#I prefer his warm palette but the blues do look nice on him

[sysig]

Sit literally anywhere else, why are you choosing to suffer (Patreon)

[90sbee]

My rough edges, your soft waves

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!Reader

2.3k words. Also on ao3.

Kneeling between your legs, biting the flesh of your thighs, touching, his eyes mesmerised by the way your fat moves and undulates with every touch of his. He resembles an artist toying with his paint palette, about to dive into a sweet act of creation, of love. His fingertips crawl on your thighs, and he stares, fascinated like the first time, how your skin sinks and then returns to its normal shape. A sea that doesn’t stay quiet, moves with every breath.

Leon has finally found his other half: someone soft enough to handle his rough edges. Or the fic in which Leon is too crazy about his curvy partner and gets horny.

What can I say, us curvy/chubby people need more self indulgent fics. @delphi-shield made sure this was decent. @lightning-hawke and @obsolescent, tagging you in case you wanna check it out (tho no pressure, I mean it!) Content: No use of y/n, fluff, established relationship, had older Leon in mind. So an unspecified age gap. Reader is shorter than Leon. He is not that good with his words but he is good with his tongue (pun intended). Pet names, compliments. Warnings: +18 cos smut (though not that explicit). Oral sex, penetration. Minors and ageless blogs do not interact. Leon is a bit insecure but he is so in love it hurts.

Leon kisses your forehead once more, your sleepy body on top of his. He sighs, breathing slowly, his heart calm. The movie keeps playing on the TV, the screen slightly illuminating the living-room, yet you don’t care about the plot anymore. You press your cheek against his neck, closing your eyes.

“You’re comfy.”

“I thought that was an understatement already.” You don’t need to look up at him to know that he is smirking. He is not usually this overly confident, but he’s gotten a bit cocky since you’ve started dating. Something about the presence of someone else, a warm body, a sugary-sweet voice telling him that he is worthy, that he matters, that he is pretty and strong and brave and that he is enough.

You could say something back, try to add a witty remark, but you let out a huff, closing your eyes.

“It is midnight, baby,” you remind him. “It’s late enough for me to be sleepy, after all.”

Leon softens at that. Lies down more comfortably on the couch, making sure not to disturb you. His precious little angel, precious little soul. He kisses your cheek then.

Leon wants to say something, conjure up a nice compliment in his head, let it spill from his mouth, since the sight of you on top of him makes him a little dizzy still. Clothed or naked, both times holding an air of dominance against him.

You notice his heart pick up, caressing the skin of his chest by gently grazing his t-shirt.

“Someone is… having thoughts?” You look up, finally. The tender eyes, the smirk now on your face.

“I’m not,” he says. "Are you?” He contemplates, voice raspy, though he knows the fight is lost. Gosh, he still feels silly whenever you read him so easily. It may be a good thing, though, since he still struggles to verbalise things. Prefers to let thoughts linger, to crack a joke or simply let his body talk for him.

“You’re blushing, Leon.” He shakes his head, moves one of his hands to rest on your butt, patting it as if admitting defeat. And it’s true. The glimmer from the screen, the credits already rolling allow you to see his cheeks get pinker. “Cute,” you add, moving to sit on his lap, cupping his cheek quickly, pulling it too before he can even react.

“Very funny,” he says, rubbing his cheek, his other hand bringing you closer to his chest. “You know,” he begins then, blue gaze all tender. Melting inside. “You are like… a teddy bear,” he sighs in an attempt to compliment you. Something about feeling comforted by you, by sleeping peacefully beside you.

You frown, confusion drawing on your face. “Because I am smaller than you and you like sleeping with me?” Comes your cheeky reply.

Leon laughs. Pure joy emanating from his chest, glistening sound caressing your heart as he pulls you closer into him, forcing you to lie on his chest once more.

“So, are my clever remarks contagious, love?” he says, his hand grazing your back, giggling still.

“Nah, I think it’s the other way around.” You touch his arm, trace patterns on his skin as you yawn. “I am influencing you. Probably making you all witty and shit.”

“Just witty?” He inquires, his tone slightly suggestive, taking your face in his hand and kissing your jaw. His stubble makes you tickle.

“Ugh. Nasty old man,” you giggle and he holds you closer, his arm around your body, his hand grabbing at your fleshy hip.

“I’m not. I just like you,” he explains, diving his head between the crook of your neck and your head.

But it’s more than liking. And you both know it. Leon is just not very good at organising the immensity of what he feels for you, the depth which feels so calm and home-like.

He closes his eyes. For a while, you stay in silence. His eager hands grab your hips harder, toy with the flesh as he presses another lazy kiss to your jaw. You bury a sigh into his skin, smiling. God, he could melt like this. Warm, comfortable soul, shining as bright as a sun when you’re close to him, when he kneads his fingertips under your t-shirt to feel you. The reminder that you’re real. Not going anywhere.

His hands grip you harder, and he groans then.

“Leon,” you mewl. It’s not a warning or a complaint. More of a question. Perhaps even a suggestion. He chuckles, opens his eyes to meet your sleepy gaze and your smirk. “You don’t need to grab me like that… No one is stealing me…”

“I am, actually,” He huffs. “Stealing your heart,” Leon adds, burrowing his face against your chest, trying to kiss and get through your skin, enter your chest, tuck himself between your heart and your lungs. Close, too close.

You giggle and hold him, arms around his head, fingertips drawing on his nape. Hope to maybe calm his overactive self this time, knowing that he will probably wake up in the morning and complain about not getting enough sleep, eyebags on his face, yet when he looks at you his mouth keeps a perpetual dumb smile. But this time he keeps on kissing, riding your t-shirt up until you gasp. His mouth on your skin, biting, licking gently as his hands caress your hips, keep you on his arms.

“Leon…” you whine, getting flustered, kneading on his hair as if he was a kitten. His touch inviting, igniting a fire within you.

“Sorry… You’re just too hot,” he replies, mouth busy as he captures one of your nipples between his lips. His voice is raspy, lower than usual. Brain hazy, and all his senses in overdrive. “So fucking gorgeous and soft and mine…” Leon caresses your stomach, not an inch is left untouched as he keeps on kissing you through rugged breaths.

Truly, he is obsessed with you. Obsessed with your body. Since the moment he met you he was fascinated. He’d look at himself in the mirror, his body slimmer, muscle over muscle, scars and the passage of time on his skin, and he would imagine you beside him. He could drool at the image of your belly, feel himself blush when thinking about your pretty cheeks. But he would also stroke himself dry and until his tip hurt just thinking of your hips, your fat thighs and the flesh of your arms. God, he was so attracted to you. So round, soft, pliant, so unlike him. Not tainted by violence. Warmer, younger.

More alive. A starry hope for him.

The first time you two slept together Leon spent an ungodly amount of time in foreplay… Kissing, gripping, moaning between your legs. Sweet praise and saliva spilling from his mouth.

And when he finally entered you, made himself at home inside you, he would not stop whimpering. Needy hips thrusting quickly, groaning, his hands locked to your hips. He didn’t tell you, but the sight of your soft thighs and tummy dancing to his thrusts tipped him over the edge, the idea of him being so capable of shaping you to his desires, his dick able to sculpt your flesh into the nicest shapes. Tenderness, home among the hard edges he was used to handling. Leon came too early, and apologised profusely afterwards, making sure to get you to sit on his face before the night ended, getting you off too enthusiastically, his hands never leaving your hips and stomach as your thighs framed his pretty face. He felt in heaven.

And you’d never felt so desired.

That feeling has remained, not just in bed, but it’s found you in every moment beside him. Acts of service are common with him: he’s learning your favourite recipes, he always makes the bed with a smile on his face, glad to wake up beside you once more. But it’s not just that. It’s also the way Leon lazily kisses you every morning, how he pats your butt while making your breakfast. The way he licks his lips and gets flustered at the sight of the outfit you’ve picked out for a night out with friends. The way he sighs, content, against your belly when he comes home and shyly begs to nap on top of you, how he kisses your shoulder whenever your t-shirt barely drapes over it, preaches compliments against your skin, reminds you how much he loves you.

Leon feels crazy about you. He bites your nipple harder as he pushes you down on the couch, positions himself on top of you, keeps on caressing you, groaning once more, his hands gripping your hips hard again. He needs you. Needs to cocoon himself in your sweet flesh to remind himself that the world is kind and full of love and gave him the biggest gift he could ever ask for: you.

“Mine, mine…” He seems to sing as a lullaby, or a prayer, drunk in you as he hears your moans. His mouth moves lower, bites the flesh of your tummy, cages you with his strong arms as he breathes next to your navel.

By now you feel aroused. Breathing quickly, lips quivering as you look down at him. He seems to take a moment to rest, catching his breath and you grab his face, make him look at you.

“Damn,” you giggle, caressing his cheek, and he melts completely with your touch, closes his eyes. You swear he could purr. It is funny, you think. How you make him go crazy by the mere act of your existence. Seems like the heavens decided to somehow grace you with Leon. Both your boyfriend and your guardian, so devoted to you he could kiss the floor you walk on.

It seems that the small break makes him get out of the needy trance he was in, as he smirks, nodding. “Shit, sorry.” His voice is strained but his gaze feels sweeter. “You good?” He checks, seemingly worried.

“You’re kidding me? I’m great. I just didn’t expect you to be this… horny about me.”

He smiles and kisses your hand, before letting out a sigh.

“It’s ‘cause you’re… perfect,” he explains after a moment. Leon is looking into your eyes, his corny expression blissfully drawn by the light of the commercials on TV. One of his hands lightly grips your hip and he looks down at your body again. “I like you. Like your body,” he slurs out, blushing, his thumb toying with your waistband. He licks his lips rapidly, not looking at your eyes anymore. Shy, you know he’s gotten a little shy now. Has said too much, been too straightforward. But that’s okay. You love him. Whatever he gives you, you give it back to him tenfold. “Can I…?” He begins, his thumb going lower. You nod, of course.

He is gentler this time. Slides onto the carpet next to the couch, kneels there as he tenderly gets rid of your jeans, his hands playing around your hips, descending on your thighs, grabbing calves and ankles, kissing you, moaning.

You wonder sometimes what’s on his mind in those moments. He looks focused, so concentrated. Hasn’t even touched you where you want him yet, but you let him have this. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine this as a sort of therapy for Leon. Kneeling between your legs, biting the flesh of your thighs, touching, his eyes mesmerised by the way your fat moves and undulates with every touch of his. He resembles an artist toying with his paint palette, about to dive into a sweet act of creation, of love. His fingertips crawl on your thighs, and he stares, fascinated like the first time, how your skin sinks and then returns to its normal shape. A sea that doesn’t stay quiet, moves with every breath.

Leon licks his lips again, wondering how he could put it into words. How he could explain that when he looks at you he sees the kind of life he wanted for himself. How with every sight of your hips or your arms, he remembers once more that there is something more to the tragedy that always seems to veil him. How he thinks not only that you look perfect, but that your body is a perfect representation of your inner workings, of the light you hold inside; tenderness, warmth, a blanket that surrounds him, something he can squish when his mind gets too dark, the knowledge and the relief that, even if he may be rough, too used to violence and death, he won’t hurt you: your flesh can take it, your body can take him. His fingertips can’t mark you forever, your skin won’t suffer. You’re pliable, strong in your softness, made for him.

He looks up at you, at your hazy and needy expression and he smiles before finally getting rid of that last item of clothing.

He loves you. Loves you too much.

Leon wishes he could put it into words indeed. He is not sure he would be very good at explaining it, but he has time. He will learn. Sure, he still gets flustered and words fail him, but he trusts that you will stay as he gets better at this. At loving you as deeply as possible, at not overthinking how he shows his affection.

With that confidence in mind, he takes one of your hands in his, rubs your knuckles as an anchor, and finally dives his mouth between your legs, makes sure to kiss and lick and bite as you want him, as you need him, use his other hand to follow your curves and please you.

After all, if his own words fail him, may his mouth and his body be good enough to tell you how he feels. And as he robs a moan out of your throat, he reassures himself that there is indeed a future ahead of him still. The promise of a life of comfort and a sweet company to take care of, to praise and to love as ardently as his chest will allow it.

The promise of a future with you.

I can't believe this was supposed to be just fluff. Jsjjsjsjs. Dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/vase-of-lilies

[pretttydemonboy]

EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. FOR. CHARLIE.

🔫🔫🔫

god this took me too long lmao but I DID IT

are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

Yellow! Warm yellow like sunshine is the color I associate with Charlie. He sticks with wearing a cooler palette when it comes to clothes though, definitely a lot of green, some blues, but a lot of brown and black.

what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

Charlie is a sucker for anything that's like, soft and orchestral, some folksy type stuff too. Think Hozier, The Civil Wars, The Amazing Devil, stuff like that.

weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

Well, Charlie's our resident magic boy, but he uses it less as an outright weapon and more of a protection/redirection type deal. His character sheet says he has a ritual knife but the idea of Charlie stabbing anything sounds so impossible.

Rest below the cut!

how crafty/resourceful are they?

I think I can say with confidence that Charlie is able to come up with unconventional solutions for problems, more often than not using magic, but he's not above using more mundane tools as well!

how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

Think about a history grad assistance in the 90s. Turtlenecks, jackets, cardigans, nice slacks, and he wears round wire framed glasses. He definitely leans towards practicality, but he knows the basics of how to throw an outfit together so that he doesn't look totally goofy.

how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

short on the sides and in the back, but he's got a fluff of ginger curls on top. he mostly just makes sure it's not overly tangled, not laying weird.

favorite animal? why?

Owls, he loves owls so much, he finds them fascinating and he loves how soft their feathers are.

do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

>:) our boy has so many nicknames. the big ones are related to each other a bit, because when he was little, his Uncle Kenny called him Peanuts (like Charlie Brown) and then Tuck, upon hearing this story, decided on Woodstock, but Tuck will also call him any number of sweet adorable pet names and they always make Charlie just...melt

favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

Charlie loves fruit and game meat, often together! and Charlie is a halfway decent cook and baker so he'll make a mean blueberry pie and he can do some magical (heheh) things with venison.

if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?

Charlie always has a kind of unreal number of rings on his fingers, multiple on each finger, but most of them are fairly slender so they don't end up looking that bulky. Silver and iron for protection against various supernatural/fae beings and such.

what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

uh we're both touch starved gingers with mommy issues? I think we would get along for the most part, but in small doses. I'm too abrasive for Charlie and Charlie's too soft for me.

how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?

I decided at least that Charlie is a Pisces, I suppose now I'll hammer down a specific date. March 15th! It's not the day I made him, I officially made him uhhhh back in 2021? he was extremely different in his first iteration though, I made him for a play by post motw campaign that fizzled out very quickly, and now he's in another one! as far as celebrating birthdays, they've always been a rather large affair for his family but he personally prefers a quieter celebration, dinner and a movie type stuff

what languages do they speak? how fluently?

English and Gaelic fluently, small amount of Latin for magic reasons

are they any good with numbers?

He's....adequate? He can do basic math but it was never his absolute favorite subject in school. He can calculate tips at restaurants in his head though!

how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

Charlie has a very large family. he's only got three siblings, but he's got a bunch of cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents and second cousins and in laws and the list just goes on, he doesn't even know how far his family reaches.

do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?

Charlie does not have any pets, he worries that he's too busy to properly care for them, but he does have a habit of trying to befriend birds, especially crows and owls

how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

before his magic really began to manifest, he would spend a lot of time helping his mother bake in the kitchen and help take care of the couple goats and sheep that they had. and of course he'd play with his siblings, usually out in the fields, rolling down hills and playing in the creeks and whatnot. but as he got older he spent a lot more time alone :)

their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

Charlie doesn't personally enjoy any of these, but as much as he tries to avoid them, he does understand that there's a time and place for everything. killing less so than the other two, because he really thinks there's always another solution before that.

are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

Charlie doesn't get necessarily angry, but when he gets overstimulated then he can get very frustrated and irritable and snippy.

if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?

Charlie can drive, and he does have his own car, a simple dark blue sedan. it is clean, but he often has books scattered across the backseat

their favorite place to be?

Alice's house with everyone there, or Tuck's place, or anywhere with a lot of books

do they sleep well at night?

depends on the day really, but he gets cold so easily so it definitely helps if he either has someone next to him or if he has enough blankets

how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

Charlie has a somewhat higher pitched voice, but it's very melodic in nature, and he can halfway carry a tune, but he tends to hum rather than sing.

do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)

I'm counting baking in this, otherwise all that boy does is read lol

how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?

Charlie wears glasses and is pretty farsighted, but his hearing is average for someone of his age

how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

Despite his excessively long limbs, he's actually somewhat graceful, but it's only because he is hyper aware of his movements to avoid accidental magicks

if applicable, do they have a favorite sport? do they play any sports or prefer to watch?

a stiff breeze would bowl that boy over, he doesn't not play sports and he finds no appeal to them, but he would absolutely go to a friend's game if they asked.

how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

Charlie is a giver, he loves giving gifts. Whether it's a healing balm, a trinket, or baked goods, he puts incredible thought into the things he gives others. If Charlie doesn't like someone...to be honest I think he would just say it in the least confrontational way possible. Like, "I don't think we would be good as friends, or acquaintances, so we should part ways now"

are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

Hmmm. Gotta be water/air for Charlie. He is the frighteningly still air just before a tornado, the cool breeze of spring, the gentle splashing creek, and the sudden riptide.

do they smell like anything notable?

I think Charlie always has a freshly baked smell about him on account of all the baking. Beneath that, something distinctly other. The current of magic that flows through him, like the smell of fireworks.

do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

Despite his love of giving gifts, he always gets so shy when someone tries to give him something. It's easier when it's something that's more sentimental rather than like, material value. Every time Tuck brings him a cool rock or something like that genuinely just makes Charlie's heart sing.

do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

The stimming he does with his rings has the potential to be destructive, both to the self and to others, but it's not inherently dangerous

if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

none of my other characters have met the noodle boy yet!

how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

"I, well, I'm a boy? I guess? A man, rather, I am an adult. And I um, I'm a redhead? I'm sorry I'm really not sure what kind of answer you're looking for here, I'm just uh...I'm Charlie?"

do they ever return home?

Charlie goes to visit his blood relatives every few years, but that hasn't been home for a long, long time. Home is weekly dinners at Alice's. Home is in Tuck's arms, Alice's gruff silence, Kenny's terrible jokes, Nessie's singing.

[cmdonovann]

here's something i've been meaning to make a post about for, oh, like five years now:

QUANTUM BREAK COLOR PALETTES!

specifically, i wanna talk about how i associate color palettes with characters and their narratives, and what better example is there than quantum break? (i've drawn these character so much, lmao)

first, let's talk about MONARCH.

(look, i even made some fun little graphics!)

anyway, as you can see here, monarch has actual color branding. according to The Secret History Of Time Travel (the behind-the-scenes, making-of book about quantum break), remedy hired a company that designs branding for actual irl companies to do this. the color hexes i have listed in that first group of four squares are taken straight from the book.

the main color that i focus on when picking colors for characters from monarch is the yellowy orange. even if i don't use that color, i want monarch characters to have colors that contrast nicely with it. the bluish grey from the official branding contrasts with it in a very subtle way, but because monarch is very modern and sleek and futuristic, i prefer to pick greys that are even cooler toned than the official ones, and thus increase that contrast. I have some examples in the second set of squares, with greys that are slightly more in the range of deep blues and purples.

(when drawing paul specifically, i tend to lean pretty heavy on the purpley greys, because i like the way they contrast with the warmer blues i use for jack, hehe. i also just think that bluish purples work well with the way i draw paul: usually quite pale and unwell-looking.)

hatch's colors are also very cool-toned, so if you wanted to play around with color symbolism, you could yoink some deeper purpley greys from the same range as his colors and use those as your contrast grey against the monarch yellow. i feel like this would work especially well the further along in the story you get, as paul falls apart and hatch's influence on monarch becomes more apparent.

next up, jack and co!

so, let's start with beth. beth's colors are influenced by monarch's, for obvious reasons (her uniform being only one of them), but i prefer to skew her colors warmer than those i use for characters that are more directly affiliated with monarch. i make her blues warmer and more saturated, usually, and add reddish and orangeish tones, both because of her hair and skin tone and because i like the way the orange ties her palette to jack, who i also use a rusty orange for sometimes.

will's colors are primarily greens, and quite warm ones at that. i usually pull these from the places associated with will, such as the machine at bradbury hall (which has quite greenish lighting in some scenes) and his chalkboard setup at ground zero. these also lean nicely into the washed-out greenish teals that are often found in scenes where time is stopped, which is a clever way of tying will (and jack, obviously) to the fracture visually.

jack, as the main character, is the hardest to pin down a palette for, in my opinion. i tend to use teals and blues for him, and pull from the color palette of the stutters quite a bit, like i just mentioned. his shirt is also a shade of warm bluish teal, so it works out nicely. he also has a kind of rusty reddish lining in his jacket, which i associate with him quite a bit. i find it very narratively satisfying to make jack's colors the closest of all the characters to those of stutters and the fracture itself, as he is the one who has to navigate and ultimately fix them.

anyway, i hope that all made sense! i can elaborate or explain further if anyone has questions, but mostly i just wanted to make a little post about color palettes in quantum break because i like color symbolism!

[chairsmessofabrain]

I’m lonely ok this is literally just getting me through the last few days bc I got hit on and then declined it while sitting next to a friend and her bf who were being way too cute and I just got sooo lonely uugh and then and then I saw this adorable comic ab the doctor and miss Abbott and it’s the cutest thing ever so this is what my brain did in response. Enjoy 😊

She’s been out of a relationship for a year now, but it still haunts her to this day. She met a wonderful man and he is so kind, but the issues of the past won’t go away.

“Would you like to come over and finish this bottle?” He inquired.

Her cheeks felt warm, was it from him or the alcohol? Maybe it was both. Her insides did somersaults. Was she ready for this? He seemed so nice, so decent. Es

“I uh-” His eyes clouded with a twinge of disappoint. “Yes. I’d love to,” she forced it out. It wasn’t that he seemed untrusting, but she couldn’t be sure anymore. But she couldn’t disappoint him either. She had never been any good at that.

His face lit up. He was so handsome when he was happy. She preferred them happy. It was less dangerous.

They continued their conversation for a few blocks. The houses in this area were gorgeous, quaint but gorgeous. He tugged her hand as he turned up the sidewalk of a small navy house. “This is me,” he jingled through his keys to unlock the door.

“It’s so nice,” she say quietly and stepped through the threshold.

“What’s you take me for? A heathen?” He stepped in behind her and locked the door. The inside was pretty too. Nicely decorated, there was a large tv in the living room with a nice entertainment system and a very cozy looking couch.

“Meh. Jury is still out.” There were two doors on the left, he beckoned her to follow through one. She hadn’t seen a house with the kitchen closed off to the living room, but then she noticed there was a bar area, the cutout onto the living room was just closed. She brought the wine over to the counter and sat at the bar while he grabbed the glasses and poured another drink.

“I don’t know but this living situation makes it harder and harder to believe you don’t have all the girls clambering after you” She smirked into her cup.

“Now now, what makes you think they’d like this?” He chuckled, leaning against the counter.

“You’re kidding right? This is like every woman’s dream.” She turned and couldn’t help but stare at the pristine counters. “And the color palette in this room alone? Spill. Who decorated it for you?”

“What you don’t believe I could do this?”

“A male engineer? No, I’ll stick to my biases” she took another sip of the wine. It was really good, who gave it the right?

“Nah you’re right,” he signed with a smile. “I could never, my mom and my sister? They had a field day when they heard I was getting a new house. They were convinced it had to be perfect ‘to impress the ladies’” he chuckled as he took a sip from his own glass.

“Well,” she looked over at him. He looked so good, or was it the wine talking? “You can tell them it worked, again” she let a playful smile spread across her lips as she stared at him. She couldn’t help it anymore.

“Again? My dear you’d be surprised! you’re the first woman I’ve brought here after a date,” he turned to her. His grey blue eyes were so enticing, she had to avert her gaze as she blushed. The term “my dear” sent something through her she hadn’t felt in ages. She wanted to let herself believe he was telling the truth, but the thought tugged in her mind: don’t get too attached. You’ll only get hurt.

She couldn’t help but feel his gaze on her still, begging her to let him say wonderful things that would pull her in hook line and sinker, but she’d already told him she hates hearing them. They sound so cliche, not to mention she’d fold so easily when he did say them, and she couldn’t afford that.

Change the subject. Fast. Please, she thought, trying to come up with something to take his gaze off of her. It made her uncomfortable, but not in a bad way, just in one she didn’t know if she was ready for.

“So, um, did they also help you choose your entertainment system, to impress young girls like me?” She finally dared to look at him again.

He quickly turned his gaze to his glass and laughed “no, no. That was all me. I love a good screen to watch Bambi on, you know?” He flashed that award winning smile. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“You’re kidding right?” She finally caught her breath and his expression. “Oooh no You’re not. I don’t know which one would be better honestly.” She wiped the single tear from her eye as she let out another giggle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, alcohol makes me giggle. It’s not- it’s not funny.” She tried being serious, but his eyes twinkled and he feigned offense.

“I’m sorry. Yes it is, that’s so funny to me” she couldn’t hold in her giggles anymore.

“I would be sad, if your laugh wasn’t the best sound I think I’ve ever heard,” he responded. “I think i could listen to it for hours.” A smile danced across his lips as he just stared at her. She had to turn away, blushing the whole time. “I’m sorry that was a little direct,” he looked into his drink. “I forgot what you told me earlier, wine makes me loose lipped and that was a little much I apologize.”

“No- no don’t apologize,” she whispered, trying to force herself to look at him again. To see the intent in his eyes. When she finally did, she wanted the think, to know that she could believe him and what he said. “It’s nice coming from you..”

His eyes brightened a little as he studied her face. She wanted to know what he was looking for, what he saw in her. He gazed a little too intently for her, making her blush and turn away again.

“What about you?”

“What about me,” she turned back, puzzled.

“Your favorite movie? I’ve given you mine, I’ve bared all to you in that admission,” he gave her a cheeky grin. “Now you must tell me your embarrassing favorite movie.”

“What makes you think mine is embarrassing? Or that I’m embarrassed by my favorite movie?”

“Oh come on,” he finally turned to sit on the stool next to her, nudging her shoulder. “There has to be one movie out there that you’d be embarrassed to say you like.”

“Not that I’m embarrassed by it,” she shoved him back. “But I adore The Princess Bride”

He reached up and opened the shutters that closed off the living room from the kitchen.

“Then that’s what we will watch.”

“And why not Bambi?”

