#added art credit - sorry i didn’t earlier!

[computerexploder]

old blood noise endeavors sunlight dynamic reverb (art by jon carling)

[koiiiji]

im here for yakuza!Gun x reader smut 🤧🤧 like, you stayed at his family's mansion overnight because he introduced you to his clan for the first time and when the night came, this perv didn't care there was no soundproof system between rooms in the mansion (ofc, that's the traditional Japanese house style!!), he kept doing the deed, and even warned you to lower your voice if you didn't want anyone to hear 😏😏

ty as always bae <33

p/s: that's the idea and you can customize it however you want, just make sure that he is a meanie but soft at the same time (is it possible hm 🤔)

p/s (2): i have to send this idea right away in case you close your ask box too early lol 😂😂

author's note ; i mean Gun IS in fact yakuza, no? anyway sooo here we go! i had kinda same scenario but more rough and generally dark, like yandere, but fuck it, i think i won’t finish it anytime soon, bc i thought to add it to your request, but i don’t want to make you wait anymore. i think i was carried away a little in beginning, so its longer then expected, sorry!! 💞😮‍💨

author's note 2 ; art from pinterest, it says credits to : jongjong822 on x

tw ; f! reader, nsfw, minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

to be honest, you had no plans to meet Yamazaki Gun's family tonight. it's not that you were against the idea — quite the opposite! you'd heard plenty about who his father was and what his family did. there were a lot of rumors swirling around town, and while you were a little wary, you were mostly curious. besides, you hadn’t been together for that long, so you didn’t expect Gun to introduce you to his family anytime soon.

when he told you earlier in the day to dress up for the evening, you weren’t surprised. it was just another night, another overly expensive restaurant, and another excuse to be in his company. as you sat in the passenger seat of Gun's sleek black car, you glanced out the window at the city passing by. the soft glow of the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm, golden hue, making everything feel a little more magical, a little more alive.

the atmosphere inside the car was just as enchanting. Gun had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed more at ease, more open. the quiet hum of the engine was accompanied by the faint sound of classical music playing through the car's speakers, creating a peaceful ambiance. you felt a sense of calm wash over you as you glanced at Gun, who was focused on the road ahead. his profile was illuminated by the soft light from the dashboard, casting shadows that only added to his already mysterious aura.

the restaurant was just as extravagant as you'd expected, with its towering marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and tables draped in fine linen. evening went perfectly. you and Gun shared a bottle of wine, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself getting a little tipsy. it wasn’t enough to lose control, just enough to feel a pleasant buzz that made everything seem a little funnier, a little more relaxed. your laughter came more easily, and you found yourself leaning in closer to Gun, your hand occasionally brushing against his. he seemed to enjoy the relaxed version of you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your stories and responded with his own dry wit.

when the dinner finally came to an end, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. the food had been exquisite, the wine even more so, and the company... well, there was no one else you'd rather be with. so you assumed that Gun would take you back to your home now, to end the night on a sweet note with a kiss or maybe something more at your doorstep. so, when he steered the car away from the familiar streets and onto an unknown road, you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. the wine had left you feeling pleasantly hazy, and you were more focused on continuing your easygoing conversation than worrying about where you were headed.

“so, tell me,” you began, your words slightly slurred but still coherent, “why do you always pick these fancy places? are you still trying to impress me, Gun?”

Gun glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “maybe i just like seeing you all dressed up,” he teased, his voice as smooth as the leather seats you were sitting on.

you laughed, leaning back in your seat and looking out at the unfamiliar road ahead. “well, it’s working. but you know, you don’t have to go all out every time. i'm just as happy with oversized t-shirt, most stupidest comedy and you.”

“noted,” he said with a small nod, though there was a hint of something more serious in his tone. “but tonight is special.”

you blinked, trying to process his words through the pleasant fog in your mind. “special? how so?”

“you'll see,” was all he said, and you let it go, too relaxed and warm from the wine to press him further. conversation flowed easily between the two of you as Gun drove. night seemed endless, the road stretching out in front of you like a promise of more to come. when the car finally slowed and turned into a long, tree-lined driveway, you began to wonder just where he had brought you. the driveway was impeccably maintained, with tall, ancient trees on either side casting long shadows under the soft glow of strategically placed lights.

Gun parked the car in front of an imposing mansion, the kind you’d only seen in movies. building was grand, with tall windows that gleamed in the moonlight and a wide set of steps leading up to the front door richly decorated with mahogany. you stared up at it, your slightly inebriated mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Gun… where are we?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. he turned off the engine and looked at you, his expression unreadable. “this is my family's home,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

your heart skipped a beat. “wait… you mean… we’re meeting your family? tonight?”

he nodded, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently take your hand. “yes, tonight. i wanted you to meet them.”

panic began to bubble up in your chest, but it was quickly tempered by the warmth of his hand in yours. the wine had left you feeling too relaxed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “well, you could have given me a bit more of a warning,” you teased, squeezing his hand as you tried to keep the mood light.

“i didn’t want you to worry,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’ll be fine. they’ll love you.”

before you could respond, Gun stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. he offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him help you out of the car. as you stood there, staring up at the mansion, the reality of what was about to happen finally sank in.

you were about to meet Yamazaki Gun’s family. tonight.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and looked up at Gun. he was watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes — something that made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

with one last squeeze of his hand, you smiled and nodded. “alright then, let's do this.”

and to be honest, everything went better than you had expected. the Yamazaki mansion was truly grand, almost overwhelming in its size and elegance. the towering shoji screens, the polished wooden floors, and the delicate tatami mats all spoke of a family with deep roots and considerable influence. people you encountered within its walls — servants, distant relatives, or perhaps close family friends — were polite, yet cold. they carried themselves with an air of reserved dignity, their words carefully chosen, their expressions unreadable.

Gun guided you through the mansion with a familiarity that showed he had once called this place home. as you walked, you couldn't help but notice how much Gun resembled his father. the elder Yamazaki was a stoic man, tall and imposing, dressed in a traditional black kimono with a hakama. he carried an aura of authority, and though his demeanor was stern, there was something in his gaze — something that hinted at a really small softness beneath his cold exterior.

Gun's mother, on the other hand, was an elegant woman, the very picture of grace and strictness, wearing a beautiful, intricately patterned kimono. her hair was pulled back in a traditional style, and her movements were precise and measured. her eyes were sharp, watching you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being evaluated at every turn. yet, despite the coldness in her gaze, she followed every formality with exacting precision, treating you with the respect and courtesy befitting a guest in their home. she spoke little, but when she did, her words were measured and polite, though they lacked any warmth.

as the evening drew to a close, and the final course after small greeting tea ceremony was cleared away, you felt a sense of relief. it hadn’t been as daunting as you’d feared, and you were proud of how well you’d handled yourself. you expected that Gun would now take you back home, and the two of you would quietly slip away from all formalities and coldness of this house. but then Gun’s father, in his deep, commanding voice, made a suggestion that took you by surprise. “why don’t the two of you stay the night? it’s late, and it wouldn’t be wise to drive in your current state.”

you glanced at Gun, waiting for him to politely decline, but to your shock, he simply nodded. “we’ll stay.”

you blinked in surprise, a slight panic rising in your chest. you were unprepared for an overnight stay, and the idea of spending the night in Gun’s childhood home — under the same roof as his parents — was suddenly very intimidating. you opened your mouth to protest, but Gun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “don’t worry. my father asked us to stay because he wants to discuss some business matters with me in the morning. just relax.”

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

with those words echoing in your head, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the futon, carefully prepared by the staff just a few minutes ago. the evening had been long and emotionally exhausting, but now, in the quiet of Gun’s childhood room, you felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you. after taking a shower, you had washed off the remnants of your makeup, feeling refreshed as the warm water rinsed away the day’s tension. the pleasant residue from the alcohol was still making itself felt, leaving you relaxed as you climbed into bed, where your boyfriend was already waiting for you.

Gun was lying on his back, his dark hair still damp from his own shower, his yukata loosely tied around his waist. as you slid under the covers, you immediately fell into his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. you settled comfortably against his chest, inhaling the clean, subtle scent of his shower gel, mingled with the familiar warmth of his skin. it was a scent that was unmistakably his, grounding you in the moment as you let out a contented sigh.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of being alone together. the soft rustle of the futon as you shifted closer, the gentle rise and fall of Gun’s chest under your cheek — it all felt so peaceful, so right.

but as the silence stretched on, a small thread of anxiety began to tug at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in your thoughts all evening. “do you think your parents liked me?”

Gun’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and you felt his hand gently stroke your hair. “why do you ask? you were amazing tonight.”

“i just… i don’t know,” you murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. “your father was so serious, and your mother barely smiled. i couldn't tell what they were thinking.”

he let out another soft laugh, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “that’s just how they are. don’t take it personally. my father rarely smiles, and my mother… well, she’s always been a bit strict. but trust me, you made a good impression.”

you felt a wave of relief at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little: rolling onto your stomach, you now lay on top of him, folding your arms across his chest and resting your chin on them, you playfully asked "are you sure they're not just being polite to me?"

flicking your nose with his finger, he just laughed in response, the sound deep and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in, the last remnants of your nerves melting away in the warmth of his laughter. but as your soft giggles subsided, the mood shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to something more intense. Gun’s eyes darkened - more, if it was even possible - as he looked at you, his playful expression fading into one of pure desire. without warning, he moved, his hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto your back. you let out a surprised gasp, your heart skipping a beat as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the futon. the sudden shift in his demeanor left you breathless, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as his face hovered inches from yours.

“Gun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck.

“mmm?” he hummed in response, his breath hot against your skin as he began to trail kisses along the curve of your throat. his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, slipping beneath the folds of your yukata to find the smooth skin of your back. you shivered at his touch, your body responding to the gentle caress of his fingers as they traced a path up and down your spine. his kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips moving hungrily against your skin as his hands roamed freely over your body. the fabric of your yukata shifted as he explored, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“Gun,” you gasped again, your fingers tangling in his raven hair as you arched into him, craving more of the sensation he was drawing from you. his hands were everywhere, gliding over the curve of your back, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks before moving up again, each touch sending shivers of pleasure rippling through you.

he pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he gazed down at you — your hair, disheveled and slightly damp from the shower, was scattered across the pillows, your breathing was a little ragged and the fabric of your yukata, pulled to the side, opened up a beautiful view of your chest, which was slightly heaving from confusion, your cheeks were burning with excitement and still a small amount of embarrassment, while due to the alcohol you barely remembered where you both were.

with a quiet growl, Gun again clung to your collarbones, his hands moved faster, skillfully, undoing the ties of your robe with practiced ease to pull the unnecessary fabric lower. without moving away from you even for a centimeter, he caressed your neck with his lips, moved up a little higher, biting the lobe of your ear and descending in a wet path lower, again to the collarbones, this time not lingering there, but going lower to your chest, clasping it with one hand and kneading it in his large, calloused palm. with each of his movements, you moved towards him more and more, forgetting yourself and melting in his arms, moaning from his each touch.

as he skillfully make the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he groaned softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“you are so beautiful” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. right now there was only Gun, his touch, his warmth, the overwhelming passion that consumed you both.

