But why does it? Is it a Bai Yu thing?

I mean I know he can pull off some slightly questionable fashion choices - that denim on denim look he has as Zhao Yunlan is something I’d normally say isn’t a good idea, but he looks damn good in it. There is also the jacket with the buttons on the back that I’m still questioning to this day. And the time they apparently rolled him in glitter. And, ok, I happily admit that I don’t tend to understand fashion, and I understand even less of Chinese fashion, but, just, how did this choice come about? Pretty much everyone else in this show seems to wear ‘normal’ sedate clothes. Then there’s this guy. With his bright colours, his polka dots on polka dots, and his cravats. Honestly, mixing his outfit choices with his sitting preferences and relationships, I’m becoming convinced that this is just another example of Bai Yu giving his character Disaster Bi energy. The dude ain’t straight, and the dude ain’t gay. I’d say this dude is a Certified Disaster Bi.

Ok, back to the table and Bai Yu’s leaning back in an almost draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls manner.

And, like, there is a chair right there.

But nope.

The unpadded table is apparently more appealing for this man’s relatively flat arse than the padded chair that is right there.

I mean, yeah, he makes an appealing picture that’s visually different from everything else going on, but that does not negate the fact he ignored the empty chair that’s right next to him in favour of draping himself over the table.

And look, he can sit at the table as opposed to on it. There’s quite a few instances where he’s sitting at the table in a chair like a proper person. Granted, in pretty much every instance he’s sitting with his legs crossed, because god forbid he have both feet touching the floor.

But of course this table also sees moments where he’s doing something different to the others. Like here. Everyone is standing, he’s sitting.

I think he’s sulking a bit in this one, but still. Different position, different aura, still not supporting his own meagre weight.

And here with his gay little scout-esque neckerchief/scarf thing, leaning back, not sitting properly.

He does this lean back on the sofa too.

The shot is only a couple of seconds long, then he’s standing up, just like in Part Two, where he’s the only one sitting when the Teacher Doctor guy opens the door, and I touched on this a little in the previous part. But I’m really starting to think it might be a deliberate thing that’s quite clever in drawing the eye.

I should probably preface this with saying I know basically nothing about the processes that go into acting and film making. I am however technically a historian by degree and, therefore, fully capable of pulling theories out of my arse which I will then scrabble around to find sources to back them up.

So! The theory is that movement naturally draws the human eye, and if everyone is the same then a scene can fall flat. Sameness is boring, your eyes can flit over it and not take in any details.

Bai Yu?

Bai Yu is a fidget (seriously go watch his livestream videos, he fidgets, fiddles, and wriggles), this movement can be used to his advantage in drawing the eye. That scene up there? He’s not just leaning back, he’s also shifting about. He’s not in focus, but you can be damned sure that movement made my eyes focus on him before I even knew it was him.

And for combating the sameness? Look at the examples above - he’s lounging on the table, different posture to everyone else - he’s sitting while everyone else is standing -  in the previous part he’s standing while everyone else is sitting. I thought at first my eyes were drawn because it’s Bai Yu and, well, he’s a favourite of mine so why wouldn’t my eyes be drawn. But then I realised they would’ve been, regardless, because he’s different. He breaks up the sameness, he stops it being flat. It reminded me of a scene in Pride and Prejudice, where the Bennett girls turn one way, but Mrs. Bennett turns the other. I remember watching or reading a commentary about it, the move being praised. I don’t remember exactly what was said, just that it was praised for being different and adding something to the scene, and it made me wonder if Bai Yu makes similar decisions?

Ok, onto the seating area proper.

He was actually sitting on an armchair properly before this, with both feet on the floor and everything...he looked so uncomfortable. Then he moved to sit on the arm of the sofa, because of course he did.

Y’know, pillows get hugged a lot in this programme, mainly by Bai Yu, but by others too sometimes.

And why sit normally when there’s a perfectly good coffee table in front of you to rest your foot on and make some viewers wince because why is your ankle bending that way? How is that even comfortable?

Just look at it. Barely resting on the table with his other foot adding weight to it.

You make my joints ache, sir.

Ok so technically I probably could’ve cut this one, since he’s just sitting on the sofa, nothing fancy, legs crossed, arm slung over the back as he pulls faces while she’s playing a game - she’s training to be a doctor but has a fear of blood so to get her use to it his character gets her to play fighting games(?) and someone else puts red dye on her hands - but this ends up leading to...

...this.

And just...what? How...?

That can’t be comfortable, surely.

I don’t even...are your joints even real, sir?

If your own joints are twinging in sympathy pain, this is your chance to go give your arms a shake and your body a wiggle before we head to the last section of the dorm rooms. Make sure everything is where it should be to remind yourself that you’re not the broken marionette doll Bai Yu can apparently become.

Right. All shook out? Good.

First stop the girls’ dorms, last stop the boys’.

There’s not much in the main girls’ room, really, just his usual sitting with his legs crossed because obviously the floor is lava and can’t be trusted with both feet.

I’m not sure how much he can be blamed for this one, as he’s technically been thrown into the chair by the little doctor trainee whose character reminds me a bit of Wen Qing.

As a side note, when you’re watching something that you don’t understand the language of, scenes like this can really throw you, because you’re just sitting there minding your own business, when suddenly they’re alone in the room together and Bai Yu’s character is taking off his tie, before striping off his shirt and tossing it on the sofa, and then you’re sitting there like wait, what? When did...? I thought...? What? But then he just gets tossed into the chair and some kind of conversation happens that makes you relax because, yeah, from your vague understanding of the characters, that makes more sense.

Even though he was tossed down, he didn’t actually need to keep his feet on the chair, but of course that didn’t stop him.

He is actually capable of looking comfortable sitting in this particular chair, he even gets to hug a pillow while doing it.

Now then, the boys’ dorm.

He came in, he saw them, he plopped down on the coffee table.

He could’ve sat on the sofa, he could’ve pulled up a chair, but nope. Coffee table.

Obviously, as previously mentioned, the floor is lava, so at the first opportunity he lifted both feet on the table and happily sat on it like an indulgent cat or something.

The sofa.

This sofa is not big enough for a full Bai Yu stretch out, but he can happily curl up on either end.

You could turn him into Bai Yu themed bookends.

Now, from watching Guardian we are all aware that this man is fully capable of embodying the spirit of a cat.

I, however, raise you the spirit of a Great Dane.

I see no difference between these two images.

Also not even this character’s mother can get him to sit properly. She prods him up and shuffles him over, and the first thing he does is pull up a knee.

Y’know how people starfish in bed? Well Bai Yu can apparently starfish in an armchair. He just plops down and flings his limbs out.

I almost didn’t catch this one, it’s part of some studying montage thing, and I thought he was sitting properly since he’s leaning forward, and I can clearly see his slippers.

Then I had a ‘wait, hold up’ moment, went back, and looked properly.

There are no feet in those slippers.

There are no legs attached to them.

So even when you think he’s sitting properly. He isn’t because he is kneeling. And I almost missed this ridiculousness!

Yes, Bai Yu, sit on a bed post that is clearly not meant to be sat on.

This is a moment where he could’ve leant against the wall, but evidently saw even the smallest flat surface as an invitation to sit.

Is that post migrating to places a bed post shouldn’t be migrating to?

Should’ve thought of that before you went and sat on it.

Not only does illness and subsequent surgery give him an excuse to lay on a gurney, it also gives him an excuse to lay in bed!

Apparently being tucked in by other men is also something not entirely unique to Bai Yu’s Zhao Yunlan. That bloke, the roommate that he went on a not-date-but-looked-like-a-date-with-wine-and-everything, seems like an absolute sweetheart and I’m still pissed at what they did in the last episode. It was uncalled for, script writers, uncalled for!

Although, I suppose, in regards to this project, it is kinda ironic that by the end, of the three men in their 'friendship group' of seven, Bai Yu’s character is the last one standing.

If I was a ‘they were roommates. Oh god they were roommates’ kinda writer these beds would be a bloody godsend. Just look at the watching and pining potential if top bunk guy was mooning over bottom bunk guy, while top bunk was doing work at his desk, and bottom bunk was sleeping.

The potential, people, the potential.

So that’s it. Grow Up is all done, and I can confidently put this in the column of Bai Yu quirks that become character quirks.

If you want to watch it, it’s available on Youtube, but there aren’t any subtitles. It’s on Dramacool too, but, again, no subtitles and the quality is horrid compared to Youtube.

Considering I couldn’t care less about the main storyline, it’s not actually a bad little drama.

Part One, Part Two , Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

[pinkplantmakesstuff]

Characters creation questions: GW2 edition

Heck yeah! @krystha made another super fun question list thingie! You can find the original one HERE!  Again I’ll pop it under a cut because I think it’s going to get a bit long oops!

1. Do you have an idea before or after creating a character?

Before! Like sometimes I’ll just play around to try out different combinations, but that’s just because I like mixing and matching! If I’m going to be making a character I always have an idea of someone in my head already. (Literally I am full of random character ideas there are too many ;0; )

2. Which race is your favorite to imagine a story about? Human! I love the opening options a lot! (Especially the Street Rat start)

3. Which race is your favorite to customize? Human and sylvari - Human because I can make more of my characters, and sylvari because I often end up using them to make other sorts of characters rather then sylvari! Technically in game I have four vari (Only one of which is actually a sylvari, the other three are other things XD)

4.  Does the profession play a role in the visual? Yes and no? Like sure Pépin is a mesmer and is very pink, but he’s also very pink in all my other versions of him too XD And my thief wears super fancy expensive looking clothing because she’s rich and likes nice things rather then dressing for stealthyness! Alec I think was originally dressed to sort of fit a necromancer vibe, but that was 5 years ago when I made him so now it’s just sort of, what he looks like 😅

5.  Do you often use the same faces? For humans, not at all! There are lots of different ones to pick from and considering I’ve only got 3 humans at the moment I’ve still got plenty I love before I repeat. Sylvari-wise is a bit different because some of them I love and some I’m kinda eh about, BUT I haven’t repeated faces yet!

6. Do you often use the same skin colors? For my first two humans I did, because I’m preeeeetty sure when I first made them Alec and Axelia were supposed to be twins or something, but I can’t remember and that was long ago. The rest are all varied, and my sylvari depends on whatever I think works for the character!

7. Do you often use the same tattoos? Whenever I make a norn (Well, preview norns, I don’t have any) I always like that neck band tattoo one!

8. Do you use the sliders for the face or not? Yup! Always! I normally have a very specific vibe/emotion/expression I want to go for (Rather then look because I know that they won’t look how I want which is also why I draw the character first so I just see them as that when I play!) I really REALLY want a mouth corner slider so we can make them have smiley or sad mouths ;0;

9. Do you bother to pick colors for the starter armor or not? Sort of, I make them all a dark greyish colour and then as soon as I’m on the actual game I slap on some of my fancier dyes!

10. Do you pick carefully the choices for your character base story? Again sort of, I kind of just pick the ones that are closest to what is already in my head!