“Because I want to know ever little nuance of why you like The Princess Bride,” he turned the tv on and began searching. “And I want to hear you giggle again.” This time, he said it much quieter, she wasn’t sure he said it on purpose, she barely caught it, but she blushed again anyways.

“What makes you think I don’t want to know your infatuation with Bambi?”

“Because,” he said teasingly “it’s Bambi. Everyone loves Bambi. What isn’t there to like?”

“I could argue the same for The Princess Bride.”

“Maybe. Maybe. But I’m the owner, so I get to pick the movie”

“Ooooh you must be the oldest,” she laughed.

“What makes you think so?”

“‘It’s mine so I choose’? That is either peak only child or peak oldest sibling, and considering you said your sister helped decorate, you’re not an only child”

“Oh, ouch,” he feigned betrayal. “I was hoping you wouldn’t pay attention to that.” She just smiled into her glass as the opening credits played.

….

She hadn’t noticed herself leaning onto him until she felt her head hit his shoulder and she jolted upright.

“I thought this was your favorite?” His voice was low. “How could you fall asleep during this?” She let out a small,quiet laugh, trying not to let herself doze onto his shoulder again.

“I uh, I don’t usually fall asleep during movies..” she sat up straighter and glanced at the clock. It was almost 2 am. “I uh, I should probably go home. It’s late.”

“I’d be inclined to agree, if either one of us was sober enough to drive,” he joked softly. “I can call an Uber for you if you want.” He pulled his phone out and slid it to her. She typed in her apartment as best she could in her sleepy state. She had forgotten the drive was 30 minutes to the restaurant and they were within walking distance. He glanced over her shoulder. “Phew that’s a drive, how opposed would you be to staying in my guest room?” She glanced up at him but he looked earnest.

“What, so you can seduce me with wonderful singing and breakfast in bed in the morning?”

He flashed that beautiful grin. “Maybe. Well yes that, and I don’t trust Uber drivers this late for that long of a drive. I know you’ve only known me for a few hours but that’s longer than you’d know the Uber driver,” he chuckled. “Plus you’d get complimentary breakfast and coffee.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, as if that was more enriching than being able to just fall asleep sooner.

He was right, the 30 minute long drive did not sound as appealing as the guest bed that was right there. “But what would I wear?” She joked.

He gave her a mischievous grin, the kind that made her stomach twist and she regretted the question. “I mean, preferably nothing, but-”

“Well geez thanks for ruining the moment,” she retorted.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughed a bit, in that brotherly ‘i struck a nerve’ laugh. “My sister leaves some t-shirts here for if she is in the city and needs a place to crash. You can borrow something in the dresser. Please don’t walk around naked. That would make the neighbors suspect things.” He got up and took both of their empty glasses to the sink.

“Ha ha, as if seeing me leave in the morning wouldn’t raise questions.”

“Not if I take you home no. My windows are tinted, they wouldn’t suspect a thing,” he quipped.

“Right because we can’t have you keep the playboy image up can we?”

“No no, I’m much too respectable in the neighborhood for that,” he laughed. “So, comfy guest bed, or creepy Uber dude? Your choice.” He walked back over and picked up his phone, standing much closer to her than before.

“Well you’ve put up a good argument. But i don’t know if im fully convinced.” She looked up and saw him standing slightly over her. She thought she could cut the tension between them with a knife.

“I guess i uh, I better show you to the guest room,” he cleared his throat and leaned back, a little too quickly. Did she want him to kiss her? Yes. No?

“Uhm yeah that would be, yeah.” Well that was a sentence there. She chided herself.

He turned and she caught a glimpse of a grin as he said “Alrighty ma’am, this way to your suite.” Sweeping his arms about and a grandiose fashion that made her giggle. He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye, full of mischief, a grin spread wide across his face. He lead her out the second door in the kitchen down the hallway to the extra room and he opened the door wide. The room was pretty, in a modest way, and large. “There’s a bathroom there, towels and rags are under the sink, there should be soap in it? I’m not totally sure how much though. There might be a new toothbrush in the cabinet, if not let me know and I’ll get one in the morning. Extra blankets are in the living room, or you could come cuddle with me,” he wiggled his eyebrows making a stupid face. She smacked his chest. “Offer still stands,” he joked.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughed.

“How do you like your coffee in the morning?”

“Uhm sweet and with cream or milk is fine.”

“Perfect,” he said as he started to step out and shut the door. “Oh, and your eggs?”

She laughed a bit. It’s been a while since someone had made her breakfast, and even then it was only after she had offered something. “Over easy are my favorite, but I’ll just eat a little whatever you want to make.”

“Mm not picky?”

“Well yes I am picky but I’ll try my hardest.”

“Over easy it is then. They shouldn’t be overly hard to do.”

“Was that- was that a pun?”

“Maybe…”

“That was bad. That was so bad.” She couldn’t help but laugh again. It was so corny but she liked corny sometimes. Especially when it caught her off guard.

He let out a soft laugh “but it made you giggle.”

“You act like that been hard to do all night.”

“That’s fair. You fine everything funny. It’s very cute.” She rolled her eyes. “Goodnight,” he closed the door.

“Wait,” she opened the door back up. He spun back around.

“Problem?”

“No,” she bit her lip. “I just wanted to say thank you. It’s been a fun night.” She leaned against the side of the door as be stepped closer to the door frame.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,” he smiled. “It’s nice to know I have some talent, even if it is just making the most giggly person ever laugh.” She blushed and then did something impulsive that she didn’t think she would ever do this soon.

She leaned in and kissed him. She had meant for it to be quick and on the cheek, but he had turned his head back to face her as she leaned in. It took them both by surprise, but he recovered faster. And suddenly she didn’t want to stop. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he pulled her closer. She wanted to be here forever. He felt so familiar and safe, something she hasn’t felt in a long time. He pulled away first and looked at her, slightly wild eyed, with a bit of a sparkle in them. She guessed she probably looked about as flustered as she felt.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know-“

“It’s ok,” he whispered, pressing his head to hers. “You are one hell of a kisser,” he smiled and she felt her face becoming beet red for the millionth time that night, so red that she buried it in his chest. “But I want to be a gentleman,” his arms were still around her, essentially the only thing keeping her knees from being jello. Then he took a step back and she let him. He grabbed her hand from his chest, which almost made her heart sink. But instead of placing it back at her side as she was used to, he lifted it up and kissed it.

“Are you trying to make me melt?” She whispered.

“Maybe.” He smiled at her. “Goodnight.” He turned and left down to hall to what she assumed was his room.

She closed her own door and pressed her back against it, letting her fingers linger on her lips.

Did she really just do that?

She’s fully known him for only a few hours and she kissed him!

She initiated it!

Damn he was either that cute or she was that tipsy, and the didn’t think it was the latter. If she went to bed now all she would think about would be that kiss. A shower. I’ll go get a shower. That should help. She rustled through the drawers and found a t-shirt and pair of shorts, grabbed a towel and miraculously found an unopened toothbrush and got ready for bed, fully still thinking about that kiss.

[esperanzagalaxy]

for requests, if you're willing to do something in the garden of yerlick? sasha the knife fairy or cel and their spouse or whatever else you prefer! your art is SO good I could look at it forever

 RQG request #12, a very sweet one. thanks so much for your prompt. i’m actually surprised i didn’t go with sasha the knife fairy (which i sincerely think is a severly underrated line) since doing something about the visitations kind of intimidated me! so i let this one sit for a while and then it just sort of came out of me. the lineart on its own is sincerely very nice, and i was nervous about over-rendering it with the colors, but... i think it’s a lovely result. i’m very happy about the faces. i think they’re all the emotions i wanted. look at cel and yuuko. i might never be able to top that tenderness.

  also, i love my design for feryn, so having the excuse to bust him out was great.

  hope you like it as much as i do <3

 mechanical pencil on cream paper and digital colors.

 ID under the cut!

[ID: an illustration of the party going through the garden of yerlik, accompanied by spirits. it is drawn traditionally with a mechanical pencil, and colored digitally. it shows hamid, zolf, cel, azu and wilde walking with aziza, yuuko,  grizzop and feryn. most of them are in profile, walking from the right to the left. there are tall trunks behind the group, as well as blue betals and cold breezes blowing through. the living and the trees are colored and rendered in cold palettes of purples and blues respectively, while the dead are colored in a flat, warm orange.    from left to right, first in the walking order are aziza and hamid. hamid has his eyes closed, and his head is hanging a little. he has a sad smile on his face. his skin is brown, his hair is darker, curly and slicked back. he's freckly and has a bit of stubble on his chin. his thick coat has a fur-lined hood. just behind him, and leaning forwards to look him in the face, is aziza, who is holding his left hand with both of hers. she has long, wavy hair and expensive jewelry. she has a build and face almost identical to hamid's, rounded, short and fat. she has an elegant dress and a shawl over her shoulders. she's smiling and talking to hamid with interest.    behind them, further back just a little, are cel and yuuko. yuuko is a tall orc with tusks, gentle eyes, and hair done up in a braid that runs along his scalp and then down. he's wearing a plain button-up with an open collar, and a simple waistcoat. he's walking side by side with cel, offering them his left elbow. he's looking at them with moved adoration. cel is white and blond, hair spiky and tall. they're wearing their goggles and a long coat with fur along the sleeves and collar. they're holding onto yuuko's arm with their left hand, and have the right intertwined with his. they're nuzzling into his neck, since he's a little taller. they're smiling, looking melancholic, both sad and elated.    some paces closer to the camera, behind hamid and aziza, are zolf and feryn. zolf is closing his eyes tightly, with his head hanging down, and he's walking with hands balled into fists. his hair is short and white, and his beard is done in a single plait. his coat has no fur on it. he's strong and stocky in build. behind him and one step closer to the camera, is feryn. he has his left hand on his pocket, and tje other on zolf's arm. he's talking to him in an animated manner. they have the same build, with feryn being very slightly taller. he's wearing an old, long coat with a breasplate underneath, and his hair is long and straight, somewhat uneven. his beard is done in three braids.    behind them and behind cel and yuuko are azu and grizzop. azu is looking down and holding the heart of aphrodite necklace in both hands, sad but smiling softly. her eyes are closed. her coat with a wide fur-lined hood is only partially visible. on her shoulders sits grizzop, who also has his arms crossed on top of her head, looking onwards with a cheeky grin. his long coat, plain trousers and boots are visible. he's bald and freckly, with dangling arrow piercings hanging from his long ears.    on the far right, behind them all, is wilde. he's the only one of the living with his eyes open, and he's looking behind them, off to the right to something off-camera. his eyes are wide and he has a surprised, searching expression. his hair reaches his shoulders and is dark brown, with a streak of white on the left side. his coat has a wide fur-lined collar, and there's a rope tied around his waist, tying him to zolf. end ID]

[chimielie]

cucumber mint burt’s bees chapstick

summary: Ushijima x Reader. Gone swimming with Wakatoshi.

word count: 821

cw: kissing, journalist reader, tooth rotting fluff

a/n: for @teesumu‘s after you’ve read angst collab! go read all the other drabbles they are so unbearably cute wah and ty tee for hosting this!! i had a lot of fun w it. perhaps too much fun i have brainrot now

Ushijima’s favorite part of your home must be the pool. Not only is it useful— he does laps every morning when it’s warm enough, and it’s a comfortable place to cool down his heated muscles after a tough practice— it’s where many things he loves come together.

It’s where he can observe his garden, which isn’t quite fully grown in, but it’s coming in nicely, in all the places he wants it to, wire wrapped plants bending just as he’d designed, neat rows of crops beginning to flourish in the planter boxes he built. You water the plants the sprinkler misses every morning, often pulling up weeds as you go, and he comes home and tends to your yard with just as much care. The evening breeze rustles the leaves and the wind chimes (you bought them and he hung them up), barely mussing his short-shorn hair.

He prefers cool colors; Ushiwaka, level-headed and stoic, rarely rash. Of course you prefer the cooler palette, he remembers a journalist who saw the apartment he lived in then telling him. He hadn’t really understood the meaning of those words, assuming it was perhaps a reference to his own looks or to his former team’s colors. Now, surrounded by blue-grays and purples and muted greens, he understands. It would be a gross lie to call him afraid of hard work, but he’s made a life of seeking peace and calm waters.

The water laps at his skin, and he leans back, rests his elbows on the concrete, sighing as his back muscles stretch.

You shift against his chest, and this is what he loves most of all, you, clinging with pruned fingers to his side, legs floating up and wrapping around him. Since you moved in with him, you’ve spent countless nights like this, pressed close to him and silently admiring the house that the two of you have turned into your home.

“Wakatoshi,” you murmur, and the sound of his first name on your lips nearly made him keel over the first time he heard it, his strong heart close to giving out on him. Now, it merely makes him hold you a little closer, the fond expression on his face becoming a little fonder. Hard with muscle as he is, he still has a soft spot that you manage to jab him in time and time again.

“Love?” He says after a moment. “What are you doing?” You squirm, exhaling a soft laugh as he stubbornly keeps his big arms around you.

“I just need you to let go for a second.” Reluctantly, he does, and you slip away from him, pushing back into the water with your eyes closed, dunking your head quickly and coming up with your hair slicked back and breaths coming a little louder. You swim to the opposite edge of the pool, where a small pile of clothing and a couple glasses stand, taking a long gulp of your drink. He watches, fascinated by even the smallest movements as you shake out your shorts, searching through the pockets before grabbing what you’ve been searching for and coming back to him, head and one hand above the water.

He sees the green cap and knows what it is before you’re even halfway across. Wakatoshi remembers a similar green cap, long since used up, lying on the floor of a black-tie event venue, and how he’d tripped over you while you crouched to pick it up. He remembers helping you up, your hand warm in his own, and handing you the little tube of chapstick with a green cap. He recognized you as a sports reporter who was often assigned to interview him. He thought you were beautiful.

“Cucumber mint,” he’d commented, hand lingering. “I’m sorry again for tripping over you. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s a good flavor,” you’d said. “And it’s alright if it’s you.”

You were beautiful, and he agreed that it was a good flavor when he kissed you for the first time, months later, and you had told him you liked how chill he was in a cucumber-minty flavored metaphor when you saw his then-home, a while after that, when everyone had only ever thought he was chilly. You watered his garden and swam with him and now you reach up, offering him a share of the chapstick you’d just applied to your own lips.

Wakatoshi presses his lips together after you slather it on, just like you taught him, while you put the tube on the side of the pool again. He used to have chapped lips often. Now his mouth is soft, soft for whispering sweet words to you while you sleep, soft for kissing you when you tilt your face up and ask for it, soft for you like his heart is. Like all of him is.

Cucumber mint is a good flavor, he thinks, especially when he’s tasting it off your lips.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed iv, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): est. poly relationship – jungkook x reader x yoongi

summary: Your boyfriends woke up and chose violence. Excuse me, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi? Do you really think you can post one after another on Twitter, send the world into heart palpitations, and not expect your girlfriend to do something about it? Hmm?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of the pandemic; reader and Yoongi have giant heart eyes whenever they see each other; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, nipple play, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, m-masturbation, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS

that’s right JK posted his blue hair and i absolutely lost it part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your boyfriend asked JJK to fuck you, then again, and then they decided to make this a thing; based on real time.

--

Your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Everything was fine. You were on your lunch break, sitting in your kitchen, knowing you would have to get back to work soon. A quick meal and scrub of the dishes left you with you a few minutes to check your phone. You didn’t get many messages throughout the day and you preferred it that way. You took a moment to scroll through social media.

Only to choke a little seeing Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, reveal his dark blue locks to the world in the middle of the damn day. Did you almost drop your phone? Yes. Did you not because it was the special edition BTS S20+? Also, yes. The TinyTan SUGA phone case would have protected it anyway, but… still.

You placed your phone aside and went back to your computer, ready to attend work again.

Not quite composed, but it was just a picture, just a picture, just a picture…

Except you knew what Jungkook looked like naked and that wasn’t helping.

Three hours later, you snuck a glance at your phone only to be attacked by the cutest human being in the world, Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, sometimes Agust D, all the time lil meow meow because, holy shit, why the fuck was this man so cute? Those damn cheeks. Those eyes. Fuck, you loved his eye shape. And his pretty lips. Damnnit, why couldn’t you kiss him right now?

They’re trying to kill you and ARMY all at once. 

You’re convinced.

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath.

It is only a coincidence. It doesn’t involve you. They’re only being their usual adorable, attractive selves and giving a gift to the fans. You weren’t delusional. It was their job to do things like this. You knew this and you were used to it. You’ve seen Yoongi say all kinds of things in V-LIVEs and you always thought it was funny. Lately, he hadn’t been responding to them much though. As for Jungkook, well.

Everyone in the world wanted Jungkook, including you, so could you blame the world? No.

Jungkook tried to tell you before that he was shy and you recalled all those see-through shirts he’d worn on stage. All those ab reveals. Hmm, you weren’t fooled.

“I wanted to make sure you were looking at me, noona,” Jungkook had teased you, hooking his arms around your waist. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

Yeah, yeah, your attention and millions of other people.

It made you laugh, until he became your boyfriend, and now it made you choke on air like every other human being who saw him looking that good. Before you had the safety of giving your full attention to Yoongi. Yoongi had always been your priority and you wanted to make sure he felt that way.

Little by little.

Jungkook grew up.

And became harder and harder to ignore.

Even more difficult when Yoongi gave him the apartment key and told him to fuck you in his stead.

You heard your phone ping. You checked your messages, saving your work in the process.

That will teach you to post such sexy pictures.

You twitched. Excuse me? What was Jungkook talking about? Your personal, private Instagram was for expressing your – sometimes eccentric – fashion sense. Was he referring to the images you posted for Valentine’s Day, the ones with the white vinyl coat, red stockings, and sky-high red heels? Hmph. You couldn’t even see your face in those. Actually, you deliberately cut off most of your face in all of your pictures. The most you showed were your lips, always painted to match your outfit. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you, even by happenstance.

Made taking pictures much easier, since you never had to do eye makeup or worry about accidentally making ugly faces.

It was private now, but it wasn’t before, and the only reason you privated it was because you started dating Yoongi. You still wanted it use it as an outlet though, so you left it as is, with your follower count unchanging. It wasn’t that many people to begin with and you were pretty sure a lot of the accounts were bots.

In any case, sometimes you felt like being creative and dressing up, thus you did so on Instagram. You couldn’t dress like that when you went to visit Yoongi. Ah, and now Jungkook too. To be honest, you loved fashion and trying on different looks, but it wasn’t possible unless you were alone. And you were alone a lot, with no one but strangers to appreciate (or be confused by) it.

Might as well take a picture, right?

And if you could tease Yoongi a little, at least from a distance, that was even better.

You forgot Jungkook also followed you now though. 

Dammit. 

Had the photos been sexy? Sure. Provocative, lots of leg, almost a peek of ass but not quite. Red lips to stand out against the white. If the coat was black, it would have been more traditionally fetishist, but that's why you had picked shiny white vinyl. Brighter for the cute holiday. 

Who are you kidding? You wore it to provoke Yoongi.

He texted you after you posted it. Usually, he said things along the lines of, pretty, cute, you look crazy, I like it. Only sometimes did he say...

what the fuck

You had asked him if he liked your post today. 

I'm not trying to pop a boner in the middle of practice, control yourself woman.

Maybe don't post such cute selfies then, you had thought. Then your phone pinged again. 

Send a picture with the coat open. Jungkook wants to see. 

Oh, so now that the maknae was involved, he was going to pin things on the younger one. Two can play at this game. You sent the photo to Jungkook first. You knew that if the situation was reversed, Yoongi would have done the same. Jungkook's reaction had been hilarious.

Noona?! WHAT???

And then a slew of head exploding emojis.

Yoongi had been agitated until you finally sent him the picture too. It had been a fun incident.

Until your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Dammit. 

You stared at blue-haired Jungkook and 'Blue and Grey' Yoongi from the MTV Unplugged performance. 

This just wasn’t allowed. 

-

This visit had a purpose, but then you saw Min Yoongi standing in the hallway waiting for you, wearing an olive-green shirt, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, small smile on his lips. Purring your name lovingly after you closed the door, and you realized you missed him so very much, his lovely dark brown eyes and dark hair, and then you were suddenly in his arms and he was hugging you. 

With both arms. 

Yoongi was recovering well and he still couldn't do strenuous activity yet, but he was hugging you with both arms and you wanted to cry because it was so nice to have them both around you. You could've been cool and collected, yet somehow both you and Yoongi had the same idea to first hug and breathe in each other, his fresh, woodsy scent strongly invading your nose and his soft cheek against yours.

"You smell different."

"Do you like it?" you mumbled into his neck, kissing it lightly. 

"Mhm."

You thought it had worn off by now, but the new perfume you had purchased lingered far longer than you imagined, clinging to your hair. Warm spiced sweetness with a hint of sharp smoke. Yoongi inhaled deeply beside you.

"You should wear more perfume," he murmured, hands kneading your waist.

"Someone might notice."

"Nah, your taste similar enough to mine."

He was taking off your coat and you were stepping out of your shoes, being pulled deeper into the apartment, and now his kisses were yours, soft and light, every one saying, I missed you, I want you, I love you. There no need for words when it was Min Yoongi. Fingers tapping down your waist, pulling your oversized black shirt up and over your head. 

"Excuse me?"

You pooped your head out to see Yoongi staring at your chest, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Oh, right. You had been so occupied with hugs and kisses that you almost forgot. Your shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten.

You smirked. 

"Surprise."

Yoongi made a face at you. Somewhere between angry, aroused, and shock. Good. Serves you right for posting such a cute selfie.

The front door opened. 

Both of you instantly moved, you sliding behind him and into the bedroom, Yoongi standing in front of you, masking your frame. The discarded shirt and jacket could be explained away – that's why you wore oversized men's clothes, usually in Yoongi's preferred color palette.

"Hyung?"

Oh, whew. Actually, wait. No, this was danger. 

"Ah, Jungkookie."

Yoongi placed his hand on your arm and you popped your head over the corner once you heard the door close. Yup. A swift shake of dark blue locks, white sweatshirt and loose black sweatpants, and that mischievous smirk with a wrinkle of his nose. 

Danger.

"Hey, noona!"

Damnnit, planning for two is hard! You couldn't just go put your shirt on and do the grand reveal again. Yoongi grasped your upper arm with his right hand and yanked you from the doorframe. You squeaked, body stumbling into Jungkook’s view.

"Did you plan this?" Yoongi asked with a cocked brow. 

Jungkook's eyes went wide. 

"Uh... no, but I like where this is going," Jungkook replied, smirk growing. 

The black lace bra stood out against your skin, strappy and elegant, molding to the swells of your breasts and the curve downward to your waist, matching the garter belt that disappeared into the black jeans you were wearing. You didn't usually wear lingerie. It wasn't practical and if you accidentally left something behind... it wasn't worth the risk. Yoongi and you took every precaution to not fuck this up. 

Therefore, you only wore lingerie on your private Instagram. 

Only showing little flashes, never the whole picture. And, really, you wore it in your photos to mess with them. It made you feel nice too, so it was a win-win. This set was familiar to Yoongi and Jungkook because you had worn the red version in the original Valentine’s Day themed photos. 

Again, you didn't usually wear lingerie, but Jungkook and Yoongi couldn't just post pictures on Twitter back-to-back, two-shot you, and not expect a damn reaction. That kind of shit wasn't tolerated! On top of all that, you had to wait and get properly tested before getting here. This pandemic extended your frustrations. So, yes, fuck it, you wore the damn lingerie that made you feel the sexiest. Even if your jeans were still on, you knew you looked good. 

No one had to tell you. You checked in the mirror before you left. 

"Is this your response to my text a couple days ago?" Jungkook teased, kicking off his shoes and bounding over to you two. His dark blue hair shimmered in the light, like a night sky covered with stars, smile pure and naughty at the same time, lighting up his whole face. 

Fuck you for being hot, Jeon Jungkook!

You leaned back against Yoongi, crossing your arms under your breasts, pressing them together. Jungkook grinned, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. 

"Something like that," you coolly replied. Shit, there was an edge to your voice. Hopefully neither Yoongi or Jungkook picked that up.

"Hmm..." 

Jungkook pursed his lips, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out the side. Ack. You had to look away. You turned and bumped your lace-covered tits against Yoongi's chest. His dark brown orbs flickered to your breasts, sly smile on his lips. 

"This is your fault too, by the way."

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, amused. "What do you mean?"

You dropped your hands, surveying him suspiciously. "You think I don't know? Posting right after Jungkook? That's not allowed! You know what that does to me."

Yoongi leaned forward. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating fast all of a sudden. You backed up, right into Jungkook's chest. Uh oh. Yoongi hummed, black hair shadowing his face, devious sparkle in those dangerous eyes, his voice a raspy, purring drawl. 

"What does it do to you?"

Your hand fell back to brace yourself and Jungkook's fingers wrapped around your wrist, stroking your skin. You felt him shift behind you and then his lips were on your ear, whispering in his silvery voice. 

"Yeah, noona. Tell us.” His grip on your wrist tightened, squeezing lightly, asserting his presence behind you. “Or you can show us."

...

!!!

How dare they tag team you? First, they visually attack you – and millions of other ARMY – in the middle of the workday, and now this, Yoongi closing in, kissing you once more, deeper, hungrier, with dark intent, smirking against your lips as Jungkook took both your hands, ghosting his long fingers over yours. You whimpered into Yoongi's mouth, body tensing, Jungkook pressing himself into your back, breath against your hair. 

"You smell different," he murmured.

You couldn't reply. Yoongi was sucking on your tongue, making you whine. 

"Warm, sweet, and spicy."

Yoongi released you and you gasped for air, bucking into Jungkook's crotch. "I bought it last week... thought it smelled nice..."

Jungkook nuzzled your hair. "I like it. Makes me horny."

You laughed a little, turning your hands around in his to lace your fingers together. He held your hands firmly, grinding his crotch into your ass. You could already feel his arousal through your jeans.

"Sounds dangerous," you mused. 

"It is," Yoongi chuckled. "But you should keep wearing it anyway. You smell good."

Heat rose to your cheeks. Then you realized your jeans were already undone, being daintily pushed down by deft hands and an amused expression, Yoongi crouching to pull them along. Bit by bit, revealing the matching garter belt, the high-cut black lace panties that framed your thighs, and lace-topped sheer stockings, all the straps emphasizing your softness, sinking into your thighs and ass.