“please” you whispered into his lips as he rose above you on his elbows again. one of his hands had already slid below your tummy, stroking your pussy with his entire palm, only fleetingly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling the first loud moan out of you.

“come on kitten, be quiet, you remember where we are” Gun's hot whisper enveloped your ear as his fingers continued to play with your wet pussy. “you know, this is a traditional old style house, the walls here are extremely thin” your boyfriend continued to whisper in your ear, enjoying your once again confused look as your cheeks flushed with renewed vigor. “you don't want anyone to hear us, do you, baby?” now one of his fingers slid up and down between your lips, smearing the moisture oozing out of you all over the entrance. he was lying on his side next to you, one of his hands reached under your neck as he place one finger in your mouth, making you suck and lick it with your tongue, while his other hand never left your pussy, now more insistently stroking and massaging your clit with one finger, while the other played with your tight entrance, pushing finger in just halfway.

time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to him, your body responding to his every caress and touch, every kiss, every whisper. the intensity of the moment, the way he made you feel cherished, desired, loved—it was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

and that's when you reached your first peak from his fingers caressing you deep inside, when your hot and wet walls tightened around him, and you could no longer stifle your moans with his fingers behind your cheek, only then Gun smiled insidiously, and with one light movement turned your softened body back onto your stomach. without wasting a second, his hands dug into the soft skin of your sides, right where he could feel the pelvic bones, and with your clouded brain you already assumed that there would be traces there in the morning. reaching for a pillow, and pushing it between your thighs and the futon, Gun hurriedly, casually stroked your pussy, passing from bottom to top, collecting all the juices of your previous orgasm, simultaneously stroking his cock, smearing mix of your saliva and his own spit along the entire length.

whimpering softly and burying your head in the pillow, in an attempt to stifle your moans, you gasped, clutching at the edges of the futon and the blanket under you, as the fat tip of his dick slowly squeezed into your tensed, gummy folds, painfully stretching you. a deep and heavy moan was heard from behind when Gun collapsed on top of you with all his weight, completely plunging his fat dick into your bosom, in one sharp movement, immediately hitting the g-spot, forcing you to arch your back, pressing your ass harder into his hips. with a satisfied purr, Gun covered your hands with his own, fastening them together into a lock, again leaning closer to you with his all body, pressing you into the thin mattress, he began to slowly move inside your warmth.

with each strong thrust, as he picked up speed, with each of his heavy breaths into your neck, it became harder for you to hold your ass higher, as well as your moans, almost drowned out by the pillow. over and over, as Gun's thick cock filled your gummy, warm walls completely, your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back, right on his shoulder, as your jaw dropped, allowing sweet moans and whimpers to escape from your throat.

“kitten still wants the whole house to hear her, mm?” your boyfriend purrs breathlessly in your ear, mercilessly hammering into your poor pussy, forcing you to give up, and fall on the bed with your whole body, and only moan piteously when one of his arms wraps around your neck and closes your mouth, and the other one gets tangled in your hair, pulling it back just a little.

you never doubted that in the matter of bed, Gun always was a bit more wild and animalistic, but the way his hips slammed into you now, how heavy balls were beating against your clit, and the dirty sounds of squelching and slapping skin against skin, how his biceps tensed right where your cheek lay, all this made your eyes roll up to the back of your head and just whine pathetically under him and drool on his muscles.

you didn't even have the strength left, to hold still, all that helped him mercilessly hammer you into the mattress was the pillow under your hips while you lay under him and helplessly muttering incoherent words and praises. both intoxicated by the euphoria of sex, emotions and feelings, the two of you have lost your sense of time and space, just chasing your own peak and pleasure. to be honest, you didn't think much when your pussy covered Gun's twitching dick with cream, when he hitted his pink head right to the cervix, forcing you to scream and arch towards him, pressing your ass into his hips, and feel with your shoulder blades as his chest pressing you into bed.

and to be completely honest, you almost didn't remember how you both cum, the most important thing that was in front of your eyes was Gun's chest and his warm hand gently caressing your back, while he murmured something into your hair, when he covered you both with a blanket and you fell into a sweet sleep.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

BONUS ;

the morning sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting a gentle glow over the room. you blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the futon and the lingering scent of Gun beside you. but as you turned over, reaching out to pull him closer, you found his side of the bed empty and cold. confusion washed over you as you sat up, realizing he was gone.

events of the night before came rushing back, and a deep blush crept over your cheeks. you buried your face in your hands, mortified at the thought of facing anyone after what had happened. Gun's parents, the staff — how could you possibly look them in the eye now? the thought of leaving the room made your heart race with anxiety, so you resolved to stay put, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. minutes ticked by, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity. you had no idea where Gun had gone or when he'd be back, leaving you in an uncomfortable solitude.

and just as you were about to retreat further under the covers, there was a soft knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in your stomach. before you could respond, the door slid open, and Gun’s mother stepped inside.

she was impeccably dressed, her expression calm and composed. you immediately lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes, but she approached with a certain grace, her footsteps barely making a sound on the tatami mats.

“good morning,” she greeted you, her voice steady.

“m-mrs. Yamazaki,” you stammered, still unable to look up. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”

“stop,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “you have nothing to be sorry of. it’s natural.”

you finally dared to glance up at her, confusion flickering in your eyes. she took a seat beside you on the futon, her movements deliberate and serene. “you’re a woman, and you’re desired and loved. there’s nothing shameful about that. that’s just the nature of men — wild and unbridled when a woman is around. i was in your place once, and someday, you’ll be in mine.”

you blinked, taken aback by her words. was that… a blessing?

“wait,” you began hesitantly, “so… you heard everything?”

mrs. Yamazaki let out a soft sigh, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “i’m not an idiot. from beginning i saw the way my son looks at you. and i know Yuzuru well enough, and what’s going on in his head, to prepare your bedroom far away from our own.”

your cheeks burned hotter, the mortification almost unbearable. “so… you didn’t hear?”

she paused, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “let’s say the whole mansion didn’t hear you… but maybe some part of it did.”

you swore you caught a fleeting, light, and kind laugh in her voice, and for a moment, the tension between you eased. there was a warmth in her tone that you hadn’t expected, something almost motherly and understanding.

“i...” you trailed off, still unsure of what to say.

mrs. Yamazaki reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “you are welcome here, as long as you make my son happy. and believe me, i haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.”

her words soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at you, and you managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.”

she nodded, standing up gracefully. “now, come along. breakfast is ready.” as she turned to leave, you felt a sense of relief, the earlier embarrassment slowly fading.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

author's note 3 ; I FOUGHT INNER DEMONS TO FINISH IT I SWEAR!! SORRY THAT SPICY PART WASN’T THAT JUICY AND STUFF, I STILL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE PORN…HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT😤😤🫶🏻

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Hi, darling! Sorry for the bother, first and foremost. I've seen a similar post of yours before so I would like to see ur take on Cruella!Reader x Vil if it interests you enough. Their duo would really be smthng, especially w/ such distinct & contrasting personalities. I would love to see it platonic. Have fun & thanks!

Add a Little more Flair

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A/n: ackk you’re so sweet Anonnie, I didn’t expect being called a darling (๑>◡<๑) and the fic you might be talking about is Beauty in Chaos! Genre: Fluff Pairing: None (Platonic Vil & Gn Reader) Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers! Masterlist

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If there was a dormitory you were most suited for, it was Pomefiore, you just felt at home in the luxurious vibe of it, while in your world before, you were someone who got by and was financially stable enough to buy the latest fashion trends of outfits, in this world you had a tiny bit of problem with that.

With no income to take out from, the thaumarks you’re given could only be used for necessities that could sustain you and Grim, any extras would be used to renovate Ramshackle. You were fine with it of course; however, you knew your worth and hoped that the extra overtime you had to put in due to Crowley’s incompetence would soon be recognized and rewarded. He was fortunate you hadn't filed a complaint.

When you first met Vil, you didn’t expect him to look this divine at all, he was the epitome of beauty! However, you knew that he could use a bit of glitz in his taste in fashion, you would expect someone like him to choose colors that truly highlighted his features, rather than the bland shades that made him blend in with all the "Potatoes."

“You know,” You spoke, breaking the tension that was marinating in the living room of Pomefiore, the reason you were there was because Epel decided to invite you to play cards with him, Ace and Deuce, using some new game cards from his hometown that his grandmother gave him, but didn’t expect that Vil would be around and not doing any housewarden duties outside.

“What is it?” Vil glanced down, surprised by your sheer audacity to stop him from scolding Epel for inviting you and the others without his permission. “You’re gorgeous” you blurt out as you touch the helm of his sleeve “But would it hurt you to add a little more flair to your outfits?” you let his sleeves go. Vil’s eyes narrowed “What do you mean by that?” he questioned further, crossing his arms as his eyebrows furrowed, not expecting you to give constructive criticism on his outfit, especially since all he’s wearing is his dormitory’s robe, what’s wrong with it? , but he’ll bite, he’s curious about what you have to say.

“There’s no rule against adding a personal touch to your uniform,” you said, your hand gently clasping his wrist as you pulled him closer, your eyes fixated on the luxurious silk fabric. “You could incorporate some elegant jewelry,” you suggested, your voice trailing off as you imagined the possibilities. “And how about a stylish fur coat? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” He was growing increasingly confused by your mixed-up words. Did you want him to add jewelry? Wouldn’t that overshadow his face if he wore fancy jewelry or a fur coat? Who are you? Crewel?

“If you’d let me, I’d be thrilled to sketch a design to make Pomefiore’s uniform more lavish!” you exclaim, your earlier composure giving way to enthusiastic fangirl excitement.

“Hey- dude- I don’t think” Epel was going to grab your shoulder, but you ducked down on your bag, opening it and pulling out a sketchbook. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity Epel!” you said, eyes twinkling, “Pomefiore is one of the most eye-catching dormitories I’ve seen out of all the dormitories, it'll be nice if I could find a way to make all of your designs more outstanding”

Hearing that made Vil huff almost proudly, “Well, with a compliment like that” he drawls out, eyes closing as he presses his hand on his head, “If you could present to me a “lavishing” design of an outfit, then you’re free to do so,”

Epel stares at you out of shock, along with your two other friends, even Grim is surprised. “I didn’t expect you to have such a …” Epel tried to find the right word while looking shocked, But Rook popped out of nowhere and finished his sentence. “passionné for beauty?”