12. Do you not bother at all and only use a makeover kit once in game? Again it depends! Normally I’ve already planned the character on the aesthetician preview person and print screened the sliders I want, then when starting the game I sort out the sliders and depending or not if the face is exclusive, just pick the closest one til I get a makeover kit!

13. Do you like/use exclusive faces/hairstyles more? On humans I like a lot of the non-exclusives too, but on sylvari I definitely prefer the exclusive hairs, and most of the faces too. Though I do prefer the greater variety of colours that come with the kits.

14. Outfit or armor? If it’s a light class then armour because I’ve got a bunch of skins unlocked, but on medium or heavy classes I have hardly any so out comes the outfits. I do use outfits a lot depending on location too though, like I always love popping them in the clothes that match the temperature of the zone like the Arctic Explorer outfit for cold places! (And that way it doesn’t cost transmutaion charges)

15.  Do you stick with one armor for each character or do you change a lot? I have one main “permanent” outfit that I think normally fits the character well, and then the second equipment slot is dedicated to changing clothes and stuff for events etc. Alec is still being designed outfit wise though so he’s changing quite a bit at the moment!

16.  If yes, why? Is it for “RP” reasons or just aesthetic ones? I don’t think it counts for rp if it’s just me telling the story in my own head ;0; Pép’s spare outfits WERE because he was a rp character ages ago before we stopped. So they kinda are for rp I guess because I’m like, role-playing the story as I go! That’s why Alec’s DOES keep changing because initially he was jsut aesthetic (I.E whatever I thought looked cool and goth) but didn’t suit his character which is what I’m trying to do now!

17. Do you have a timeline for your characters (ie. date of birth, armors throughout the story)? For my main boy Alec yes! But I haven’t written it down yet, and it’s very condensed for the poor bastard, literally like, a month after Mordremoth he’s gotta get going again (And that’s with him having only just lost his arm a month prior. No wonder he’s so stressed out. So I don’t really stick to like, the official “years”,  but there is (And will be XD) a timeline when I get around to it!

18/19.  Is there a title you use more than another? It used to be Dark Traveller because it was cool sounding and I only had like, two titles, now each character has a different one that suits them! I really LOVE “Sweet Tooth” though. I forced poor Alec to eat 2,500 Candy Canes just so I could give Pépin the title 😅 I also want to unlock Romantic for Pépin too and alternate between the two!

20.  What is a big difference from when you started the game to now in regard of characters creation (ie. going faster, going slower, making bold choices, settling on a particular style, etc)? Considering I started and designed my first characters like, five years ago and then stopped playing for a while I don’t remember. I think I just went “Ohhh I can be cool and gothic I’mma do that,” and now I’m like “ Here are ALL MY IDEAS, time to JAM THEM INTO THIS CHARACTER” and then force the game to be what I want it to be XD

Ah sorry this is so long XD And also I use a lot of !!! oops! Anyway, if people wanna answer these they can anyway but I’ll also tag some people BUT you can also just totally ignore this lmao. I just love questions a lot! @commandertollwife @ashals-dream @commander-wame @captainfinebuns @little-leaf-man @leftincommand

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (13/?)

AO3 link: here (Fun fact: This was actually one of the earliest scenes written and is one of the reasons why I decided to turn this story into a full fic.)

“Kyou-chan, is that you?!”

A stack of papers fell to the ground. Kirako stared at me from the reception area, her mouth dropping open in shock as I stepped through the doors into the Armed Detective Agency’s main office.

“You look amazing! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Don’t just stand there!” Yosano insisted, planting two black-gloved hands on my back and shoving me forward when she noticed I’d actually stopped moving. “Go inside! We need to show you off!”

Ignoring the uncomfortable whining noises coming out of my throat, Yosano kept pushing me deeper and deeper into the room until I was standing in the middle of the office, stiff as a statue as the other receptionists and detectives shuffled forward to see what the commotion was about.

“Gather round, everyone!” Yosano called, as if I were a show pony being brought in for a performance, “I give you... the new and improved Kyou-chan! Doesn’t she look like a proper detective now?”

I didn’t just look more like a proper detective now, I looked like an entirely different person—one who didn’t spend the last six months holed up in an apartment watching anime and forgetting to shower. My new “uniform,” as Yosano called it, consisted of several basic pieces. I was wearing a crisp, white short-sleeve blouse with slightly puffy sleeves, tucked into a high-waisted burgundy A-line skirt (same color as my eyes) that ended just around my knees. I wore a pair of coffee-brown Oxfords on my feet with low, white socks and to complete the look, Yosano had tied a bright red ribbon around my neck, to draw attention to my face. She’d also insisted I purchase a tan, blazer-like jacket (it was almost as long as my skirt) for the colder days and a portfolio-style messenger bag for my notebooks and sketching supplies. Overall, the final result was pretty staggering and I noticed we’d definitely gotten a few stares as we walked back to the Agency together.

“Yosano-sensei!” one of the girls exclaimed, raising her hand high in the air. “Do me next! I want a makeover too!”

As Yosano beamed beside me like a proud mother, chatting with the girls about all the shops she’d taken me to—dragged me to, more like—I found myself fiddling with my new clothes again.

“Prepare yourself,” she’d said the other day. I had taken that to mean shaving my legs and showering before we’d gone out. I didn’t realize that I should’ve prepared for a full day’s outing crammed into the span of a few hours. And after the night I’d had too...

Something had happened to my brain the day I’d finished the serial killing/kidnapping case—something strange that I really didn’t want to think too hard about... I couldn’t look Kunikida in the face the entire way back to the Agency and when the tall, blonde detective had insisted on sitting right there next to me for the rest of the evening, I was barely able to concentrate on writing my reports. If I hadn’t offered to finish doing the filing for him, I might’ve never gotten him to leave, and then I really wouldn’t have been able to get anything done. And to think, Kunikida had actually been planning to stay a little later and even walk me home...!

I had to turn him down. My heart would not have been able to handle it.

I ended up staying way later than I initially expected and I was so drained by the time I made it back to my apartment, that it was all I could do to remember to brush and floss before I completely passed out on my futon.

Then, at seven in the morning, just before my alarm was supposed to go off, I woke to the racket of someone ringing my doorbell nonstop and my cell phone buzzing like crazy. If it wasn’t for caller ID, I would’ve assumed it was another prank by Dazai or that the Port Mafia had come to get me but it was only Yosano, coming to take me shopping like she’d promised. I’d wrongfully assumed she’d meant Friday afternoon, after work (it was a rare half-day after all) but no, she wanted to make a day of it.

“You deserve a break after finishing your first major case!” she’d exclaimed, dragging me out the door as soon as I’d finished putting on a pair of shoes. “Now that you’re on your way to becoming a real detective, we need to dress you like one.”

Everything had happened so fast—taking the train to the fashion district—being marched into shops I would never set foot in on my own—getting shoved into dressing rooms with my arms piled high with all sorts of clothes—on and on until hours had passed and I was walking down the street with several bags in my hands and a brand new outfit on my body (I suspected Yosano had quietly disposed of the raggedy hoodie and jeans I’d been wearing when I’d come out this morning). When I asked Yosano about going to work this morning, she just shushed me and shoved another pair of pants at me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t keep up any more, Yosano hooked her arm around mine and redirected me from the train station, where I’d been trying to sneak off, to the front of a fancy-looking hair salon “for the appointment.”

As I stood in the entryway, listing a little from exhaustion, she breezed on through to the back and returned with a young man with bright pink hair at her side. The young man, a friend of “Akiko-san’s,” as he called her, was a stylist at the salon—one of the best in the city, Yosano had proclaimed. He took one look at my choppy ponytail, made the exact face shown in the Edvard Munch’s “The Scream,” and whisked me off towards the back to “fix it.” I wasn’t actually sure I had enough to “fix” but Yosano was right, the man was a genius. I ended up with something similar to a very feminine (and very cute!) boy-cut that blended perfectly with my ruined bangs and ended halfway down my neck.

They even did some light makeup for me as a thank you to Yosano for helping them solve a case a while back. As I reached up and ran my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, I saw the stylist and Yosano exchange an actual high-five from behind me. I had to admit, it felt incredible to see myself looking like this—I had no idea I could be made to look this cute—but now that we were back in the office and people were poking their heads up to look at me, it felt kind of embarrassing.

“Yosano-sensei, you don’t have to shout,” I pleaded, my face growing warm as the clerk girls chattered around me, oohing and ahhing over my new clothes and hair. “Everyone’s still working...!”

“Ugh, talking about work again? You sound like Kunikida-kun,” Yosano said, grimacing. “We gotta make sure you start partnering with some of the other detectives or you’ll turn into a four-eyed workhorse too.”

“H-he’s not that bad...”

“Ohh...?”

Yosano raised an eyebrow, looking a little more closely at my face. She rubbed her chin and I instantly felt my stomach tie itself into a knot. I’d seen that face before, but not on Yosano—this was the same face Dazai liked to make just before he caused trouble. Without warning, Dr. Yosano turned to Kunikida and called out.

“Oi, Kunikida-kun! What do you think? Kyou-chan looks pretty cute like this, right?”

Kunikida looked up. I froze as his gray-green eyes swept over me. It was nothing more than a quick glance up and a single curt nod, but it was still more than enough to make my pulse race. Thankfully, before Yosano could say anything else, Kirako suddenly rushed in.

“Kyou-chan!” she gasped, looking slightly out of breath in her sudden rush forward, “You like bubble tea cafes right?”

Thankful for the distraction, I turned my full attention away from Yosano to her. I hoped Yosano couldn’t see how red my face was getting as she kept trying to direct Kunikida’s attention back to me.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, deliberately trying to ignore Yosano and Kunikida chatting behind me (“You’re sure that’s all?” she teased, poking him upside the head).

“I love cafes! Why do you ask?”

“Perfect! Because if you’re free tomorrow evening, I have a small favor I need to ask of you.”

At once, Kirako’s hands slammed onto my shoulders, with enough force to actually make my knees buckle. Stunned, I stared into her bright green eyes, which suddenly glowed with an intensity strong enough to rival the mid-day sun.

“You see,” she continued casually, her tone contrasting wildly with the manic glint in her eyes, “my old friends from high school invited me to go on a group date. Naomi here is obviously too young—”

“--And not interested!” Naomi called from across the room as Kirako rolled her eyes.

“—And not interested in going. There’s four guys who said they’d come get dinner with us tomorrow but currently only three girls.”

Her grip tightened meaningfully on my shoulders and I had the horrible feeling that perhaps I had been lied to and Kirako was actually a combat member of the Agency. Kirako smiled.

“What do you think? Come with us, Kyou-chan?”

“Uh...” I stammered, my eyes darting about the room as I tried to think of a convincing enough reason to refuse.

“I don’t know...”