"Fuck..." Yoongi breathed, running his fingertips over the delicate fabric, touch so light against your skin, dancing up your knee. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He looked up at you, eyes so dark they seemed black, playful smirk on those perfect pink lips. Thump. You felt Jungkook pull your arms back and press them to his sides. You grabbed fistfuls of Jungkook’s shirt, staring down at Yoongi advancing between your legs, his smirk growing wider and more teasing, lovely voice low and husky, deep with arousal.

"What's the matter?" Yoongi purred. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your body tensed in anticipation, Jungkook's hands crawling around your sides, one tattooed, one not, fingers hovering over your now trembling chest. Looking down at Yoongi's smug expression, tongue flicking out and teasing you. Reminding you how good he was and how long you'd been waiting. 

Fuck you for being hot, Min Yoongi!

"Don't overexert yourself..." you breathed.

A sculpted brow lifted. 

"I have help now," he reminded you and Jungkook's hands sank into your barely-covered breasts. 

"Fuck..." Jungkook hissed into your ear, running his palms over your nipples, listening to your gasps as Yoongi dived between your thighs, hot tongue sliding against the lace. "Missed these tits so fucking much." His lips on your ear, growling your name, that dominant edge to his silvery voice, tweaking the hardened nubs while Yoongi teased your clothed clit with his tongue, the lace hardly a barrier but still an effective one, the rough threads plucking against your sensitive nerves.

How long had it been? So long, almost forever since Yoongi’s tongue was on you, soft and fast and the perfect pressure, deliberately teasing you and not moving the fabric aside, so close yet so far. If it wasn’t Yoongi, maybe you could tell him to move it, maybe you could beg, but you couldn’t speak because of Yoongi’s tongue and Jungkook’s rough touch, his hands on your breasts, pushing them together, your nipples poking tiny tents in the black lace, running his fingertips over them over and over, his hips grinding into your ass. Yoongi cupped one of your ass cheeks and spread them, your panties bunching in the center, Jungkook’s hardness slipping in, still covered by his sweatpants.

Wetter, hotter, sanity slipping little by little.

“Y-Yoongi… J-Jungkook…”

You tried not to shove your hips in Yoongi’s face, not wanting to strain his neck, and ended up pushing back instead, bouncing against Jungkook’s cock. The younger man snickered, nipping at your ear, pinching your nipples, and you felt a slick squelch as Yoongi’s tongue pushed the lace into your dripping pussy. The moans dragged out of your throat, eyelids fluttering, letting them do whatever they wanted, pleasure flooding all your senses, watching Yoongi wreck you, clutching Jungkook’s sweatshirt, panting their names, leaking more and more, the scent of your juices getting stronger and sweeter.

“This isn’t fair…” you panted. “I’m going c-crazy…”

Yoongi hummed on your clit and you cried out, hips rocking, so good, head tipping onto Jungkook’s broad shoulder, his long blue hair brushing against your cheek and eyelashes.

“Good, because you make us crazy,” Jungkook muttered, pushing your breasts together and squeezing them roughly. His voice was so deep you could feel your back vibrate with his words. His other hand came up and gripped your chin, trailing down and fitting around your neck, the loose sleeve falling and revealing his forearm tattoos, contrasting your lace-covered skin. “Always looking so fucking pretty and making me want to fuck you…”

His index finger came up and pressed against your lower lip. Those chocolatey eyes were watching your face from his peripheral vision, smirking as he witnessed your expression.

“Even showing off these sexy, fuckable lips. That’s not fair either, noona.”

“T-That’s not…”

Jungkook’s hand at your throat dropped and you yelped, his large palm fitting around your right thigh and lifting it up, fingers sinking in. Stockings, lace, garter, Jungkook’s touch, holding your leg up and out, giving Yoongi a perfect view of your glistening core. Then there was more, too much more, Yoongi pushing aside your panties, soaked fabric snapping against the inside of your thigh and then his mouth was directly on you, oh, fuck, his tongue on your throbbing clit, lips wrapped around it, pure suffocating ecstasy, your slick juices dripping down his chin, so easy, it was just too easy for Yoongi to make you feel so fucking good and he looked so sexy doing it too, those cat-like eyes piercing into you, ordering you to cum for him, to spill all over his beautiful face.

“Yoongi… fuck, your tongue is so fucking good–”

Your body rippled with pleasure and you flung your head to the side, away from Jungkook’s ear to moan far too loud, filling up the entire hallway, wanton and lewd, absolutely pornographic and sinful in nature, orgasm gushing into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, shuddering against Jungkook’s hard body. So many sensations, too many sensations. Yoongi sank his nails into your ass, growling as he sucked out your cum and drank it, Jungkook grinding his stiff length in between your ass cheeks, spreading your leg so far that your left one was quivering with strain, tits squashed in Jungkook’s left hand, his warm tongue on your ear, whispering darkly. Dirty, sensual, and your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing, Min Yoongi’s mouth and Jeon Jungkook’s low octave driving you insane.

“You look so fucking good, noona. Your body is so fucking perfect, so sexy wrapped up in lace,” he exhaled, sliding his palm over your nipples roughly, earning more depraved moans. He lowered your leg, slowly, Yoongi lapping at your clit, sending shocks of pleasure up your torso as he cleaned you off. Jungkook’s hand slid down over your stomach, flicking the straps against your skin, small snaps of pain that made you gasp, trapped in Jungkook’s power, letting him take over you. He took a step back, forcing you to arch your spine and look up at him, a curtain of cobalt surrounding that handsome face and those intense brown eyes.

No one could make you feel the way Yoongi made you feel. No one.

So...

Why did staring up at Jungkook like this do things to you? Why did it put your heart on a string and tension in your throat? Get it together. You weren't a teenager. Ask for what you want. He was just so insanely attractive in every way.

Jungkook smirked and you wanted him to ruin you. 

He lifted you up easily. You saw Yoongi standing up and wiping his chin, self-satisfied and amused. He tilted his head and plucked one of the straps on your stomach, a light, erotic sting. Yoongi made eye contact with you, locking you in his gaze. A single look, and your heart was fluttering, immediately smitten. One by one, fingers wrapping around a few of the straps and pulling you to him, backing up, leading you to the bed by own your lingerie. 

"Why today?" Yoongi drawled, tracing the curve of the bra cup, sending shivers over your skin. "Feeling risky?"

You raised a brow, focusing on him, trapped in those cat-like eyes. 

"Control yourself. Aren't you used to this body by now?"

Yoongi grinned devilishly, darting closer, leaving you breathless in his speed. The scent of his cologne and your orgasm lingered on his skin, a delicious combination. 

"Never."

Kissing you, taking your startled inhale, and you could taste yourself, fuck, just something about his skilled lips and your taste had your fingers twisting into Yoongi's shirt, rolling your body into his, still being so careful, but it was so hard because he was making it so hard, teasing you with that deft tongue, bursts of pleasure with every heartbeat you had while captured in Yoongi's lips. You missed it, this intensity, the overwhelming feeling that Yoongi gave you, being able to give in to the want, but you still couldn't give in without abandon, but you were so close. 

So close. 

Ruin me. 

He pushed you lightly and you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, the kiss suddenly broken, but the second touch was familiar now, one tattooed arm, one not, and you knew that if you fell, these arms could catch you.

Jungkook put you in his lap, your back touching his bare chest. Oh, shit. Before you could think much about it, he turned you so you were laying in his arms princess-style. He must have removed his sweatshirt while you were talking to Yoongi, but he still wearing his pants, now sitting in the side of the bed, blue hair messy from your hands and the removal of his clothes. Your arms hooked around his neck instinctively, not wanting to fall, but he had his right hand splayed across your shoulder blades, holding you up securely. 

"Mmm, this is nice," Jungkook murmured, playfully smiling. He nuzzled your nose, tongue flicking over your lips. "Why did you make us wait so long, hm?"

You frowned, breath against his chin. "The number of cases got higher... and you all were so busy... I couldn't get tested until recently."

Jungkook made a disgruntled noise. 

"Hey, public health and safety is important."

He pouted at you. "But..."

"He's horny and wants to fuck," Yoongi cut in.

"Hyung…!"

Yoongi pulled up his chair and sat down, looking amused. 

"He's been jacking off to your pictures."

"N-no, I haven't!"

"Really? I have."

Yoongi's face was completely neutral. It was hard to tell if he was lying or not. 

Jungkook tried to hide his flushed face with your hair. "... M-Maybe I h-have..."

"Tsk, tsk, naughty Jungkookie," you teased.

"Noona..."

"And you?"

You felt Yoongi grasp your chin, tipping you back in Jungkook's arms. Some of your hair fell over your eyes, hazing your vision of Yoongi. Even so, his intent was obvious. You could feel it in his gaze, the burning hunger, his fingertips caressing your chin, leaning forward slightly to observe you. 

I want to ruin you. 

Yoongi didn't have to say it. You knew it, pierced by the predatory glint in his eyes. You could tell he missed this, could tell that he wanted to give in to his desires, wanted to lose control, only limited by his own physical body.

However. 

He pressed his thumb into your lower lip, lifting a brow. 

Jungkook was here now.

Yoongi gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk. 

"Ruin me," you whispered, staring into those cat-like dark brown eyes. The recognition was instant, pleased that you knew what he wanted. You shifted your attention to the maknae, his chocolate eyes wide, watching your tongue slide out and licking Yoongi's thumb. "Ruin me, Jungkook."

You loved the way Jungkook could turn from blushing anxiousness to sly confidence, and all it took was your words and the way you said them, enabling him in the best way possible. The dark blue hair helped accented the shift in demeanor, creating cool-toned shadows over his lightly tanned skin. 

"Anything for you," Jungkook purred.

You gasped sharply as you felt two fingers slide into you, Jungkook’s thumb rubbing your overstimulated clit. Your body jerked, trying to get away, but Yoongi's hand on your chin slid down, pressing on your chest, holding you still, your name a dangerous rasp from Yoongi's lips.

"Stay still."

Your eyes flickered down. Right hand. Okay. You shouldn’t be worried anymore, but you were. It was habit.

"Yoon–ah!"

You gasped, left arm firmly behind Jungkook's shoulders and the other behind you, your hand on the bed to steady your balance as Yoongi shoved the bra cups down, exposing your breasts. He lowered his head, the contact of his lips on your hot skin paired with Jungkook's thrust of his fingers into your pussy. Instant waves of pleasure overtook you, fingers sinking into the sheets and Jungkook’s hair, fuck, his beautiful navy hair standing out against your skin and, for some reason, seeing that made you feel prettier, thrusting your chest in Yoongi’s face to get more into his mouth, spreading your legs wide to give Jungkook more access.

Only a brief moment of, I should know better, I shouldn’t be doing this, and then Yoongi’s eyes were on you, tongue flicking your red nipple.

Let go.

Was this even fair to them? Could you satisfy both? Could you and should you? But Yoongi’s eyes were telling you to let go, to chase the feeling, to give in, and hunt the desperation and the want. They wanted you. There was nothing like this and there will never be anything like this again.

“Give it to me,” Yoongi growled.

You whined sharply as you felt two more fingers push into you, but not Jungkook’s fingers, Yoongi’s fingers, his thumb joining Jungkook’s on your clit and your eyes rolled back, so wet and aroused from knowing both Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s fingers were thrusting into you, four in total, your pussy sucking them in, back arching as Yoongi sucked on your nipple. So much pleasure, rapidly ascending higher and higher, so fucking full and tight that their fingers were making sloppy smacking sounds, matching rhythm so they filled you completely together, all at once.

You couldn’t stop your hips from meeting them, fingers spreading out in Jungkook’s hair and the sheets as you came hard, gasping their names, euphoria soaring through your nerves, and still they didn’t stop even though your pussy was violently spasming, creating a messy splatter of your juices on the inside of your thighs and their hands. Instead, the pace changed, Yoongi switching sides on your chest, and then you really couldn’t think, because Jungkook was lowering his head too, and now both of your nipples were getting abused, Jungkook’s arm firmly under your upper back to hold you up, not letting you fall.

“Yoongi, Jungkook… p-please, oh fuck!”

Your other hand flew up and buried in Yoongi’s dark locks, both hands in their hair now, one blue, one black, another orgasm crashing down, moan torn from your chest. And they kept going, changing the pace again, your toes and fingers curling, every muscle tense with irresistible, consuming ecstasy that you almost felt a little numb, unable to compute anything else but your body scantily covered in lace, two mouths sucking on your nipples, four fingers stuffed into you, clit engorged and sending violent shocks throughout your system. You couldn’t even discern one orgasm from another, pussy continuously throbbing and convulsing with the continuous, chained orgasms, so wet that it was soaking the tops of your stockings, the sweet honey of your cum the predominant scent in the room.

“I… I-I can’t take a-anymore, please…”

Your legs threatened to close but Yoongi snapped his head up, snarling your name dangerously.

“One more,” he ordered. “Give us one more.”

“Your pussy feels so good,” Jungkook panted, saliva dripping down your chest. “I love it so fucking much, even when it’s around my fingers.”

You were trying to hold back, trying to control it, tensing everything, your core, your legs, your arms, and you didn’t even realize it, but you held your breath too, biting your lip and seeing Yoongi and Jungkook at the same time, both watching you, fingers punishingly squelching into your tight little hole, stretching it out unforgivingly, abused clit pulsating so hard it almost hurt, and it was exactly what you wanted, brimming, boiling pleasure that threatened you on the brink, closer, closer, closer, and the world was almost hazy with how ferociously you had constricted the coil.

“Fuck!”

You threw your head back, back abruptly arching and smacking them in the face with your tits as everything came plummeting down, resolve cracking with a wanton howl, orgasm racking through your entire frame so hard that your body lurched and flinched, Yoongi and Jungkook cradling you while you rode your high, grinding your hips into their hands and carnally moaning, liquid gushing out and dripping down your legs, your ass, down Jungkook’s sweatpants and onto the bed.

It was such an intense orgasm that you were lightheaded, hands slipping out of their hair and falling down, drained, aftershocks causing your body to shudder, even as they removed their fingers. Your clit was still throbbing, pumps of pleasure spreading through you.

It was obscene witnessing Yoongi and Jungkook cleaning their fingers off right in front of you, pink tongues sliding between the digits, licking off your viscous cum, giving you a perverse sense of satisfaction when Yoongi moaned softly and Jungkook groaned lowly, savoring your taste like a fine wine. Yoongi spied your exhausted, smug expression.

“Do you think you’re done?”

You gave him a weak smirk. “I better not be.”

“Sit in Jungkook’s lap,” Yoongi said calmly. “Face me.”

You tilted your head curiously but did as you were told, shifting your still quivering legs so your thighs were on the outside of Jungkook’s thighs, the balance a little difficult, but Yoongi took your hands and placed them around his hips. You held onto him as he lifted his shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Jungkook, rip her panties off.”

Wait, what did Min Yoongi just s–?

Two strong hands dug out the lace trapped in your ass and fastened around the thin fabric.

Riiiiiiip!

“Yoongi!”

The shirt fluffed his black hair as he removed it, dropping it onto his chair. You glared at him as Yoongi looked down at you, expression blank, dark brown orbs full of mischief.

“You knew it was going to happen. If he wasn’t going to rip it, I was.” Yoongi placed his right hand on his left shoulder. His tone dropped, mockingly rueful. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself, right?”

Yeah, this was why you didn’t wear lingerie.

But, also, this was why you wore it today.

You felt Jungkook tugging off the now useless pair of panties, plucking them out from under your garter belt. Oh well. You liked the red more anyway. That’s why you had bought two sets, after all.

“Remind me to take all the bits before I go,” you grumbled.

“Sure, noona.” Jungkook dangled the said lacy bits next to your head. You narrowed your eyes and mouth into slits even though he couldn’t see. “I’ll put them in my pocket.” You felt him shove them into his sweatpants.

Were you… going to remember?

Yoongi beckoned you. You shot him a warning look, still annoyed, but Yoongi pointed down to your hands on his hips.

“Isn’t there something you want?” Yoongi mused in that raspy, dark tone, the one that made your irritation fade instantly and replace it with arousal. “Take it.”

He cocked his head, shading his dark eyes with his hair, pink lips parting, the slightest hint of a smirk. Challenging you. Go on. Show me how much you want me. Your body still buzzed with the aftermath of moments before and yet you still lowered your head, sliding your hips back, sucking in a breath as your puffy pussy lips touched Jungkook’s toned chest, smearing yourself on his skin.

“Ooh, I like this,” Jungkook murmured, leaning back a little to give you space. You rocked your hips into his torso, his muscles flexing under you opening, inflamed clit brushing against his hardness. You pushed Yoongi’s pants and underwear down, dipping your head, hearing Yoongi breathe your name lustfully.

“That’s a pretty picture.”

He was only semi-hard, but he was getting harder and harder, watching you grind against Jungkook’s pecs. You knew exactly how to get him the hardest, dipping down and latching your mouth around one of his balls.

“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped, his hand coming up and fitting behind your head. You sucked it into your mouth and then extended your tongue, bouncing the other with your wet muscle while sucking the first one. The first time you did this, Yoongi was literally speechless, sputtering and confused at how you could stimulate both at once and in two different ways, sucking with your lips as your tongue flicked against the other, slurping slightly to add vibration over the sensitive skin. You felt his cock swell, smacking your cheek, fully hard at the combined sensations.

“I still don’t know how you do that,” Yoongi gritted out, keeping your hair away from your face.

“Do what?” Jungkook asked behind you, one hand on your ass and squeezing it.

“She can suck one of your balls and lick the other at the same time.”

“What?!”

You yelped at the sharp sting of Jungkook’s slap to your ass.

“How come you never did that for me?” Jungkook complained, whining a little.

You tried to lift your head, but Yoongi’s hand refused to move. You make a muffled noise of distaste, but Yoongi answered for you as you switched sides.

“Have you asked?” Yoongi replied calmly, sighing in satisfaction.

“How am I supposed to know she has porn star skills?”

“Is this a discussion for right now?” you mumbled into Yoongi’s balls.

“No, because you’re supposed to be swallowing.”

“Wha–”

The second your mouth opened, Yoongi nudged his cock between your lips and you wrapped them around it, moaning as his stiff length slid down your throat, so satisfying, his taste on your tongue, so delicious that you didn’t even want to complain, you only wanted to bob your head up and down, hands on his hips. Yoongi chuckled above you, guiding your head with his right hand, left loosely by his side. You slid your lower body up and down Jungkook’s chest, your increased slickness adding more stimulation.

“Fuck, that’s so damn hot,” you heard Jungkook groan. There was a rustle of fabric and then skin on skin, his muscular arm brushing against your stocking clad thigh with every stroke.

If only you could take a picture and could see how sexy you were, blowing Yoongi with his hand behind your head, tucking the head of his cock into your throat a little deeper every time you descended, your pussy sliding up and down Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook furiously jacking himself off while watching you suck his hyung off, feeling your slippery clit throb against his skin.

Good thing the door was locked, because of any other member walked in on this, it might have become a damn foursome.

“Close,” Yoongi panted, fingers digging into your scalp. “You want it like this?”

You hummed approvingly in your chest, increasing your pace and fucking Jungkook’s torso harder, nearing your end too, Jungkook moaning louder and pumping himself harder. So many indecent sounds, skin on skin, mouth on skin, hand on skin, moaning, crying out around Yoongi’s cock, his saliva-covered balls smacking you in the chin, you ass slapping down on Jungkook’s chest.

Hot, wet, positively sinful.

The chain reaction started with Jungkook. He came suddenly, choking on your name, shooting up your chest, warm stickiness splattering onto your skin and you squeezed your eyes shut, moaning as you came all over his chest, slippery and sweet, drenching his skin, throat muscles tightening, Yoongi whimpering your name, a rare moment of lost control as he thrust his hips into your lips, coating your throat with thick hot strings, forcing you to swallow fast, the pressure satisfying and overwhelming, gulping it all down eagerly.

You did ask to be ruined.

Just… a little more.

Your eyes were still closed, lazily licking Yoongi’s twitching length. He was panting above you, gently stroking your hair, words so soft that they were almost inaudible.

“I love you…”

You went all the way down and Yoongi groaned, your tongue flicking the top of his balls, rapid, swift laps that made his cock swell again, bending against the roof of your mouth. Yoongi chuckled, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Still want more?”

You backed up, panting hard, Jungkook’s cum clinging to your chest and lingerie, hair a mess from Yoongi’s hand.

“Want your cock in my pussy,” you demanded hoarsely. “Want you to fuck me, Yoongi.”

He pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”

You got off Jungkook’s lap, snaking around the younger man’s body, crawling onto the bed, eyes on Yoongi, his intense gaze following you, enticed by your movement. On all fours, hips in the air, dropping your chest down a little, the curve of your back accentuating the roundness of your bare ass. Still in your garter belt and stockings, your bra half-off, the lowered cups pushing your breasts together invitingly. Jungkook turned his head, pink lips parting as your fingers fanned out over the sheets, one eyebrow arching gracefully.

“Jungkook in front. Yoongi behind.”

“Do… Do you want a towel or something, noona?” Jungkook asked, blinking rapidly at your assertiveness.

“I want to get fucked and I want to get fucked now, so get over here.”

“Bed’s going to be a mess,” Yoongi remarked, moving quickly, shedding his pants and going for the nightstand, taking out a condom.

“We can sleep in Jungkook’s room,” was your dry reply, yanking Jungkook’s hips towards you after he removed his sweatpants.

“Wha– ack!”

You spread his legs out in front of you, eyes roaming over his naked body, admiring it all, his legs, his abs, his pecs, covered in your drying juices, his adorable surprised face, navy curls around his chiseled cheeks, chocolate eyes round and awed at your prowess. Your hands were on his knees, breasts hanging down, breathing hard, adrenaline humming in your veins.

“You are so fucking pretty it’s unreal,” Jungkook breathed.

You grinned.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck my face.”

Jungkook grinned back at you.

You dove down, tits bouncing before becoming squashed against the bed, Jungkook’s drying cum flaking off as you wrapped your lips around one of his balls, moaning as you felt Yoongi’s hands firmly grip your hips.

“You have to help me a little,” Yoongi murmured.

“I will, hyung.”

“I mean her too,” the older man chuckled, smacking your ass playfully. Your tongue flitted out, slurping at Jungkook’s other ball from the side of your mouth as you sucked the first one, wiggling your ass at Yoongi to indicate that you heard him. Jungkook yelped, hands slamming down onto the pillows and clutching them, moaning out your name.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, holy shit…” His head hit the headboard lightly, speaking to the ceiling and maybe even the higher power himself. “H-How...? Why does it feel s-so good…?”

You felt Yoongi slide in, so easy because of all those back-to-back orgasms, and yet he still hissed at your tightness, muscles holding him firmly. You could cry with how good it felt, Yoongi finally fully inside you once again, filling you up just the way you liked, knowing how to hit your deepest spot right away, skillful and wonderful. You licked up Jungkook’s now hard length, moaning deeply as you slapped your hips back into Yoongi’s crotch. Yoongi moaned to match yours, enraptured by the feeling.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, nails digging into your ass. “Missed you so fucking much, my love.”

“I’ll do the moving, love,” you gasped back, squeezing Yoongi’s cock inside you. You reached for Jungkook’s right hand and grabbed it, planting it on your head. “Fuck my face, Jungkook. Please. Don’t hold back until you cum.”

Jungkook bit his lip, exhaling your name. “I think I love you.”

“And I definitely love you, so please give it to me.”

You closed your lips around him and sank down, looking up at him and his sweaty dark blue hair, his blown-out pupils, his outstretched tattooed arm, so fucking hot, fuck yes you loved him, him and his body and his work ethic and his sweetness and his firmness as he obeyed your command, thrusting into your mouth from below, filling your throat with the thick head.

Perfect.

You rocked your hips back to Jungkook’s rhythm, matching him, slow at first, but gradually faster, rougher, planting your hands on the bed for balance, completely focused on clenching your core and your mouth to fit the two cocks, giving them the maximum amount of pleasure that you could offer, suffocating them with tightness. It if was obscene before, it was ten times obscener now, Yoongi’s hand on your hip, barely having to move as you smacked your ass into him, Jungkook lurching you forward with his force, clenching his jaw as he chased his release, the bed screaming for help and none of you listening.

“You’re so fucking sexy, fuck, you always make me feel so good, can’t help but want you, need you, miss you so fucking much,” Jungkook gritted out, fingers curling in your hair, desperately and viscerally whimpering out your name as you tipped your head to change the angle, the sensitive head dragging against the roof of your mouth as he buried himself in your throat. “You’re so good to me, such a soft and tight mouth, fuck.”

You arched your back a little more, Yoongi hitting you deeper, hearing him suck in a tight breath at your movement.

“Tighter,” Yoongi growled. “I’m close, come on, give it to me.”

And then he smacked your ass with his open palm, making you moan around Jungkook’s thick cock, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s entire length, and then again, smack! Control slipping with every hit, falling into Jungkook’s pace, the sheer force of his hips pushing you down on Yoongi’s cock over and over, now only focused on hollowing out your cheeks and gripping Yoongi’s cock, the sudden twitching indicating that Yoongi was close, so close, holding out a little so he could watch you longer, torturing you just the way you liked, but he couldn’t hold out for long because you didn’t let him, walls pulsating around him brutally as you came, stuffed so full that you couldn’t think. Yoongi groaned your name, gripping your ass with both hands and digging his nails in your softness, cock jolting as he came in thick pumps, filling up the condom and swelling it against your walls.

It took Jungkook a little longer, but not that much longer, your mouth still locked tight and he hissed out your name, whimpering as he came down your throat, filling it with cum once again, so fast that you had to swallow hastily to breathe, and yet there was more, thick salty dribbles that made you moan, so delicious that you leaned into it, sucking Jungkook dry.

“A-ah, n-noona…”

Your body ached, flinching from oversensitivity, your mind swimming with pleasure. Had it ever felt this good before? You slid off Jungkook’s cock, falling against his thigh and using it like a pillow, chest heaving, sticky all over, lips overused, pussy throbbing, barely realizing that Yoongi had pulled out, far too spent to see straight.

“Fuck, I love you two…”

Yoongi’s face suddenly appeared, smug expression above you. He had crawled over your body, ruffled black hair hanging down, dark cat eyes gleaming.

“Romantic.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Mmm.”

He leaned down and kissed you, smiling against your lips, mouthing his love to you, forming each word against your skin slowly so you knew. You smiled back, showering him with light pecks, mouthing the words back to him. Yoongi purred and lifted himself up, taking you with him.

“I can’t move,” you complained, using your arms to push yourself up to avoid straining Yoongi’s shoulders. He chuckled, not the least bit fooled by your whines. He pushed you into Jungkook’s hard chest, covered in sweat and cum, and sandwiched you between them, your face right beside Jungkook’s, cheek to cheek. You could feel the heat in his face, his hair sticking to it.