“Gah!” Epel squeaks out, while you are busy sketching a quick sketch of your inspiration. “Bonjour” he greets, eyes scanning everyone as he goes beside Vil, who is intently watching. “My, the sketch on the other side shows experience in their work” he compliments you, as his eyes tear off from your book to Vil, “If the outfit they sketch fancies you” he says, as he backs away, creating a bit of distance to fully admire Vil, who glanced at him “Would you consider changing the design of our fair uniforms? Roi du Poison?”

“That’ll depend” he sighs, while he was intrigued that you immediately went to work in front of him, he has an inkling of suspicion that you were related to Crewel in some way, one of the professors that helps him with the creations of designs.

“Here” You shoved the sketch into his hand, and he grabbed it, scanning the piece of work you created, he’s impressed, this looked rather beautiful he’ll give you that, but with how big you made the fur that was wrapped around the host’s shoulder, (which he thinks might be him due to the hairstyle)  you made him look like some kind of beast, which irked him, remembering how Leona is. Overall, the colors that were added were solely complimenting and making the individual dorm robes prettier.

“While I certainly think that the… furs are lovely” he says, looking at you while you look back at him with sparkling eyes, as if you’re waiting for his approval, for some reason, he couldn’t say what he’s about to say to your face, sighing in defeat, he hands you back your notebook. “How about you give me a physical design of this?”

“Really?” you nearly jump as you grab your notebook, closing it swiftly, but freezing up as you stare at him, a nervous smile etched to your face “I… don’t have the materials”

“I know,” Vil said, extending his hand expectantly. A student promptly placed Vil’s wallet into his palm. “That’s why I’ll be sponsoring you for the silk and equipment you’ll need,”

Rook watched the entire exchange with a gentle smile, pleasantly surprised that Vil hadn't rejected the idea outright. Vil was known for his discerning standards and rarely entertained notions he deemed absurd. As Rook tapped his chin thoughtfully and gazed intently at Vil, he wondered if Vil genuinely desired a fur scarf, or if it was a test of your sincerity in your admiration for the Pomefiore Dormitory. New designs were always welcome in Pomefiore, but the housewarden had high expectations for anything that adorned his dorm. As long as they met his exacting standards and were deemed beautiful in his eyes, they had a chance.

“Are you sure about this?” You felt guilty as Vil showed you a credit card, was he going to let you run around with it? It’s a black card too!

Seemingly reading your mind, Vil scoffed. “You’re mistaken if you think I’ll just hand this over to you,” he said, seeing your hand twitch toward the scarf only for it to be pulled away and slipped back into the dark purple wallet. “I’ll be accompanying you to the mall,” he declared. Epel, wide-eyed, gasped, “What?” and quickly went besides you instead of staying behind.

“I doubt you’d know what fabric our dormitory use,” he remarks before shushing you when you were about to speak, knowing that you were about to say the exact fabric that it uses “And even if you do, you don’t have any expenses to create one”

“But-“ he glares at you, effectively shutting you up, he knows you were planning to appeal to him that you can buy the fabric on your own, and while that was what you were planning to do, it wasn’t to max out the credit card, but it’s to avoid burdening Vil.

“I will come with you, no questions asked,” he finishes, turning away, “Also please find an appropriate attire for that, we’ll leave in Friday “As he leaves you stood there dumbfounded, you turned your head to Epel, who looked as shock as you.

“…. I don’t have an appropriate attire to wear for Friday”

“That’s what you’re worried about!?”

The day you were anticipating with Vil wracked your nerves either way, your wardrobe wasn’t exactly befitting you, especially with your will to look as impressive as you are currently, which isn’t as impressive as one thinks.

You only had a few shirts, and some pants that Crowley bought you during his time of vacation the blinding color of bright orange and light blue made your eyes sore, and that design…

You gulp, grabbing it, your uniform’s pants were already dirty, and you would either suck it up and go like this or smell bad, a “pick your poison” type of choice.

“What in the world are you wearing.” Is what Vil said the moment he knocked on your door, expecting a decent outfit instead of whatever monstrosity you decided to assault his eyes with.

“It’s not that bad” you jab, not wanting to look down at all as you tried your best to at least make the colors work but it became a rainbow of disaster instead.

“You’re not going to go out with me in that outfit” he pushes you back in,  as a flurry of protest came out, Grim was currently out with Ace and Deuce, talking about going on a hangout without you as revenge for going to the mall with Vil only. The moment Vil reached your bedroom, you sat down on your bed with a huff, “Surely you’re just creating a mockery of me with how horrendous that outfit is” he said, glaring at the wardrobe as he opened it, only to reveal… nothing. His eyes widen at the sad aura the inside was letting out, it almost looks depressing. “You weren’t just making it up” he droops a bit as you stand up, “my uniform is in the laundry I haven’t cleaned it up” You sigh, feeling embarrassed by the lack of finesse. Vil sighs exasperatedly, offering his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose “I have spare clothing that would look better on you” he extends his hand for you to take easier, which you do, not wanting Vil to come dragging you out.

Strolling back to Pomefiore with his hand on yours, he immediately goes to his bedroom, opening his own wardrobe, which has its own room.

Vil checked on the plastered tags on each outfit, these were what he had worn long ago, surely there was one that would fit your vibe and whole aesthetic, as you watched from behind him, Vil’s attention diverted to a black outfit that would fit your figure, he promptly takes it out, giving it to you. “Here”

Your eyes fixated on the black outfit that Vil pulled out, feeling a magnetic pull on it as you grabbed the outfit, “I’ll try it on” you declared before Vil could even say anything, a faint smile was now plastered on his face as he chuckles “Very well” he liked people who didn’t question his taste, and much more if they understood that what he picked was simple phenomenal, it fits you.  He couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering since this time you didn’t question or debate him with his taste.

Which made him wonder if he wanted your approval?

The moment he walks out of the wardrobe room, you start to dress up, pushing the fabric down, to smoothening the wrinkles off your outfit. To others the outfit might be extreme considering you’re not going to a fancy party, just going to the mall to go on a shopping spree. However, to you and Vil, looking your best no matter what situation it was crucial.

You stared at the huge mirror in front of you, humming while you thought it looked great however something was missing, more specifically… you look around hand touching each fabric as you feel something soft, eyes widening out of mirth as you grab it out of the hanger, your expression beams as you wrap it around yourself.

“A scarf! Perfect!” You squealed out as you looked at yourself, now you look fantastic!

Vil on the other hand was sitting down, fixing his face with light makeup, the fabric had a subtle sheen, catching the light with every movement, and the jacket's sharp lines accentuated his impeccable taste. Complementing the suit was a silk tie in a deeper shade of violet, perfectly knotted and adding a touch of luxury to his ensemble. It fits him, hopefully your unique taste made your body and face stand out as well as his does.

Although, in his mind, when it comes to elegance, both the body, face, and the attire they’d be wearing speak volumes of what kind of person one truly is.

“I’m done” his thoughts were cut briefly as his eyes darted to where you were, he blinked in surprise at how you looked. The outfit you were wearing was perfect, it made you look elegant, as well as the fur scarf that was draped on your shoulders, he didn’t even think that he had one hiding in his wardrobe, and is that…

“Are those some of my jewels?” he chuckles, standing up and walking over to you. As he pushes your hair back, admiring the intricate design of the earrings you picked out. You’ve outdone even his expectations.

You earned his respect, unaware of his admiration for your taste you sheepishly grin, “You don’t mind right?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers as Vil shook his head. “Nope, I trusted my judgment to let you pick your own clothing after giving you that outfit”

He pats your head before stopping himself, not wanting to ruin the hairstyle you picked out for yourself, “I didn’t expect us to both be wearing something extravagant just to go on a shopping spree” You laughed, nudging his arm “Please, the employees might think we’re millionaires” you joked, making Vil laugh with you. “I am a worldwide known model, they’ll know that, for you though,” he hums, thinking about the possible scandal, which he prepared thoroughly for, as he walks over to his phone, grabbing it. “I decided to go to the mall my father frequents,” he adds, tapping his phone as he texts his driver. “My reputation won’t be scandalized with that mall, since it is often frequented by businessmen and ambassadors”

You nod in acknowledgment, excited to go to a mall with such high profiled people around. “Alright, I’m fine with that” You tap the heels of your feet, trying to fit the shoes that you picked out better, you’re pleasantly surprised that Vil almost had all the sizes, man or woman, which is great.

The moment you went out of Night Raven, Epel went to meet up to you, he looked a bit flustered seeing you in such an outfit that it looked almost natural. He was going to check If Vil was going to drag you but didn’t realize that you wanted to do this in the first place, the bracelet you were wearing, the lipstick and light make up you placed on your face fluctuated your prettiness, making Epel look pale in comparison to you. Rook on the other hand, spouted compliment after compliment to you and Vil, how you two looked like partners in crime, Vil’s nose crinkled as he sighs.

“Enough with the pointless compliments Rook, I appreciate it” he stops Rook, who obediently went silent, a small smile on his lips plastered on his face.  “We’re running late, take care of the dormitory in the meantime”

“Oh, Roi du Poison, I apologize for keeping you,” he says as he walks closer, touching Vil’s hand and placing a kiss on it. “Have fun on your trip, I’ll make sure to keep Pomefiore in flawless shape once you’re back”

Vil nods as he opens the door to the back seat, letting you go in first before he does. The driver greets both of you with a good morning before Vil instructs him to drive.

You had a mirror with you as you reapplied a bit of your chipped makeup because Epel hugged you tightly to the point some of your makeup stained his uniform, hopefully, the foundation you used was easy to take off, worried for your friend’s outfit.

During the whole ride to the mall, you and Vil were silent, both busy with your own thing, the driver who thought you might be Vil’s lover started to feel uneasy that he might have gotten it wrong, happy that he didn’t decide to pry into Vil’s life.

After the ride, you and Vil managed to arrive at the mall safely, your eyes once again sparkling as your heels tap on the pristine floor, the whole vibe of the mall screams luxury, with well-known brands from all over the world spreading out. Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Prada are on the first floor already. “Wow” you gasp out while Vil smiles, no matter how many times he has gone here already, the architectural designs of the building never fail to impress him either way, the mix of nature and intricate designs, it made him feel at home sometimes.

Too bad you’re only around here to buy fabrics for the creation of the uniform you desire. “Where should we go from here?” you asked, eyes tearing away from admiring and back to Vil’s face.

Vil hums as he walks forward, not looking behind since he knows you’ll follow, like a chick to a mother hen. “Since we’re already here” he trails, “might as well buy something for you”

“What?” your eyes widen, buying, here? Sure, you could do that in your world before, but currently, you don’t have a cent to your name as Vil only gave you a dismissive wave. “Think of it as repayment for helping me snap out of my Overblot” he says, hoping that this adventure of yours wouldn’t look like he’s always going to give out charity.