Without meaning to, I glanced over at Kunikida’s desk, where the tall, bespectacled detective sat staring thoughtfully at his computer screen, lightly tapping his fingers against his green notebook. He shifted slightly in his chair and for a single, terrifying second, I thought he was going to look up. Heat suddenly flooded into my cheeks and I quickly tore my eyes away before Kunikida could look up—only to look straight into the bright brown eyes of the bandaged detective sitting across from him.

Dazai’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise, then flashed in knowing amusement and I felt every last hair on the back of my neck rise as Dazai slowly grinned at me. When he reached over and poked Kunikida on the forehead, one horrifying thought solidified in my head:

He knows.

“Kyou-chan?”

The sound of Kirako’s voice brought me back and I forced myself to look at her face and not at the detectives behind her, who were now arguing loudly about something I really didn’t want to hear.

“Right. Well, you see—”

“Dazai!! What the hell do you think you’re doing—?!”

“Just trying to cheer you up in the middle of your shift—”

There was a crashing noise and I grimaced, trying and failing to block out the sounds of their fighting as I tried to think of an excuse for why I couldn’t make the group date. I could feel myself getting more and more agitated as the noise level suddenly increased and I stopped trying to talk entirely when Kirako suddenly whirled around and yelled at Dazai and Kunikida in a voice loud enough to make the walls rattle.

“Would you two just SHUT UP!”

Turning her attention back to me, Kirako sighed, rubbing her temple with well-manicured fingers as Dazai and Kunikida abruptly stopped fighting and the room grew quiet at last.

“Now then, where were we? Huh? Kyou-chan, are you okay? Your face is kind of red.”

“YES! I’m totally fine!” I exclaimed.

I clapped my hands over my mouth and groaned as I turned even redder. My voice came out way louder than I’d meant it to and I closed my eyes to block out the stares of everyone within earshot. When I opened my eyes again, I tried as hard as I could to focus on Kirako and only Kirako. I didn’t dare look in the direction of my own desk—if I looked at either Dazai or Kunikida right now, I was finished.

“I mean,” I coughed, my voice sounding strained, even to my own ears, “It’s not a big deal, just... a slight cough. That’s all.”

I hacked out another, more believable cough (I hoped) and averted my eyes when Yosano turned to look at me suspiciously.

“I probably stayed out a little too late yesterday, didn’t drink enough water. You know how it is. I’m not feeling up to an outing right now but maybe next time...?”

I wanted to kick myself. “Next time” meant I’d have to go through this again in the future. Hopefully by then, I would no longer be available to join Kirako on a group date... My eyes once again slid towards Dazai and Kunikida but I was able to force myself to look away before anyone noticed.

“Oh, really?” Kirako sounded disappointed.

She took her hands off my shoulders, leaving the fabric of my jacket slightly wrinkled and sweaty from her grip.

“That’s okay, I understand,” she said, deflating noticeably. “You helped close a pretty tough case just yesterday, of course you’re tired...”

“I-I’m really sorry,” I mumbled and I meant it.

I could feel alternating waves of guilt and relief washing over me as she left for her station and it was with a somewhat heavy heart that I took the report she’d finished for me and left for the Military Police outpost to drop it off. She was gone by the time I returned to the clerk room and as I trudged back into the main office, I made a mental note to find a way to make it up to her somehow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Dazai at his desk, waving his bandaged arms and silently mouthing my name.

“I want to talk to you!” he seemed to be saying and at once, I turned around and ignored him.

I didn’t know what Dazai wanted with me, waving like that, but I did know that I wanted no part of it. Nothing good ever came from indulging that man.

I glanced up at the clock, saw that there was still one hour left in the work day, and promptly busied myself by playing runner and taking care of small, minor errands all around the office. I was determined to spend this last hour avoiding Dazai and the desk area he shared with the others and whenever it seemed I was running out of things to do, I fell back on asking Yosano if she needed help with anything, anything at all. Luckily, the good doctor took my behavior as gratitude for taking me out this morning (it honestly was) and I succeeded in staying away from my old desk area for the rest of the day.

And good thing too. The moment I’d come back from the shopping trip, Dazai had appeared to lose all interest in work, choosing to spend the rest of his time at the Agency either outright staring at me or doing his best to try to get my attention. I could feel his eyes on me wherever I went and if I so much as turned my head in his general direction, he would start waving again or smile as brightly (and flirtatiously) as possible from across the room. He only stopped when Kunikida threatened to drag him into the server room to give him another beating if he didn’t get back to work.

That final hour seemed to stretch for the duration of an entire day but when it finally ended, I found myself breathing an enormous sigh of relief. I had been assigned a desk at last and, unfortunately, it was right where Dazai’s and Kunikida’s desks were. I wanted to wait until everyone had left before I started moving my stuff in so I bid goodbye to the staff one by one as they slowly filed out.

I tried to keep my smile as normal as possible when I saw Kunikida out the door but there was nothing I could do to stop the blood from rushing to my face when he said goodbye back. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

Breathing yet another sigh of relief, I stood in the middle of the empty office and went to the locker room to retrieve the things I’d stored. But just when I thought I was safe, I stepped back into the main room with my one large paper bag in hand to see Dazai, standing in the doorway to the other hall, with his arms crossed and a playful grin playing about his lips.

I realized I had not said goodbye to him earlier and now we were the only two people left in the building. Inwardly, I swore.

“So,” he said, his grin widening. “Kunikida-kun, huh?”

I ignored him and went to my desk, opening drawers and putting my things away as originally planned.

“What about him?”

I heard footsteps approaching as Dazai left the doorway and walked towards me.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” he said, plopping down backwards in Kunikida’s chair. Scooting forward until he was right next to me, he propped his bandaged arm up on his partner’s desk and rested his chin in his hand.

“Could it be? You don’t want to go on that group date with Haruno-san because of what Kunikiiiida-kun might think?”

“It’s getting late, Dazai-san,” I said politely, slamming my bag on my desk as I drew myself up to my full height and glared down at him. “Shouldn’t you be going home now?”

“C’mon, Kyou-chan. We’re friends aren’t we? You can tell me the truth. If you’re interested in Kunikiiiida-kun, I could help you get his attention.”

I scowled.

“No thanks. And why are you calling me by my first name again? I thought we agreed to avoid giving people the wrong idea?”

Dazai raised an eyebrow.

“But there’s no one around to get the wrong idea.”

And to demonstrate, he waved one bandaged arm around the empty room.

“See?” he asked, kicking off on one foot and spinning around in Kunikida’s black pleather chair like a top, one end of the many bandages wrapped around his forearm coming loose and flying beside him like a dingy party streamer made of linen.

“It’s just you and me. So there’s nothing we need to avoid. No reason to be keeping secrets from anyone. Right?”

He stopped swiveling and the linen bandage floated to a stop with him. Leaning forward, Dazai placed his hands on the back of the chair and tucked his chin on top of his long fingers, so that he looked like a puppy begging for scraps. He smiled, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling merrily.

“Kyou-chan?”

I bit my lip.

God damn Dazai. He actually looks pretty cute when he does that...

He scooted closer and internally, I shook myself.

No. He’s doing this on purpose. The last time he looked at me like that, he asked me to die with him and I...

I swallowed and closed my eyes.

No. Don’t think about that.

Yosano had cut my hair and changed my clothes. The old Kyou—the ghoul in the window that was my old reflection was gone and she would stay gone so long as I never thought about her again. If I could just become strong and become a full member of the Agency, I could bury her and leave her and all my old problems behind with her.

“Well? What do you say?” Dazai asked.

He slowly reached for my hand.

“You can call me ‘Osamu...’”

“No!!”

I pushed him back and my bag fell off the table with a loud crash. All my sketchbooks and art supplies scattered across the floor and I cursed as I dropped down to my knees to pick them back up.

“I’m not calling you that,” I gasped as I struggled to chase after a rolling piece of charcoal that was rolling under a desk several paces away. I threw myself on the floor and shoved my hand under the desk, dust and candy wrappers scattering around me as I reached for the short, blackened cylinder.

“We’re coworkers, Dazai-san and I don’t think it would be appropriate for us to be...”

Grasping the piece of charcoal in my hand at last, I glanced back to see Dazai looking at me with a very cheerful look on his face. It took me a second too long to realize my butt was in the air and he was definitely staring at it.

I flushed.

“You creep!!”

I clambered to my feet and stormed over.

“If you think I’m ever letting you call me ‘Kyou’ after that,” I snapped, shoving my belongings back into my bag as fast as I was able. “You’ve got another thing coming!”

Dazai shrugged, his coat making an oddly heavy rustling sound as he moved his shoulders.

“Alright, Kusunoki-kun. Alright. But before you go, could you answer one question for me...?”

Mirroring me, Dazai got to his feet. Drawing himself up to his full height, so that I was forced to look up at him, he grinned. There was a dark look in his eye and a week ago, I might’ve backed down, but at the moment, the only thing I could feel was the white-hot burn of humiliation and rage. I stood my ground, my pulse pounding in my ears, as Dazai’s half-bandaged hand slid towards me on my own desk, that Cheshire grin stretched across his lips coming closer with every passing second.

“Tell me,” he whispered, stopping only when his nose was a couple centimeters from mine, “How much would you hate being called ‘Kyou-chan’... if your name was coming out of Kunikiiiida-kun’s mouth?”

At the thought of the tall, blonde detective calling me in the same low, sultry voice that Dazai had just used, heat exploded in my face. The bandaged brunette saw the blood rushing to my cheeks; his teasing grin widened and I turned away.

“Quit making this about Kunikida-san!” I snapped, pushing him away. “The reason I said no to Kirako-san has nothing to do with him.”

“Really?” Dazai mused, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched me stomp towards the door.

“So, does that mean I still have a chance?”

I stopped.

I turned and gave him an exasperated look.

“Depends.”

I had never sounded so sarcastic in my life.

“You still dead set on that double-suicide?”

“Well yes,” he answered, blinking innocently at me when I rolled my eyes and continued heading for the door. “but I already said I’d wait for you, didn’t I?”

I scoffed.

“I thought I told you I have no interest in dying, Dazai-san.”

I could actually hear my own frustration in the depths of my sigh.

“I’m leaving. See you tomorrow...”

“Oh, wait. Kyou—I mean, Kusunoki-kun. I have something for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Even if it’s something that tells you everything you’d like to know about Kunikida-kun’s ideal woman?”

I froze.

There was an odd flapping sound, like pages being turned and I spun around to see Dazai pulling Kunikida’s lightly-bound olive-green notebook out of his trench coat. He held it up before me so that I could see the cover, the word “Ideal” unmistakably printed on its slightly weathered surface.

“It starts on page fifty-three.”

My bag slipped off my shoulder.

“Where did you get that?”

Dazai shrugged.

“I may have pick-pocketed him when he was trying to strangle me earlier.”

I took a step forward.

“Give that back.”

“Back?”

He raised an eyebrow and his grin turned into a smirk.

“But it’s not yours to take back either, Kusunoki-kun.”

“Hand it over, Dazai-san.”

I lunged for it but he was too fast for me. Dazai whipped the notebook high into the air and I immediately collided with his chest, knocking us both onto Kunikida’s desk. When I tried jumping for it again, my face met with Dazai’s hand.