“Noona?”

“Hm?”

Everything was far too messy for this cuddle session, but that could wait.

“Is it okay if I love you?” Jungkook mumbled, burying his nose in your hair.

“Mhm,” Yoongi responded, sounding sleepy.

You brushed Jungkook’s hair away from his face. “I would very much like that.”

“Everything is dirty,” Yoongi grumbled.

“You are a main contributor,” you said cheerfully.

Yoongi grunted, leaning against you, squashing you a little harder against Jungkook. Nothing to complain about. You were enjoying every second of this.

“Jungkookie?”

“Hm, noona?”

You reached up and ran a hand through his dark cerulean hair. Jungkook hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes at your touch.

“You know this shade is Cookie Monster blue, right?”

“… Hah?”

“Does that make you Ggukkie Monster?”

Yoongi burst out laughing, raspy and full, a rare moment of Min Yoongi absolutely losing his shit.

-

part v "Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

--

masterpost

[asktensei]

Previously on Tensei’s Birthday Bash:

“Love,” I tug your sleeve, “Is the option of going out still open?”

“Tensei, it’s almost midnight - we can’t go out now,” you retorted.

“I have a sudden urge to go to the beach,” I say, looking out of the window, “The sky looks amazing, doesn’t it?”

“I have to go to work tomorrow, honey,” you say, cupping my cheeks.

“Please, love… for me?”

.

.

.

You turned to face Tensei. You felt his grip on you tighten as you pressed your hands against his soft cheeks. You smiled, seeing him close his eyes and savour the small act.

How could you say no to him? Every single thing he does makes your heart leap. Even by just melting into your touch, all of your rationality is thrown out of the window - just to make this male’s wishes come true.

“You better make me breakfast tomorrow,” you whisper, trying to not break the tension you both built in this small haven.

“Come on, Y/N - it’s my birthday tomorrow! I’ll cook the day after.”

“I don’t care if it’s your birthday, you’re making me breakfast tomorrow,” you got off the bed and went to get your bag.

Once you got your bag, you turned to face Tensei.

God, this man is a literal baby.

“Fine, I’ll make breakfast tomorrow.”

.

.

.

You helped Tensei into his wheelchair and then proceeded to walk beside him, heading to the beach. You enjoyed the soft light hitting your skin, closing your eyes as you gripped the back of Tensei’s seat. A small hum left your lips as you took in the crisp, cold air of the night.

“I told you this was a good idea,” he said, a smug look painted on his face.

You looked at the dark-haired male, annoyed.

“I have work tomorrow, Tensei - I’m scared I might oversleep,” you say, sighing, “...but I do miss the beach.”

“It’s been a long time since we went to our little oasis, hasn’t it?” he said, happiness laced in his voice, “We made a lot of memories there, you and I.”

You smiled, reminiscing all the moments you’ve shared with the former Pro-Hero.

“Do you remember when you tried to burn that ice cream I was eating with your quirk?” you said, laughing, “I remember how disgusted you were when the cream actually entered your engines.”

He tried wiping the cream off of the metal piece but resorted to asking you since he couldn’t clean it properly.

“You remember when a crab pinched your cheeks?” He said, holding back his laughter, “You cried so hard.”

“You can only joke about that when you actually feel the strength of a crab with its claws,” you retort, annoyed by his actions.

“Hey, hey - Wasn’t I the one calming you down?”

He was. He ran to a shop nearby and got an ice pack to cool down your cheek. He sat beside you, rubbing your back as you cried due to the immense pain. He kissed you on your forehead in hopes of calming you down.

“You were - you always have been by my side, Tensei,” You say, ruffling his hair.

“Don’t plan on changing that anytime soon,” he replied, pulling on your sleeve.

You faced the male beside you and instantly you were in awe. The blue tone of the sky had perfectly painted itself onto him, the cool tones brightening his cerulean eyes. His hair softly swished against the strong winds, framing his face so well. You stared at his lips against the soft blue hue of the night. Even against the cold colours, the redness of his lips still managed to shine, making it look so soft.

“You okay?” He asked, worried.

Thank God he didn’t know how much you loved him under this soft light.

“I’m good, Tensei,” you say, turning to the road ahead of you.

.

.

.

You closed your eyes as you stepped into the sea, enjoying the feeling of the warm water brushing against your feet. The heat from the body of water warmed your whole body like a small blanket. You enjoyed the feeling of the soft sand against the soles of your feet, rubbing your skin like a massage. The fresh breeze hit your skin, waking your senses.

It felt as if you came home from a long day at work.

It was so relaxing, so calming.

You missed this - a lot.

You turned to face Tensei enjoying the sea as much as you did. His eyes were closed, taking in the salty yet fresh smell of the breeze.

The blue hues of the night painted his skin so well it was not fair. No one could deny how amazing he looked under the night’s palette - he carried it with such poise.

It was times like this where you were reminded how precious Tensei is. After all, he was the very person who taught you how to love.

His lips lifted into a smile as he opened them and saw you staring at him.

“I am just that good looking, huh?”

Scratch that - he was an annoying ass.

You stared at his legs your heart dropped.

This was the first time he’d ever come to the beach with his crutches.

You knew how much he loved the beach - he loved it even more than you.

He went on and on about his memories with Tenya, his friends and his personal ones that took place on the sand you stood on.

You knew how much he loved the beauty of this little oasis, but he could no longer enjoy it.

He was the one who brought you to this very beach, but could no longer feel the freedom it gave.

If he can’t stand by himself properly, he’ll stand beside me.

“Tensei,” you started, “Do you want to enter the waters with me?”

“I can’t, Y/N…” he trailed off, looking at his crutches.

“I only need to carry you to the sea. You know water buoyancy exists, right?” you remind him.

“But -”

“I’m coming there,” you say, getting out of the water and heading towards him.

You stood behind him, and slowly took his left arm off its crutch and placed it on your shoulder. You gripped his side, pulling him closer to you.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Iida Tensei,” you say, laughing, “I’ve thought this through - it’ll work. Besides, you still have to get that right arm to work properly - you can do that, right?”

I like being the teaser once in a while, Iida Tensei.

“Stupid,” he chuckles as he turns to face the sea, “Let’s do this.”

“Ok! So there are roughly around 3 steps we need to do to reach the waterline. Once we reach there, you’re going to let go of your crutch and press your weight against me. I’ll carry you on my back and bring you into the water. From then on out, you just need to keep at least one limb on me. Clear?”

“Why don’t you just let me use my crutches until the waterline?” he asked.

Oh.

“I didn’t think of it,” you say, smiling in embarrassment.

“Dumb,” he teased.

“Hey! I could easily drop you here, you know?” You say, chuckling.

“You wouldn’t,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

Damn you.

“Okay, okay - let’s move,” you said, focusing on the mission at hand.

One.

“Damn, this is hard - why are you so weak, Y/N L/N?” Tensei said.

“Be careful, sir - your safety depends on me.”

Two.

“Why are you so heavy?” You ask, panting.

“I haven’t exercised in a long time and I eat a lot, I basically move using a wheelchair - you need more reasons?”

“Understood, sir.”

Three.

“Ok, we’re here,” he said, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah - smile. I have to literally carry you now,” you say, irritated.

“Hey! You suggested this, not me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you say, sighing.

“How about I sit down on the sand first? After that, you can push me from the back?”

“Sir, have you heard of gravity?” you retort, “But sitting down for a while sounds nice.”

You gripped his sides tightly as you heard him drop the other crutch to the floor.

Time for payback, sir.

You immediately dropped him, making him fall on his behind.

“I did say your safety depended on me,” you replied, smiling.

“Oh?”

Oh, shit.

Using his crutch, he hit your calves lightly but just enough to make you lose your stability and fall face-first onto the sand.

“I’m still smart, you know?” He replied, smug laced in his voice.

“I’m sorry - weren’t you the one who forgot the existence of gravity?” You retort, rubbing off the sand.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he began laughing at your sand-filled face, “Why don’t have my phone with me? I need to take a picture of you!”

This idiot.

“You got a lot of guts to do that to me now, don’t you?” you say, forming a plan in your head.

“Well, you wouldn’t kill me, so I don’t see you doing anything that bad to me.”

I guess it’s time to prove you wrong.

You hit the back of his head with your shoe, earning a groan from him. You then began to tickle his sides, causing him to laugh uncontrollably. You heard his pleas to stop, but you didn’t care - he asked for it.

“I guess,” giggle, “I need,” giggle, “Oh, never mind.”

He pushed his back onto you, making you fall back onto the sand.

“You like sand, don’t you, Tensei?” you say, kicking his thigh.

He pressed his hands on the sand beside the two of you and slowly got up. Then, he turned himself to face your body laid on the dry sand.

“Knockout!” he shouted, making you laugh.

“You’re really dumb.”

“Tenya is the smart one, not me,” he said, moving closer to you.

He laid back against you, pressing his head against your chest. You grabbed his hands, once again playing with his fingers. His right hand found its place against your left cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing your cheek in circular motions.

“You are still extremely heavy,” you say, cutting the silence between the two of you.

“You do this to me all the time!”

“On the bed! Not at the beach,” you retort.

He chuckled, enjoying your irritated expression.

“I love this,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I do too,” you say, ruffling his hair, “Next time, you be on the sand though.”

Laughter erupted from the male leaning against you.

You looked at his joy-filled expression. You can’t help but wish that this man before you remains as happy as he looked right now - preferably against the blue hues the sky had to offer. You want him to stay in your arms as you relish the moments you are in his. You want him to enjoy the riches of life he has provided to multiple residents of Musutafu. You want him to live his life by your side as you shield him from the harsh words of others.

“Thanks for this, Y/N,” he said, moving upwards to kiss your cheek.

“Happy birthday, Tensei. I love you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I love you, too.”

You both, covered in sand with slightly wet clothes, shared a kiss under the pale moonlight of the night as a blue hue dusted your skin - maybe with a dash of scarlet on his, too.

“Now that that’s done…” Tensei whispered.

You were pushed by Tensei into the sea. The body of water’s salty liquid entered your body through your nose and your mouth, filling your senses with nothing but disgust.

Yep - still the same, annoying guy.

[babbushka]

The Shape of You (3/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

7.4k ; CW: mentions of injury, mentions of past torture, angst

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

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

When you wake, it is dark once again.

For a moment, you blink and stare at the ceiling, the phantom image of his face swimming in the inky black of night. Holding on to that face, you tentatively reach a hand out into the air, hoping to touch him, hoping to feel something.

In the end, it is nothing but empty air, and your hand drops.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swingin’ dancers on the radio blare once again, an official signal that the time for dreaming is over.

With this new encounter, this new…you don’t even know what it is, you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken. Everything is the same – you will get up to brew your coffee, Armitage will pound against the wall, you will share your breakfast and take three buses to work – but simultaneously, nothing will ever be the same again. Because possibly for the first time in many years, you do not dread the thought of going to work.

Not that you dreaded it, work, not really. It was a good job, an important job, a job that was part of something bigger, much bigger than yourself. But you could not deny the excitement that simmers just below your skin at the thought of it.

The thought of seeing him again.

“You’re chipper this morning.” Armitage scowls as he opens the door for you, a bright cheerful smile on your face.

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.” You breeze right past him, placing the percolator down on his pot-holder that he keeps on the counter just for this very occasion. Immediately going to his cupboards, you begin to remove the flour and sugar, giving him a knowing glance and asking even though you know the answer, “Pancakes?”

“Please, god knows I’m going to need something sweet today.” He groans, moves to sit at the table.

Sometimes, you can’t help but think how domestic this is. How your friendship had blossomed into a bond so much stronger than you had ever expected. You wonder if Armitage thinks it too, if he ever is reminded of a lifetime ago, when he was married to a beautiful woman and had a house in the suburbs, if when you pour his coffee and flip pancakes on the stove, his heart aches for that long gone time.

If he does, he says nothing about it, so you don’t bring it up.

“What have they done now?” You ask instead, knowing that this is a topic of conversation in which Armitage will always have something to say, always have something to complain about.

“It’s just these essays. Half the class it would seem, completely missed the point of the extra credit film.” He sighs, gesturing to a stack of papers once again sitting on the kitchen table.

“Oh that’s alright, at least Boris is happy.” Sliding pancakes off of the pan and onto a plate, you douse them in a generous helping of syrup and powdered sugar for the both of you, before moving to sit opposite him at the table.

Just then, the lights flicker on and off, making you both frown. The power had never had much of an issue before, what with the movie theater just downstairs needing those extra generators. You glance out the window, it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t windy – both telltale signs of potential power failure.

“Do you ever worry about what will happen when he has to shut down the building?” Armitage grumbles, carefully and very specifically cutting his stack of pancakes into wedge pieces.

“No, because he won’t.” You shut that train of thought down at once within him, knowing that while he likes to pretend otherwise, your Professor has a proclivity for the dramatics unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. “He has renters for a reason after all, and the summer tourists bring in enough to make ends meet.”

Armitage thinks about that for a moment or two, before accepting the answer.

“You’re right.” He concedes, sounding resigned.

“I’m always right.” You wink, and the two of you finish your breakfast in companionable silence.

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

When you leave Armitage’s apartment and go back to your own, you cannot deny the rush that is the thought of seeing him again. It seems so silly, and of course it is silly, but something in you wants to look nice for him.

You fix your hair and pick out your cleanest most nicely ironed uniform, concerned for the first time about how it fits you, how it forms to your body. It is a modest uniform – you are a cleaning woman after all – but you find that despite the drab color palette and utilitarian shape, you look good. The clock chimes, and you realize that there isn’t much time to fuss, so instead of standing in front of the mirror, you pick a pair of heels off your grand shoe display, and hope that he finds the bright blue color appealing.

Dawdling had never been a trait of yours before, and now you understand why.

The bus is sitting and waiting at the stop when you exit your apartment building, and you run in those bright blue heels as fast as your legs can take you to make it just in time. The click-clack of your steps on the pavement alert everyone nearby, as you bolt towards the bus. Water on the ground from the night’s dew reflects the colors of the neon signs all around you, and when your foot splashes in one of the light puddles, a rainbow scatters around your ankles.

You make a beeline straight for the doors, which are open and welcoming you like a warm embrace, and only once the momentum of your body has thrown you into your seat, do you let out a long exhale.

“Thank you, I’m so sorry!” You could bury your face into your hands with how embarrassed you are, but your hands are shaking from the adrenaline of nearly missing the bus.

Missing this bus would have been bad, very very bad. It would have meant that you’d be late to work, and you have never once, not in the entire ten years on the job, have you been late for work. Such an irregularity would have raised suspicion, would have called attention to you – more attention than there already was. They wouldn’t like that, it would compromise your larger job, your more important mission -- you could not afford to be late. So, you sigh with relief and will your heart to stop pounding in your chest; all was well, you are on the bus, it did not pull away from the stop without you on it, you will be there on time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N), no need to apologize, you know I’ll always wait for you.” Mr. Henry’s kind eyes glance at you with amusement through the rearview mirror, and you once again thank your lucky stars to have a friend like him.

Much like Armitage, you had never expected to befriend the bus driver. You had of course planned on being friendly and polite, but the extent to which you enjoyed the elderly man’s company had surprised you. And what’s more, you were constantly surprised by his willingness to be friendly with you in return. It reminded you that perhaps, there was a solidarity at the bottom – when there is no one to look out for the people like you and him, you look out for one another.

Could Mr. Henry have gotten in trouble by waiting for you? Would he be late to his other stops now? These were questions that you couldn’t help but think, but you have to wonder if they were questions he considered. Surely it would have been easier to simply leave you behind, but he hadn’t done such a thing, and you cannot express how grateful you are for that.

You resolve to thank him somehow, some way more meaningful than simply the words. It strikes you then, that despite speaking to one another every day, you still know very little about the man. You know he has a beautiful wife and a blossoming garden, you know he picks up a cup of coffee from the donut shop before starting his route, and you know which music stations he prefers to listen to. But beyond that, you have both remained relatively private.

He was not so different from you in that regard, you suppose.

Most people are not so different from one another, you suppose.

“For absolutely no reason at all, what is your favorite type of baked good, Mr. Henry?” You ask after a few moments, when the bus has left the stop and has continued its route, the Las Vegas strip a myriad of lights and colors, blinking and twirling in the night.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that – ”

“But I want to.” You insist, “Please let me?”

He looks up at you once again through the rearview window, and you see the sparkle of a smile in his eye. You wonder when the last time someone did something kind for him was, someone doing it just out of the want to see him happy.

“I may or may not be fond of those caramel brownies you make.” Sheepishly, almost as if he will be scolded for revealing such information, he confesses this to you.

You recall a time when you had to bring something to the company party, a holiday get together many years ago. You had been charged with bringing a dessert, and as a thank you to Mr. Henry’s continual kindness and hard work, you offered him one.

It makes you strangely emotional, to know that he had enjoyed it enough to remember it, after all these years.

“How very interesting to know.” You smile, and he smiles back, before he turns his attention to the next bus stop, and your window for conversation comes to a close.

 She is waiting for you at the bus exchange today, standing and huddled in the large group of other passengers. It is chilly out in the desert tonight, and she has a beautiful black and white checkerboard coat wrapped around her body. In moments like these, watching the steam and fog of the bus exchange plume around her feet, Gwendoline reminds you of a movie star.

Perhaps in another life, her face would light up the screen, her silvery blonde hair and striking cheekbones commanding every man in the theater to fall head over heels in love with her. Sometimes she talks about it, about moving away from this city, about quitting her job.

Perhaps in another life, you might go with her.

Armitage would surely come too, wouldn’t he? He could get a job as a professor anywhere, he could pack up his apartment and join you and Gwen on a trip to Los Angeles, or New York City, or perhaps somewhere abroad – but you can’t, can you. You can’t leave.

And so, as selfish as it is, you hope that Gwen never leaves either, because you’re not so sure what you would do, were she to go.

This is especially true, as she catches sight of you politely making your way to where she is standing, and she smiles and throws a hand up to wave to you, as if you didn’t already see her. Gwen was, in so many ways, a beacon of color in the world of black and grey.

“(Y/N)!” She hollers happily to you, competing with the noise of the bus exchange.

The hiss and hydraulics of brakes and doors opening and closing, the sound of engines revving and radios humming, of the news playing on black and white screens behind a window of glass, of people talking and smoking and eating and laughing even though it’s too early for it all, still through this noise Gwen’s voice cuts through.

“Morning,” You smile back at her, offering a thermos as is your tradition every morning. “Coffee?”

“You’re a saint,” Gwen responds, accepting it as is her tradition. “Oh I love when you wear the blue shoes!”

She takes a step back for you to point your toe and extend your leg ever so slightly, the dazzling satin shining like sapphires in the artificial light of the fluorescent overheads. One of the men waiting in the crowd with you lets out a whistle when your skirt rides up just enough to show a little thigh, and you have to physically restrain Gwendoline from snapping her teeth at him.

“I really like this pair, I don’t know why I don’t wear them more often.” Chuckling just a little at your friend’s fierce protective nature, you draw her attention back to the shoes. It wouldn’t do to get into a fight just minutes before being in an enclosed crowded space together.

“Maybe because they’re the least practical thing for a janitor?” Gwendoline mutters, still shooting the man dirty looks. He has, thankfully, backed off – probably for his own safety. Rarely do men ever expect women to snap back, and oh how Gwendoline’s bite is worse than her bark.

“Maybe, but they are so beautiful.” You shrug, and this at the very least, Gwen can understand.

“Come, I think that’s our bus now.” She whispers to you so as to not draw the attention of the crowd around you, knowing how the rush of everyone wanting to get onto the bus and secure a seat can often lead to a mob.

Sure enough, as she pushes her way to the front and you follow her diligently, when the bus rounds the corner and the pushing and shoving begins, you two are already on your way to the back of the bus, coats and purses in your laps, a deck of cards ready to be shuffled.

 In the back of the bus, you and Gwen hide your faces behind a hand of cards each, a game of Go Fish that you are sorely losing. You almost wish that the bus would hit a bump in the road, so that the cards could go scattering all over the floor and you wouldn’t be shamed with the loss, but then the thought of having to clean it all up makes you reconsider.

Gwen, for her part, doesn’t ease up on you one bit, a great big grin on her face as she claims yet another of your cards for her own little pile.

“I dreamt of him again.” You bring up, as nonchalantly as you can.

The bus has greatly reduced down its number of passengers, thankfully. No longer packed like sardines, you and Gwen have enough room to spread out, your belongings no longer piled up on your lap. Instead, they rest on the seat just across the little aisle, as you normally do. Still, it’s not entirely empty, there are quite a few stops to go before the bus pulls over into the dark of the desert and identification is requested.

All this means, is that while you can speak, it has to still be in hushed tones, lest someone from outside the building’s personnel overhear. Gwen hears you perfectly well despite your near whisper, and her face practically alights in the same way those flood lights search the sky.

“Please tell me there’s a face this time!” She abandons the cards to grasp at your hands.

For someone who prides herself on practicality, Gwendoline was incredibly invested in these dreams that you have. Every time you bring it up, she is genuinely and completely interested in hearing more, and you’re more than happy to indulge her.

“There is, and you won’t believe it, but it was, well, it was the Asset.” The last word is whispered so quietly that you might as well just be mouthing the words.

Upon hearing this, her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly.

“You’ve seen him?” Her shocked whisper makes you cast a glance around.

Good, you think, no one is paying any attention to you, everyone who is left has seated themselves at the front of the bus, knowing that they will be getting off soon and not wanting to have to shuffle through the narrow aisle.

“I – ”

“(Y/N) you didn’t sneak into the lab after all that, did you?” Gwendoline suddenly turns frustrated, exasperated with you. She hisses through clenched teeth, “After that creep Tarkin warned us specifically not to do that very thing?”

“I couldn’t help it Gwen, you can’t tell me that you’re not so curious to know what’s going on in there!” You explain, and she only scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course I’m curious! But I also have some sense of self-preservation.” She looks down at where her hands are clutching yours, turns your palms over in hers. You look down, see how calloused and rough the both of your hands are from a decade of harsh chemicals and hard work. “What if that man is dangerous? What if he hurts you?”

“He can’t, he’s behind bulletproof glass, I don’t think he can even hurt himself with how secure they’ve got him.” You try reassuring her, and it seems that at least for the moment, she is convinced.

Chewing on her lip for a moment or two, eventually she relents to your assurances, and a great big smile spreads over her face once more. You have half a mind to ask her what lipstick she’s wearing, and there you go again, daydreaming about looking nice for this man…

“What does he look like?” Gwen snaps you out of your reverie, and you duck your head, bashful.

You’ve been thinking about him and the way he looks ever since you laid your eyes on him, on his incredibly impressive frame.

“He’s huge. Built like a refrigerator, tall and wide. His face was hard to see, he wears a mask that covers nearly half of it, but his hair is long and dark, and his eyes…” You can see it so clearly, there in your mind’s eye; can see his flexing biceps, the abs, the thick trail of hair that disappears behind those swim trunks they have him in.

With a knowing smile and a shake of her head, Gwendoline sighs.

“You’re going to see him again, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question, as it is a resignation. She knew you well enough to know that once you’ve decided something, once you’ve put your mind to something, there was very little that could stop you.

If only she knew how deep that sentiment ran.

“I have to, I promised him that I would.” You say, that giddy excitement returning to you once more.

You know that the lab is going to be on your list, you and Gwen are the only ones with high enough clearance for it, you know that at some point in the day, you’ll be face to face with him once again. And that thought thrills you, it has your leg bouncing, your pulse quickening.

Gwen can feel it in your palms, and she lets go of your hands so that you can fiddle with something to keep those busy fingers satisfied.  

“Just…just be safe, okay?” She whispers, “You know I’ll cover for you, but I need you to promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Much like Armitage, and even like Boris, or Mr. Henry, you find yourself once again wondering how you got so lucky to have friends so willing to look out for you. You would do the same for any of them in a heartbeat, of course, but something about the knowledge that Gwen would lie to Mrs. Parker, or even Robert – something that could risk her job – made your heart clench.

“I promise.” You whisper.

She looks at you hard, trying to see what thoughts are going on inside your head, before letting the conversation go entirely, picking up her cards once again, determined to beat you at a few more hands before pulling up to the shuttle stop.

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

The morning passes uneventfully, as the mornings typically do. Today though, there’s an undeniable pep in your step, a glow about you that the other janitors notice. It’s not that they hadn’t noticed you before, they had of course – but with Gwendoline around, usually she absorbed all the attention. It was flustering to be on the receiving end of it, listening as the boys in the halls got a little too chummy with you, thinking your smiles were for them. Things like:

“Lookin’ good (Y/N)!”

“Where are you off to with a smile that big?”

“Fancy a smoke with me and the boys?”

Are whistled and shot your way, much to your amusement -- funny what a little confidence and a pair of heels could do!

You politely reject everyone’s advances, diligent about getting your work done and doing it well. The sooner you finish everything on your clipboard, the sooner you can get to the lab. It’s on your list, as you knew it would be, but it’s so far down and comes after so many other tasks, that you feel as though Mrs. Parker knew you were eager to return to the tank and the man inside of it.

Thoughts of the man consume you, as you go about your list. Nothing was too strenuous today which you were grateful for, it wouldn’t do to be too exhausted to spend time with him. So, as you empty all the little trashcans and ashtrays, as you clean windows and glass panes in offices, as you take the great dust broom to the floors, you let yourself wonder about him.

What were they doing to him today? Were they going to hurt him again? Would he kill someone again?

The last time you saw him, he was wounded, and that bacta shit had healed him. Would they be wounding him further, or did they have what they needed? You wondered if the scientists in the lab would be so careless as to leave their notes out again. The boys back home would be more than interested in reading further developments, you were sure.

Reminded of the boys, you feel more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on with this man, why he’s there in the first place. Surely he must be Russian, why else would the government be so keen on keeping him as contained as he is? Although, you don’t recall ever seeing a plane like the one that was being dissected in that warehouse, so maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t human at all…the thought pops into your head, and you blink it away.

The stories of alien life in Area 51 were just that – stories. No matter how often you liked to joke about them with Gwen, that’s all that it was, just jokes. Still, that ion engine, the strange shape of the wings, the strange gel that seems to have otherworldly healing properties…it raised so many questions that you simply didn’t have any answers to.

As you sweep the floors, back and forth and back and forth with your big dust broom, you wonder if perhaps you’ll be able to speak to the man. Perhaps he could give you some answers, perhaps you could help him.