“Also” he adds, staring down at you realizing the stark contrast of your horrendous outfit to the one he recommended you in, “I rather see you in decent outfits than that monstrous combination you had due to your limited wardrobe” “Fair” you said, nodding at that outfit you had to force yourself to wear.

Half of the day was spent with you and Vil idly picking dresses, outfits that would fit you, ranging from what you can wear for outside, inside, formal and others. Vil seemed to have said less about your unique taste, realizing how much you love synthetic fur, similar to Crewel.

“Are you related to Crewel?” he asked since you two recently just finished a shopping spree, with him carrying your bags since he could never let you carry Them, you carried a few bags, but most of it was carried by him, you, who was munching on the parfait you ordered. “No” you flat out said, if you were related to him, he would have given you plenty of outfits instead of leaving you with one uniform and a few other uniforms such as PE pants and shirt.

“Your taste in outfit reminded me of his” Vil hums out, taking a bite of the banana cue desert. “Oh please, if he was truly related to me,” you add, pointing the spoon at Vil, “You think I would have to wear that blinding orange, blue pants with matching maroon colored shirt?”

Vil laughed pushing the spoon down with his spoon “Seriously” he chuckled, hiding his lap using his hand. “You’re hopeless with that outfit, I’m glad I dragged you here”

You smile softly, liking the way that he relaxed around you. You and Vil were like two peas in a pod. After taking a quick break, you grabbed the sketchbook you had out, looking at the fabric you needed and how much you needed. Vil stared at the sketchbook before guiding you up to the last floor, where they sell fabric. “Is this where the fabric for Pomefiore was bought?” you asked, curious if that’s how expensive it would be if that was true, imagining the expenses already made you dizzy.

“Of course, not” he flat out said, making you droop “Then what’s our trip for here?” you complained, unsure if you want to use any other type of fabric if you’re truly set out in changing the form of their attires.

“Fret not” he says rather confidently, “The fabric here is more top-notch than ours,” he says “If you manage to create a fascinating example of your sketch, then I’ll try contributing extra money to have the headmaster let us handle the major changes,” he says, causing you to think about it more deeply. If you could do a good job in this, then your desired outfit will come true!

Nodding to Vil, you went ahead and went inside the store to get the necessary things you need. It only took you about an hour to pick as the employee is ecstatic to see the Vil Schoenheit buy from them. After finishing, Vil was already having trouble carrying the plethora of bags, so you two decided to sit down for a second, as he calls for the driver.

The driver immediately went to aid both of you, sweat dropping when he saw how many bags you and Vil had, is that even going to fit the trunk?

Miraculously the driver managed to get it all in, with minimal struggling, he should get a raise for his hard work as he smiles proudly at Vil, who gives him a tip for his work. “Good job, my father compensates you fairly, yes?” he asked as he went in, the driver pocketing the money as he nodded. “Yes sir, thank you for trusting me in your endeavor,” he said, as he started the car, quite happy that Vil was like his father, nice and sweet.

The moment they reached the Night Raven College’s parking lot, Vil already had a few students called out, specifically Rook and Epel, who was surprised by the number of bags. “Some of them shall be distributed to the Pomefiore students” he states, Epel is surprised remaining as he received an article of clothing, this is… a clothing from Prada?!

You who went out looking pretty as ever went to hug Epel who hugged back, but he just showed you the contents of the bag. “What is this?!” he asked, hoping that it wasn’t your money or you who coerced Vil to buy such expensive clothing.

“I didn’t! that’s all your housewarden’s doing” you teased, ruffling Epel’s hair. While Vil went to speak with the other students, handing them distinctive clothing that he put a lot of thought into buying, the driver went to give you the fabric and designs you had bought.  Carrying it, you walk to Vil. “Vil” you called out, catching Vil’s attention almost immediately, you seemed to struggle carrying the heavy bag so he advised Rook to carry it, which he did without complaining. “Thank you” You were starting to take off the gold jewelry you were wearing since you are planning to go back to your Ramshackle, thinking about how you left it locked all day, plus you wanted to start working on designing.

Vil stops you as he sighs “Just keep it, wear it whenever we go out” he adds before touching your cheek and giving it a pinch “It suits you, get some rest, I’ll be taking my rest as well” he advises, making you smile. “Sure, Good night Vil,” you said as you took off your heels, feeling the sole of your feet throb from all that walking. “Rook, you don’t mind escorting them back right?” Vil said, as Rook nodded, “Of course Roi du Poison” he looked down at you “You don’t mind me right Trickster?” he said softly, you laughed slightly“Of course not,” you said, as you were going to rest for awhile at first, but Epel seemed to have noticed that your legs were starting to hurt, he goes to take his shoes off, giving it to you. “Here, your feet looked bad” he mutters, as you watch him kneel down, grabbing your leg. “Oh!” you jolt at the sudden gentlemanly behavior of your friend, who seemed flustered having to do this. “Thank you, Epel,” you said, after he finished you ruffled his hair making him whine “Hey!” As you bid farewell to the Pomefiore students and the housewarden, Rook was silent throughout the way back to Ramshackle, he stood there, as you checked to see if the door was still unlocked, and to your surprise, It was unlocked, upon opening it you see Grim who was playing cards with Ace and Deuce. “Took you long enough!” Ace glared at you, clearly disdained at the idea that you had to be gone the whole day. “Grim was crying the whole time you were gone” Deuce teased as he placed the +4 uno card down, making both your friends whine and throw the Uno cards down. “I quit!” Ace huffs, clearly annoyed that Deuce was kind of good with this. You chuckle as Rook goes inside, “Bonjour” he greets them once again with a smile, seeing the heavy bag, the trio went to clean the table in order to make way for the bag.

“Merci” Rook says softly, as he lets the bag go. Grim already went to look inside, expecting tuna but all he saw was fabric. “What is this?” he whined as you sigh, sitting down on the couch, and planting your head on the soft pillow. “You were there when I asked Vil to let me design the robes right?” “Yeah” Ace nods, scratching the back of his neck, “I thought you were joking?” he admitted, making you laugh. “That’s ridiculous,” you said, as Rook smiled. “I admire your resilience Trickster” he turns around “I hope to see the fruits of your labor soon” he adds as he waves goodbye, to you and your friends, not wanting to intrude further. You sigh, realizing that you showed your project to Vil way too early, not thinking about the amount of hard labor you’ll have to do, while you’re happy with the outfits he bought you aren’t exactly sure if the payment matches the labor you’ll be doing.

Realizing your little problem as if he’s a mind reader, Ace sighs “We can help you if you want” he offers, making you glance at him, Deuce didn’t seem to be bothered by the idea. “I agree,” he adds “It’ll be payment for helping us on the overblot last time”

Grim who huffed, crossing his arms while he flops his ears “I guess it’s fine by me too”

“You guys…” you smile, jumping on them as you hug them tightly, “Thank you so much” you said, happy that they were friends you could rely on.

So, in a few weeks, you had help, making the workload much easier, the design had to be tweaked and you went to Pomefiore just to measure Vil’s width, height, and length, taking an extra robe for reference too.

You truly made your friends go ragged, Ace looked like he’s on death’s door with how he’s been cutting fabric, and measuring it, while Deuce helped you with knitting, and Grim, whose tiny paws were starting to get tired of holding your sketchbook.

After a whole month of nonstop grinding, you were happy that schoolwork was lenient as well, with the professors busy preparing for other events, and guiding each individual club.

The moment your past sleepless nights finally paid off as the design you created came to life, your eyes sparkled, falling down on the floor, making Ace catch you. “Hey! Careful!” he scolds you, but you just laugh. ‘It’s done” you said, feeling exhaustion creeping into your system, “Hey… Call Vil I’m going to…” before you can even finish the sentence, your vision goes black.

The only things you felt were being carried, placed on something soft, as you drift into sleep.

After a few hours, you heard talking, making you stir up from your sleep. “… the fabric is nice..” you heard as you regained your senses, with Vil already tracing his fingers on your finest creation. You jolt awake, and the sudden sit up made your head ache. “Don’t move” Vil said, noticing you’re finally awake as he walks towards you, giving you water. “You…” he glares at you, eyebrows knitting in frustration. “I never set a deadline” he said apprehensively, “So why in the sevens did you have to push yourself that hard?”

You scratch your cheek sheepishly “Sorry, I thought that if I don’t finish it within a month you would forget” you admit, knowing that Vil’s expectations were high you truly didn’t want to disappoint him.

Vil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose once again when he felt a migraine coming. “You did a great job,” he says, making you jolt cause that compliment was out of nowhere “But if you created the outfit with moderation” he adds, standing up from kneeling to go to your eye level, “I wouldn’t feel guilty for having high expectations for you.

“Wait, do you mean?” you frown, your hard work would go to waste if he disregarded it. “The outfit is fascinating, however, I cannot just implement such a complicated design”

You were close to crying, all that work just for nothing. “However” Vil added with haste “I could wear this in occasion” he said, “Like foundation day, I’ll keep this” It was rare for Vil to stumble over his words, placing a hand on your head, “So, don’t cry, you did great, splendid even” Feeling relief wash over you, you lean to the pat, “Thank you”

[tswaney17]

A Hundred Lifetimes, A Hundred Worlds, I'd Choose You - Part 1

Don't even ask me what's going on. I'm still figuring this mess out. I wrote a handful of fics that somehow can go together. So, here we are. The first fic of @elainarcheronweek. 💕 Huge thanks to @duskwhisperer for sending me the prompt idea. 🫶

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Credit to @nikethestatue for Elain's nickname, Petal. 😘

Trigger warnings: None (I think)

Word Count: 2,599

Read on AO3. Snippet Below

Elain was sitting at the rod-iron table in the Townhouse garden, enjoying her morning cup of tea while basking in the golden rays of the beautiful sunrise. She brought the steaming mug to her lips, sipping the liquid and savoring how it warmed her from the inside out.

A shawl was draped over her shoulders, lips pressing to her cheek, flushed pink from the cool air. “Good morning, my love.” His voice was always huskier in the earlier hours of the day. Scarred fingers gripped her, massaging the tender spots on her back. “It’s chilly this morning.” He always did this, always took care of her, bringing out something warm to wrap around her because he knew she got cold easily but enjoyed the fresh air too much to not sit outside.

She tipped her head back, inviting him to kiss her properly. “Good morning,” she breathed against his mouth. “How’d you sleep?”

“Always better when you’re next to me,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss her again.

Azriel had been gone on a week-long mission, only having returned late the previous evening. They had spent the night making up for lost time, finally falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning before dawn. Elain knew he didn’t sleep much while out on his missions and didn’t wake him when she rose to begin her first batch of pastries for the day.