“Seriously?” I gasped, trying to get around his defenses. “Are you five?”

“Sticks and stones, Kusunoki-kun,” Dazai sang, clearly enjoying his little game of keep-away.

“Give��it—to—me—!” I panted, trying to push myself forward, past a tangle of bandaged limbs and torso and reaching out for that little green notebook.

But just as I got within reach, Dazai’s half-bandaged hand wrapped around my wrist and, using that as leverage, he yanked me down on top of him.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Dazai whispered, his dark eyes glittering mischievously.

I felt my blood boil.

“Can you actually stop,” I snapped, pushing myself back up, “being a pervert for just one—”

I was too focused on getting the notebook back. I hadn’t even heard the sound of feet running down the hallway until the door to the office flew open and hit the wall with a dry-wall cracking BANG.

“DAZAI!!” a familiar male voice screamed.

I let out a surprised yelp and turned towards the door. There, standing in the doorway and looking angrier than ever, was Kunikida. His sharp green-gray eyes swept over the scene and when his gaze fell upon me and Dazai, his eyes narrowed. I looked back at the absolutely delighted expression on Dazai’s face and my soul almost left my body.

In my futile attempts to reach Kunikida’s notebook, I had literally climbed on top of Dazai and we were now both on top of Kunikida’s desk. One of my hands was still outstretched and reaching for the little green notebook while Dazai’s free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the notebook, was still clamped firmly around my wrist. Worst of all, my knee-length skirt had been hiked all the way up to my thigh in the struggle and my chest was firmly pushed up against Dazai’s. As Kunikida’s eyebrows slowly lifted up, the ribbon around my neck came untied.

I pushed Dazai away and hastily climbed off the desk, making the bandaged detective smack his head against a thick binder and drop the notebook. Spotting my chance, I snatched the fallen notebook off the ground and ran towards Kunikida.

“K-Kunikida-san...!” I stammered, pushing the notebook into his waiting hands. “It’s not what you think...! Dazai—”

“Oh! Kunikida-kun!” Dazai exclaimed, waving a little. “Good timing. You dropped your notebook—”

“Dazai,” Kunikida growled, his shoulders tensing visibly.

I thought I saw a vein pulsing in his temple.

“Not only did you steal my notebook, you also thought you’d drag Kusunoki into this? This is too much, even for you.”

Bloodlust radiated off his entire frame. Not wanting to stick around for the aftermath, I dropped into a quick bow, blurted out a hasty goodbye to the two of them and ran for the door with my bag in my arms. I reached the hallway just in time as a cacophony of crashing noises and Dazai yelling in pain echoed down the corridor. Re-tying the ribbon around my neck, I set off for the elevator without so much as a backwards glance.

He got me. He got me good.

Not only did Dazai figure out that I was starting to develop a crush on Kunikida from just one glance, he’d also managed to make it look like we were doing something inappropriate after hours—and on top of Kunikida’s desk, no less! Was he actively trying to ruin the little good standing I had with Kunikida for fun? Did he want me to join him in that double suicide so bad? Or was he really just hoping that either Kunikida or I would get fed up enough to grant his death wish by beating him to a pulp?

I sighed and pushed the button for the elevator door, putting my earbuds in so I could drown out the sound of Kunikida’s and Dazai’s shouts with something a little more cheerful...

A woman’s voice came on over the earbuds and as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music, I began to make out the lyrics.

Huh. What a coincidence. She was singing about what she wanted in a lover...

“Page fifty-three, huh?” I mumbled, my thoughts drifting back to the notebook.

I hated to admit it but I was curious. What was Kunikida’s ideal woman? And... how far off the mark was I? If Kunikida had arrived just a little later, I might’ve been able to take that notebook from Dazai. Then I could’ve snapped a picture of page fifty-three to study later...

I shook my head to clear the thought away.

No. Bad idea.

That was just Dazai getting to me again. I was not like him and I would not sink to his level. I reached for my cell phone to turn up the music but as soon as I had it in my hands, it vibrated suddenly to indicate I’d gotten a text message.

I squinted at it.

“Who...? Oh.”

It had to be from Dazai—he was the one coworker whose number I refused to add to my address book. I was about to delete it when I realized it came with an image attachment. Wondering if it was something important, I opened it.

“You’re welcome?” I read aloud, scrolling down.

My eyes widened.

Below the message was a very clear set of photos, each showing a different page from a small notebook. If the neat penmanship wasn’t already a dead giveaway, the list of fifty-eight “ideal” traits and detailed plans for dating and marriage requirements definitely was (Kunikida was planning to get married within five to six years??). It was all the information a girl could want and more.

My mind raced.

When had Dazai taken these pictures? How?! Wasn’t Kunikida destroying him right now?

Peering down the darkened hallway, which had suddenly gone quiet, I shot back a quick text, just as the elevator arrived at the fourth floor and I walked through the doors.

“How did you get this?” I wrote back feverishly, “And why are you sending it to me?”

Was that maniac going to use this to frame me or blackmail me? Or worse...? Wait. What even was worse?

The reply was prompt.

“Don’t worry about the details. Let’s just say I’m hoping we can go from being coworkers to friends very soon. ;)”

Something fell over in the hall and I looked up just before the elevator doors closed to see a half-bandaged hand poking out the open doorway of the Armed Detective Agency office. Dazai was holding a thumbs up.

[babyflossy]

compromise | y.jh

gif credits to owner

pairing: spy!jeonghan x assassin!reader

summary: when a group of young spies interrupts your hit-list, you have to find a happy medium in the outcome, and they won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.

genre: spy/assassin au

warnings: murder, i don’t think there’s any cursing, also unedited

word count: 2152

being a decorated assassin for one of the most trusted organisations was tough work. you often got called out of your plush bed at odd hours, saying goodbye to your cat before heading off to take care of whatever the big man in charge wanted you to. your company trusted you one hundred per cent, having never failed a job, and always exceeding your expectations, you were their prize possession, which is why you were the prime candidate for the biggest job of the year.

it was vastly different from the other jobs you were put on, it wasn't a company order, but a request from an external source, meaning you would get pid big bucks after you took out the list of targets. the list wasn't long, only five unlucky men added to it. you never stayed in the meetings long enough to know much about them, just their names. it made it easier to see them only as a price tag, rather than a human.

as the targets were high profile people, they were all invited to a party for what you guessed were people they worked with. you didn't care to find out. you had planned for weeks for this one night. you had to get them out of the ballroom without been seen, and not so quickly as to cause suspicion. you had opted to choose some pretty heavy sleeping pills to eliminate the worry of them escaping. it also meant you could move them to a secondary location, giving you time to stage the crime and dump the bodies. no one would know what happened to them, and you were perfectly happy with that.

your perfect plan had one major flaw however, you weren't the only one out for those men. you were informed a few days before the party, not giving you time to reformulate your plan. you were told an intel worker at your company had done extensive research on all the guests, and had found a tiny mistake, which led her to discover the secret identities of thirteen men all set to attend. she traced them to their headquarters, and with a bit more digging, she labelled them spies, seeking information from your targets.

you didn't know enough about the targets to know what information would warrant thirteen highly trained spies to chase them for information. it was good you knew about the blip in the plan, because there was no way they could know about you, meaning if you were perhaps a little more careful, you could be in and out before they realised the men were missing.

that was what you told yourself as you prepared yourself for the evening. you liked these jobs every so often, it gave you a chance to dress up in fancy clothes over the all black outfits you usually worked in. you stood in front of your wardrobe in your penthouse apartment. no matter how unethical your job was it paid fantastically. that's what you reminded yourself as you slipped knives into the inside pockets of your luxury dress. you needed to look the part, you told yourself as you donned the gown, looking in the mirror in satisfaction. it was pale gold and shimmer under the light of the setting sun. it matched perfectly with the stilettos and the clutch bag, concealing a handgun.

with one last look at the briefing you were given, you left the safety of your apartment and were greeted by the chauffeur the company had arranged. he would drive around the building and wait at the back, ready to load the bodies and take you to the secondary location. as it wasn't a company job, there was less pressure on the job, as the only important casualty if it went wrong would be your paycheque.

you got to the venue just as the guests were starting to arrive, stepping out of glossy black cars and being led up the red velvet carpet to the ballroom. you were no different, a young man escorting you from the door of your car all the way up to the room where people were talking among themselves. it didn't take long to locate the targets, spotting some of the spies not long after. you saw their three leaders – seungcheol, jihoon and soonyoung – talking quietly among themselves near the bar. soonyoung caught your eye and you smiled flirtatiously, you couldn't give anything away yet.

you started to move to the targets once you had seen all the spies dotted around, you counted thirteen of them, thrice, to make sure you knew where they all were. it seemed they weren't planning to move in anytime soon as they still talked and laughed among themselves, holding drinks they ignored. you had done that too whilst talking to some guests, you guessed it came with the paranoia of the job.

the first target was easy to single out, he was older than you, and you spotted his ring-free finger as you led him out of the ballroom, claiming you wanted some air after making idle conversation for a few moments. no one noticed his absence as he lay unconscious in a spare room, the key hidden in your shoe.

the second and third targets were relatively easy to move away as well. it was still early and you realised the spies were waiting for the end of the night to move in. they were considerably more drunk than the first man and so moved onto your advances eagerly, disregarding the fact they were both married. you felt bad for their wives as they were tied to chairs, also unconscious.

the fourth man was more difficult to distract. he was a hair away from wasted, swaying on his feet and slurring his words together. you sighed, this wasn't going to be easy. you talked to him for as long as you could without drawing attention to yourself. when you had finally made progress and led him down the hall to his fate, one of the spies noticed they could only see one target.

that same spy saw you leave the ballroom with the last target, leading him to his fate. the psy followed you. you would later find out his name was jeonghan and he hid behind his messy blonde hair as he slinked out the ballroom and silently watched as you slid a key out from one of you expensive heels and pushed him into a room. jeonghan caught the door with the tip of his foot and peered through the gap to see the other four men tied up, heads lolling about. his mouth dropped open slightly, how had you managed to get four targets out of a room with thirteen spies, and not be seen?

"who are you?" he couldn't help the words from falling out his mouth and he stepped into the room, letting the door click closed behind him. you turned around with only mild surprise, your hair falling elegantly down your back. you studied his face, recognising him as one of the spies from the profiles you had been given. he was much more attractive in person. he had plump lips and kind eyes, with hair that fell in delicate waves around his face. his eyes were hidden behind thin metal glasses which made him shockingly unthreatening. his voice was soft and you wondered for a second if you and misidentified him.

"why does it matter to you?" you cocked your head to one side, watching as he tapped the arm of his glasses behind his ear twice and you knew he had signalled for help. you sighed and turned around to face him, "you're not getting these men."

he narrowed his eyes at you, "what do you want with them?"