You have no idea how you could, but maybe if the two of you worked together, you could figure out a way. One thing was for certain, you felt something for this mystery man. A sense of protection, a bond of some sort. It didn’t have a name, didn’t have much to define it at all – but it was there. Much like the dream, that reoccurring dream, it was indefinite and blurred around the edges, but it was there all the same.

For a brief moment, you wonder what the man dreams about.

You wonder if he dreams at all, in the tank.  

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

Time passes strangely, in the building. You’re certain that you’ve just gotten there, had just hopped off the shuttle with Gwen – but in the blink of an eye, it’s lunch time. Gwendoline very shyly lets you know that she’s going to be having lunch with Mary, and true to your word the other day, you’re nothing but encouraging.

Besides, it means that you could spend your lunch in the lab, it was the next place on your list anyway, no one could be angry with you for being there, no one could accuse you of being out of place. In the locker room though, you find yourself frozen, standing in front of the little metal locker that you call yours. There’s a compact in your purse, and you pull it out, look at yourself, really look at yourself.

You feel so foolish for all this, especially when you open Gwen’s locker and find one of her tubes of lipstick. She always keeps a couple in her locker for emergencies, something you found silly, but now are eternally grateful for. Picking out a shade that best compliments your skin tone, you apply it carefully. The damn thing is likely going to smudge anyway while you eat your lunch, but at the very least you’ll look put together when you first arrive at the lab.

He better be appreciative of all this, you think to yourself with a nervous chuckle, he better care about all the effort you’re going through. Gwen would tell you that men never care, but she’s not here right now, off playing footsie in the courtyard with Mary.

 As you walk the halls down in the bowels of the building, you realize how utterly alone you are in here. Everyone is on lunch, all the scientists, the janitors, the management. Not a single soul is in these halls, the greenish bluish light no competition for the sunshine that waits them near the picnic tables outside. You don’t mind, not one bit, and in fact it thrills you, the thought that you might be with him all alone.

Swiping your keycard through the little number pad, the doors beep and slowly open. Three layers of bulletproof steel slide open, one set horizontally, one set vertically, and one set diagonally. This lab would likely be perfectly impenetrable, in case of an attack, but you recognize that as well designed as it is to keep things out, it is also designed to keep things in.

Things like the man, who finally, after what seems like a lifetime, you will get to see again.

The lab is, much like the rest of this wing of the building, empty.

Once again you are faced with the mechanical nature of it all, the dark grey metal walls and floor, the tables with all sorts of piles stacked high atop them. The lighting is dark, kept dim, even dimmer than the halls outside. You hold your breath as the doors shut behind you, as they lock time and time again, sealing the lab away from the rest of the world.

You park your janitorial cart against the wall, your brown paper bag lunch clutched in your hands, just for something to hold, something to keep your hands occupied so that they don’t shake.

"Hello?" You call out gently, hopefully.

The tank is on the far end of the lab, and you take care to approach it cautiously. There are a million bubbles filling the tank, the bacta gel having been disturbed, and recently. Those bubbles trap the air and make the gel look nearly white with all the foam. You have to get closer, have to approach the glass, straining to see inside it.

“It’s just me, I’ve come back to visit you.” You try again, this time speaking a little louder. Maybe he just couldn’t hear you, through the glass and the gel.

Bracing yourself for him to scare the shit out of you with a startling appearance, you nearly press your nose to the tank. But seconds go by, and there is no activity. A deep deep sense of disappointment and fear spike through your body – if he was not here, where was he? What had they done to him? Where had they taken him? Was he alright -- ?

The immediate string of questions is interrupted by a splashing sound coming from your left, and you whirl around, clutching the brown paper bag to your chest.

He is out of the tank, but he is still here, still in the room with you. For whatever reason, he has been moved from the tank to the pool, and you know this because as you watch with wide eyes, he rises up out of the water, standing up to his full height on his two legs, strong legs, powerful thighs that flex and carry his body towards you.

Remaining perfectly still, you do your best not to gasp. You had thought perhaps, the glass from the tank had distorted his proportions, maybe he wasn’t nearly as big as you had thought. But you’re wrong, he’s even bigger somehow, in the flesh, in front of you. He must be over six feet tall, and twice as wide as the normal man, or at least, twice as wide as any man you had ever seen.

But the most unexpected thing of all, is that he is not wearing the mask.

You have a clear, unobstructed view of his face for the first time, and it takes your breath away. He is utterly, completely, totally handsome. Your imagination could have never come up with the configuration of his features, never in a million years. His nose, so strong and proud looks slightly broken from the front, but when he shakes the water away from his hair and you catch sight of his profile, it is beautifully sloped and triangular. His lips have to be the most full and plush that you’ve ever seen, his ears are large as they poke out from the dark drenched blackness of his hair.

You’re staring, you know you are, but he doesn’t seem deterred. In fact, he’s staring right back at you, looking at you with soulful brown eyes that seem to be sharper than anything you’ve ever seen, eyes that seem to be taking you in with the same level of intensity that you do him.  

“Oh!” You realize that he can hear you now, you realize that this is the chance you’ve been hoping for, so you reach out your hand for him to shake, and offer him a friendly, “Hello.”

The man’s eyes track the movement in a way that can only be described as predatory, as an apex creature focusing all their energy on their prey. Strangely though, you don’t feel like prey. Keeping your hand extended, you take slow even breaths, showing him that you mean no harm, showing him that you won’t hurt him.

You’re not like those men, those scientists, you won’t hurt him.

“My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself, speaking as carefully and clearly as you can. “What’s your name? Can you understand me?”

The man simply looks at you, as if in a trance of some kind. You look around, check over your shoulder to make sure, absolutely sure, that no one is around.

Once you’re determined that the coast is clear, and this man continues to take in the sight of you, you move one step forward, closer to the edge of the pool.

“Can you understand me now?” These words come in another language, a switch of your tongue that would have you arrested on site if anyone had heard.

He frowns, confused, and you wonder if this is the first time anyone has tried being polite to him since his capture. You’re about to retract your hand, when suddenly, he lifts his own, his arm tensing as he reaches for you – only to be stopped by long chains that are attached to cuffs on each of his wrists, and to the metal collar he wears around his throat.

The man looks at his bindings, and strains against them with a strangled shout of frustration. His muscles bulge, but it’s to no avail, whatever he has been shackled in, is too strong for him to break through. You have to sit, your legs unable to support you for the moment as you take him all in. Settling on a step near the edge of the pool, you lean in enough for this man to do the same. He too sits, just on the other side of the edge, as close to you as the chains will allow.

Reaching your hand further, further, further still, the man freezes as you place a palm to his cheek. The skin of his scar is smooth, and you find that surprising, as you stroke his face. Eyes closing, the man lets out a shaky shuddering exhale, nuzzling into your palm. He reminds you of a bear trapped in spiked teeth out in the forest, or a lion in the cage of a circus.

“Why do they have you chained and collared like this, why are you here?” The Russian flows freely now, you no longer hold it back the way that you might have in front of anyone else.

Then, suddenly, the strangest noises come out of his mouth. You think that he might be in pain for a minute, but then you realize no, he is speaking to you, impassioned and desperate, his voice is deep, rumbling, coming from the depths of his chest, a baritone that vibrates down inside your bones.

This is the voice that you heard in your dream, you realize. The voice parroting your words back to you, now you know why it had sounded so strange, so off. This man didn’t speak English, and he had only been mimicking the sounds, not knowing what it meant. You’re not sure what this man speaks, and it pains you, it pains you to not share this with him.

“I – I’m sorry I don’t understand.” You have to cut him off, putting your hand over his mouth to interrupt him, to get him to stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what you’re saying, if he can understand but not translate it out of his own mouth, you don’t know. “I’m familiar with ten different languages but yours isn’t one of them, I’m sorry.”

The man looks so sad, devastated, and that at least feels like maybe he can understand you. All at once, you recognize that if he can understand you, there may be hope. Perhaps if you both learn to communicate in a way that doesn’t rely on words, perhaps if you can find a way, you can help him.

That will require some planning, great planning, careful planning.

The man is watching you, he rests his head on the ledge of the pool, his black hair slinking and sliding down the strong muscles of his back. It is as if he is telling you to not be afraid of him, the very same way you were trying to tell him not to be afraid of you.

It strikes you, for a moment, how human he is. Even if by some cosmic improbability he is an alien, he is human. His stomach growls then, loudly, so loudly that it makes you laugh, and you shut yourself up immediately, afraid of scaring him with the noise. He doesn’t go anywhere though, his eyes only widen, making you smile.

The man mimics the motion, smiling back at you, a small laugh of his own.

He has dimples, you think, as you only grow more and more attached to him, and his teeth are so crooked.

“Here, I don’t know what kind of shit they feed you, but you must be hungry.” You rifle through the little brown paper bag that you’ve been holding in a death grip this entire time, pulling out the first thing you see. The clementine fills your palm, you offer it to him cautiously, encouraging, “Go ahead, you can have it, I promise it’s okay.”

The man, wherever he has come from, must not have seen one of these before, because he takes it in his hand and immediately goes to bite through the rind. Your hand flies out and grabs his before he can do so, and despite it all, you laugh again.

He scowls, thinking you’re making fun of him, so you simply shake your head and demonstrate how to peel the hard outer flesh of the fruit away.

“Don’t make fun of me for the way I peel it, I can never get it to come off in one go.” You mutter, wondering wondering wondering if he can understand you.

Watching diligently and carefully, he sits patiently at the edge of the pool, his palm extended, resting near your hands. Piece by piece you peel the clementine, always trying to get it in one spiral but failing, as usual. Eventually, once the floor has been littered with peel and the clementine is bare, you pry the citrus into segments, and place one in his hand.

It looks so small, comically small in the man’s palm, even smaller as he raises the piece to his mouth and pops it in between his teeth, the juice squirting into your face, making you laugh once again. The man’s face lights up immediately, already asking with those strangled sounding words that you cannot understand, a language foreign to even your ears.

“It’s good right?” You hope that that’s what he’s saying, you hope that he likes it. Giving him the whole thing, you watch as he delicately pulls the segments apart. “Bright and sweet. It’s just about the only thing bright in this whole place, hm?”

Instead of eating the entire thing as you would have expected him to do, the man thoughtfully gives you half of the segments. You notice that they are the larger pieces, the ones that must be more flavorful, juicier. He is kind, you decide, kind enough to offer you the better of the halves at the very least.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, knowing he cannot answer. “Why do they torture you so?”

There are no fresh wounds this time, you are glad to see. Nothing healing or inflicted, just the smoothed over scars. You long to touch them, the pink lines that mar his flesh, but he is a person of agency, and you will not disrespect him the way that these scientists do.

So instead, you offer your hand out to him once more, and after careful consideration, the man presses his cheek against your palm. Your thumb rubs soothing circles against the little beauty marks and freckles that pepper his skin, and you sigh.

“I’m going to figure out a way for us to communicate. I don’t know how, but I will.” You tell him, tell yourself, “You won’t be alone, I’ll help you, I just need to figure out how.”

Out in the hall beyond the sealed off lab, a bell chimes, signaling that lunch is over. Regret and disappointment rise up in your throat like acid, you don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to go away from him. He has been in your dreams, all this time, it has been him, of this you’re now sure. But you have a job, you have a responsibility, and you cannot lose it now.

Pulling away, he makes a noise of protest, and this is a noise you can understand.

“I have to clean. You can watch me, if you’d like, but I can’t just sit here all day, or else they’ll be very angry with me.” You explain to him, willing him to understand, “And if they’re angry, then I can’t visit again.”

The man sighs, chews on the segmented clementine.

With that, you move to the other side of the lab where you’ve parked your cart. The only thing on the list is to mop the floors, and you find that you hate that, you wish there were more, wish that you could have more time. You never thought you’d think this, but you hate how efficient you’ve become, how they’ve entrusted you with the jobs they know you are quick at. It is a double edged sword, because if you weren’t good at it, then maybe they wouldn’t have assigned this lab to you in the first place.

Dunking your mop in the solution that you make yourself – vinegar and baking soda, and a little dish soap – you begin to work, the thing you’re actually there for. It is very obvious that he’s watching you, from his spot in the pool. He walks back and forth, almost stalking you, his hulking frame tethered to you by an invisible string. When you go to the right, so does he. When you double back to the left, he goes as well. You smile, hoping that he finds the incredible mundanity of it all not so mundane.

“You’re very handsome. I’m only saying this because I know you’ve got no idea what it is that I’m saying, otherwise I’d be dying of embarrassment. But you’re handsome.” You admit when your back is turned to him, swishing the mop this way and that, picking up the little stains and debris that have stuck to the floor in the time since it was last mopped. “I was wondering what your face looked like, without the mask.”

You continue to mop, and he continues to watch you.

In a strange sense, it is almost like a dance. The sound of the water splashing as he moves back and forth, as he creates little waves and currents, acts as a rhythm, a steady beat to which you mop. His breathing is calm, and he seems to be in a relaxed mood. Maybe he has been hypnotized by the repetitive motions that you make, or maybe, a hopeful part of you thinks, maybe he feels completely at ease with you.

The thought sours in the back of your throat, because you know that once you have finished this, you will have to leave.

You prolong it, you try your best, you really do. But eventually there comes a point in which you cannot procrastinate any longer, you cannot draw it out. The floor is mopped, your clipboard is checked.

Carefully, walking over the freshly mopped tiles slowly and deliberately so that you don’t slip, you sit on the edge of the pool once again, something painful like sorrow making your head hurt.

“I’m done.” You whisper, “I have to go now.”

He’s alarmed by this, the man. He seizes forward, rushes to reach for you with wide panicked eyes, but the chains around his neck yank him back, and he stumbles for a moment, nearly loses his footing in the water. You could cry, with the desperation in the words that he speaks, with the way he reaches for you with bound hands.

You lean as far into the pool as you can, your arms wrapping around him, nearly toppling over into the water with how far forward you are. You don’t care, so what if you should fall? You cannot bear to see him so sad, and so you pull him into an embrace. He holds you tightly, hands curling in your hair, breathing in your smell.

“I know, I know I’m sorry – I don’t want to leave you. But I’ve got more work to do.” Your voice wobbles, hating this, hating how he’s chained, hating how he’s going to be all alone, how he’s going to be tortured and harmed in your absence. You hate it, and he doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell by how strong of a grip he has on you as he talks and talks and talks in a language you don’t know.

There is nothing you can do today though, to help him. For the first time in your life, you feel overwhelmingly insignificant, in the way that you can’t do anything to help him.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, even if it’s not on the list, okay? I’ll come back, I promise.” Your hands cup his cheeks, looking at one another, your eyes boring into his. “I’ll always come back.”

You let go of him now though, and you turn your back to him, mopping up your steps so that the footprints do not give you away.

Swiping your keycard through the number pad once more, the doors open for you, and you do your best not to cry when you hear his pained shout muffled behind the steel.

[emsartwork]

i forgot to add: how do design ????!?!??????

So I’m not expert but this is how I think of character design! (also sry if you were asking about clothing/outfit design thats a little different)

under the cut because this is long im so sorry

So in my opinion there are three really important aspects for character design!

AESTHETIC: obviously everybody’s aesthetic is different, but this is more about what vibe the character has, what makes them THEM design wise. 

INTENTION: who is the character supposed to be? this can range from their personality, their back story, their occupation, or their role in the story, but the design need to fit that intention.

COHESION: does the design go well together? or do certain aspects clash too much? obviously you can have disjointed parts of a character design, and if those serve a purpose then thats fine, but if its so disjointed its distracting from the character as a whole you might need to tweak things. 

AESTHETIC: the contrasting part of the design (white flowers in dark hair, dark trim on dress, and dark shoes) provide interest to the eye. The mixing of round and sharp shapes also keeps the design from feeling “boring” even though its relatively simple. 

INTENTION: so what role would this little doodle character have? according to her design elements, shes cute and friendly with her round shapes (bouncy balls, babies, etc), but could have a sharp/fast/active or even dangerous edge to her with the triangles (arrows, knives etc). of course the design doesn’t limit her possible roles. She could be a bubbly younger sister who teases the older protagonist, or maybe she’s the villain hiding in plain sight. the shape this character design doesn’t really have is squares(think bricks and rocks), which communicates that she might not be really strong, steady, or reliable. 

COHESION: repeating the curves across her whole design builds cohesion, it communicates that “yes, these are all part of the same character”, it also allows the eye to “rest” on a familiar shape or line. 

NOW LETS LOOK AT SOME DESIGNS

(Boku no Hero Academia) so both of these characters are super heroes, but have vastly different design elements. so lets analyze them.

OCHAKO(the pink one) is all rounds, with a few pointed shapes in hair mostly, but a little on her costume as well. Her personality is cute, bubbly, and friendly which perfectly suits her soft and bouncy design. Howevre she also has a very slight edge to her, which is seen her determination and drive to improve herself over the course of the anime. 

KIRISHIMA(the red one) at first glance, seems to be super pointy!! shapes that are usually seen on villains or really dangerous characters, but while he IS sharp(literally sometimes) and sometimes aggressive, he is also made of squares, which perfectly suits his loyal “i gotchu bro” attitude towards most of the other characters in the anime.  

ISSUE AREAS: so the only problems i have with Ochako and Kirishima’s designs is that their costumes each have one area that clashes a little too much for my taste. With Ochako, the belt over the color blocking stripes down her crotch are......questionable taste wise. I think the design would be better if the pink chest ended above the belt in a shallow v. not only would this mirror the triangle aspects of her hair, it would fit the belt outline, and continue the trend her costume has of being “grounded” or “heavy”. Kirishima has those.... gears??? around his shoulders??? and while the gear teeth are technically squares, the gear shape itself is a circle, which is a shape that isn’t present anywhere else in his design. I think changing the gears to something similar to his boots or his mask/headgear would create a more cohesive design(also the gears just look hard to move in)

These two characters are presented as individuals so their costumes don’t have to match at all even though they are still seen as “connected” because of the art style for the face, hair, and body. 

In a group giving the outfits cohesive motifs is an easy way to present a strong team image! In Yuki Yuna is a Hero, the girls all have colored lines(usually princess seam placement), armor or fabric hip accents, covered arms, and similar flower shapes in their hair. The Aesthetic of each girl is strong in a monochrome signature color, but not over whelming as the black+white connects them even in color so they aren’t out of place. 

Speaking of color! if your characters are all similar looking (like same body for all of them) you can communicate their personality and aesthetic just with color! (only gonna talk about a few of the ponies) Pinkie Pie (the really pink one) is energetic and playful, so her color scheme is a variation of the primary colors(happy, child like), and have one of the more saturated colors(high energy, intense) of these characters in a large quantity. Apple Jack (the orange one) is a down to earth farm girl, and her color palette is accordingly, mostly earth tones, its also warm analogous colors, which makes her appear un-complicated and warm personality wise. the pop of red is a nice touch to add interest, but notice that its uses sparingly in her cutie mark and tail accessory. Rarity on the other hand is elegant and fussy, her high contrast scheme of white and dark blue/purples gives her more visual interest and is something that makes her appear more “complex” in addition to the gradient thats included in her hair. the colors are also all cool colors, bringing to mind cool glass or water which both have connotations of grace and beauty.

however all the characters here are unified by their colors being on the pastel side, which is also important for a cohesive cast.

another, short, note on color; making the color/line/shading of your figure different from the background can help them stand out, this is used ESPECIALLY in children’s media, but can be applied to any illustration or animation as needed.

Color can also help your characters “read” quickly on screen, the powerpuff girls are a prime example, of having a distinct color blocking and silhouette. even the color blobs at the top and my crappy hand silhouettes STILL read as the characters despite being broken down into abstract elements. I also really enjoy the thick outline in the powerpuff girls, it really makes the characters pop to the foreground even though they have pretty simple designs and are often in a colorful setting.

Also, for a lot of animation, silhouette is INCREDIBLY important for your characters, some designers sketch silhouettes and then design the particulars its so important to nail the shape. These examples from Coraline are some of my favorites (though Laika wins in my heart every time no matter what lmao) because the simple shapes are SO CLEAR and indicative of the character, you literally don’t need to have watched the movie to know these are each different characters with different personalities and roles. 

silhouette can also help tell the story. In Kubo and the two strings (another Laika film) the above three characters are sisters. One has chosen to leave her home in the heavens to live on earth, and the other two stay in their roles as “heavenly” warriors. This is even shown through their designs, the two sisters are weighted on top and their cloaks don’t even touch the ground, while the first woman has trailing, heavy sleeves, hair, and robes all grounding her and emphasizing her connection with the earth.

another example of shape/silhouette reflecting the story, In The Croods, the family of cavemen are for the most part very top heavy, with large torsos and arms, usually in a more hunched over position, while the newcomer, Guy, is bottom heavy with thin arms and stands more upright. In the plot, the family represents the old ways, the strength and rules that have helped them survive, they look like very stereotypical “cavemen”, while Guy resembles the modern man, and appropriately is associated with new ideas and forward thinking.

MORE SHAPES, in DC super hero girls each girl has a distinct personality emulated by her shape language. Zatana is dramatic curves and edges, Super girl is hard, straight edges against curves, giving her a solid muscular shape. Wonder Woman, though also strong, is taller and leaner, lending to a confident leader type. Green Lantern is slim, her lines all flow into each other giving her a go with the flow look. Bumble Bee is, of course, tiny, but her boots and gauntlets add weight and strength to her otherwise small frame. Batgirl is lanky and has a lot of pointed style lines, reminding the viewer of a skinny cat (ironic what with cat woman i know) or weasel which mirrors her preferred “sneaky” crime fighting style.  (also yes this was just an excuse for me to gush abt how much i love the dcshg designs shut up)

so in my opinion, Cartoon Saloon’s The Secret of Kells is PERFECT in aesthetic, intention, and cohesion. Kells focuses very strongly on creating silhouette WITHIN the larger figure shape via color and line, most of the characters pictured here have no neck, the one who does, Brendan, is the main character and the use of negative space that cuts into his shape is used to draw attention to him. Kells is also very strongly inspired by Medieval Illuminated manuscripts (namely, the book of kells lmao). The characters still manage to stand out against outrageously detailed backgrounds via their simple shapes and strong color blocking. 

Aisling, a secondary but very important character, is not human, and has a totally different shape language from the rest of the characters. She is thin and pointy, while most of the others are round or square. Aisling also has the most negative space making up her silhouette, compare the triangles made by her arms and legs in the above picture to the figures in the first image where everybody’s body is self contained with no negative space. She is also very different color wise, very pale and cool colored, as opposed to the warm saturated colors of the human characters. (yes this was another excuse to gush abt one of my fave pieces of media deal with it)

hopefully that wasn’t too rambley and actually helps? if yall have more specific design questions lemma know lol

[ineverlookavvay]

bisexual-aliens-in-arms

Isobel drags Michael to Planet 7 for pride night. It goes far better than expected.

Bi Visibility Day - Day 7 of Michael Guerin Week 2020

cw: alcohol, referenced child abuse, internalized homophobia

Read it on Ao3

“No, “ Michael said, aiming for firm.  “I don’t have time, Iz.”

Isobel scoffed.  “What, are you going to be working on cars all night long?”

There was actually a fairly big backlog of cars to work on, and Michael found he needed the distraction more often than not recently.  Life was complicated, increasingly so, and cars were simple, designed to be a certain way and logically never stray from that.  People sucked a lot more than cars, objectively.  

“Maybe I am.”

“Michael.”  Isobel leaned down onto the hood of the car he was trying to work on, annoyingly in his way.  She was giving him her ‘cut the bullshit’ look, which he was historically not very good at escaping.  “It’s one night, and it’s important to me.  Please come out?”

“I don’t do theme nights.”

Isobel scoffed again, rolling her eyes and trodding directly onto his ego.  “Come on, Michael.  This is my first pride month and you’re supposed to be my bisexual-alien-in-arms.”  She changed tactic abruptly, making the most irritating pouty face he’d ever seen.  “You’re not really going to make me go alone, are you?”

Michael sighed, wiping grease off his hands onto his jeans.  Fucking hell.  “Fine, but you gotta leave me alone for at least a few hours, okay?”  Isobel clapped gleefully.  “You know, some of us work.”

“Let me know if any of those people want a job,” Sanders cut in, ducking in on his way out, looking at Michael’s progress skeptically and ignoring Michael’s scowl.  “Do some damn work.”

“Hell does it look like I’m doing?” Michael called out as Sanders left, still scowling.  Michael fixed a tight smile on Isobel.  “Later, okay?”

She shrugged.  “Fine, but be ready to go at eight.  And try not to look so…” she waved her hand at his general appearance, “mechanic-y.”

Michael wanted to protest that he always looked ‘mechanic-y’ on account of he was a damn mechanic, and besides, the grungy blue-collar cowboy look was still popular as far as he could tell; but seeing as he’d already caved, he would certainly end up losing this argument, too.  So instead, he turned his attention back to the cars.  Michael liked working with his hands, he liked fixing things.  Sure, he might fuck up every relationship he’d ever had, he might break the things in his life constantly, but he could take a broken car and make it a working car, and that was something.  

He was not so secretly dreading the evening, though.  He let himself drift far enough into his work that he wasn’t actively panicking about going to a damn pride night at the local gay bar, which he’d never actually been to, no matter how many times Isobel tried to convince him how great it was.  It’s not that Michael was ashamed, he really wasn’t—but he’d experienced enough bigots and assholes in his life to know that he didn’t need to paint an extra target on his back, either.  

Who he fucked was his own business, and that was how he preferred to keep it.  Isobel was reveling in her newfound sexuality, and he wasn’t about to ruin that for her, but he also knew that a rich white woman was a lot less of a target than a trailer trash cowboy.  He also had an existential dread of any place that resulted in Isobel leaving at the end of the night dripping in glitter.    

Michael didn’t do glitter, and he didn’t do pride month—or at least he hadn’t—and he’d much rather just spend a night with Isobel at the Wild Pony celebrating themselves quietly with a drink that didn’t have anything in it besides the liquor.  Hell, they could go there and celebrate themselves raucously, as long as no one had to know the reason for the celebrating.  

His attempt to distract himself resulted in successfully losing track of time, which meant Isobel was already standing in the junkyard tapping her foot when he went inside to shower and change.  

“You don’t have anything cuter than that?” she asked skeptically when he emerged, clean and dressed in a black button-down.  Isobel was wearing a purplish iridescent crop top that probably came out of her closet circa 2010 and incredibly tight dark blue jeans, with multiple strings of shiny necklaces around her neck.  

“Sorry, I don’t own anything that shiny.”  