He settled in the chair next to hers, clasping her hand in his large, warm one. Azriel always joined her in the mornings for tea. Sometimes they shared breakfast together if they were hungry. He often brought food out for her if she was enjoying the fresh air. It was just a simple, domestic moment together, where they enjoyed each other’s company and discussed what the day entailed for them. Elain truly loved sharing them with him.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved these fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[sweaterrat]

Hey hey everyone. I wanted to address a situation that was entirely my fault and firstly I wanted to apologize. I was informed that I have been forgetting to properly credit the wonderful beta readers who helped work on portals. All credits on tumblr have been added and I sincerely apologize that it wasn’t done before.

@yourlocalartsonist , my first beta reader. Thank you so so much for the help with portals and I’m sorry you didn’t get the credit you so deserved. Thank you for helping portals become what it is today.

@yosajaeofficial thank you for all the support you’ve given me while writing portals, from promoting it to helping me with art. You’re a wonderfully talented soul and I apologize for not giving you the proper credit earlier.

@oleander-nin last but not least, Ollie thank you so much for keeping me motivated and sharing ideas with me. I apologize that I lacked to give you credit where it was due.

Thank you all for the support you’ve given me! Without you guys, portals would most likely cease to exist. Thank you so so so so much!!! I hope you could forgive my mistake. All credits have been added to Portals’s prologue and chapters 1 and 2 as well as Promise. I apologize again for everything and thank you from the bottom of my heart.

And to you fellow readers! Please make sure to check out @yourlocalartsonist’s wonderful rottmnt story “Moths fly in Packs”!! It’s so amazing and so well thought out and I know it’s something y’all will enjoy! Please give it a look!

Annnd please consider checking out @yosajaeofficial’s “Jayce Myles Comics” another rottmnt series! The art and story is so incredible and deserves to be on bookshelves someday!

Thank you all once again and I hope you have a wonderful day <333

[missjanjie]

High Stakes | Crystal x Denali

Title: High Stakes Summary: Denali is caught up in her pre-competition training, where the stakes are as high as ever. Crystal works at the skating rink and is fairly certain Denali is the one that needs to be as high as ever. (this is a commission for @thecollectionsof ) Word Count: 1103 Relationship(s): Crystal Methyd/Denali Foxx Rating: T

-

Denali caught her breath as she came to a halt. “Fuck, that’s not a first place landing, that’s third at best,” she muttered, then looked around and saw everyone start to file off the ice and realized the zamboni was about to do its round, so she promptly made her way out as well. She sat down on the bench and decided she had earned a break and took her skates off, sighing in relief at the release of pressure. “Fuck…” she exhaled, then, upon getting a look of disapproval from a nearby mother with two small children, offered a quiet ‘sorry’ before getting up and moving to the concession stand.

“You know, I think you were here before I was even awake,” Crystal remarked as she rang up Denali’s order. “You renting space in the back office or something?”

“Honestly, it’d be a pretty convenient living arrangement, at least for the time being,” she mused as she paid for her meal. “I have a qualifying competition for the national figure skating championship in two days. Gotta milk out every bit of practice while I still can.”

Crystal looked at her skeptically. “Well, good luck, but I don’t think over-exerting yourself is gonna get you the results you’re hoping for,” she told her, adding, “but I barely passed gym in high school, so, what do I know, right?”

“Right,” she laughed softly and shook her head as she took her tray and found a spot to sit and eat. Sure, she knew deep down that she was being too hard on herself – even her coach said she should spend the last couple of days resting up before the competition. But she couldn’t help herself, it wasn’t her. She needed to know she was doing everything in her physical capacity to ensure her placement in nationals.

In less than an hour, Denali was back on the ice, where she remained until the zamboni came through again, then got in a bit more practice before the rink was set to close for the night. She showered off in the locker room and left the rink in a clean set of clothes.

“Were you seriously in there for all ten hours?” Crystal asked from her spot, leaning against the side of the building. “I’m starting to think you’re part robot. Or, like, a vampire or something.”

“I don’t think I would need to practice so much if I was,” she retorted, then looked the other girl over. She appeared to be close to her age, maybe a couple years younger, so she asked, “you go to college around here?”

“Art school,” she nodded. “You know, racking up debts I’ll never pay off because I’ll probably be doing this for another ten years before they promote me to manager out of pity. Typical, right?”

Denali leaned against the wall with her, setting her bag at her feet. “With that attitude, maybe,” she teased, then noticed an unlit joint in Crystal’s hand. “You lighting that up now? I could really go for a hit.”

Crystal laughed. “Right outside of my job? C’mon, give me some credit. This is just where I buy my weed. Too bad you didn’t finish your impromptu bootcamp training ten minutes earlier, she could’ve hooked you up. But you look like you really need it, so, if you give me a ride, I’ll share with you,” she offered.

She perked up and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh my god, yeah, totally,” she took her by the wrist and weaved her through the parking lot until she stopped at a light blue Mini Cooper littered with various stickers – mostly ice skating and pride ones, Crystal noticed. “Lemme just toss this shit in the back,” she said and put her duffel bag in the backseat and got into the front, driving the two of them to Crystal’s apartment.

“My roommate and her band have a gig tonight, so I don’t have to share with her,” Crystal remarked as they got up to her bedroom. She cracked a window and picked a tye-dye patterned lighter up, taking a drag with a content sigh before passing it to Denali.

During her off season, Denali would definitely admit to being a stoner. But during competition season, she would try to cut back as much as possible, even though it was when her stress and anxiety were at their highest. “God, my coach would be making so much fun of me if she knew I was getting high after practice.”

“She wouldn’t be mad?”

“Nah,” she shook her head, taking another hit before passing it back to Crystal. “She says I’m the most dedicated skater she’s ever had but, like, to a fault and that I’m ‘chasing unattainable perfection’ and shit.”

Crystal nodded as she listened and smoked. “Okay, let me guess – your parents hate that you’re gay, so you overcompensate by being this superstar athlete so they’ll overlook the fact that your existence doesn’t live up to their ideal.”

Denali blinked in surprise. “What gave it away?”

“Takes one to know one,” Crystal shrugged, “except instead of sports, I tried to show them that I could make a career with art. Y’know, winning competitions, getting scholarships. But you never stop being the weird, gay, stoner artist. That’s why you gotta start living for yourself. Do you even like skating?”

“What? Yeah, I’ve loved it since I was four. But… I guess you have a point, making myself crazy has made everything a lot less fun. Sometimes I forget there’s more to skating than just collecting medals.”

Crystal beamed proudly. “Oh, I love a good weed-velation,” she hummed, then clarified with, “a revelation you get when you’re high. It’s so much more satisfying. Like sex! High sex is amazing.”

Denali tilted her head. “Are you propositioning me?” She wasn’t going to act like she hadn’t thought about it, but even as bold as she was with girls, she was taken back by the comment.

“No! I mean, unless you’re interested. In which case, please don’t be bothered by the fact that I haven’t changed my sheets in, like, two weeks.”

“First of all, gross,” she crinkled her nose, then shrugged it off. “Not a dealbreaker, though. I’ve had sex in far more questionable locations. Don’t ask.” She took another hit from the joint and motioned Crystal closer, waiting until she was close enough to pull her into a kiss and exhaling the smoke into her mouth.

Crystal felt breathless and pleasantly lightheaded when the kiss ended, a smile spreading ear to ear. “Fuck, I should’ve said something to you a lot sooner.”

[discotreque]

Disco Season 4 wrap-up post

TL;DR: I enjoyed Season 4 a lot. I don’t know if I necessarily have interesting or original things to say about all of it, but it was a hell of a ride and I’m glad I BitTorrented the ticket. (Also, full disclosure, it’s hard to write funny bullet-point blog posts when you’re glued to the screen crying your eyes out.)

Sure, I could nitpick the scripts—I’ve been a professional writer for 20+ years; boy, could I…—but since nobody’s paying me to, I’m more than happy to turn off the red pen in my brain that wants to fill the margins with things like “Show, don’t tell” and “Try something less cliché” and “Didn’t we do this 2 episodes ago?” and “I know David Ajala is really good at reacting to things but pls give Book some goddamn agency already.”

I heard somewhere a long time ago that unhappiness isn’t always a choice, but happiness always is. The conditions for happiness can be all around you, but you have to opt in. And enjoying something like a TV show is a choice, too. I’ve brought my own shitty baggage to perfectly good art in the past, determined not to enjoy it, and by god I succeeded at having the miserable time I set out to have. Yeah, some things are so deeply flawed that those flaws spoil the experience… but give me a break, Disco’s not that bad.

And it’s not like I had to look hard for things about Season 4 to enjoy. Credit where it’s due: despite the ever-shaky execution, and the miriam myriad things that have changed about this show since Season 1, it’s always had a consistent message at the centre of the mess: “You might win in the short term by sacrificing your principles, but your so-called victory will be hollow, and ultimately not worth the cost.”

This season banged that drum as hard as ever, but added some complementary themes to the mix, like: “becoming vulnerable to connect with other people is difficult, but necessary and deeply rewarding,” and “communication is at the heart of all successful conflict resolution”, and “go the fuck to therapy already.”

And by “complementary themes,” I mean “almost literally actual dialogue spoken by the characters,” because this show left subtlety behind in the 23rd century, and as I said earlier in the season, I’m more than okay with that. I don’t think we’re living in an era for subtlety—our enemies and oppressors sure aren’t subtle—and having grown up in the 90’s, I’m still recovering from near-terminal irony poisoning. At this point in my life and also human history, I fucking crave sincerity, and transparency, and whole-hearted connection. I didn’t realize how much I wanted that in Star Trek specifically (and in Disco specifically!) until I got it, and I got metric fucktonnes of it this season, and I am more than satisfied.

More stuff I liked (and a few tiny nitpicks I just couldn’t resist, haha), including spoilers, after the cut:

President Mommy—sorry, Mommy—sorry, Mommy—sorry—Rillak was a pleasant surprise in every appearance. Star Trek doesn’t exactly have a history of thoughtful, flexible politicians with broad minds and good intentions, you know? But at every turn she was more, and more interesting, than a corrupt figurehead or an obstructionist straw-asshole for Captain Burnham to speechify at. Laira ended up feeling like an actual three-dimensional person, like a whole entire woman and not just her job, and while it would be a little contrived for her to be as involved in Season 5 as she was in Season 4, I hope they find a good-enough contrivance to keep her in play.

Obviously I miss Sylvia Tilly every second she’s not on screen, but the biggest of kudos to the writers for realizing she didn’t really have a place in the story anymore, and writing her out in a way that not only made sense for her character, reflecting and respecting her growth, but kept her close for recurring appearances—like being an unspeakably amazing badass in the finale, holy shit???? Tilly toasting to the end of the world with Admiral Cool Dad was a highlight of the whole season for me; and then at last we see her back where she belongs—in Michael’s arms. (You will pry Mylvia from my cold. dead. hands.) If Tilly and her little crew of cadets are the core of the upcoming Starfleet Academy series, I’m on board already.