"they all have massive paycheques on their heads," you added a threatening smile to show you wouldn't give up without a fight, "i'm here to claim them."

you heard the steps behind the door and you could almost feel the group lean against the door. someone stepped on a loose floorboard and it creaked. as the door flew open, you flew your hand up, gun outstretched and poised perfectly at jeonghan's head. the spies poured into the room, their guns trained on you, but you knew they wouldn't shoot. they were young, and you knew they hadn't been spies for long, they wouldn't let a team member die for a mission like this. you reached for the other gun on you, pointing it at the closest spy, you think his name was chan. you heard their grips tighten on their weapons, their concentration fixated on you alone. you smirked as you realised you hit a soft spot. you turned your head to face chan, who seemed calm despite the weapon facing him.

it stayed like this for a moment until they realised you wouldn't give up your targets. seungcheol, he seemed to have the most authority over the group, was the first to crack, holding his hands up and lowering his weapon. your eyes didn't leave chan's as you watched from the corner of your eye, "we just want information, no one has to die."

"no one except for them," you swapped your gaze for seungcheol's, gesturing behind you, "i came here for them, not any of you."

he nodded, and soon, everyone else had lowered their guns, so you did as well, dropping the one facing chan first and turning back to jeonghan, shooting him a sly smile as you tucked it into the sparkling belt of your dress. "can we make a compromise?" seungcheol watched you carefully, the way you calculated your chances of getting out with the men, and without a scratch. you seemed think they weren't good enough and he let out the breath he was holding slowly. he was sure they would all be able to take you, but he didn't want to find out. you had managed to get this far without them noticing, and he didn't want to test your fighting skills.

"i suppose," you looked back to the men in question, you supposed you could let two of them go, you thought back to which ones were worth more and took your pick. "you can have those two," you pointed to the ones you didn't want and turned back around to face the spies, "the other three will be dead in the hour."

seungcheol looked between jihoon and soonyoung, and then joshua and jeonghan, a silent agreement passing between the five of them. he nodded and motioned for some of his boys to take the ones mentioned. "when will they wake up?" it was jeonghan, he had walked over whilst the others untied to the men they would take with them.

"maybe two hours, maybe more. you never really know," you watched as you driver entered the room, looking at the spies before looking at you with a questioning gaze. "take those three to the car, take the ropes off, i'll be out in a moment." he nodded and threw one of the bodies over his broad shoulders whilst you watched, impressed.

"you never told me who you were," his voice was quiet as the last spy left the room, leaving the two of you alone. he seemed to have forgotten you had pointed a gun at his face not five minutes ago, you guessed it happened to him almost as often as it happened to you.

"y/n y/l/n," you smiled up at him, "you can call my company if you ever need help, ask for their prize possession, they'll know who you want." you grinned slightly, waiting for the day they requested your help, it never took long. jeonghan chuckled slightly, looking back to the door where his team members had left through.

"maybe i'll see you 'round? hopefully it won't be when you're pointing a gun at me, though," he smirked down at you and you felt dizzy under the weight of his gaze.

"maybe you will, yoon jeonghan," you turned around and headed for the opposite door to his, your heels tapping softly on the floor before you heard him speak up.

"how do you know my nam–"

the next day, the group of spies saw the brutal crimes on the news. you had slit their throats and left green cloth over their faces, the media and the police working tirelessly to figure out the meaning behind the specific folding technique of them. they said the only suspects were local gangs, no evidence or dna was found at the scene and the spies watched in awe as the police was interviewed, saying all the security cameras within a three block radius had been turned off at 1:23 am, and they were appealing for any information the public would have.

they were left with more questions about the girl they met, and jeonghan replayed what you said to him in his head. you probably knew a lot more about them than you let on, after all.

[gayregis]

Ok i love fashion. I dk fashion. I love doing fantady historical fusions and the fashion on the show deadass kills me SO hard. It doesnt. like. nothing feels good. Theres no clear cultural influence on clothes. In TW3 at least the clothes felt like.. like I could see art and go 'oh i know what influenced that' but it feels so vague and generic in the show???

LEGIT! and it’s such a shame too because they missed so many opportunities through visuals:

it’s definitely beautiful enough. medieval/renaissance (i say renaissance as well, because the continent is more advanced than earth’s europe in the 13th century) has such great beautiful examples of design that can even be quite whimsical to an audience that is unfamiliar with it. 

re: the “it doesn’t feel slavic” argument that i’ve seen on reddit. specifically in regards to the art direction, costume design, and set design, i agree, because there is a lot of beautiful cultures that could serve as wells of inspiration for the art team, but they seemed to ignore it. i’m not anything of an expert or even an amateur, but just googling “medieval polish fashion” gives some good results. there are a lot of beautiful motifs on this page that could easily be incorporated into the witcher’s designs. (in regards to casting, i don’t agree so much with this argument, bc a lot of the arguing about it lacks nuance and voices from poc, but that’s an entirely different post to make!)

they could connect characters. the main issue in MY opinion is that the dressing felt individual to characters and random, meant to just look good or intriguing but not help in telling the story. visuals tell narratives, and outfit and dress are a large aspect of this. if there is not overall motifs that can connect characters to one another, then you’re missing a great opportunity. for an example of what they did right with this, i loved how everyone in cintra had those blue sashes with their three lions on them. (also, it even made me realize as a books fan that the three lions could represent calanthe, pavetta, and ciri… lol). but i do not see any connection between ciri, pavetta, or calanthe’s outfits. this is missing an opportunity to draw a connection between them.

they could create factions and visually represent being “other.” keeping with the previous bullet point, they could extend this opportunity to whole factions. as a base example, the cintrian and nilfgaardian conflict is represented by how they have different armors… but since nilfgaard is a rich and powerful empire, their armor should have reflected this. in more peaceful scenes, they could use historical influences from different regions/nations of europe to demonstrate a difference between different witcher nations. also they could easily represent an “other” by using this faction mentality, kind of like what they did with the dryads’ outfits, because they seem so different than those in human civilizations, but they could have pushed this contrast by making the humans’ outfits to be stylized and man-made with bright colors, decorations, etc.

they could demonstrate character qualities and contrast between characters. geralt dresses in a worn black leather jerkin in the first short story in the books, and carries his sword on his back. dressing in all black (with his white hair and shining eyes) creates this image of a man similar to ideas of death, in my mind - he’s intimidating. he’s also strange for even a swordsman or mercenary, he doesn’t carry his sword like every other man in vizima. and his equipment is worn, yet he does not look old… he obviously has been in many fights. compare this to jaskier, who dresses fancifully and elegantly, with colorful jerkins and lace shirts and a plum bonnet with a feather in it. he obviously is a performer (and also kind of looks like a noble with these fancy get ups, which hints at his backstory that’s only revealed later on!) compare this with yennefer, who although she dresses extremely elegantly and nobly, dresses in all black and white. she is refined, but not gaudy and looking for attention (no offense jaskier… that’s your job!).

they could demonstrate character transitions. ciri dresses like a princess in cintra, but when her life goes up in flames along with the city and everyone she’s known and she goes to train at kaer morhen, she dresses in a shoddily-made leather jerkin sewn together quite shittily. not only does this demonstrate how she has fallen a long way on the social status ladder, but it demonstrates how very much the witchers at kaer morhen want to take care of this child, even if they’re not very good at understanding her and her needs at first. and how much she in turn wants to be like them.

but instead we just got some outlandish bullshit where yennefer wears a cage on her shoulders and a lace mask that she immediately takes off, and nilfgaardian armor that doesn’t look like any kind of armor ever made in history or in the present. costume design is not just meant to draw your eye and have you say, “oh that looks weird,” but to help the story! this is part of the entire reason that a visual adaptation to a book series was wanted!

[shinobi-imagines]

please read my story ㅠㅠ

Hi everyone! It’s been a minute... I don’t really come on Tumblr much anymore, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t write! I just wanted to take the time to plug my new KakaOC fanfic called, The Price of Simplicity (read on fanfiction.net or ao3). 

The story starts in Kakashi’s ANBU days where he meets a civilian named, Tsuru. He finds her incredibly annoying, loud, yet she still draws him in for some reason. Soon, he finds out that Tsuru is terminally ill and is destined to die at a young age. While it is Tsuru could never fully understand the life of a shinobi, Kakashi realizes that the two aren’t so different. 

I would really appreciate it if you guys could read, comment, like, follow, and support my work! I will leave the first chapter under the cut!

The darkest times of Kakashi Hatake’s life were in his youth. The time which many advise you not to waste were tossed in the throes of war for Kakashi. He was bitter. So bitter for so many years and often wondered what the point of living was. However, he swore to himself since he was a little boy that suicide was not an option. Suicide was for cop outs like his father was when the man had left his son that one brutal night. So, Kakashi contemplated to the best way or any acceptable way for a shinobi to die.

By twenty-three, Kakashi was already a well established ninja in Konoha. He had climbed the ranks quickly and by the time he was sixteen, he had already become an ANBU captain. Here he was. Nine years and still an ANBU. Seven years and still a captain. Kakashi had stopped caring for rankings the moment he understood the burden that came with excellence.

“It’s settled then!” his “eternal rival” Gai yelled fiercely. “Kakashi, you’re coming out with us tonight!”

Gai hadn’t changed much in Karachi’s eyes. He was still annoying and much too intense, but Gai was perhaps the only person Kakashi found some comfort in. However, Gai’s attempts to get Kakashi to socialize was starting to get on his nerves.

“Tonight,” Gai continued, “you and I will battle over and over again! We’ll see who the best drinker is! We will see who can get the most girls! We will see-”

“You can stop,” Kakashi denied cooly. “I won’t be going out.”

“I think you misunderstand,” Gai almost growled. “This is no request nor is it a simple invitation. It is a challenge!”

Kakashi sighed. Had he said no to Gai’s demand…well…no wouldn’t have been an acceptable answer. It was Kakashi’s fault in the first place for telling the man he was given a day off the very next day.

Gai had come to visit Kakashi who was getting treated at the hospital for some injuries and a checkup from his previous mission. Although Kakashi hated being in the hospital, it was routine to go and Kakashi liked having routines.

Kakashi let the sounds of Gai drown out as he looked up at the ceiling wondering what he’d gotten into. The two walked down the hall way towards the lobby of the hospital when a girl walked by. Neither of the ninjas noticed her. She was just a patient wearing clothes provided by the hospital. She seemed rather happy and walked with a smile on her face that is until she tripped over seemingly nothing and fell fatefully right in front of two ninjas.

“Are you okay?” Kakashi asked offering a hand to help her up.

“I’m fine!” she replied obviously flustered. She ignored the hand that Kakashi held out and rushed past the two before they could get a glimpse of her face.

“She looked a little young to be in the hospital,” Gai noted out loud.

“Yeah,” Kakashi concurred. “But you never know what happens in someone’s life. Look at me, I come here all the time.”

The bushy browed man merely blinked unsure if Kakashi was being serious or had told a joke.