That got him a smile at least.  “Listen, Michael, the whole point of pride is to look hot,” he was pretty sure that wasn’t true, “get laid,” he was sure that one was wrong, “and be out and proud while doing it.”  She looked so proud of herself right then that Michael didn’t have the heart to argue.  “Plus, the bi flag has really nice colors.”

Michael smiled in spite of himself.  “Iz, you got me to go with you, you really want to jeopardize that by shit talking my clothing?”

Frowning slightly, she shrugged.  “Fine, but this is why no one thinks you’re the fun alien.” 

“Hey!  I am definitely the fun one,” he argued, striding towards her car and settling in for an inane but companionable argument.

Michael liked bars, in general.  He liked the dark corners and the dirty floors and the smell of alcohol and the down home music and the bluster of it all.  He liked sitting at a bar nursing a drink and feeling like a part of something just by virtue of drinking beside other people.  But Michael hated Planet 7. 

First of all, the whole damn place was trying too hard.  It had far too many lights, all of them overly complicated and flashing stupid colors.  It had a DJ instead of a jukebox, which Isobel implied was something special, that he should be pleased to be experiencing, much to his chagrin.  It had more glitter and confetti littering the floor and on the bar and on the tables than Michael had ever hoped to see in one place.  All the drinks were obscured by ridiculous garnishes.  There was someone sitting at the end of the bar stenciling with face paint on people’s faces, another thing Isobel assured him was a fun and exciting theme night thing.  But most of all, it didn’t make Michael feel safe, or comfortable, or known; this wasn’t his place.

Isobel looked like she’d just walked into her surprise birthday party, though, grinning and strutting in like she owned the place.  “Come on, I’ve been dreaming about their drinks,” she said, beaming, and Michael reluctantly followed her over to the bar.  Michael realized quickly that she hadn’t been dreaming about the drink so much as the bartender.  Which, fair enough. 

Michael let her talk and flirt and took the time to look around again, hoping to find something to be complimentary about so Isobel wouldn’t feel she had to prove how great it all was to him.  It was his own fault then, when he accidentally saw Alex across the room, leaning against a wall, deep in conversation with someone that looked suspiciously like Kyle.  Michael’s stomach did a flip and he turned quickly away, back to Isobel and the bar, half hoping Alex hadn’t seen him.  Michael knew that Alex was single again, or at least that was the last he’d heard, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be caught staring outright. 

“Here,” Isobel thrust a drink into his hand that had a little light-up rainbow color-changing cube masquerading as an ice cube at the bottom of it.  Michael rolled his eyes.  “So what are you feeling?  Wanna dance?  Or I think they’re painting pride flags on people’s faces?”  She sounded giddy, her cheeks flushed and her hair already covered in a ridiculous amount of glitter.  

Michael didn’t have the heart to let her down by telling her he’d rather eat sand than dance or get his face painted without at least a few drinks in his system.  “Whatever you want.” 

Isobel beamed at him.  “See, I knew this would be fun.” 

“Yep,” Michael said, plastering a smile on his fast as she led him over to the person doing the face paint, “cause I’m the fun one.”

By the time he was sitting on a bar stool with someone striping color across his face, Michael was on his second drink, and Isobel's face was already a melty palette of pink, blue, and purple. 

“Isn’t this great?” Isobel said, standing over him and dancing to some unbearable pop song, shaking glitter out of her own hair all over Michael’s head and shoulders.  He could feel it falling onto him like tiny raindrops, securing itself to his shirt and hair and skin with some invisible, terrible glitter power.  He wondered idly how many showers it was going to take until he could walk around without constantly catching the glint of it out of the corner of his eye.  

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, standing up as the face painter proclaimed he was done.  His cheek felt strange, stiff and cold, and he couldn’t get the last of the alcohol out of his glass around the giant fake ice cube.    

“Hey, we have to take a picture,” Isobel said, grinning wider and pulling out her phone while she dragged their faces close enough together to fit into the selfie frame.  She pulled back to look at the picture, nodding with happy satisfaction.  “We are hot,” she proclaimed, “and proud.  Two badass bisexuals.” 

Michael nodded distractedly.  He needed another drink, or maybe just some fresh air, or for the DJ to turn down the goddamned bass, or something.  He hated the feeling of the face paint, and he hated the selfie, he hated how unlike himself he looked, glittery and colorful and trying to smile in a crowd.  Michael stumbled backwards, turning around to face the bar in what he hoped was a mostly intentional-looking maneuver.  He needed another drink.  

The bartender nodded at him and Isobel, bringing over two more glasses of whatever they were drinking.  “Lookin’ good,” she said, and Michael’s chest felt tight. 

It was too loud, and too warm, and Isobel was talking but he couldn’t make out what she was saying.  He drank almost frantically, trying to get enough alcohol into his system that he stopped caring about any of this shit.  Michael glanced around the bar, at all of the people laughing and smiling and looking like they fit in perfectly, and Michael had never felt more like an alien.   He needed to get out, just for a moment, just to catch his breath.  

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna find the bathroom,” he said, coherently enough, and pushed past Isobel towards the back hallway.   

The bathroom was thankfully empty, and quiet as the door swung shut behind him, the music that was so pervasive in the bar just a tinny echo.  Michael braced himself on one of the sinks, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the scratched mirror.  It was just all so much, and it should have been easy, and the fact that it wasn’t was creating a cacophony of different feelings in his mind, all of it blending together into something like panic.  Michael opened his eyes, willing himself to stay in control.  

He looked at himself in the mirror, and he hated the frantic look in his eyes, hated the smear of color across his cheek like a brand, hated that he could be so comfortable with himself and yet so shaken.  He could feel the urge to push it all away, violently, to shove and shake and break—the only way he had now to make the noise in his head stop.  Michael gripped the sink and thought about tearing the room apart.  He could see it, sinks and toilets tearing out of the wall, tiles slamming against one another into dust, the mirrors cracking and shattering.  The vision of destruction filled his mind, and he was in the middle of it, silent in the eye of the storm, caught in the tornado of his own making—

The door to the bathroom swung open, and Alex stepped through it, looking concerned.  “Are you okay?” 

The vision dropped away from Michael’s eyes, leaving him with only himself, standing in a public bathroom feeling terrified and self-destructive.  He watched in the mirror as Alex twisted the lock on the door and took another cautious step forward. 

“Are you okay?” Alex repeated. “Because you looked not okay.”

“I’m fine,” Michael said, even though his voice sounded thin and shaken.  Alex stepped towards him again and Michael pressed himself forward, closer to the sink, like he could climb into the mirror and avoid this interaction.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Alex, because he did, badly, but he didn’t want Alex to see him in a moment where he felt weak.  “You didn’t have to follow me.”

Alex shrugged, the cracks in the mirror keeping Michael from seeing the nuances of his expression.  “I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

It was meant kindly, but somehow it made Michael feel worse.  Michael stopped watching Alex and focused on his own face, frowning when he saw the painted colors again, loosening his grip on the sink to press uneasily on the skin of his cheek.  He swallowed and dropped his hand quickly, lowering his eyes to the stained white porcelain of the sink.  “I think this paint might be toxic,” he said wryly.  He could tell from Alex’s silence that he saw through the remark. 

“It looks good,” Alex said quietly.  “You look good.”

Michael looked up sharply at Alex’s reflection again.  Alex had his own face painted, a rainbow of stripes adorning his cheek.  “You do, too,” Michael said, meaning it.  Alex did look good—happy and proud and like he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder.  It made Michael feel boundlessly happy and endlessly sad, knowing that they’d spent their time together hiding, that they could both be here on this stupid pride night—with Alex looking secure and hot and comfortable—and yet not be together.  Usually Michael would fight or fuck those maudlin feelings away, but that wasn’t really an option tonight.  He sighed.  “But I just don’t…maybe this isn’t my scene.”

Alex was close enough to put a hand on Michael’s shoulder, and he did so cautiously, like he wasn’t sure if Michael would let him.  Michael hoped that someday Alex would be able to touch him without worrying.  He let Alex turn him away from the mirror.  

“Maybe,” Alex said, carefully.  “Or maybe you grew up with assholes telling you this part of you was wrong, that it should be shuttered if you can’t destroy it.” 

Michael’s instinct was to argue that he was fine, and none of his shitty foster parents had gotten to him like that, but he wasn’t sure it was entirely true, and he wasn’t sure that Alex wasn’t saying it for his own benefit as much as for Michael’s.  Alex’s hand was still resting on Michael’s shoulder, and it felt grounding; Michael felt stable under Alex’s hand, under Alex’s unwavering gaze.  He took a deep breath, and as he let it out, Alex seemed to visibly relax, too.  

“You can wash it off, if you want,” Alex said, “and it wouldn’t mean anything.”

Michael shook his head slowly.  “Isobel—” he started.

“We didn’t get the same ‘strong woman, love yourself’ stuff that Isobel did,” Alex interrupted, reaching around Michael to snag a paper towel from the wall dispenser.  “It’s okay.” 

“Isobel would be disappointed,” Michael said numbly, his chest tight with unspoken gratitude, but he didn’t take the paper towel.  Then more quietly:  “Everyone’s always disappointed.”

Alex looked at Michael for a moment, and then shrugged and smiled, like he didn’t know what Michael was talking about, like he wasn’t one of the people Michael kept disappointing.  “This whole thing is supposed to be about celebrating yourself the way you want to, so fuck ‘em.”

Michael smiled back weakly, his hand tracing lightly over the stiff lines of the face paint on his cheek.  He so badly wanted to want to leave it there. 

“It looks better on you,” Michael said, impulsively, reaching out as if to touch Alex’s cheek, and then drawing his hand back at the last moment.  He held his breath as Alex met his eyes and stepped carefully forward, bringing his cheek to Michael’s hand, leaning into his touch far too easily.  “You’ve always looked good with stuff like this.”  He was thinking of Alex as a teenager, with liner painted across his eyelids, and it made Michael ache with nostalgia.  He wanted this—he wanted to be able to tell Alex how the only good memories from that summer were of Alex, to be able to say all the stupid, romantic things he had never gotten the chance to say, to be able to dance with Alex at pride night and have neither of them care who saw.  

“I wish I’d been able to be this with you,” Alex said, his voice raw and quiet.

Michael let out a breath that was almost a laugh, running his fingertips lightly across Alex’s rainbow cheek.  “You’re here now,” he said without thinking about it.  Now was enough.  Michael thought that if he leaned forward and kissed Alex, Alex might let him, that it would be okay if it only existed here, in this moment.  But they owed each other more than that—more than a secret kiss in a bathroom, more than rushing in without talking, without taking enough care that neither of them got hurt, this time.  God, but Michael wanted there to be a ‘this time.’

“So are you,” Alex said pointedly, licking his lips absently in a way that sent Michael’s entire internal equilibrium shifting, like his body was trying to tip him towards Alex.  

The door clattered as someone tried to get into the bathroom, and both of them laughed awkwardly, aware again of their surroundings.  It steadied Michael, kept him from crashing towards Alex the way he desperately wanted to.  Waiting would be smarter; dropping his hand, pulling away and swallowing everything he was feeling, putting on a smile and walking out of the bathroom would be smarter, but he hesitated.

Alex met Michael’s eyes and slowly lifted his own hand and pressed his fingers lightly to the paint on Michael’s cheek, almost exploratory, a gentle caress.  Michael felt his breath coming far too quickly, his earlier discomfort nearly forgotten under the soft way Alex was touching him.  

“You really do look good, Guerin.” Alex said quietly.  “And this place?  This bar?  It’s not my favorite either.  And it—it isn’t home, but it’s safe.  You know?” 

“Where’s home?” Michael asked, somewhat facetiously, his fingertips still barely brushing Alex’s cheek, leaning his cheek into Alex’s touch, unable to stop himself.  Michael knew both of them had been facing the same thing recently—the growing sense that all of the places that had felt comfortable or familiar didn’t feel that way any more, the fear of what it would take to find the places that would feel that way in the future.  

Alex met Michael’s eyes, meaningfully, like he was trying to get Michael to understand something without saying it.  “I think I’ve almost got that figured out,” Alex said finally, and Michael was hit by the realization that Alex wasn’t talking about the bars or the city or the buildings they lived in, but something entirely different.  He thought back to every time he’d ever heard Alex say the word home, with something like longing and questions laid into it, and wondered if maybe he’d been talking about them the whole time.    

Michael was trying to form a response that wouldn’t feel like a deflection, that would convince Alex to actually say what he was saying, when someone banged loudly on the door and Alex pulled away abruptly, leaving Michael’s fingers caressing only air.  Alex smiled apologetically and dropped his hand away from Michael’s cheek.  “You shouldn’t spend the whole night in the bathroom,” Alex said, starting to move towards the door.  “I’ll save you a dance.”

“Didn’t see you dancing before,” Michael said, to take focus from the fact that the image of Alex dancing, and happy, was enough to make every bit of him openly ache with wanting.    

“I wasn’t.”  Alex said, raising an eyebrow.  “But I will with you.”  

Michael exhaled heavily, his voice stolen by the casual way Alex said it, like they’d already decided.  Then again, what was there even to decide?  

Alex licked his lips, hesitating between Michael and the door, then abruptly turned back and crossed to where Michael was standing.  Alex pressed himself into Michael’s space, his hands cradling Michael’s cheeks as he brought their lips together in a quick but searing kiss.  Michael let out a sound halfway between surprise and a moan and kissed Alex back fiercely.  He’d barely gotten his bearings before Alex was pulling away.

Smiling with satisfaction, Alex unlocked the door and slipped through into the noise of the bar.  Michael side-stepped out of the way as someone rushed past him to one of the stalls, watching the door like Alex might come back. 

When he didn’t, Michael turned back to the mirror, staring at himself skeptically for a few minutes, trying to see himself the same way he saw Alex, like someone who was strong enough not to feel foolish, but proud.  He shook his head at his reflection—it was too much, too much to ask of himself at that moment, but he realized that he still didn’t want to leave the bar.  Not when Isobel wanted him there, not when Alex wanted him there.  

It was Alex’s voice, Alex’s smile, in Michael’s head as he decided not to wash the face paint off.   As he decided not to listen to the words in the back of his mind that he tried to pretend he’d forgotten, to brush off with bravado, the ones that came from the screaming foster parents who carried bibles and belts, the ones who told him he was nothing before he was old enough to know anything about himself.  Alex didn’t see Michael that way, any more than Michael saw Alex as any of the things his asshole father had thought of him.  Alex wanted to dance with Michael, wanted to kiss him, and that was reason enough to stop thinking about the colors on his face and leave the bathroom. 

This bar was never going to be Michael’s place, it was never going to be less annoyingly loud and glittery, and it was never going to serve drinks that didn’t make him roll his eyes.  But it could be the first place he’d let Isobel drag him to a pride event, it could be the first place he’d kissed Alex, that Alex had kissed him, since they’d tried to ignore how they would always feel.  It could be that, and that could be enough, even if he hated the damn face paint.

Taking a breath, Michael left the bathroom with his breathing almost back to normal.  He found Isobel quickly, dancing on the edge of a throng of people, and she brightened as soon as he appeared, beckoning him over.

“Thought you might have left,” she said close to his ear when he reached her, almost yelling to be heard above the music.    

“Almost did,” Michael replied distractedly.  He scanned the room, which had gotten significantly more crowded in the short time he’d been gone, until he found Alex, leaning against a wall, clearly watching Michael, too.  He tilted his head, gesturing Alex over, and saw him nod and push slowly away from the wall, 

“What did you say?”  Isobel yelled, and Michael flipped his attention back to her, grinning.  She looked happy, and tipsy, and like she actually wanted him there, and all at once Michael felt lighter. 

“I said fuck you,” he said stridently, louder and closer to her ear.  “Bisexuals-in-arms, right?”

Isobel’s answering smile was brilliant, and Michael realized he hadn’t made a mistake by coming here just for her, because she’d asked him, intentionally, to be there.  And there wasn’t anything wrong with staying for Alex, because neither of them would usually be caught dead in a place like this, and there was something about just showing up that mattered.  

Alex came up beside them, putting a hand gently on Michael’s elbow, just enough to let Michael know he was there.  It felt like a lot more than that, though.  

“Alex!”  Isobel was clearly at the drunk stage where she was friends with everyone.  “Look, we match!”  She gestured happily between her face and Michael’s, and Michael hated that it made him feel even a tiny bit better about the stupid face paint. 

Alex grinned.  “It’s great,” he said and Isobel beamed.  The song changed fluidly to something new, and Alex slid his hand down Michael’s arm until their fingers were clasped together.  Michael couldn’t think of a time he and Alex had held hands in public, not ever.  It felt nice.    

Isobel danced next to them with abandon and Michael let himself sway awkwardly with Alex, trying to actually loosen his grip on his control instead of just slipping into the comfortable persona of someone who didn’t care.  He did care.  He cared that Isobel wanted them to have this connection—something that she and Max didn’t have—even if her way of celebrating it wasn’t entirely in line with his ideal evening.  He cared that Alex wanted to dance with him, that he was holding Michael’s hand in public, even if it was under the guise of dancing, that he cared enough to follow him into the bathroom and knew him well enough to lock the door.    

Isobel paused her dancing to give Michael a very obvious and unsubtle thumbs-up, and Michael didn’t even resent it when Alex laughed.  Michael grinned up at her sparkling, painted face, his hand tightly knit with Alex’s, and let himself enjoy being part of something loudly, even if it was just for the night.  Maybe, Michael reflected, this was what Alex meant by home.  

[timextoxhajima]

Chapter poster by @/lovehyuck on Instagram

NCT One Shot Collection

Member: Johnny

Genre: Fluff, gets a tiny bit suggestive at the end

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: this was such a fun one to write! i may or may not have busted a big, fat uwu writing this. 

Art school was not the least bit easy for you. Not with all the different events and projects your course forced you through in your freshman year. Your media and design course needed you to constantly pull on a smile and an excited tone whenever you did broadcasting exercises, then back at home when you were off screen and not interning at an external company, you needed to learn the aesthetics of setting up websites and online blog shops. Writing and photography were skills you also needed for your course. All of this was extremely hard to handle when you're a freshman and had trouble even memorizing your way around the huge university campus.

You were absolutely dreading the next project that was set to come your way, because you would be interning at an independent boutique chain to learn the ideas and ways of online advertising and sales, but what you didn't expect in the package was the gentle giant that you would meet during your time of intern at the boutique chain stores.

"y/n?" One of the boutique's managers called out. You looked up from your journal of scripts and half done speeches you had done and would be doing in the future for the advertising projects.

"I'm here," You hurriedly shoved the book into your bag and got to your feet.

"Please, come in. I'll introduce you to your partner you'll be working with for your internship," The lady had a blazer on with a maroon top underneath, paired with black pants and a blue lanyard with her pass in the cardholder. You made your way into the room behind her, and before her sat a cheerful young man who was a few years older than you. The moment he noticed you, he stood up and offered you a handshake.

"Hi! You must be y/n! I'm Johnny Seo, the boutique's newest fashion designer and accent advisor. 'Johnny' will do just fine," he smiled at you, his wide grin making you feel warm and welcomed, despite his large and seemingly intimidating frame.

"Hi, nice to meet you," you took the handshake and bowed a little.

"Good to see that you two are starting off on the right foot. So, the both of you will be working closely for a project that the boutique is planning on launching in summer, preferably for a autumn collection. Johnny will brainstorm the styles and ideas, color palettes and all, and you will be handling the promotion and setting up of website for the project launch. How does that sound?" The lady leaned forward on the table, clasping her hands together and interlinking her fingers.

Johnny eagerly nodded, before turning to you, who obviously had some doubt in yourself.

"Relax, y/n, it's your first big project with a brand name. It's actually Johnny's first big launch too, but both of you have reputable portfolios. I don't expect the grandest, but I do expect your best efforts. If you perform well, we might consider you as permanent staff," The lady smiled at you. You processed her words, letting them sink in as you began to peel the small bits of skin round your fingertips and biting the ripped skin off your dry lips. Reputable profiles? Permanent staff? This is a huge brand name. Working for them would be like working for the Gods themselves. 

"y/n, really, don't feel pressured. We want our crew to be as relaxed and comfortable. We chose to accept your internship with us out of a few hundred because you have amazing presence and your work is unique. After the internship, if you'd like to work for another brand instead, it can remain in discussion. But for now, all I need you to do is to work with Johnny to produce the best project launch for this autumn, that's all. Can you do that?" The lady raised her brow, her voice softening as she tried her best to calm you down. 

You nodded. 

"Amazing. Johnny will show you to your temporary office and give you a small tour and orientation of the office building. From today onward, just report to this building for your internship and you can do everything you need to do in this building. Your school has already been notified of this information," The lady leaned back in her seat and pulled out a file from the cabinet behind her, opening it to an internship contract page and setting it down on the table in front of you.

Both you and Johnny signed your respective contracts, and off you went on your orientation with him. 

"Do you that when you're nervous or stressed?" Johnny spoke after a moment of silence. You were in the elevator with him on the way down to your office floor.

"Wha--? Oh," You looked down at your fingers and noticed the skin that had been peeled off had caused a tiny bit of bleeding. "Yeah, it's a habit. I'd like to get rid of it, but I've been doing it for years. Can't seem to stop it," You pulled your cardigan over your hands. Suddenly, you realised how under-dressed you were for the job. You were a broadcaster, a photographer and a writer, yet here you were, in a simple blue cardigan that covered your black top and some part of your denims. Even your ugly pair of strappy sandals were not up to your own standards.

Not when Johnny was there, fitted perfectly in his clothes.

Fashion designers.

"Fan of blue?" Johnny spoke again after the doors opened. 

"Yellow, actually. But my favourite yellow dress was in the washing machine this morning when I checked so..." You shrug and follow him out of the lift. He smiled as a gesture of courtesy, letting you know that he heard you. He tapped a card with his face printed on it on the door scanner, a soft beep turned one of the scanner's lights from red to green and he pushed the door open for you. 

"So, uhm, since you're working with this brand for the first time, I'll just let you know that their offices are on a rotational basis. So for example, you're working with me until autumn, right? Your office will be right next to mine until the season is over, and once you get a new partner, your office location will change, or maybe your new partner will come to you. Works both ways," Johnny walked and spoke at the same time, the office floor having a row of closed-door offices on both the left and right side of the floor, with office cubicles in the middle like a maze.

"The cubicles are for?" You looked at the employees sitting in cubicles, some talking on the phone and others looking intently at their computer screen.

"Oh, they basically handle the admin stuff. You know, employees, the money, event signing etcetera," He stopped right outside a closed office door. "I believe this office is yours," Johnny stretched out his right palm and gestured to the door. You glance at him and look at the door, the tab on the door where your name and position was supposed to be, still empty. 

The office was simple, but prettier than you expected it to be. After all, this was only supposedly an internship.

"Whoa," You breathed, stepping into the office and placing your bag on one of the guest chairs before heading for the window. You could see the city before you, with cars the size of fingernails and the glistening reflection off window panes from other office buildings. 

"I know right?" Johnny smiled. "Uh, you can get your access pass from the security point from tomorrow onwards. The admin counter on the first floor will give you your name and tab for your door when you clock in tomorrow," You hummed in response, still taken and completely obsessed with the view, so much that you didn't even notice Johnny had gone into his office right next to yours. 

After setting up your office, linking your devices to the office's network, putting in your name and tab on the door and shelving some of your files for research and information purposes, you were finally settled in. Of course, some of that settling needed an extra hand, and who else to help but your office neighbour and also your partner for the next 8 months?

The first teaser or promotional event for the launch was set to happen in about a month's time. That meant you needed to do filming, editorials, find some contract models and dress them in the clothes that Johnny was to design. Though you had a month, it felt like you had a week, and once you realised that, you began chewing on your lip like a dog chewing on its toy bone.

"No, I need a week to edit and fix up the promotional videos. I need the models in three weeks from now, not six," You spoke into your office phone. Your eyes were fixated on website designs and filming techniques you had learnt at school but was never able to apply them, but your ears were listening to the horrendous dealings of a model company who couldn't offer models when you needed them.

"Don't be ridiculous. Which part of 'three weeks' did you not unders-- look, if you can't give me my models - which the company I'm currently working for now would've already informed you so forth - in three weeks, then the company is done with you, got it?" You didn't wait for a response. Slamming the phone back into its phone set on the table, you were frustrated and stressed out. Not because you were now interning at a big brand name, but because you genuinely wanted to do well. Your website was barely put together with the absence of photos and information about the project launch. Only the color accents and layouts were fixed, but otherwise it was a barren land. 

Knock knock.

"Come in," You sighed and held up your fringe with your left hand, your right handling the mouse and moving the cursor around the website page, wondering what else you could do for it.

"Heard you yelling at the model contractor from next door," Johnny let himself in and shut the door behind him. 

"Please tell me you have some designs and you're ready to make them," Your eyes shifted to the man, your posture remaining slouched and stiff infront of the computer screen.

"Was just about to show you some of them. Thought they might help with the color accents for the website too," Johnny was holding a sketchbook and a file filled with sample materials and designs. He sat down on one of the guest chairs and pushed the file over to you on the table.

The sketches were amazing. Both the male and female designs were stunning, simple yet dramatic, and he did not stick to a single color accent. He used every single warm color available on the color wheel.

"These are amazing, Johnny," You took the sketchpad nearer to your computer and changed up the color accents on the site. "You should start materializing these. When the launch is done, the brand's definitely going to want you working for them," You clicked rapidly, fixing every crook and cranny of the site to fit the color accents of the designs in his sketchpad. 

"I actually wanted your input on the specific designs and materials. You do photography, so you should have an idea on what would look good in photographs," He looked you in the eye and had this adorable, sheepish, grin plastered on his face. It was almost like he was always happy and nothing could ever bring him down.  "Also because I need to ask you for a favour," His expression progressed from sheepish to embarrassed.

"What is it?" You chuckle, taking the materials file and flipping through them, reaching for a pen from your pen holder and writing down some of the material codes next to the respective designs you thought fit.

"I have a couple of friends from high school organising a social event, and everyone who's going is either attached or engaged and--"

"And you want me to go?" You raised an eyebrow, looking up through your lashes and at him. He scratched the back of his neck and tilted his head. 

"Ah, you know what? Forget it, it's horrible for me to ask you to act like someone you're not, so--"

"Nah, I'll go," You waved it off with your free hand without looking up. 

"What-- Really?" Johnny paused, watching you scribble all the material codes on the final few pieces of his designs.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" You finished the last codes and handed the sketchpad back to him. "I've matched the designs to the materials I think would be suitable. So just check them for me and start getting them made. Photo shoot is in about three weeks." 

"No, wait, y/n, you're really okay with going to the event with me?" Johnny had a little frown on his face.