The queer found-family stuff with Culber and Stamets and Adira was cute and wholesome and heartwarming as shit (I told you not all my opinions were fascinating and unique). I also appreciated that they wrote Gray off once he didn’t have anything to do on the show anymore, but like with Tilly, in a way that means he can still come back from time to time.

Tarka was a terrific antagonist. He did terribly destructive things for completely selfish reasons, and tried to do even worse, but as a rational adult consumer of fiction, the main thing I care about is that his reasons were more complicated and interesting than “I am a moustache-twirling villain and I must twirl my evil moustache.” They made him sympathetic—and that’s putting it mildly—but never presented his very real and valid suffering as an excuse for his inexcusable behaviour. Nor, though, did they let his increasingly terrible choices erase the nuances of his character and motives. And leaving his fate ambiguous in the end was perfect. I don’t actually want to know if he made it to Kayalise… but I hope he did. I want to hope, despite everything, that he did.

SARU AND T’RINA!!!! Speaking of wholesome and heartwarming, omg. I can’t believe they actually did that—and I called it from her first appearance, but I thought I was joking! (From my notes on “Unification III” last season: “Is a Starfleet captain allowed to smooch the president of a whole planet? Asking for a Kelpian friend…”)

Everything about Species 10-C was incredible. Disco didn’t get enough credit for its visual overhaul last season: they had to take an already distant-future aesthetic and imagine the future of that, and the 32nd century ended up with such a cool and distinct look. And for this season, they had to imagine something that made plug-and-play programmable-matter spore drives look like steampunk—and I think they nailed it again! The DMA controller and the more complex and equally inscrutable Mk II design, the hyperfield and the orbs, the solar system with Dyson rings and three identical, presumably also artificial, gas giants… it’s still technology, not magic—and not omnipotent or invulnerable—but also incomprehensibly advanced compared to what we’re used to, and that’s a hard balance to get right.

Killing and then un-killing Book was, objectively, a cheap shot at our feelings, but “cheap” isn’t always “ineffective.” For one thing, I don’t think I’d trade that Sonequa Martin-Green performance for a less manipulative plot. I also think that for Michael’s arc to feel complete, we had to see that she could lose Book and still finish the mission—but if Book hadn’t been able to confront the 10-C over Kweijian himself, his entire arc would have been an unbearably tragic shaggy dog cat story. And imho, the rules about dei ex machina go out the wormhole once you invoke the Kardashev scale, so fuck it: Michael Burnham can have a little resurrected boyfriend, as a treat.

Other things about the season + finale:

I appreciated that Specialist Zora (!) smoothly integrated into the crew without any more repetitive “rogue AI” stories, but I do hope we spend more time on her next season.

Owosekun silently shaking her head in horror when she thinks Detmer is going on a suicide mission absolutely ended me. Oyin and Emily are carrying this entire ship on their backs and we owe them so much.

Hiro Kanagawa as Dr. Hirai was great. He’s often the only one in the room eating, which is a fun touch, and I really liked the way Rillak explained to him—and idk, maybe some of the audience?—that there’s a time and a place for sarcasm, sass, and snark, and it’s not “everywhere, all the time.”

I don’t think I’ve mentioned how much I love Dr. Pollard’s makeup this season—but that lipstick, omg.

Does anyone else want to ruffle Adira’s buzz cut every time they’re on screen? Just me? Okay then.

Finally: I don’t live in the U.S. and I limit my intake of international political news for the sake of my mental health, so while I’ve heard of Stacey Abrams—and literally heard her on the official Star Trek podcast last year—I had no idea what she actually looks like, and I was pretty hilariously confused the first time through that ending, lol.

But Ms. Abrams has serious and legitimate Trekkie cred, so I’m equal parts delighted for her as a fellow fan, and somewhat spitefully enjoying how much it’s enraged the alt-right scumbags who for some reason have a perpetual hate-boner for this show. Star Trek has never been for fascists and it never will be, and I approve of anything that rubs that permanent and incontrovertible fact in their faces. :) :) :)

Onward to Season 5!

[Screenshots from the fabulous cygnus-x1.net]

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 2

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banan @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey​ @deligxt​ 

Masterlist

“God I’m so fucking sick of this semester and it hasn’t even started yet.” You complained, lying on your roommates bed flipping through one of your textbooks for the upcoming semester.

“Relax, at least you have money and you’re smart y/n, you’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re an arts major, not an architecture student.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing! It’s just different!”

“Mhm sure I’d love to see you paint a landscape or sculpt something.”

You gave your best friend a dirty look before focusing your attention back to the textbook.

Mia had been your best friend since 2nd grade and she had lived with you since you were 18. She had always been the more artistic one, doing dance from a young age and taking all sorts of art classes whenever she could. Her overall view on life was quite different from yours. She saw the world through the lens of an artist, and an optimist. 

Her views on relationships were very different from yours as well, with quite the laundry list of exes, each one more thrilling than the last. You honestly loved hearing all her stories and found it impressive how well she seemed to have the dating game figured out. You on the other hand, could count the men you’d slept with on one hand, and aren’t one for parties or anything like that, preferring to stay home and study or watch a drama.

With your dislike for parties and dating apps, you stayed pretty single. Not that you minded, being too swamped with schoolwork to make time for a real boyfriend anyway. Sometimes you thought about going out to parties and trying to find yourself a hookup but you never followed through, not wanting that kind of intimacy with a stranger.

“Did you see Baekhyun again last night?” She asked casually, knowing all about your work. Although for her, asking if he was there really meant ‘are you going to buy me my lunches again this week’.

“Yeah...” You contemplated for a second if you should tell her, but you quickly decided to just say it, not wanting to keep things from your best friend. “I told him my name. Like my real name.”

Her eyes went wide, definitely surprised by your confession. “Wait seriously? Why?”

“He asked and I just couldn’t tell him no.” You replied, much quieter now.

“Well it’s your choice but that really wasn’t a good idea, he’s already way too into you and now he’s just gonna think he actually has a shot with you.”

“Yeah I know I just.. I can’t explain it but it felt different.”

“He’s just another pervy dude who wants tits in his face! There’s a reason he pays you.” 

“He’s not a perv! He’s still a guy of course, but he’s sweet.” You felt a twinge of embarrassment at how quick you were to defend him. 

“All that matters about this guy is that he gives you nearly a thousand dollars every night he sees you, right?” You nodded. “You don’t want him thinking he doesn’t have to pay you anymore do you?”

You stayed quiet, because you knew she was right. This was the nature of your relationship with Baekhyun, and straying from what you had with him now just meant opening yourself up to the possibility of losing a lot of money, money you needed.

You were kind of surprised by how opposite you and Mia seemed to be in this situation. Usually it was you talking to her about boys, telling her not to make reckless decisions.

“Yeah you’re right. I’m gonna go to bed. I have classes starting pretty early tomorrow.” You told her as you left her room for yours.

You needed to sleep, but your conversation with her left you with the same uneasy feeling you’d had after last seeing Baekhyun. The longer you stared at your ceiling, the more you felt like you did the right thing telling him your name. He really liked you and it probably made his day, and you knew he wouldn’t use it against you in any way. He was too nice for that.  What’s the worst that could happen, right?

~

The first few classes of the day had gone okay. Your physics and statics professors didn’t seem like complete assholes, and you only had one class left for the day, philosophy. Part of you was annoyed you even needed to take the class, since you wouldn’t exactly consider yourself a very “deep” person, but you figured it would be easy enough.

Being the good student you are, you decided to get there early to get a seat close to the front to make a good impression on the professor. When you arrived the previous class hadn’t finished yet, so you sat down on a bench nearby and opened a book.

“Hey, are you waiting for philosophy class too?”

You looked up to see a rather cute boy, books in hand, looking down at you with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, do I know you?”

“I’m Lucas.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake, so you do and he sits down next to you. “Are you a philosophy major?”

“No, architecture. And I’m y/n.”

“Damn you must be really smart then! I’m a business major.”

“You also just have to take this for the humanities credit?”

“Yeah, but I’m excited, the professor seems cool I met him earlier today.”

“Really? What’s he like?”

“Super cool and smart, kind of young, but like a genius.”

“Yeah well hopefully he’s nice too. Especially with grading”

Lucas laughed and you noticed the previous class leaving the lecture hall so you got up and made your way in, sitting down in the second row, Lucas sitting down next to you. The professor hadn’t showed up yet so you turned to Lucas again, making small talk to pass the time. As you talked to him you realized he was actually fairly funny, although not the smartest. You had to admit though, he was pretty damn handsome. He had to be an entire foot taller than you, with beautifully tanned skin and a smile that would make any girl weak in the knees. 

“Are you going to any parties this weekend? I’m going to one at my buddies frat Friday night if you wanna be my date.”

You frowned “Sorry, I don’t really do parties.”

You could see the disappointment on his face. “Damn really? Well if ever change your mind you can text me.” He said as he scribbled something down and slid a piece of paper with his number on it across the table to you.

You internally cringed, but took the paper anyway and give him a small thank you. You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t do parties, but you still felt bad shooting him down, especially since he was actually pretty cute. That was the problem with you and dating in college. No matter how cute a guy was, what they wanted and what you wanted rarely added up well.

You’d bought your textbook already so you decide to get back to looking through it before class started. You also just wanted an excuse to stop talking to Lucas. You got lost in the book, finding yourself surprisingly interested in different moral theories and types of ethical arguments.

“Ahem.”

You heard who you assumed to be your professor and looked up, not expecting to see Baekhyun of all people smirking back at you. Fucking smirking.

You almost choked on air when you realized who you were looking at. Not only was it Baekhyun of all people standing in front of you, but he was wearing a fitted white button down and slacks with his hair styled out of his face, and glasses abandoned on his podium. He looked hot. You felt your face getting warmer and warmer.

“Hey you ok?” Lucas asked, having seen your reaction to Professor Byun.

“What? Yeah I’m totally fine why wouldn’t I be?” You responded, too loudly. Loudly enough that Baekhyun noticed. And laughed.

“Do you guys know each other or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You told him while giving Baekhyun your best version of a death stare, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Hello everyone I’m Mr. Byun, I’ll be your philosophies of life professor.” He said, starting the lecture with a fairly neutral look on his face, although you noticed him looking in your direction often, and smiling.

You had to admit, he was smart. Not that you were particularly surprised, he seemed fairly intelligent from the conversations you’d had with him at work, but granted those weren’t always the most intellectual conversations either. The way he explained what you had read in the book was both interesting and informative, but you couldn’t focus on him talk about Socrates when just two days earlier you had been grinding on him, and had even let him touch you. Especially when he looked like that now. Your whole body felt hot and you knew you were probably as red as a tomato. 