Night came in almost no time. The sun had gown down and the village lights turned on. There were no kids out on the streets during this hour unless they were trying to sneak into bars to get their first tastes of alcohol with some thrill on the side. Honestly, Kakashi could spot those kids in the farthest corner of the bar from over a mile away without the help of his Sharingan. They were visibly attempting to contain their excitement and attempting to ignore the fact that they stuck out like a sore thumb.He probably didn’t realize that he was glaring at the boys, but Kakashi’s friends surely did.

“Hey,” Asuma called out to Kakashi. “Just let them be. They’re just having fun.”

“Yeah!” Genma jokingly snapped all too stoic man. “The party’s here, Kakashi!”

In Kakashi’s mind, he was thinking about how ungrateful those kids were acting. People like him from a young age put their lives on the line so that people like them could be safe and away from war. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They didn’t know war because people like Kakashi had made it so they wouldn’t need to know war. Finally caving into his friends’ desires, he rejoined the group with a shot of sake which was met with a round of cheers from the other four men.

“Oh, Raido!” Genma drunkenly whispered to his friend sitting beside him. “Look at that lady who just walked in. Isn’t she pretty?”

Genma’s drunk whisper reached everyone’s ears, and certainly at the door was a very pretty woman with blonde hair that looked almost white and a pair of gray eyes. She wore a tight black dress with long lace sleeves and a pair of black heels. Talk immediately began circulating around the bar. Some speculated, she might have been a model although she looked a little short to be a model. Others theorized the girl was an actress, however, no one had seen her in any sort of production before.

Whoever she was, she seemed to be alone. Kakashi noticed that she had the same light of excitement and innocence in her eyes as the underage fellows who thought that they had beat the system. A naive girl at a bar alone only screamed danger. As predicted, a rugged man with a red flush spread across his cheeks approached the woman.

“Do we stop him?” Raido asks the group.

“I don’t know,” Asuma added.

“Did she not come with anyone?” Genma inquired further.

“If no one’s going to to take this chance, then I-” Gai stopped abruptly as Kakashi got up from his seat towards the girl who was clearly about to be harassed.

“Oh,” Asuma said surprised, “I guess even Kakashi can’t resist a beautiful damsel in distress.”

In truth, Kakashi just about had it with being surrounded by such annoying people. He slowly walked over watching as the drunk man flirted with the girl who looked unsure of what to do.

“Are you new here?” the man slurred. “If you are, I’ll buy you a drink and I could show you around the village tonight.”

“Uh,” she stammered, “no. I was actually born and raised here. Also, I don’t drink.”

“Eh? No way. A pretty face like your’s is something no one could forget!”

The stranger leaned closer and placed a hand on the woman’s knee. His face was right beside her ear when a shadow casted over his back. The woman looked up to see Kakashi with a dark glare in his eyes. It honestly frightened her too.

“If you don’t want any trouble,” Kakashi started to advise, “you’ll go back to your seat.”

“And who do you think you-” the man cut himself off as turned around. “K-K-Kakashi-san! What a surprise!”

The woman watched as the man stuttered like a baby before Kakashi.

“P-Please,” he got up and bowed, “excuse me!”

Kakashi glared down the man as he cowered and rushed away bumping into various chairs on his way back. He heard the woman sigh in relief. When he turned his glare to the woman, she jumped. He noticed that all the girl had her table was a cup of water. Kakashi recalled that the woman had claimed that she doesn’t drink.

“Oi,” Kakashi called out to who seemed like the dumbest woman alive, “are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?” she asked taken aback.

“Hey,” Gai rushed over to his friend, “calm down. You have to excuse him, he’s been really tense lately! Let us take you home. You can trust us, we’re noble shinobi of Konoha!”

“You heard me,” Kakashi ignored Gai. “Are you stupid?”

The woman pouted. Gai could see the flames blaring between the two intense stares.

“Well, who are you to interfere in someone else’s business?” she exclaimed in disbelief at the man’s audacity.

Before Gai could mitigate the situation any father, Kakashi and Gai saw the woman’s expression change from one of annoyance to surprise. As if on cue, another woman barged in.

“Tsuru nee-san!” she screamed angrily.

“Oh!” cried out the woman named Tsuru. “If it isn’t my little sister! Fancy seeing you here, Hyo-chan!”

Then a sound like the crack of lightning made the whole bar still. Hyo slapped Tsuru right across her face. This shocked even Kakashi because he was intending on reprimanding the dimwitted girl, however, this other woman with dark hair stepped in.

The two, who had claimed to be sisters, seemed to be related in only subtle ways. While Tsuru’s hair was light and long, Hyo’s hair was dark and short. Tsuru was much prettier than Hyo who’s appearance looked to be no more than average. However, the two had the same pale complexion and the same shade of gray eyes. Both were also rather short.

Another striking difference between the two was the existence of a Konoha hitae-ate around Hyo’s forehead. She wore the standard shinobi outfit. Judging by what he could see, Karachi deducted that Hyo was probably someone who was less invested in how she looked as opposed to her older sister.

“Wait outside for me, nee-san,” Hyo’s voice was quiet and demanding. It sent cold air throughout the silently stunned bar.

Without complaint, the older sister did as she was told.

“Wasn’t that a little too far?” Gai questioned Hyo. “You shouldn’t disrespect those who are older than you.”

Hyo glowered at the bushy browed jonin, “If she were your sister, you’d want to slap some sense into her too. The bitch keeps sneaking out of the hospital.”

For a moment, Kakashi noticed Hyo’s eyes grow grim before returning back to its original intensity.

The hospital? Kakashi realized that Tsuru was the girl he had tried to help up earlier that day.

“But still…” Gai’s voiced trailed off.

“I apologize,” Hyo bowed to the two men. “I hope my sister didn’t cause too much trouble for my seniors. I’ll be going now.”

Once the dark haired girl was gone, Kakashi said, “Gai.”

“Yeah,” Gai started, “I know. That Tsuru girl is the girl from the hospital.”

“Yes, but there’s something more than that.”

“Hm? What might that be?”

“She doesn’t seem to be a ninja, but she sensed her sister coming.”

“You’re right!”

“Oi!” Asuma called out to the two. “If you’re done making a ruckus, come join us for Kings’ Game!”

Gai marched happily back to the table amongst their friends. Kakashi too headed back, but with Tsuru in the back of his mind.

To put the facts together, Tsuru was undeniably beautiful; however, Kakashi had never seen her around before. She probably had some sort of condition that keeps her in the hospital. And it seemed that although she didn’t appear to be a kunoichi like her sister, she showed signs that she was a sensory type ninja which was a rare talent to have and develop. A spy maybe?

In the end, the group of inebriated and rowdy men certainly provided as a much needed distraction for Kakashi. While Kakashi didn’t really laugh or smile that night, he had to admit that he was rather entertained. Perhaps he was too accustomed in reading into things. Things aren’t always as they seem; but as one of Konoha’s elite shinobi he couldn’t help but think of all possible scenarios from the best to the worst.

Nonetheless, Kakashi woke up with a raging hangover the next morning. Probably from all the thinking.

[timelord-winchester-22b]

Winchester Protection

What is this? A REQUEST? How odd... Anyway, I think this was from a whole year ago by now, but I wrote it anyway. You never know, I might actually write all those requests I’ve been gathering for ages...

@phantom-adele-24601-deactivated asked:

Hello! Can you write a Sam Winchester imagine in which he is super protective? But not in an annoying but in a cute way? Thank you!

I kinda strayed from this a lot and... I don’t even know if this person will ever see this, but this fic is finally here...

Your clothes, as a hunter, were mostly denim, flannel and leather. So it was kind of refreshing in a way to put something else on. Of course, the clothes you were day-to-day were the durable kind of comfortable. They had to be, considering your job. The leather jacket you’d taken a liking to had delayed vampires and werewolves from biting before, so it comforted you a little. You had to remind yourself as you dressed to leave that you weren’t going to go up against one tonight. Just maybe a ghost trying to pull all your hair out. Well, that’s what it’d been doing to it’s victims so far.

You tried not to think of that possibility while you were getting ready. You had spent too long fixing your hair for this for it to be torn out by a sadistic ghost. And you didn’t fancy your make up being ruined by blood tonight. But who were you kidding, that was likely to happen anyway. You sighed at that thought, deciding you’d done enough to look decent. There was a knock at your door just as you were adjusting your dress one last time and grabbing your sparkly purse.

“Come on out (Y/N), taking longer doesn’t make you more of a girl” Dean joked. You heard Sam snap something back and the sound of them bickering all the way back down the hall. You smirked, remembering the fact that the boys had never seen you in anything but your jeans and flannel. It had become a joke between you and the brothers, you weren’t much of a girl on the day-to-day. Oh but this would be fun.

You headed out after being sure they had gone back to the library to wait. The place you’d have to get into would be far more upper-class than any of you were used to. So you were of course also excited to see them dressed up. That thought had you walking a bit fast down the hall, your heels clicking on the hard floors as you entered the library. The brothers were still bickering as you walked in, both looking quite handsome. They didn’t look up for a moment, too caught up in their argument.

“Hey, (Y/N)” Sam spoke up, cutting off his brother. “Would you tell Dean that-” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp as he finally took in your appearance. Dean glanced over at his reaction and whistled loudly.

“You look damn good (Y/N)” Dean pointed out, smirking. “Hey Sam” He nudged his brother, who was still staring at you with his mouth slightly open. “Sam, doesn’t she look good?”

“Oh, yeah” Sam nodded, snapping out of it. “Yeah she- you look really good (Y/N). You look… yeah” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You smiled, trying to hide the smirk in it like Dean wasn’t.