"Why not?" You leaned back in your chair. "Haven't been to one of those in awhile. Won't hurt to get one night off this stinking intern that's making me tear my hair out," 

He nodded and was obviously very happy.

"Okay. So I'll just text you the date, and you text me your address and I'll fetch you then, s'that alright with you?" Johnny squinted his eyes like he hoped you'd say yes.

"Cool," You smiled at him. There was an awkward pause as all he did was stare at you, when you weren't sure why he was still there. "Anything else, partner?" You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips. 

"Oh!" He exclaimed and whirled around in a circle, like a cat looking for its tail. "Nothing, I was just, zoning out," He frantically grabbed his sketchpad and material files from your table. "I'll see you tomorrow," He gave you one last nod before leaving your office. You waited until his shadow had disappeared from outside your door and into his, before sinking back into your chair and turning it around to see the glaring evening sun setting on the city. 

This internship was the hardest internship you had ever done. You were working for 9 hours straight a day, some days spent in the office doing research on materials and other days visiting material stores to gather information about the cloths and the small details like lace and buttons that Johnny needed to begin making his clothing line. But what you failed to notice was that every single time you were procrastinating on a meal, Johnny would never fail to appear at your door with some packed food, knowing that you hadn't had anything since the previous meal. After awhile, he noticed the trend in your tastes: nothing spicy, soup is a must, and you always had tea over coffee any day, and that was exactly how he would send lunch or dinner to your office despite it being way past the respective mealtimes. 

Before you knew it, the day of the social event was here. It was at a rather extravagant bungalow at a chalet right outside of town. All of Johnny's high school friends were going to be there, drinking booze or playing a game they weren't supposed to. Long story short, it was an event with all of Johnny's american friends.

"Hey Johnny, uhm, I was wondering..." You had the phone between your ear and your shoulder, all your party clothes laid out in front of you on the floor. "What are you wearing and what's the color code like?" 

"Oh, uhm, well, nothing sophisticated I guess? Denim jacket, T-shirt, pants and a pair of... Vans? I mean, it's a guy thing though. Girls usually wear prettier, slightly more... extravagant styles."

"Cool, so blue and black?" You eyed the black crossed-back singlet top with black leather pants. 

"Sounds fine to me."

"Also, Johnny," You were now holding the phone. "Who am I going as?" You smirked to yourself. You knew, but it would've been a lot nicer if he had just asked you to be his date directly.

"I... well, everybody's bringing someone you know, so... just for this once, pretend you're my girlfriend."

You smiled to yourself.

"Pleasure," You hung up. 

When you showed up at the party, you knew exactly why Johnny wanted you to go with him. This wasn’t just a social gathering, this was a white boy frat party. It wasn’t that bad, but everybody Johnny greeted looked like they used to play sports and had a girl attached to their arm. Johnny was popular with the people at the party. He was so sociable and such an amazing talker, you wondered why he hadn't gotten himself a real girlfriend when all he did the entire night was introduce you to his friends and by saying, "Hey, what's up? Dude, meet my girlfriend, y/n," Then he'd carry on and talk about how he met you at an internship and now you were both doing a clothing line project launch together. 

The night was getting late, and you definitely had more drinks than Johnny did. Your brain was like walking a tightrope and constantly on the edge of losing your composure altogether. Your date wanted to send you home when he noticed your face was rosier than usual and your eyes were no longer looking straight anymore, but you insisted and refused to leave. So when you found yourself in a circle next to Johnny, an empty bottle of beer in the middle and everybody else was screaming when two lucky people got chosen to make out with one another, that's when you decided to take another shot of vodka to completely immerse yourself in the party experience. 

"y/n," Johnny grabbed the shot glass, trying his best not to let you finish it. But the alcohol rushed down your throat so quickly, you belched, earning loud hoots from the rest of the circle.

"Next round!" The friend of Johnny's who was hosting the event yelled, grabbing the bottle and pinning it down in the middle of the circle.

"I think I'm going to send her home first, she's wasted," Johnny gently brushed the hair out of your face, your eyes barely open and your limbs functioning at the least. The bottle was spun and landed on Johnny.

"No! I'm staying, this is fun," You giggled, snuggling your head into his chest. 

"Oh, that's even better! Won't even know what's going to hit her!" His friend shouted, twirling the bottle again before Johnny could protest. The bottle landed on you. 

"Ooooooh, rules are rules, muchachos!" The host lifted his beer bottle. "If the player chosen is attached, then 7 minutes of heaven in the closet we go!" 

Johnny panicked. He watched as other girls from the circle got up to help carry you into the closet upstairs while the other guys hyped Johnny up to follow you upstairs. Before Johnny knew it, he was standing in front of you in someone's closet, the smell of cologne filling up both your noses and your eyes struggled to find a face to focus on. 

"Why is it so dark?" You groaned, rubbing your eyes and smacking your lips.

"Because you didn't want to leave the spin-the-bottle circle, you doofus," Johnny sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Care to explain why you don't have a girlfriend? Everybody else here has one besides you," You burped, the smell of sprite and vodka temporarily intoxicated the air between you and Johnny. He winced in disgust, before waving the air with his hand.

"My last dumped me. Said I was too focused on a career path that wasn't promising." 

Your muddleheaded skull processed this information, before it struck a chord in one of your nerves. 

"Jeez, I'm... sorry for that, I didn't mean to pry," You frowned and rubbed your face. 

"Nah, it's alright," Johnny shrugged, his eyes adjusting to the darkness and noticing your jacket falling to your elbows. He subtly pulled them up, covering your shoulders.

"What do people even do in 7 minutes in heaven anyway? Dumbass game," You shuffled your feet, failing to register that Johnny was kind of uncomfortable with how little space there was between the two of you. 

"Most people just... you know-- hook up," Johnny cleared his throat. You paused and looked up at the shape of his jaw under the horrible lighting, your fingers only able to graze the outline of his facial features since you couldn't see well. Your fingertips halted at his chin, then shifted up to feel his lips.

"Have you ever...?" You whispered. Johnny could only hear the sound of his own breathing, the feeling of someone else's fingers on his skin was so alien, yet familiar.

"No, only small kisses here and there, but never really a real..." His voice trailed off as he felt you tiptoeing to reach his height. "Kiss," He finished his sentence, and before he could register it, his arms were wrapped around your waist, and yours around his neck, trying to pull his head down to match your height. 

"Why are you so goddamn tall?" You huffed between kisses, the heat in your chest building up, and it wasn't only because of the alcohol. Johnny took the hint and shifted his hands to your thighs without violating your bottom, lifting you up and guiding your legs around his waist. It was almost as if every single word in the dictionary couldn't be processed in either of your heads. All he could taste was the lingering tinge of alcohol from your tongue, and all you could think of was how hot he was, being able to carry you and lifting you off the ground while still handling everything north.

"7 minutes is up-- whoa!" The host pulled open the door, only to see you hurriedly hop off Johnny's hips, your lipstick smudged and his hair in a mess. You coughed, surprisingly more sober than before. You began biting on your lip, noticing how everybody was shooting you smirks and teases. Johnny pulled up your jacket to your shoulder from behind, carefully patting down his hair and calmly wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

"We have business to finish, so if you'll excuse us, I'll be sending her home."

[peaceisadirtyword]

Took You Years IV (Alex Høgh/Reader)

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the delay, I was going to post this last night but as I was editing it I started changing things and... Here you have a completely different part😂 I don’t know if I like it, I just hope you do like it. Sorry about my ranting about Copenhagen. I wrote this listening to Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran and staring nostalgically at the photos I took of Copenhagen so please forgive me if I sound too cheesy. I’m just in love with that city♥️

Warnings: my writing, Alex is cute, I want to marry him. I’m a bit nostalgic today. Also mentions of alcohol👀

Words: 4263

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

"Y/N" 

Emily's voice startled you. You had been staring at the small package you were opening for ten minutes, unable of even thinking straight. 

"Sorry" you muttered, clearing your throat and wincing when doing so. 

"You should have stayed home" your friend sighed, taking the package and opening it "You're not okay"

The awful danish weather had finally won the battle. The day after you and Emily went out, you had woken up with a sore throat, sneezing and feeling like your head was about to explode. That and the fact that you saw Alex only worsened things. You had spent a whole day in bed, sleeping with fever. 

"I couldn't skip another day of work" you sighed "And I couldn't leave you alone"

"I'm not alone, I have a lot of girls here of whom I cannot pronounce the name" Emily joked, making you smile a bit "Why don't you stay on the desk and I stay with the girls? This way you won't have to talk so much to people"

"Okay" you shrugged. You only wanted to go back home and go to sleep, or better, go back to Ireland and sleep knowing you were far away from Copenhagen. 

It did help staying in the checkout desk, the work cleared your mind and it helped you to stop thinking about him. You still felt awful for leaving him calling your name on the street, not even looking at his face. Did he deserve it for breaking your heart? Maybe. Did you want to hurt him? No. In fact, a part of you wished you could see him again. 

That didn't stop you from panicking when you heard his voice, though.

You had been busy helping a woman to choose the best tone for the foundation that you hadn't seen him enter the store. 

"Y/N" he called your name softly, almost shyly. It reminded you of when you met him, when he was a nervous but nice guy excited to meet everyone in the set. He had praised your work for hours, asking with curiosity some questions regarding your job. It helped you to relax. 

"Alex" you nearly let the eyeshadow palettes you were showing the woman fall from your hands while looking at him with widened eyes. 

"Hey" he smiled widely at you. At least this time you didn't ignore him and left on the first taxi you could find. 

You cleared your throat, looking away from him to keep taking care of your client, who was distracted with the eyeshadow palettes and didn't even look at Alex. 

When she finally paid and left, thanking you for your help, you looked at him again. He had been patiently waiting for you to finish, casually leant on the desk and looking around. He wore his black trousers, a white jumper and his black coat. He looked amazingly handsome, even more than you remembered. His hair was shorter than when he left Ireland, and he looked more relaxed, more himself. 

You had to stop yourself from hugging him tightly. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked, it sounded more rude than you intended. 

Alex sighed, blinking a few times and then rubbing his eyes before answering. 

"I'm... I just wanted to say hello, talk to you... Maybe give you a proper welcome to Denmark?" He smiled a bit "I'm sorry for the other day, I... Was really surprised to see you here"

You honestly wanted to throw a bitchy answer at him and then ignore him. But you couldn't. You just couldn't be mean to him, not when he looked at you with those eyes. 

"I'm sorry, too" you muttered, sighing "It was a bit wrong of me to leave without a word, I should have talked to you, or something..." You shook your head.

"I understand, though" he shrugged "I would have done the same, in your position"

You nodded, looking away from him. You had to talk to him. Seeing Alex still hurt, but it would hurt the next day, and the next week. It was better to talk things and then just forget about him.

"I have my break now" you said, pressing your lips together "We can talk, if you can stay now"

Alex's face lightened up, and he smiled widely, nodding.

"Yeah, I have time, I can wait" he nodded. His smile nearly made you smile back. 

When you put on your coat and your scarf and stepped out of the store, Alex was waiting for you, holding two coffees and with a big smile. It was nearly impossible to smile softly at him as you took the cup he offered you, thanking him. 

"Do you have time to go for a walk?" He pointed at the busy Strøget, biting his lip softly.

"Yeah, I have half an hour" you shrugged, nodding. 

You walked in silence, sipping on your coffee and looking at the floor. Alex only opened his mouth to speak when you sneezed, coughing a bit afterwards.

"Are you okay?" He frowned a bit, holding back a smile.

"I just... Don't really get along with the Danish weather" you muttered, clearing your throat "What did you want to talk about?" 

Alex sighed, taking a sip from his coffee. 

"Us" 

"Is there an us, though?"

"There was always an us, Y/N" he smirked "But neither of us knew"

"But not now" you raised your eyebrow "You broke up with me, you gave up on us because you were scared"

Alex's smile faded a bit. You almost felt bad, but it was the truth. You would have worked ten hours per day, every day of the week, you would have stopped going out, saving all the money so you could fly to Copenhagen and see him for two days. One day. A few hours. 

He wasn't even able to wait for you. 

"When I came back here" he started, his accent was stronger than when he left Ireland. You noticed how his accent changed when he spent a long period of time in Denmark, and it was more beautiful than ever "I was really happy, Y/N, I had my family here, I had my friends, my home. I had everything" his now clouded blue eyes fixed on yours "And I waited anxiously until you came back from work so I could see you, even if it was on a screen. And then the call finished, and I wasn't happy anymore, I realized this was harder than I thought, and that I would have to wait months to see you again"

"I understand that, I felt the same" you bit the inside of your cheek "And I was willing to endure all of that just to be with you, but you don't have to explain anything to me, I don't need that" you shrugged "Was I angry with you? Yes, maybe I still am, but it was your decision, and I have to respect that, and if you met someone else, I prefer you break up with me before cheating on me" 

It was a lie. Alex wasn't even able to look at someone else after being with you. He remembered thinking it was a good idea to tell you that. Then he realized it wasn't. 

"I didn't meet anyone" he confessed, looking away from you and blushing. You looked at him, confused. He was biting his lip and probably cursing himself silently "I don't know why I told you that"

"Well, it's nice to know that I've been crying thinking you left me for Miss Denmark when it was a lie" 

"I'm sorry, truly sorry, Y/N, it wasn't my intention to hurt you"

"You're lucky I don't have the energy to be angry at you right now" you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly and coughing a bit. Alex smiled softly and put his warm hand -how could he have warm hands when it was literally freezing?-  on your forehead. 

"You have fever" he tilted his head adorably and his eyes scanned your face "You should go home"

"I can't, I'm working" you sighed, trying to ignore the shiver that travelled down your spine when his hand touched your face.

"I don't care about your work, Y/N, you're sick" he rolled his eyes "And probably I'm not making you feel any better... Go home, eat something, get in bed and sleep"

You didn't answer, just stopped walking and turned to look at him. 

"Thank you, for the coffee"

"Thank you, for listening to me" he smiled again, and you had to look away from his face so you wouldn't start crying "It was really nice seeing you, Y/N, even if you hate me, I missed you"

Why was it sounding like a goodbye? 

For some reason, a part of you believed you could keep seeing him. At least as friends. You had missed him too much, and now that you had seen him again, you weren't sure if you could just cut all communication with him. 

"I don't hate you, Alex" you managed to smile at him "I missed you too"

He looked quite happy of hearing that, and his smile widened. 

"How long are you staying in Copenhagen?" He frowned a bit. You looked much less hostile than the first time he saw you in Denmark, but he still didn't know if you would be willing to see him. 

"Just a couple of months" you shrugged, snuggling into your warm coat to hide yourself from the cold "I'll leave for Christmas, maybe" 

Alex nodded, biting his lip. You could swear he wanted to say something else, but he stayed silent, looking at his feet and with his hands in his pockets. 

"I should go back to work" you sighed, looking at him "This was nice, thanks" 

His blue eyes fixed on yours, and this time his lips parted, and he asked the question you had been hoping for. 

"Can we meet up? Someday" he looked hopeless, as if he truly thought you would tell him no, or maybe even laugh at him or just turn around to leave, which, honestly, he kind of deserved "When you feel better" 

You hesitated. It wouldn't be good for you to keep seeing him, even if it was only as friends. 

"Alex... I'm going back to Ireland, in two months" you rubbed your eyes "I don't... Think I can deal with all of that again"

He nodded. There was a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes when he looked away again. His lips were pressed together and he took his hands out of his pockets to rub his face. 

"I understand..." His tone made you feel the worst person in the world "It's fine, you're right, just forget it" he smiled again, but this time it didn't reach his eyes.

Instinctively, you reached for his arm to make him look at you. It was the first time you touched him, and you had to fight the urge of hugging him again. 

"But" you sighed again "We can try. Just once. Just friends" 

Alex raised his eyebrow, but nodded and winked at you playfully. 

"Just friends" he raised his hands "I just want to catch up with you, see how you're doing... Maybe give you a tour around Copenhagen?" He looked excited, and that made your stomach turn. 

"Okay" you agreed. It didn't sound bad, did it? And you trusted yourself much more around Alex when you were in public.

And you didn't really know Copenhagen. 

"Then is settled" he smiled "You have my number, don't you? Just call me when you feel better, or before, if you need anything" 

"Okay, thank you" you smiled again, awkwardly. Alex hesitated, but just when you were going to turn around and leave, he moved to hug you tightly, making you tense up and widen your eyes. What the hell were you supposed to do? Hug him back? Just stay there, blinking in confusion? Push him away and leave?

Your arms moved around his waist before you even made a decision. His arms around you, and his hair pressed against your hair made you feel better than all the medicines in the world. You closed your eyes and relaxed against him as he softly kissed your forehead. 

"Take care" he muttered "And please, Y/N, call me" 

You nodded, holding back a whine when he stepped away from you, winking while he whispered a weak 'bye'.

______________________________________

Maybe it was the hug, or the fact that you were now more willing to get better as it meant you'd seen Alex again, but a couple of days later  you were back to your healthy and happy self. It reminded Emily of how you were when you were in Ireland, and entered the make up store with a big smile reading Alex's texts and showed her the photo he had sent you from bed, with his cute black dog nibbling at his hand. She hadn't seen you smile that much since he broke up with you, and that worried her. 

You arrived to Denmark claiming you didn't want anything to do with him, but somehow Alex managed to make you forgive him (at least a bit) with nice words and warm smiles. Emily could understand you, -anyone would forgive that man if he looked at you like that- but she was still wary. You said you were only friends, but she knew you could never be just friends with him again. 

And the last thing she wanted was to have you crying and moping around again. 

"Try that red jumper, you look beautiful in that one" Emily looked around your wardrobe, while you discarded the black skirt that was now too short "And just wear jeans, Y/N, you'll freeze if you wear a skirt and I don't want you sick again"

"Okay mom" you rolled your eyes, taking the red jumper she offered you "I don't even know why I'm putting so much effort in dressing up, this isn't a date and I'll look horrible anyway, have you seen my face? I have eye bags bigger than my head" 

"Shut up, you look beautiful" Emily giggled "And... Are you sure this isn't a date?"

"Yes, I'm sure, we're just meeting as friends, to catch up, and to visit the city, which I hadn't visited yet because I was afraid of seeing him and because I was working and sick" you shrugged "It's not a date"

"Whatever you say" she bit her lip, holding back a smile and raising her hands "Well, get dressed, I'll do your make up"

You already knew Copenhagen was beautiful. Alex had shown you lots of photos he had taken of his loved Denmark, and the reality didn't disappoint. It wasn't a big city with impressive skyscrapers, but its beauty was in the lovely colored houses, barely illuminated, and in the small cobbled streets. It gave you a warm sensation that contrasted with the cold that made you shiver. 

It was obvious that Alex was in his own environment. The way his eyes lightened up while telling you some details about that blue building which you looked with widened eyes and an enamored smile... His big smile when you muttered how beautiful it was. He was proud of the effect Copenhagen had in you. 

And he was more than happy, showing you a bit of his home. 

Alex had brought his camera, as always. You couldn't even picture him without his camera hanging around his neck, his big eyes scanning every single corner looking for the right picture. He always found it. He had that gift, of just looking through the viewfinder and there it was. The perfect picture. It was nearly hypnotizing how easy he made it look. 

Though you thought he had already taken the perfect picture, to an older couple that sat together on a bench next to Nyhavn, with their hands entwined, that had smiled brightly when Alex showed them the photo and thanked to him in Danish, he disagreed with you. The perfect picture for him was the one he had taken of you, looking at the illuminated, beautiful Nyhavn, with a cup of hot chocolate warming your hands and snuggling into your coat. He had taken it when you weren't looking, too busy admiring the cheerful buildings. You had widened your eyes and turned your head to look at him as you heard the click of the camera. You had frowned, glaring at him. 

"Did you just take a photo of me?" 

"I didn't take a photo of you, I took the photo of you" 

"God, Alex" you sighed, closing your eyes in desperation "I look horrible in photos" 

"No you don't" he nearly sounded offended "Excuse me, but you never looked horrible in any of the photos I took of you" 

"Delete it" you tried to reach his camera, but he raised an eyebrow and held it out of your reach. 

"Hey, it's a fucking masterpiece, that photo, you don't really want to delete it, you haven't even seen it!" He laughed. 

"No, but I looked at my face at the mirror, and I can imagine today it's not my best day" you chuckled "Come on, Alex!"

"You always look beautiful, Y/N" he smiled, and you froze, remembering those were exactly the words he said the first night you spent together. 

The entire mood changed. He was looking down at you, still holding his camera away from you. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, and his forehead pressed against yours. You both closed your eyes at the same time. And it was like the time hadn't even passed. His hand cupped your cheek, and you were already feeling his breath hitting your lips. 

"Alex?" 

You opened your eyes, immediately moving to get away from him as your cheeks turned red. Alex blinked in confusion and turned around to see two girls walking in your direction. They giggled in excitement as Alex looked at them and cleared his throat, smiling and nodding his head at them. 

"Hi, can we take a photo with you?" One of them asked with a big smile on her face "We love your work"

Alex's smile widened and he nodded. 

"Thank you so much, and of course, yeah, let's take a photo" he moved to stand between them as one of them took out her phone. 

"I can take it" you offered, still a bit uncomfortable.

"Yes, please" the girl smiled at you, handing you her phone. 

Alex winked at you as you got ready and shoot a few pictures. The girls thanked you a few times and Alex stood with them for a couple of minutes, talking to them. They looked even happier when they left, giggling. 

"Your fans are nice" you smiled at him as he came back to your side. 

"Yeah, it's really nice to talk to them" he nodded, the dreamy smile still on his face "Though I will never get used to it..." He sighed, rubbing his eyes "Okay, now, let's go, I have a surprise for you" he winked at you again, and his hand reached out, waiting for you to take it. 

You did take it, missing the warmth of his touch, but frowned as he guided you away from the Nyhavn and into the streets. 

"What kind of surprise?" You asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously as he shrugged.

"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore, Y/N"

"Come on, Alex" you whined "I don't like surprises"

"Actually, you do, you love surprises but you're too impatient" he rolled his eyes "Come on, we're almost there"

You entered a small pub. It was full of Danish people, no tourists around. Alex greeted one of the workers in Danish and guided you to a table in a corner, a bit more quiet. 

"Your surprise is a bit late" he raised his eyebrow "But it will be here soon, do you want a drink?" 

"Yeah, I need a beer" you sighed dramatically, making Alex laugh.

"Okay, a beer it is, wait here" 

You bit your lip as he walked to the bar, greeting the waiter loudly in Danish. Taking off your coat and your scarf, you sat down on one of the benches, unlocking your phone to reply to Emily's texts. 

You had just locked your phone when Alex returned. He had two beers on his hands and that permanent smile on his beautiful face. 

"Tak" you said proudly. It was one of the few things you could actually say in Danish, and it made Alex chuckle.

"You're welcome" he looked very excited, and his eyes didn't leave your face as you took a sip of your beer. 

"It's nice" you shrugged, and then smirked "But I prefer the Irish beer" 

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended at your words, and shook his head, but before he could say anything, someone stopped just next to your table, clearing their throat. 

You turned your head and nearly spilled the beer when you saw Marco standing there, smiling at you and with his head tilted. 

"Oh my god" you stood up excitedly, hugging him tightly and nearly making him loose his balance "I can't believe it!" 

Marco laughed, hugging you back, and Alex had a small smile on his lips. 

"Hey, Y/N, I missed you"

"I missed you too" you had to hold back the tears as you moved to look at him "How are you?"

"Fine, I'm fine" he smiled again. Marco was truly happy to see you, and also relieved that you weren't angry at him. 

"This was the surprise" Alex explained "I supposed you'd like to see him too"

"I wasn't so sure" Marco moved to sit down next to Alex as you returned to your seat "As you didn't tell me you were coming, I supposed you didn't want to see me" he shrugged "Sorry"

You smile faded. You nearly forgot Marco also stopped talking to you at all. Biting your lip, you looked away. 

"I didn't tell you because I figured neither of you wanted to talk to me" you sighed "I supposed you didn't care if I came here or not"

"Sorry about that" Marco frowned a bit "I just... I don't really know why I stopped talking to you, and it was a mistake, I wasn't a very good friend"

"It's okay" you tried to smile again. You really didn't want to think about that in that moment "I was trying to cancel my contract here in Copenhagen the last time I spoke with you, so I didn't think about telling you because I really didn't want to come here" you confessed "But my boss didn't let me so... Here I am" you chuckled, as Alex sipped on his beer silently.

"I'm glad you're here" Marco winked at you "We missed you, a lot, no one has treated my hair as nicely as you since I came back" 

You laughed. Back in set, you were in love with Marco's hair. It was soft, easy to comb, and the hairstyle for filming was much easier than Alex's. 

It felt like you were still in Ireland. You nearly forgot how much you loved spending time with those two, laughing and remembering good moments from set. You had tears rolling down your cheeks and your stomach hurt from laughing too hard by the time Marco finished telling you the war prank he had with Alex that lasted months and was the best thing you ever saw. Alex couldn't even drink and burst out laughing every two minutes. 

"Oh god" you whined, drying your tears with your sleeve "I miss that so much"

"Me too, it sucks not to be able to empty a fire extinguisher on Marco's trailer when I'm feeling down"

You laughed again, and Marco rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

"I'm going outside to smoke" Marco stood up from his seat "Are you coming?" He asked looking at Alex, who shook his head "Okay, I'll be right back"

You watched him leave the pub with a cigarette on one hand and Alex's lighter on the other. 

"Hey, do you want to see the photos?" Alex kicked you softly under the table, catching your attention while he reached for his camera, which he left by his side on the table. 

"Yeah, okay" you smiled as he stood up only to sit down next to you. His closeness relaxed you, and you nearly leaned your head on his shoulder. He turned the camera on, showing you the pictures he had taken while he muttered the 'mistakes' he had while taking the photos. Though for you all of them were perfect. 

"God I look so bad" you covered your face with your hands "Please, Alex, delete that"

"I like it" he smiled "I really like it. Copenhagen suits you" he looked at you, and you were lost again. 

This time he didn't take his time to cup your cheek or press his forehead against yours, he just leaned in and kissed your lips. A small peck. And then he grabbed your neck and kissed you again. And you put your hands on his shoulders and kissed him back. 

Alex smiled into the kiss. His lips were softer than you remembered, and they tasted even better. Just when you were going to deepen the kiss, not being able to hold it back anymore, your phone rang, startling you both and making you break the kiss. 