You tried your best to focus on what he was saying for the sake of your grade, but he wasn’t making it easier by the way he kept looking in your direction with that smile on his face. Now, often looking you directly in the eyes with the same intensity from the club. Only this time, while sounding incredibly, frustratingly, smart.

As much as you tried, you couldn’t focus. Not when you had to process the fact that Baekhyun was now your college professor, and knew way more about you and your life than you ever wanted him to. You were hit with the realization that he now also knew you’d lied to him about nearly everything.

You became painfully aware of how you looked compared to him. While he looked exquisite in his business-casual attire, you had barely rolled out of bed in time to throw your hair up in a messy top knot and apply some mascara. Your hoodie and leggings combo wasn’t your best either, and you started feeling more and more embarrassed by the second.

Every other time Baekhyun had seen you, you had been dressed in expensive lingerie with your hair and makeup done perfectly. You had always been the one in control of the situation. Now, you only felt small and underdressed.

After what felt like hours he finally ended the lecture. But he wasn’t done yet, not with you at least. And you could tell by the way he was staring at you, smile now gone and replaced with a much more serious  expression. As soon as he dismissed everyone to leave, you frantically started shoving your things in your bag, trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible but your hands were shaking so badly that you ended up fumbling and dropping most of what you’d been holding.

“Shit, shit, shit” you whispered to yourself as you desperately reached for your belongings, feeling Baekhyun’s eyes on you, but it was too late and right after you saw the last student leave the lecture hall, you heard your name.

“Y/n come here.”

Not really having the option to say no, you walked up to him, trying to look as annoyed as possible.

“You look cute like this, without the heels and everything. I like it.” He said, now smiling down at you. Despite the mocking feeling of the statement, his face was soft now, the smug smirk from earlier gone.

Baekhyun was absolutely thrilled. The girl he usually looked forward to seeing all week long was right in front of him now, within reach. And he’d get to you see you much more now as well. He had to keep himself from looking too happy since he knew you weren’t in nearly as good a mood as him.  

You’d never wanted to disappear as badly as you did in that moment. Here, Baekhyun was the one with all the power, and you despised it. He was the one all dressed up and making all the rules. You felt small and embarrassed, having little choice but to listen to whatever it is was he had to say to you. You hated the feeling.

“What do you want?”

“You lied to me.” His face didn’t look angry at all, just blank, void of any emotion.

“Why are you making me do this can I please just leave?” You asked, hoping he’d have some sympathy but you have no such luck.

No answer

“Baekhyun, please. Just let me go home and switch into a different section.” You look at him with pleading eyes, wanting this nightmare to be over.

His face hardened, now slightly annoyed.

“Professor Byun, and I’m afraid you’re stuck with me y/n. I’m the only one teaching this class this semester.”

“Well, fuck” You muttered, looking down at the floor. 

“Is that how you speak to your professors?” 

Your head snapped back up, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You know, y/n, I’m not mad that you lied to me. I should’ve assumed as much. After you told me your name and I saw it on the attendance sheet I had been hoping you’d been lying.” He still looked annoyed, but his face had softened a bit. 

“Oh fuck off Baekhyun”

Immediately his expression went sour again, jaw clenched and brown furrowed.

“Here it’s Mr. Byun. And don’t use that language with me again, I’m serious.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t know you’d be here. It was just yesterday that I even realized your name was on my roll sheet.” 

He had a point. He couldn’t have planned this, you’d signed up for the class months ago and he didn’t even know your name until two nights ago.

“Why aren’t you freaking out then? Shouldn’t you be worried about having me in your class?”

He only let out a chuckle.

“Why would I be worried? As far as I’m concerned this only means I get to see you more often, which I’m fine with. And you need to pass this class to graduate on time, so shouldn’t you be glad you’re already friends with your professor?”

You knew it wasn’t what he intended, but the smile on his face felt like it was mocking you.

“Yeah. Friends.” You scoffed. “Can I go home now?”

“So this is your last class of the day?”

You internally cursed yourself for giving up that bit of information.

“Yeah. Now can I leave?”

“Well you’re not in a hurry are you? Since you don’t have anywhere to be after this.”

“Baekhyuuun” you whined “please, this sucks, just let me go home.”

He smiled, seemingly amused by you begging him.

“Okay. I’m not gonna make you stay any longer since you obviously don’t want to. But let me make it clear, I’m not gonna go easy on you here just because I like you. You still have to try.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You reply, picking your bag up to leave, wondering what exactly he meant by like you. 

“I’m really looking forward to reading your essays by the way.”

He flashed you a smile as you finally turned to leave, and you hated yourself for not doing a better job at looking mad. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a damn beautiful smile.

“See you on Wednesday!” He shouted after you as you left the room. You didn’t respond.

When you arrived back at your apartment your mind started to fill with panicked thoughts. He wouldn’t come to the club anymore now would he? That meant having to try to mingle with strangers again, something you hated about your work. It also meant less money. It’s not often that customers bought hour long dances.

And what if he did show up again? How would you even act around him? Part of you wanted him to for the easy money, but you just couldn’t imagine grinding on your professor. Your face heated up just at the thought, especially since you knew he could look that good now. Would you even be able to give him a lap dance without losing your own mind?

You had trouble processing the fact that this was even able to happen. You’d  never thought to ask Baekhyun for his last name, and since it had been summer break he didn’t mention his job. The whole situation seemed bizarre. 

And what about class? Will he make it more difficult if he doesn’t get what he wants? 

No. Baekhyun isn’t like that, you tell yourself. As much as you disliked having him in a position of power over you, you’d gotten to know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t abuse it.

The more you’d gotten to know him the more you liked spending time with him rather than other customers, regardless of the money. And for good reason. The longer you knew Baekhyun, the more you realized he wasn’t like the other guys who came to the club. You could tell he was good, decent guy.

He was always there to see you, and only you. You had several other regulars, but none of them had any qualms about talking to and getting dances from other girls. Not that you minded, but you’d never seen Baekhyun even speak to another dancer.

He’s also just nice. The kind of nice that you don’t see in people often anymore. He was always incredibly respectful and would never do anything you weren’t comfortable with. Very few of the guys you came in contact with cared at all if they made you uncomfortable. They’d just assume that’s a part of the job for you.

Baekhyun was actually interesting to talk to as well. Since you’d met him at the beginning of summer, he usually told you about adventures he went on with his friends, most of whom you knew from the night they’d dragged him into the club.

They were a genuinely cool group of people. The one he was closest with, Chanyeol, was a music producer, another named Kyungsoo was an up and coming actor, and the one who’d introduced himself as Jongin was a professional dancer. Chanyeol had been the one to come with the idea of taking Baekhyun to the club in the first place. 

Baekhyun would tell you anecdotes from nights out he’d had with them during college, as well as other wild stories and you’d often find yourself laughing and smiling so hard your face hurt. Ever since your first night with him, you noticed how good he was at making the people around him feel at ease. He always knew what to say and when to make people laugh. 

Baekhyun was different from the other men at work because you liked being around him. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him attractive either. If you’d met him anywhere else, and he wasn’t your professor, you’d probably be more than willing to go on a date with him. 

But unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

You tore yourself out of your thoughts and realized how late it had gotten. Although it was only the first day, you already had homework you needed to start on. You spent the rest of the evening trying to be productive, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Baekhyun. How good he had looked, how attractive he sounded giving the lecture, how he wouldn’t stop looking at you. 

He was going to be much more present in your life now, whether you liked it or not.

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wednesday morning Baekhyun felt stupid for how excited he was to see you. He’d decided to get up early to work some exercise into his day, and hopefully clear his mind, but even as he took a shower and started getting ready to leave for work, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He’d decided to wear something a bit more casual and stylish, opting for a new pair of glasses, striped red t shirt, and cream slacks. He tried to make other excuses for why he wanted to look nice but in the back of his mind, he knew he wore it because he wanted to look good in front of you.

During the class before yours he noticed a female student in the first row chewing on the back of her pencil as she very intentionally leaned over her desk to grab a pen, putting her cleavage on display to him.

He only rolled his eyes, but he was pleased to see that his outfit was getting good reactions. He just hoped you’d like it.

When the class before yours left, Baekhyun felt his heart rate go up. What if you’d found a way to get out of his class? Would you even show up? Or if you did, would you just end up sitting as far from him as possible?

Usually he’d leave to go get a coffee during his break between giving lectures, but today he stayed in case you came early again. As the minutes went by students started to fill the lecture hall. Baekhyun couldn’t help but keep his eyes fixed on the door every time he heard it open, but he just kept seeing everyone but you. 

A minute before class started, you walked in and sat down in the second to last row.

Baekhyun felt his face light up as soon as saw you, only to immediately turn into a frown when he saw where you chose to sit down. It was as he’d suspected, you wanted to be as far away from his as possible. But at least you were there.

As Baekhyun started the lecture, he couldn’t help looking in your direction every few seconds. Even though you were in casual clothes without any fancy hairstyle or makeup, this was the version of you Baekhyun loved seeing the most. He was used to the perfected product you presented yourself as at your job, and he knew that wasn’t the real you. This was. You in leggings and a t shirt, your hair messily falling over your shoulders as you scribbled down notes. He could watch you like this all day. He noticed how your brows would furrow in confusion whenever he’d bring up a new concept, and how you chewed on your bottom lip when you were concentrating. Ever since he’d seen you like this on Monday, he couldn’t get enough. It was you, the real you.

He also noticed how you seemed to look everywhere in the room except for at him. You spent as much time as possible with your head down taking notes, even when there wasn’t much to write down. Other times your eyes would stay glued to the power point slides, or wander around the walls and ceilings. He understood why you weren’t exactly comfortable looking at him.

Despite being on the other side of the room, he was still able to pick up on little things. He noticed your leg bouncing, fingers tapping on the desk, and how much you would fidget when you weren’t writing notes.

He knew you were uncomfortable, and he hated it. He hated himself for being the reason. He wished there was something he could do or say that would make you enjoy being in his class more. Anything that would make you feel more at ease with him in this situation. If he wasn’t the only one teaching the class he wouldn’t have minded if you’d switched to a different professor, if it meant you were more comfortable. Of course he would’ve missed seeing you, but he also knew that was a selfish thought. He felt guilty that you had to be there and be uncomfortable because of him.

At the end of the lecture he gave the class their first proper assignment, a short essay analyzing Plato's “The Ring of Gyges”. It was an assignment he always gave at the very beginning of the semester, since it was a quite difficult read and gave him a good idea of how everyone would do in the class.

He was especially excited to see how you would do.

When class ended, you were the first one to leave and this time he didn’t stop you. He knew you wanted to leave and didn’t want to bother you again, still feeling slightly sorry for how late he’d kept you the first day. He’d only done it to try to reassure you about having him as your professor, but he hadn’t been expecting you to be as distressed about it as you were. In hindsight he realized he’d probably only made things more stressful for you.