“Thanks boys” You grinned. “You both clean up good” You pointed out, joining them by the table. You couldn’t help but notice how closely Sam’s eyes followed you. “We ready to go?”

~~~~~~~~~~

You nearly laughed when Sam opened your door for you when you got there, but only grinned at him. He grinned back, offering a hand in a gentlemanly manner. You did laugh that time, taking his hand and letting him help you out. Dean rolled his eyes as he tugged at his cuffs. He was obviously having a much less pleasant time than you two. You both simply ignored his grumpiness, and you hooked your arm through Sam’s as you headed inside. The place was big and elegant and to put it frankly, not a place you thought you belonged. But you were dressed right for the most part, at least tonight.

“Hey” Sam called quietly, drawing your attention. He looked slightly concerned, maybe he’d realized your train of thought. He smiled reassuringly. “Can I get a drink for the most lovely lady in the room?” He offered, tilting his head in the direction of the drinks table. You grinned, unable to help yourself in the face of his flattery.

“We should really be trying to find this ghost-”

“We know who the guy’s after, and as long as she’s in our sights..” Sam glanced at the drinks table again and that time you noticed the hostess; a very glamorous looking up woman with elegantly styled bleach blonde hair and a dress that sparkled more than the chandelier above your head. She appeared to be scolding a waiter. “We’re still doing our job” Sam finished. “So, drink?” You smiled again, giving a short nod in response. Sam assured you he’d only be a moment before he headed over to make your drink the way you liked it.

You were barely standing on your own for five minutes, scanning the room for any signs of the ghost you were expecting, when a stranger in a black tux and a sleazy smile sidled up beside you.

“Hello gorgeous” He greeted, taking a sip from his drink, obviously a very diluted alcohol, probably thinking it made him look cool. You sighed, glancing away. Maybe you should’ve just gone with your usual outfit.

“Sorry, I’m here with someone” You informed him curtly. He laughed a little.

“I don’t see anyone here, babe”

You rolled your eyes, catching a glass of the strongest thing you could see off the tray of a passing waiter. You held up a hand to keep him there for the moment it took you to down the drink and return it to the tray. Definitely not the nicest taste, but you decided you needed it if this guy was gonna keep it up. You thanked the waiter as he moved on. Speaking of the guy still standing beside you, he was now staring at you with wide eyes.

“So you like the strong stuff, eh babe?”

“Figured I’d need it with you hanging around” You sighed. He frowned. Sam rejoined you at that exact moment and you took your drink from him gratefully while he frowned at the man beside you.

“Who’s this?” Sam asked, glancing at you.

“Guy who wouldn’t leave” You shrugged.

“Guy who’s a bit fed up with you treating me like trash. You didn’t even ask me my name!”

“Didn’t want to know” You shrugged.

“Why you-” The man narrowed his eyes at you, passing off his drink to a nearby waiter.

“I think that’s about enough” Sam told the man in a warning tone, getting between him and you while you sipped your drink. The man glared at him and then you one last time before taking a step back.

“Fine, you keep her” He sneered, stalking off.

“Gladly” Sam muttered under his breath. His gaze softened when he looked back at you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine” You assured him, trying to hide the fact that you were a little struck by his last comment. You glanced away from him, hoping to ensure he wouldn’t catch you blushing. Sam tried to get your attention back but before he could achieve this you had taken off, striding across the room towards a doorway. A doorway you had just watched your glamorous hostess disappear through. Sam followed you without questions, sensing the down-to-buisiness vibe and trusting you to have picked up on something.

You placed your glass on a small table decorative just beside the doorway as you passed it and heard the clink of Sam copying. You heard shuffling in a room not too far down the hall and slowed your steps, quietly kicking your heels off and pushing them to the side of the hall as you pulled your gun from where it was hidden; strapped to your thigh beneath your dress. Sam blinked in surprise from behind you at the reveal of your weapon, silently retrieving his own. You paused at the edge of the doorway, listening, before dashing inside.

To your disappointment, your ghost’s target was alone. The noises you’d been hearing were not the sounds of someone being attacked, but the sound of her frantically searching papers. She looked up and gasped at the sight of you standing there, a gun held pointed at her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, horror in her voice. “Didn’t you say you were FBI?”

“Yes, we are” You agreed, lowing your gun.

“Except you’re not” The woman sneered suddenly. “Because I ran your silly little badges with your silly little rock band names. You don’t exist. Which makes you hunters…” You frowned, but before you could say anything you felt a hand tangle itself in your hair and pull sharply, tugging you backwards. You cried out and Sam turned with wide eyes. You dropped to the ground, but the hand didn’t loosen it’s grip. Thankfully, that’s not what you were going for. Sam now had a clear shot, and he took it. The ghost disappeared and you clambered quickly to your feet, pointing your gun again at the woman at the desk.

The blonde now held a long lock of dirty blonde hair, grinning with glee. The hair was braided and woven with herbs and other creepy stuff you didn’t want to think about. She had control of the ghost. Just great. You made your way back inside the room and up to the desk, Sam slamming the door shut behind you and keeping a look out.

“This ghost killed all of your friends, the reasonable assumption would be that you were next. The only survivor of the family business founders. Why kill them all?” You growled out.

“Why wouldn’t I? Go from a sixth of the profit to being the sole owner of one of the most profitable businesses in the state! Next up, nation wide!”

“And what, kill anyone who gets in your way?” You sneered. You hadn’t liked her from the start.

“Well I hate to sound predictable, but of course” The woman laughed. “And who else would be in my way now, but you two?” She smiled. It was at that very moment that the door burst open and Sam was knocked backwards with it. By the time you turned to confront the ghost it had already reached you, throwing you backwards against the wall. You gasped for breath, trying to spot your gun before you were attacked again. There it was, by the desk, some three feet away.

The ghost swooped down on you with a shriek, one hand in your hair and one around your throat. You really weren’t happy to find that one hand seemed to be all it took to completely cut off your air supply. It felt like only a moment, and simultaneously a lifetime before the ghost released you, stepping back and turning her attention to the woman behind the desk.

“No. No, you can’t do this” The woman begged, backing away. Sam knelt down at your side, looking you over while keeping one eye on the other occupants of the room.

“I burned the hair, why is she still here?” He questioned, frowning warily at the ghost.

“I couldn’t risk loosing her” The woman gasped. “But I only bewitched that piece! Please! Stop her!”

“I’m willing to bet that’s what your partners said to you when you set her on them” You responded evenly. “Sorry, it appears business is closed”

When the woman was taken care of, the image of the ghost faded into a much more civilized picture, turning towards you and Sam.

“Thank you” She spoke for the first time. “Please know I never wanted to hurt anyone. I never would have wanted to harm you”

“I know” You told her. She smiled and with a soft flash of light, she was gone.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Told you that woman was damn creepy”

[hollandroos]

The Price We Pay | Six

Series Masterlist

Summary: A one night stand was all it took for your entire life to change. You’re shoved into unknown territory, agreeing to fake date the prince long enough for his parents and the media to get off of his back only there are a few issues… one of them being that you really can’t stand each other.

Words: 2.2k

Tom crept back into his room at around seven am.

The castle had been dead silent, his parents having left a few hours earlier for a flight and Harrison was still buried beneath layers of his own sheets. Toms back aches slightly from sleeping on the couch compared to his extravagant bed but he hadn’t minded.

He glanced in, opening the door a crack before seeing you were still asleep and crept in. Originally he had only wanted to grab a change of clothing from his draws but he couldn’t help but glance over for a second.

Your hair was sprawled over your face, duvet pulled up to your shoulders and you looked so content. So carefree. But Tom knew that the second you woke up you’d be in pain but for the life of him he didn’t think to grab any painkillers.

He remembers your small moment last night. It was a quality moment, you were only inches apart and he was so tempted just to close the gap– that damned gap. And he swore that he saw you glancing down at his lips too but wasn’t positive. Tom shakes his head, squinting in the dark before he turns and leaves– closing the door with a small thud.

That night Tom had had a dream. He had a dream that the two of you were together in Paris and it was beautiful. You were overlooking the Eiffel tower, as cliche as it sounded, and you were free from the pestering of paparazzi and royal fans and people trying to catch you out doing something you shouldn’t have been doing.

You were carefree and in a rather extravagant dress, but it was one you had picked out instead of one that's been chosen for you. But the most important detail? In the back of his pocket sat a box.

It was one of those dreams that woke him up in a hurry and left confusion written all over his face– and a hole in his chest.

You woke up that morning engulfed by sheets and a thick, almost cloud-like duvet.

Maybe it was a little too much because a thin layer of sweat covered your body but the more you kicked at the sheets in an attempt to get them off, the more you noticed the fact that your head was pounding and a familiar, sick feeling sat at the very back of your throat just waiting.

Not even the silk pillowcase that in no way belonged to you could hide the feeling of nausea that overcame you, hitting like a train and it no longer mattered that the sheets had you cocooned like a butterfly, or that the bed itself was so comfortable that you swore you never wanted to leave because in a second they were thrown off and you were diving out, racing towards the connected room that one could only hope was a bathroom with a hand over your mouth.

Luckily it was and in a second you were emptying your stomach of the alcohol and shrimp you’d dined on the night before. You grimaced at the smell and the strands of hair that fell over your face, wishing you’d tied them back beforehand. It was revolting.

You felt gross, smelt gross, most likely looked gross too. You could only imagine the makeup smeared down your cheeks and lipstick staining your chin and good god your hair. But not everybody could wake up looking like snow white.

You flushed the toilet, eyeing the grand shower a few meters away and with no hesitation slip the dress off– that was a task in itself, taking huffs as you tugged at the straps and the waist hugging material. You peeled it off with much of a struggle, trying to ignore the pounding headache as it hit the floor. You nearly fell over once or twice.

The water ran down your spine, washing away any traces of makeup and knots from the night before. You felt much cleaner. Never in a million years did you imagine showering in a room that was worth probably more then your entire place combined. The shower itself held hundreds of intricate designs and you traced as many as you could as the water cascaded over your shoulders.

The taps attached to the sink were gold and whether or not it was real or not? You had a small hunch. And the toilet that you’d thrown up in… yeah.

After around ten or so minutes, you turn the water off, letting out a sigh as you stretch your shoulders and wrap towel just above your breasts. The only clothing you had was the dress you’d worn last night and that didn’t seem appealing. So of course, you go searching through Toms draws hoping he wouldn’t mind and come out with a hoodie and sweats.

Now, this probably wasn’t the best thing to wear in the castle but it was either that or continue to walk around with a towel wrapped above your breasts. Plus, you wanted to see Tom's reaction… wherever he was. Maybe you stopped for a split second and breathed in the scent of his cologne on the clothing, rocking your feet back and forth as the sweats hugged your ankles but that was it.

You didn’t search through his things, not even thinking about invading his privacy because you weren’t a bad person. While he had bothered you immensely, you had been welcomed into his home– allowed to sleep in his bed and you were thankful.

You pad down the stairs, stretching your arms as you wander. You gave the maids smiles as you went, small waves at those that waved to you. Some uttered good morning. You would’ve stopped to talk if it weren’t for the fact that your head was still pounding and you were totally in the mood to down a glass of orange juice.

Maybe you got a little lost along the way, having to stop and try and retrace your steps back to the week before but you managed to find your way to the dining room eventually. Any longer and you swore you would’ve gone mad.

Tom stood talking to Harrison. They were both laughing, crinkles forming beneath Toms' eyes and you didn’t want to interrupt but tapped him on the shoulder. The royal meets your gaze and smiles even wider if possible.