_____________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi​ @alicedopey​ @lol-haha-joke​ @hallowed-heathen​ @naaladareia​ @tephi101​ @captstefanbrandt​ @love-hate-love​ @titty-teetee​ @readsalot73​ @moondustmemories​ @thevikingsheaux​ @therealcalicali​ @chimera4plums​ @blushingskywalker​ @awkwardfangirl02​ @credulouskhaleesi​ @gruffle1​ @justacripple​ @heartbeats-wildly​ @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27​ @reeree1500​ @hecohansen31​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @thiahilmarsdottir​ @spettrocoli​ @to-the-road​ @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ @thelipsofthegrave​ @whiskeyxinxaxteacup @cynthianokamaria​ @dreamingaboutyousworld​ 

[perriewinklenerdie]

Into your arms (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! We are back with the other timeline fics. We already saw how their first day working together went down and how it ended, how they met, now it’s time to see how their relationship developed. I decided to not call it a series just yet, not sure if it’s even going to be a series, but I’m having way too much fun with it, so it is a possibility. For now, we have one shots :D

Special thanks to my sister from another mister, @usuallyamazinglyaverage for being my supreme proof reader and for helping me with finding song lyrics I needed <3

AO3 link:

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21804250

 Tag list:   @paleweasels , @lilyofchoices , @hopelessromantic1352 , @aloehasrose , @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie,@choicesobsessedd, @cassiusownsmyass, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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

„Okay, so that’s official. You’re a masochist.” She said as she rounded the corner of the reading room, two cups of coffee in her hands. Ethan looked up from the book he was currently working with, a smirk pulling on the corners of his lips.

“They let you out of class early? Maybe you should have stayed, it made you cocky.” He muttered, pulling the chair back so she could sit next to him. Passing him his drink, she bumped her shoulder against his playfully.

“What can I say, I’m just that brilliant.” Claire laughed, scrunching her nose at him before adding. “Nah, I’m just joking. They let us out, because Dr. Lavoie had a personal issue and they couldn’t find the substitute for him in time.”

“You are brilliant, Claire, I wasn’t joking.” He looked at her for a long time, smiling at her softly before turning back to his research. She looked over his shoulder, resting her chin against it as she read a few lines off the top of the page.

“How long have you been going at it here? It’s six pm and when we talked in the morning, you were entering the library.” She asked, noticing how his body tensed up a little as she mentioned the time, realizing how long he’s been in that room.

“I guess I lost the track of time. Of course, there are a number of other ways in which I would prefer to spend my day off, but since you had classes, I had nothing better to do than to do some research for the speech I’m working on for the next convention.” He nudged the book with his elbow as he reached for his cup, taking a few sips, closing his eyes, feeling the caffeine filling him up.

“Well, I’m so sorry, Sir, but I can’t skip classes. That’s not what a serious med student does. Besides, I’m pretty sure there is that Doctor that would be pretty upset with me if I skipped classes because I went to spend some time with a guy that has been dancing around me for the past three months.”

Ethan sat back, turning to look at her with a surprised expression on his face. What she said was true, they both knew it, and yet it always surprised him at how she could knock him off his feet with just one glance at him. He wasn’t used to it, they didn’t know each other that long, she definitely had too much of an impact on him. She made him nervous, every time he was with her, her had a feeling he would make a fool out of himself. He cleared his throat, her eyes focused on him.

“I- well- “

“No way. I’ve rendered Ethan Ramsey speechless. Give me my calendar, I’ll write it down or no one will believe me.” She joked, smiling smugly at him before leaning over to kiss his cheek softly. “Oh my god, are you blushing? You’re totally brushing, Ramsey, the sky is falling.”

“You can stop with the teasing now, Herondale.”

They each immersed themselves into their own work for the next hour or so, sharing occasional smiles and looking at one another when they thought the other wasn’t looking, both acutely aware of it happening. Below the table, their feet kept on nudging each other, making them smirk as they did everything they could to not look up from their reading. When the clock struck seven thirty pm, Ethan closed his book with a sigh, turning to look at her. Maybe she was aware of it, maybe she wasn’t, regardless of it, he got a chance to observe the way her nose scrunched up when she found something ridiculous, how her eyes got just a little bit bigger when she stumbled upon a thing she was looking for, or how adorable her dimples were when she smiled, in the exact moment she acknowledged that he was staring.

“I guess that’s the end of our study session, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at him. He nodded, reaching for her book, closing it as he put it on top of the one he was reading minutes ago. “Okay, so what are we doing now? Judging by the look in your eyes, you already have something in mind, so let’s hear it.”

“I was thinking- and it’s just a suggestion- that we could go for a drink or two? The same place as last time?”

“You really want to try that wine I had, don’t you?” she teased him, nodding her head in agreement. “Great idea, Ramsey, let’s go. And try not to trip while you’re staring at me.”

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

Rather than going there by his car, they decided to drive back to his apartment, leave it there and walk to the bar, since it wasn’t that far. Their car ride was filled with conversation. That is, until he turned on the radio and Claire decided that she wasn’t going to be listening to classical music, as fantastic as it was, when she had a full day of classes after her, and an evening in the bar ahead of them. The very first song that came on turned out to be her favorite. As did the next five. And she sang the lyrics to all of them. Ethan was amused to say the least, especially when she leaned really close to him and muttered the lines ‘Just let me stay, stay in your arms, I’m ready to give, give up the fight, into your arms, into your soul, maybe I’m losing, I’m losing control’ into his ear.

After leaving the car in the parking lot underneath his apartment complex, they made their way to the bar. His fingers found hers, tangling together in a tight grip, his thumb tracing circles on the top of her palm. The only visible sign that he was enjoying himself was the soft smile that grazed his features, even though on the inside he was bursting with energy that even the slightest touch provided.

Upon entering the bar, they were hit with the air that was much warmer than the one on the outside, a strong scent of spices with the undertone of alcohol reaching their senses. He took her coat, hanging it with his on the coatrack before putting his hand on the small of her back hesitantly, steering them both into the booth on the side of the room. Claire leaned back with a contented smile, watching as Ethan ordered them both a glass of wine with spices at the bar. He looked back at her, smiling delicately, looking down at his feet as she winked at him cheekily. A few minutes later he came back, sliding into the seat next to her, shaking his head at her behavior.

“You’re enjoying it, aren’t you.” he stated, resting his head on his hand. She shrugged her shoulders innocently.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just enjoy looking at fine things, and you, Mr. Ramsey, are the finest one here.” She leaned onto the table too, skimming her eyes all over him before their eyes met again. She could see the effect her words had on him. “I also really enjoy making you flustered.”

“Part of your personal charm.” He smirked, inching closer to her. She mirrored his actions, making them sit even closer.

“Is it working?”

“… maybe.”

Their obvious flirting was interrupted by a waiter, bringing their drinks to the table. Once they were alone again, their banter resumed, muttering to each other quietly. He raised his glass, looking into her eyes deeply.

“To the great evening.”

“To the great company.” She shot back, biting her lip, watching as his blue eyes darkened just the slightest bit. He took a sip of the wine, letting the smooth taste graze his tongue, the liquid warming him up, the rich spices tickling his palette. She hummed softly as she drank a bit of her wine, taking in their surroundings. Some sort of a song was playing in the background, one she couldn’t recognize. It did however have a nice beat to it, perfect for some dancing, and it just so happened that she felt like standing up and moving her body a little. Without a warning, she stood up and walked onto the dancefloor, closing her eyes and letting herself loose.

The way she was moving was hypnotizing to Ethan, causing his gaze to be glued to her body. She must have been aware of that, must have felt his eyes on her, because her hips started swaying from side to side, her arms rising above her head. To the outsider, it looked like a consciously made decision, but in reality, him standing up and walking over to her seemed to him like it was happening behind the fog, and only when his hands touched her hips gently did his mind catch up with his actions, making him stop in his tracks.

Claire relaxed back into his as soon as she realized who he was, and continued dancing, reaching behind her to grip the back of his neck, bringing him closer to her. He breathed in her scent, orange blossoms tickling his nose gently. They got lost in the feeling of their bodies, so close together, the hot air that surrounded them, and the music that was setting them both in motion, erasing the rest of the world and leaving only them. Ethan leaned forward, breathing her name, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

After the song ended, they went back to their booth, and the whole situation felt like a fever dream. They were both flushed and flustered, eyes wide, breathing heavily. He finished the rest of his drink in one, big swing and they went back to their conversation as though nothing happened, even though on the inside, they were both screaming for more.

Before either of them knew it, the evening became the night and if they had any real chance at getting some rest, they had to leave at that exact moment. Ethan paid for their drinks and went to get their coats. He helped her put hers on, his touch lingering a lot longer than it should, his fingers squeezing her shoulders a little. They left the bar the same way as they came in, holding hands, walking just a bit closer to each other than before.

She was living in the dormitory, not that far away from the bar or his apartment, so their walk wasn’t the longest, but they still made it count. They talked a bit, but not that much, mostly being in complete silence, reveling in the presence of one another, and the feeling of their touch. As her room came into the view, she turned around to him, her blonde hair illuminated with the artificial lighting of the streetlamps, changing the color of her strands from sandy to gold. He reached with his hand, running his fingers through them, smiling at her.

“Are you going to be okay with going back on your own? It is pretty late, I don’t want you to get hurt.” She said, concern coloring her voice. He shook his head, allowing his hand to fall back down against his side.

“I’ll be fine, I would be worried if you had to walk back on your own. That’s why I walked you home.”

“Is that the only reason you did that?” she teased, taking a step towards him, raising her head gently. His eyes flashed with something playful and mischievous as his fingers twitched slightly, fighting the urge to touch her again.

“One of them. Because I didn’t want anything to happen to you and-“

“Ethan?” she interrupted him with a giggle.

“Yes?”

“You can kiss me now.” she stated, flashing him a grin. His eyes widened, his blue irises darkening a shade or two, his breathing becoming elevated.

It seemed as though he fought with himself on whether he should do it. It seemed like a big deal, and it probably was. It shouldn’t be treated lightly, he wanted it to be important, he wanted it to mean something, he wanted it to be perfect. So many times, he imagined that moment, and none of those scenarios that his mind threw at him in the middle of the night or day included him kissing her outside of her dorm room, but here they were. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he dove forward.

His hand grasped the sides of her face, pulling her closer to him, their gazes locking in an intense stare. He could see all kinds emotions in them, from uncertainty and nervousness to longing and affection, all the things he himself was feeling every time he so much as thought of her. His eyes asked for her permission, one final time, and she nodded, a barely visible movement, before he closed the distance between them, and their lips touched.

It was sweet and it was perfect, everything he could have imagined and more. They melted into each other, her hands coming up to grip his sides gently, pulling him closer by the lapels of his coat. The kisses were slow, gently gaining intensity, mirroring the way he fell for her. He could feel her smiling against him, his one hand moving to her waist, pressing her flush to him with a hum. It could have been an eternity later when he moved away, opening his eyes to look at her. Hers were still closed, a gentle smile of satisfaction pulling on the corners of her lips. When her green irises met his blue ones, he could see how much her emotions gained in intensity in the past seconds. He opened his mouth, whispering her name, and before he could say anything else, she interrupted him.

“Ethan?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me again.”

[silvanable]

Photogenic - V ( REWRITE )

an old one shot i decided to rewrite. this was actually my first attempt at an x reader back in the day ( 2016 to be exact ) loooooong before V’s route was ever even considered.

i thought reviving and revamping a relic would be good, plus i still love it. so have version 2.0, new and improved.

original that’s super old & has horrible grammar that might send you to the grave can be found here.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

↪  GUIDELINES

   ✒ warnings: n/a

   ✒ tags: fluff, gender neutral reader, i’m yeeting canon thanks, we’re calling this an au & v is losing his eyesight to an undisclosed illness/injury reader doesn’t know about

✏ Word Count : 3629

It was a beautiful and pleasant day. It had served you the perfect opportunity to take a long hike and indulge yourself in your favorite pastime. Photography.

By now the day had passed and was winding down to its end. You still were having your fun. You had found a particularly nice spot where you had the perfect view of the horizon. More specifically, you had the best position to get that one perfect photo of the sunset, even if you had to sit here until dusk to get it.

Luckily for you, you did not wait long for your perfect masterpiece.

The sky was darkening in its beautiful palette of oranges, pinks, and reds. The fading sunlight shone through the autumn trees and glowed through them like a halo. Below was the expanse down the trails into the woods and rolling hills, blanketed in soft shadows. It looked like a mystical, foreign land out of a fairytale.

It was exactly what you had waited for.

You lifted the camera up, leveling it with your eyes as you stared through the lens. Your index finger found its familiar resting place atop the button. The smallest amount of pressure on the button was awarded by a familiar click of a shutter and a brief pass of darkness in front of your eye.

You repeated the action several times, just for precautions. While one photo might suffice, you preferred to be prepared with a selection to pick your prize from.

After you were done, you lowered the camera from your face. Your fingers nimbly found their way to the buttons beside the screen to review your reward of patience.

A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you reviewed the captures of the day on your camera. You did well if you did say so yourself and had plenty more to add to your collection, specifically the one for this particular trail.

You turned on your heel, aimlessly wandering back down the familiar trail to get back to your car before dark. While you practically knew these hiking paths like the back of your hand, you were not willing to risk stumbling in the dark and tripping onto your camera. This elegant piece of machinery was your most prized possession and arguably tied to your soul. If anything were to happen to it, you would most certainly cry. It could be replaced but still would feel like losing your first love.

Your eyes glued to the camera in your hands, your feet led you without visual guidance, and straight into a solid force.

A squeak, yes, an unmistakable squeak left your lips as your body tumbled back. Your hands clenched tightly around the camera in your grasp and you squeezed your eyes shut.

The only thing running through your mind was, Oh, how the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

You landed with a thud into the beaten dirt. A soft groan leaving your throat at the unpleasant throb of your rear from landing so hard. There was one good thing, though.

You opened your eyes to see the camera still safely in your hands, unharmed. A sigh of relief left you as your body relaxed.

Next was the matter of what you had walked into.

Your eyes rose up, only to find it was not what you had walked into but who.

“I am so sorry,” You blurted out quickly upon seeing a blue-haired individual in front of you.

“No, it’s alright. It was my accident.” He murmured gently in response. A pale hand extended down towards you.

You wasted no time in accepting the offer. Your hand clasped around his and with a little effort from you both, you found yourself back on your feet again.

The momentary stun you suffered from seemed to melt away from you, now that you were closer to this man. You did not mean to stare, but there was something ethereal about him. His hair was a light blue, like a summer sky on a clear day. His skin was ghostly, not in a way that showed illness, but glowed with youthfulness and livelihood. His eyes, though, were what drew you in, clearer than a freshwater spring or a lake frozen in winter but guarded and mysterious as they met your gaze.

You believed the eyes were the windows to someone’s soul. His eyes, however, were guarded and any secrets sealed away. It only intrigued you more. You found yourself wanting to know this stranger and why his eyes allured you so. You wanted to know that unheard story deep in his heart.

“Are you alright?” His gentle tone broke you from your trace.

“O-oh?” The stutter left you before you realized it. You were staring. How rude could you be? “Yes… I’m sorry, though. I didn’t mean to walk into you. I guess I wasn’t paying attention, too busy staring at my camera,” You wiggled the object in question in your hands, “And you would think I would be paying more attention because of it.” A nervous chuckle escaped you.

“You enjoy photography?” He asked.

You nodded shortly in response. “Yes! I mean, I dabble. It’s something I enjoy doing a lot but it is really just a hobby right now.” Your words grew to a soft murmur at the end.

You loved what you did but wished you could do more. It was not exactly easy for you though. There were some issues with confidence and the opportunities that you seemed to need to wildly chase. If you had the chance to do this as a profession, as your living, you most certainly would jump at the chance.

“Is that so? I’m sort of a professional, but it’s really just a passion of mine.” He said, “I could give you a few tips if you are interested.”

Your eyes lifted to his again, a smile stretched over your lips. “That would be great, it means a lot to learn from someone else who has the same passion.” You drew the camera close to your person. “And I’m absolutely forgetting my manners,” You said, introducing yourself as you held out your hand to him.

He hesitated for a moment before taking your hand, “My friends call me V.” A gentle smile graced his lips.

Your heart seemed to betray you at that moment with a harder than usual beat. And since when did the cool autumn air feel so warm? That might be the blush that crept over your face.

“Well, V,” You cleared your throat to try and get your bearings, “Can I treat you to dinner?” You asked, “As pre-payment for helping me out, you know?” You added quickly, “That is if you aren’t busy.” You had to fight the urge to awkwardly squirm in place.

You suddenly felt like a schoolgirl. How embarrassing this was. More concerning was the fact you had so quickly asked him out. Apparently your heart had forcibly taken the wheel and your mind was tied up and thrown to the back of the bus.

“I’m free tomorrow night,” The soft chuckle that left V’s lips was a sweet sound to your years. “Let me give you my number. We can discuss the details later.”

Much time has passed since then…

There was a gentle laugh in the air that traveled through the park. It had fallen from your lips as you twirled in place. One of your hands folded over your decorative hat to prevent it from blowing off as you moved. Your white spring attire flowed in the breeze with you.

Much quieter than your laughter, there were several familiar clicks, the sound of a shutter closing. Behind the camera was a familiar blue-haired man, wearing a smile that was contagious to you.

Your laughter continued as you turned to the camera, making childish faces or striking elegant poses.

For quite some time you two had spent time together. Ever since the two of you met, you had grown ever closer. You often made brunch or the occasional dinner plan. Sometimes it was a professional matter that involved photography and others were for leisure as the two of you would go out on strolls or to the movies.

You know that you had grown attached to V. You admired him maybe a bit too much and often found yourself lost in thought with him on your mind. You tried to deny that the connection was anything more than friends, but your heart since the very first day liked to remind you that you were absolutely smitten. You were in denial, actively in a way, despite the thrum of your heart.

The feeling was foreign but warm and welcoming, just like the smile you were being given from V. The more you thought about it, the more you felt as if you had fallen. You had not fallen into some darkness but a place of warmth and brightness. The feeling was foreign but warm and welcoming, just like the smile you were being given from V.

The sweet smile you received only served to make your heart swell more. It was a collision of feelings that made you feel so many things you doubted you could untangle them without being overwhelmed first, both good and bad.

While you adored V, there was also still so much you did not know about him. He was still a mystery, one you had yet to find the hidden story about. You learned about him but he was so reserved and what you found out only served to create an even bigger mystery.

It all had something to do with those shaded glasses that covered his eyes and the red striped cane he had begun to carry with him more frequently.

“Don’t you have enough already?” You called out teasingly to V.

He shook his head, that grin ever-present. “I need a few more.”

You shook your head in response, “Alright, you have enough! It’s my turn and I want to see!” You rushed over to him, reaching out to take the camera from his hands.

He rose his arms over his head, the camera just out of your reach.

“That’s not fair, V! I can’t reach!” You protested.

“That’s the point,” He laughed.

Even stretched up on the tips of your toes he was able to keep the camera just from your fingertips. You were relentless, though, and would not give up the fight as you puffed and tried to stretch further.

You came to the conclusion during your stretching and huffing that there was no way you could reach the camera. So you had to find another way to get what you wanted.

There was a list running through your mind and allowed you to contemplate all your options quickly. There was nothing that seemed quite right.

You looked up towards the man and an idea popped into your mind. Without thinking, you took action.

“I will take these then!” You said and took several steps back to create distance between you both.

Your lips twisted into a defiant pout as your eyes flickered down to the stolen item in your hands. Your fingers delicately curled around thick, black sunglasses.

Your mind registered what you held and what you had just done.

Panic surged up through you faster than your body could comprehend the emotion. Your expression contorted with regret and your eyes reflected your internal panic.

“I‒” The words got stuck in your throat as you tried to force them out. 

You knew very little behind the injury that had cost V his eyesight. He was going blind, a slow process that would take his vision from him. It happened long before you met him or you had assumed so at least, as you learned about it sometime after meeting him. Though one thing you knew very plainly was how insecure he was about the loss of his eyes. It was a very sensitive topic that he often avoided and respected his wishes not to push for answers.

“I’m so sorry, V‒” Your voice left you broken and shaken.

You wanted to say more but found you swallowed your own voice again as your eyes met with the man just out of arm's reach from you.

V looked stunned. As if he was still processing what had happened.

Your eyes met his expectantly, waiting for the worst.

Even in your fright, though, you found yourself admiring his eyes. It had been such a long time since you had seen them as he wore the glasses more frequently as time carried on. You had missed them, their pale, clear color, and the look of fondness they held in them for you when he looked at you.

From where you stood, he was set against the cloudless sky and bright, renewing green plant-life of the spring. A gentle breeze seemed to hair his pale blue locks and small dandelion seeds danced around him. His black sweater and jeans contrasted with the brightness around him. His expression seemed calm to you almost and he held the camera in his hands just so perfectly… He was a masterpiece of perfection and beauty to your eyes.

Something overtook you in that moment as you scurried towards where you had dropped your bag. You wear almost spastic as you searched for your own camera and rushed back to where you had been standing a moment before. Then proceeded to throw yourself to the ground for the perfect photo.

V’s eyes had followed you the entire way. A small smile began to pull at the corner of his mouth. You had not even noticed that he had broken from his trance only to be enthralled by you.

There was a familiar click of camera shutters again. You were absolutely dismissive of everything around you as you fiddled with the camera.

V’s smile only grew.

It was adorable to watch as you so intently focused, barely aware he was watching you as you took pictures of him.

It was a childish and rash decision of yours, but you would never forgive yourself for letting that masterpiece of him go in the moment. The beauty that had unfolded before you was not something you could easily pass up, not when you could cherish the look in his eyes and that smile forever with a photograph.

Your finger stopped short of fully applying pressure to the camera’s button. You finally realized that his stare was not distant but fixed on your through the lens of your camera. Your finger came down against the button, the shutter sound louder in your ears than it was a moment before.

You were rooted in the shot you had crouched in, camera grasped in your hand, and V’s glasses hooked in your fingers. You dared not lower the camera and further embarrass yourself.

“Am I that photogenic to you?” V asked, a sweet curiosity in his voice. He was in front of you in just a few steps, staring down at you.

Reality hit you and reality hit hard.

A shameful sound left your lips, one you dared not to call a squeak despite it being exactly that, as he leaned down into your face.

He wore a coy expression and you found yourself mesmerized by clarity in those icy orbs of his. There was no coldness despite the pale color of his eyes, instead, there was a warmth and love you hoped you were not mistaken for in them.

Your intent gaze, searching so deep inside of his own glassy one, had taken him back. Everything reflected in your eyes, the admiration, and the fixation as if you had found something strange, new, and deeply terrifying.

“Gorgeous…” The word left your lips in awe and caressed his own lips with your warm breath.

You were too much for him. The look on your face is far too pure with admiration and the soft sound of your voice all too much for him to take. You were captivated, the dazed look on your face said enough that you were mesmerized by his beauty, and that alone made his heart swell. He had never seen a look so honest, so clear, and so full of love than the one you gave him.

It was in that moment, with each gentle beat of your heart in your chest, those words you refused to admit were clear to you in your mind. You had fallen for him, for his kindness and compassion, and for his beauty without and within.

You believed deep down, at this moment, you saw who he was. There were no barriers, no resistance, nothing clouding his soul to you. You could see a man, who was so full of love and passion but suffered. The pain and sorrow swam in his eyes but mingled with it you could see curiosity, love, and selflessness hidden deep inside. You could see the understanding and trust, but it was held back by fear and loss that threatened to bloom and consume him, so he hid with the intent to do good in the favor of another’s well being.

There was no saying how true anything you saw was but you believed it all to be as it was given to you. You believed in that moment V had opened up and revealed himself to you. One thing you knew, was that he was genuine, and the soft, loving look he gave you was not something you dreamed up. It was real.

“V…” His name left your lips like a whispered prayer.

He replied quietly with your own name as if that was all that was keeping him from unraveling at that very moment.

A smile graced your lips. A sort of trance fell over you both as a daze seemed to overtake you both. Time seemed to slow down as you stared at one another, waiting with bated breath for the other to dare and break the strange but welcoming atmosphere around you.

His hands came to wrap gently around your hands. Your heart quickened and pounded violently against your chest. You were frozen as his fingers softly caressed your cheek as he cupped your chin.

His lips brushed against your lips, so close but as if chasm was still between you. You tried to force yourself to speak, to break away from your thoughts and shatter this illusion your mind gave you before you were too deeply invested.

No sound left your lips, though, instead your mouth was covered by V’s own. The gentle sensation against your lips surprised you, almost as if you were dreaming. Your daring prince, however, intended to break that spell from you with this very kiss. It woke you from the trance you believed yourself to be trapped in, taking the fire in your heart from a lump of smoldering coal to a raging flame.

You threw your arms around his shoulders in response to pull him closer. The two of you tumbled back into the grass but the kiss was not broken.

His lips moved slowly against your own, soft and passionate, conveying all the affections he had held for you and you returned all of those you had tried to ignore. With this kiss alone, you felt as if you could melt into him, and you wished that this moment would never end.

Sadly your lungs demanded air and you two had to part. Emerging from the oceans of your affections with a deep inhale.

V’s breath was as uneven as your own as the two of you sat there in silence, gazing at each other, and listening to the sound of each breath you took. His forehead came to rest gently against your own, another contagious smile on his lips that infected your own. Neither of you spoke, just held each other close as you lied there in the midst of the park.

“Did you drop the camera?” A sudden panic hit you with the realization and you tried to sit up.

V held you in place, the smile still present on his lips. “No, I put it down before you dragged me to the ground.”

“I did not‒”

“Did you drop my glasses?” He cut you off.

Your panic shifted as you wiggled your fingers. His glasses tapped gently against his shoulder, still safely hooked in your fingers.

“Nope,” You let out a breath of relief, “I would never dare,” You added quickly, trying to hide your momentary panic of possibly ruining his glasses in your forgetfulness.

“Though…” Your voice was quiet as you trailed off, a sudden seriousness in your tone.

V rose a brow at you, his eyes still fixed on your face, taking in your concerned features as whatever thought ate away at you. “What is it?”

“I was just… just wondering if there was something we could do for your eyes…” Your fingers gently trailed over the corner of his eye. “I don’t know if you looked into it, but it’s a shame to lose this part of you.”

“I never really bothered me,” His tone was forlorn, “I came to terms with losing my sight until I met you.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and murmured your name, “I don’t think I can bear not to see your smile light up my every day now though.”

A gentle smile found its way onto your lips. Your eyes closed to relish in the sweet kiss as you tried to imprint the feeling in your mind forever.

“I love you,” You said softly.

“I love you too,” V whispered back.

You leaned up, pressing your lips gingerly against his own in another kiss.