“Morning, how do you feel?”

You shrug.

“Head hurts, I don’t even remember drinking last night.” He tries not to chuckle at your misfortune but can't when you lean into him. You did it almost on instinct, craving some kind of physical affection after the night before.

It shocked Tom– just how you learned in, head resting on his shoulder but he welcomed the act, one arm going around your shoulders. Harrison smiled from his place only a few steps away. He felt like a matchmaker, even if nothing serious had happened yet.

“Y-yeah, you drank quite a bit last night. It wasn’t that boring was it?” He jumps over his own words at the start and feels his cheeks redden. Tom felt that he already knew the answer to the question.

“All I remember is you asking to kiss me which by the way– gross.” You screw your face up, Harrison snorts but doesn’t say anything.

Inching out of his arms, Tom eyes the outfit, trying to ignore your remark. He noticed his sweats and his shirt and no longer felt bad about not leaving you a change of clothing. You notice his gaze.

“Oh yeah I uh, borrowed some of your clothes, I hope that’s okay.” You suddenly grow nervous and lace your fingers together. “It was either this or a towel.”

“No, it’s fine! You look good.”

You notice how Tom looks down, how he can barely make eye contact with you and he seems to be finding his fingers more interesting then you. It’s clear that something is wrong whether it’s awkwardness after the night before or he was purely not a morning person. Maybe it was something else but you find yourself screwing your face up as an awkward silence sits between the three of you.

For a second it doesn’t feel fake. Everything feels real and you like it. You convince yourself it’s just the feeling of having someone there and shrugs it off.

Harrison goes and takes a seat at the table, leaving with an awkward cough, glancing at Tom and moving his brows in a way that tells you Tom had something to tell you– or say in general.

“What’s wrong?” You question, bunching the ends of the hoodie around your wrists.

Tom didn’t want the good to end but he was plagued. He knew this would come out one way or another.

“My parents.” He sighs. “My dad, more so, wasn’t impressed after last night.”

You scoff and shrug your shoulders. Sometimes you forgot that part of the deal was to please his uptight parents. “Oh well. I had fun while it lasted and I think you did too. Didn’t you?”

“Y/n.” He stops you. “You got drunk and that’s bad for us– for our image which is exactly what we’re trying to fix.” Tom was growing frustrated too, something he didn’t want to do this early in the morning.

“So? Do you ever just… have fun?” You quickly grew frustrated, hating the way he spoke to you as if you were a child. You swore you’d seen a smile on the boy's face last night between glasses of expensive wine. But now, after a stern telling off from his parents he seemed ashamed.

He leans in, glancing up at the cooks that bring the breakfast in. “We don’t get to do that when my parents are around. They don’t like it.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well I’m sorry, but how was I meant to know what to do? I didn’t grow up like you, Tom. Parties on the farm were dull, there was never that many guests or fancy outfits– I’m sorry.”

Your statement started out as rude and you intended for it to be, but near the end, you were uttering a genuine apology, realising that you probably had screwed up your end of the deal. Instead of looking over at him you look at your feet in shame.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone for so long last night, I should’ve stuck with you instead of running around like a headless chicken.” Tom chuckles and your eyes remain at the ground.

You couldn’t work out who was more in the wrong here.

“Let’s… just not let it happens again, okay?”

You nod at Tom, stomach growling at the sight of food and you reach over, giving Toms hand a small squeeze. It was a small action but one that makes him smile for a second, feeling that for a fleeting moment– everything was okay.

Someone waits patiently to talk to Tom and you make your way to the table, Harrison quickly popping up to talk with the chef too. You wonder if Tom knew how to cook as you take your seat and glance at his plate. You remembered him telling you that he always had blueberries in his breakfast, while Harrison always had strawberries and shake your head.

So you switch their plates when they're not looking, finding small ways to get under Tom's skin even if that means switching his breakfast with his best mates. Because while things were okay between the two of you, it didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to mess with him.

The boys discuss something about dinner before heading over, bumping each other playfully and it was clear that Tom's parents were gone. Not only because they weren’t sitting with you, but because the boys seemed much more relaxed. You did too. While they talk, you take a large swig of juice.

“I’m starving!” Harrison beams, hissing when he burns his tongue on a sip of coffee. “Fuck.”

“What do you look so smug about?” Tom teases, bringing a forkful of pancakes to his lips. He smiles as cream lines the area right above his lips, leaving a faint line.

“Nothing.” You shrug your shoulders, twirling your own fork between your fingers. That orange juice had done wonders with your headache.

You must've switched your plate with his, his thinks. Enjoying strawberry pancakes for once. But he watches you take a bite of yours, strawberries peeking out of the cream and furrows his brows.

That's weird–

But It’s Harrison that you switched with. It’s Harrison that stared at you two with wide eyes as he swallowed something– a fruit that was not strawberries. It was weird, different, and Harrison would remember the familiar taste of blueberries anywhere.

How could he forget after that fateful day when he was a kid? Only nine years old and accidently consumed a single handful of blueberries from the bush out back and ended up with his first near-death experience.

“These are blueberries.” He coughs, fork clattering against the plate. He looks like he’s struggling.

For a second you think he’s joking.

For a second you think that the small coughs leaving his lips are all for effect.

You think that he’s playing a game and you roll your eyes but deep down, something hits and it tells you to stop.

You think that the sudden panic replacing the amusement on Toms features is a little scary but nothing more then him playing along.

And you think that the sound of the bowl hitting the floor, blueberries rolling onto the marble covered in a thick layer of cream is a little too dramatic.

And Tom's voice is piercing, the gasp that leaves him clearly not just created to make you feel shitty about yourself for a small laugh. Because Harrison is gripping– no, clawing at his throat.

And he looks like he’s struggling, maybe like he’s in pain and your fork hits the floor, bright, cherry– no, strawberry red staining the ground.

“Get help!”

Seven

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[yesmelonpan]

A potential that is sleeping has been awakened

Yamatonokami Yasusada elects to join the shinsengumi to route out the potential threat against them.  During his mission he is visited by Kashuu bearing a gift from home.  (Inspired by Bakumatsu Tenrouden, but it’s not necessary to have seen the musical to read the story.)

Female Saniwa x Yamatonokami Yasusada (implied, they’re still working on it)

Read on AO3 instead: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490114

“Kiyomitsu?”  Yasusada hopped down from the low branch he had been concealed within.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m glad to see you, too.”  The other had emerged from the thicket of trees on the outskirt of town.  The red of his outfit seemed to bleed into the black amid the shadows of a moonless night.

Yasusada flashed him an annoyed scowl.  “Is Horikawa alright?”

“He’s fine.  He just got tired of looking after you.”

“I doubt that.”  Yasusada rolled his eyes, propping his hands on the hilt of his sword.  “I don’t have anything new to report and there’s still no signs of the enemy.  So you can go home.”

They had not exactly parted on the best of terms last time they had seen each other.  He still found himself recounting their last shouting match, flipping it over and over in his mind.  Who was right, who was wrong?  Yasusada felt he was no closer to discovering the truth than he was when the words had flew from his mouth.

“Why so quick to get rid of me?”   Kiyomitsu sat himself below the wide tree, stretching his legs out and crossing his shiny boots at the ankle.  “Besides, I brought you something.”

“You did?”  Yasusada tried to keep the interest out of his voice while images of little treats from home paraded their way through his mind like obedient soldiers.

“Of course.  You’ve been with the Shinsengumi for several years now.  You must be missing some things.”

Yasusada flopped down beside his oldest friend, pulling his knees up against his chest, but Kiyomitsu made no effort to produce any of these promised gifts.

“Well?” he finally demanded.

Kiyomitsu only chuckled at his impatience and pulled a small photo from an inside pocket of his jacket, waving it just out of reach.

“Here you go.”

“Eh?  A picture?”  Yasusada reached out to snatch it away.

“Konnosuke goes back occasionally to bring us supplies.  I asked him to bring this back.”

The photo was small, only two or three inches square in size.  It must have come from one of the newer cameras Mutsonokami had that could spit out a picture seconds after it was taken.  The image showed a young woman, her long black hair wound up in a lopsided bun, laughing at something off screen.

“Aruji…” he breathed.  How long had it been since he had seen her?  When he had assigned himself this mission he had sworn that he would not forget a single detail of her features.  But staring now at this photo in vivid colors he realized how faded and fuzzy his memory had grown.  Every time he thought of her it must have worn away an edge of clarity.

It brought back all the loneliness and uncertainty that plagued him each night.  He was surrounded by Shinsengumi brethren, but each night he could only feel alone, strangely distant from their cause.  Only the tiny glimpses of his former master he allowed himself kept him on his path.

“How is she?” he croaked around the weight that suddenly sat upon his chest.

Kiyomitsu shrugged a shoulder in his nonchalant way, kindly ignoring the cracks in his companions words.

“Fine.”

The funny way time travel worked it had probably been only months for her while years had passed for him.  He refused to let himself drift into wondering if she ever thought of him.  He knew the truth.  She worried about all of them almost to a fault.  For some reason that knowledge did not seem to quell the strange longing in his heart.  Why were those thoughts not the thoughts his heart seemed to need?

Kiyomitsu turned to stare at him, the red in his irises piercing in the moonlight.

“Do you love, aruji?”

Yasusada squawked like a frog being hugged.  He hid the photo against his chest as if the person in it might overhear this illicit conversation.

“What?!”

Kiyomitsu shrugged and gazed fondly at his nails, choosing to not respond to the question.  How could he even see them with no moonlight?

“I mean… We all love her, everyone does.” Yasusada rambled.  His answer sounded rehearsed, even to him.  “She gave us human form and she cares for us.   How could we not? Right?”

He brought the picture back into view.

Did he love her in the way that Kiyomitsu was suggesting?  What even was love to a tsukimogami?

Mutsunokami often talked about how he loved the beautiful women in the magazines lying around the citadel.  He remarked on their hair, their clothes, their physical features.  Yasusada could agree that those things were nice, but did they constitute love?

When Yasusada looked at this photo he found himself skipping over those things.  He found himself instead thinking about how she laughed when he told fanciful stories, weaving them together with wild gestures and run on sentences just to see her smile grow.

He thought of her hands when she wrote with the brush, how slender and elegant her fingers looked as they helped mend the never shrinking pile of worn clothing.

He remembered the quiet times.  The many times she had stayed up with him, listening to him pour his heart out about Okita and the past.  Kiyomitsu refused to speak of the man, but she would pry him with questions and smile at his wistful memories.

“Why do you indulge me for so long when you’re so busy, aruji?” he had once asked.

“Because it’s important to you, Yasusada,”she had replied.

He should have asked about her own life, her own past.  He knew so little about her.

Just another thing that haunted his sleepless nights.

He thought back to the first time he had been made leader of a unit, how she had praised him in front of the entire citadel upon their return.   Despite his many obvious errors she had made him feel like the sun.

When had he taken note of so many of her facets?

“I want aruji to be happy.”  Kiyomitsu finally interrupted his musings.   His chin was tilted up as if he were admiring the absent moon.  “But don’t think I’m just going to let you win so easily.”

Yasusada smiled at his friends profile.

“I don’t think she’ll be very happy if our arguing increases.”

Kiyomitsu glanced back at the photo.

“Do you need to keep that?’

Yasusada took a final long look at the photograph before handing it back.

“No, it’s too dangerous to have in this era.”  It was his turn to look toward the absent moon.  “Besides, I don’t need it.”

Not because he was denying her, not because he did not want Kiyomitsu to know his poorly kept secret.  He just did not need a picture of someone who lived so snugly in his heart.

“Alright.  I’ll hold onto it until you get back then.”

Yasusada nodded sharply, drawing in a breath of the slowly chilling air.

“And I’ll let her know the Shinsengumi hasn’t seen fit to drown you yet.”

“Thanks, Kiyomitsu.”