Once the room was empty aside from him he packed up his things and left as well, hoping that you could become less anxious over time, and eventually, maybe even enjoy being in his class.

For now though, class had not been something for you to look forward to at all. You’d been dreading it ever since Monday afternoon.

That morning as you were getting ready, you tried to make yourself look a bit more presentable than you’d looked Monday, not wanting to live through the embarrassment of seeing Baekhyun look so nice while you were basically wearing pajamas again.

For the first half of your day you threw yourself into your other class work, successfully taking him off your mind for a while, but when your physics class ended and your next class was with him you felt yourself starting to panic.

You thought about skipping class, but you cared too much about your grade. You decided your best choice was to just get there as late as possible and sit as close to the door as you could so he wouldn’t be able to get you to stay after class again.

As you walked across campus you felt yourself get more and more nervous. Despite being there 20 minutes early and the room being open to sit down in, you sat down outside. As the minutes drew closer to class starting you felt your heart start to race and had trouble controlling your breathing. One minute before class was to start you got up, walked over to the door, and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down a bit. You pushed open the door with shaky hands, and the second you could see into the room you notice Baekhyun's eyes on you, and his beautiful smile. You quickly looked down and hurried to the closest available seat in the back of the room, cringing at yourself.

As much as you wished you could, you couldn’t just ignore Baekhyun. He was the professor, you had to listen to him. But you had a hard time doing anything when he looked like he did. His shirt showed off his broad shoulders and he was wearing different glasses now too. He looked even better than he had on Monday. Had it not been for you already knowing him, you probably would’ve found him distracting for different reasons. You did everything you could not to look at him directly, knowing he’d catch you and see you blush. But who wouldn’t blush if he was staring at them while looking like that? You could tell some of the other girls in the class liked his outfit as well by the way they whispered to each other while shooting glances his way.

You wondered if maybe this was something he did often, if he liked starting things with students. If maybe his whole nice guy persona was fake and he really was just another scumbag.

But you soon realized that was just the bitterness speaking. You wouldn’t admit it to yourself but the thought of other girls trying to seduce him was bothering you. Baekhyun wasn’t a scumbag, not when he’d dedicated his life to teaching people about ethical issues and moral arguments.

As the class went on you couldn’t help but fidget and shift around in your seat. Even though you were avoiding looking at him, you knew his eyes were on you for much of the lecture. You’d figured it would be like this.

As it got closer and closer to the end of class you felt yourself get more and more panicked at the thought of him keeping you after again. You didn’t know what he could possibly keep you after for, but you didn’t want to stick around and find out, so as soon as he dismissed the class you nearly ran out without looking back.

“Hey, y/n!”

The sound of your name nearly gave you a heart attack, thinking it was Baekhyun who was going to force you to talk to him like this again but when you saw Lucas waving at you, you let out a relieved sigh.

“Hi Lucas.”

“I thought you’d come sit by me again today what happened?” He asked.

“Sorry about that, I was almost late today so I didn’t want to walk out there in front of the whole class” you said, hoping he wouldn’t see through your lie.

“Well I hope next time you’ll sit with me again.”

You managed to give him a small smile and nod, still a bit too frazzled over everything to want to talk to him.

“I have to get home, but I’ll se you Friday. Bye Lucas.” You waved at him as you went in the opposite direction.

You felt bad for not talking to him any longer, but you just weren’t in the right headspace.

On your walk home you felt weird. Had it really been that bad? Or were you just overreacting? Although he did look at you a lot Baekhyun seemed to teach the class as if everything was normal, more or less unaffected by your presence. He hadn’t seemed to mind your leaving either. Maybe he’d hadn’t planned to make you stay again. Maybe, it seemed, he was going to leave you be.

You knew Lucas would bother you about it if you didn’t sit with him again next time, but would you be okay to sit that close to the front again? Or even worse what if Lucas caught on that there was something going on between you and Baekhyun? He’d already seemed suspicious on the first day.

You decided your best course of action was to just do it and tough it out. All you needed to do was act like you did in all your other classes and everything would be fine right?

First however, you had to go home and face your roommate and tell her about this nightmare, having bottled it up until now. You weren’t exactly sure why you hadn’t told her right away. Maybe you felt strange about it since she had already told you you needed to keep him from getting any closer to you. Obviously that wasn’t going to be easy now.

As soon as you got home and put your things away you knocked on her door.

“YEAH?” You heard her yell through the door.

“Can I come in?”

“One second!”

A little while later the door opened.

“What’s up?”

“Can we have a girls night? I have some shit I need to tell you.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Mia look so excited.

“You?? Have tea for ME??? Fuck yes!”

You thought about it, and this was pretty rare. 90% of the time she was the one unloading her boy problems on you, or any other kind of drama too for that matter. Not that you minded, that was just the dynamic you had gotten used to.

“Wanna order some food and put on a movie?” You asked.

“Sure.”

Your food eventually arrived and you put on a chick flick you’ve both seen a thousand times.

“So?? Are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” She asked turning to you, obviously looking forward to whatever you were about to fill her in on.

You sighed.

“So my philosophy professor this semester...” You swallowed, now having trouble getting yourself to say it.

“I know this sounds fucking insane but, Baekhyun’s my philosophy professor.”

The look on her face told you everything you need to know. The two of you had known each other for so long that words weren’t needed.

“I don’t know how it happened either. I signed up for the class forever ago anyway, before I even met him at the club. Just a bizarre coincidence. And he’s the only one teaching it and I need the credit to graduate so I'm stuck.”

“Shit dude.”

“Yeah I know. He kept me after class Monday and it was a fucking nightmare.”

“What did he say?”

“Basically just that I’m stuck with him. He also called me out for lying about what university I go to at work. And he said he liked me better ‘like this’ whatever the hell that means”

“He’s like obsessed with you isn’t he? He’s probably over the moon that he has a way into your personal life now which really fucking sucks for you.” She had a point. “Do you think he’ll still come see you at work?”

“I honestly really don’t wanna think about that right now.”

“Be careful, y/n. A customer having a crush on you is one thing but having him in charge of your grade is another. What if he starts trying to make moves on you and you shoot him down? He could fuck up your GPA just to get back at you or something.”

“No.” You responded, perhaps a bit too quickly. “No, Baekhyun isn’t like that. He’s not a bad guy, and I don’t think he’ll try anything anyway.”

“Really?”

“I’m not sure of course but he’s also a lot older than us and this is his job, I can’t see him risking his livelihood just for me.”

“He’s a college professor who’s giving you a thousand dollars a week, how does he even have that kind of money anyway? No way he gets paid enough as a professor to be giving you that much. He either has some other source of income or you’re already making him broke.”

You felt stupid for not having considered that yet. How the hell was he giving you so much? She was right, unless he was secretly rich or something there was no way he could afford to give you so much money every week without fucking himself over. Your stomach started to churn with the idea of him possibly even putting himself in debt just for your Saturday nights together. He couldn’t be that stupid right?

She could tell how much the conversation was stressing you out at that point.

“Listen,” she said, grabbing your hand “you just need to get through the semester. You can handle 16 weeks, class with him will get less awkward, and hopefully he’s at least smart enough not to come see you at work anymore now.”

The thought of him not coming anymore wasn’t a good one either though. You made much more money when he was there, and in under 2 hours. Staying at the club until 3am with school going on now, only to take home less money wasn’t really a good option either.

“I don’t wanna see him there but I need his money.”

“You’ll find some other guy who’s rich and in love with you soon enough, don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.” She said, pulling you in for a hug.

“Yeah..”

You knew she was just trying to make you feel better, but realistically you weren’t going to find another guy like Baekhyun at work, Even if someone came along who gave you as much money as he did, they wouldn’t be as fun to talk to, or as respectful as him. Guys like that just don’t come to strip clubs. You still didn’t even fully understand why he did.

“Just think of him as another one of your professors. It might be tough at first, but I think if you can do that you’ll be okay.” 

“You’re right, I just need to get my shit together and not let him distract me.” 

“See? Of course I’m right.” She grinned, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Eventually the movie ended, and by then it was late enough for the two of you to get ready for bed.

Talking to your best friend about it had made you feel slightly better. At least whatever happened, she would be there for you to talk it out with. Baekhyun wasn’t a bad person or anything either, it was just the situation that was stressing you out. As long as you could get ahold of yourself enough to focus on his lectures and do well in the class, you’d be fine. 

You kept reassuring yourself as you closed your eyes, and for the first night that week you didn’t stare at your ceiling for hours worrying, you went right to sleep.

Next Chapter

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers (February 22nd, 2021)

Hello! Here’s another collection of anon ask answers all put together in one big post.

This might be strange considering how upbeat yall are about the fandoms for your games in general, but is there any particular trope or ship you WOULDN'T want us writing/drawing/etc. in relation to your stuff? (IE, any canon you don't want us 'overwriting' or something like that?)

Of course we would want the fan content people make to not be racist, sexist, homophobic, bigoted, harmful, etc. But in terms of generally doing non-canon pairings or adding in headcanons or stuff, we really don’t mind that. People are welcome to have fun and explore their own ideas.

for the 1.2 Android update was it meant to download as a  separate app? I really want to keep my previous save files but they don't show up (also thank u for the updates I'm really excited to get back into the game!!)

We had to change the name of the file and unfortunately for some phones that meant it’s treated as a brand new game. I’m sorry your saves didn’t transfer over to the new version. You can try to look up your specific phone and see if there’s a way to access save files for games on your device and then transfer those saves over to the new build manually. It may or may not be possible.

I'm having some trouble figuring out how to get the update from Itichio without losing my save files? Is it the same game or a folder I can put in the properties? Sorry if this question is not worded well or if this isn't the avenue you'd want to take technical questions on

Are you using Android? If so, the above answer may apply to you. If you’re on PC or Mac, the save files will automatically still be included.

Hey. I really loved playing our life. It was a fun experience and I never thought I would like it this much. I do have a question, I am currently replaying the game and I am choosing choices I never chose at first. In step 2 during the road trip arc, I decided to ask Cove about what he liked to see on people. One of his response was anklets and black eyes. My MC have just happens to have black eyes. Do Cove say black eyes cuz my mc have it or it was just a coincidently programmed into the game?

He uses your eye color intentionally! If you changed your eye color he’d change what he said.

Will step 4 have 10 moments like steps 1-3? 

Step 4 is only an epilogue. It plays like the openings/endings of the earlier Steps where it’s a bunch of scenes all in a row, there aren’t any individual Moments.

hi! who was/were the artist(s) for our life? 

&

who is the artist for Our Life: Beginning and Always?

Main Sprite and CG Artist: Addrossi

Main Background Artist: Vui Huynh

Main Interface Artist: Winter Slice

Other artists who helped out can be seen in the credits of the game.

In the new ol, there are two main love interests... Would it be possible to pair them together or is that weird? 

You can’t stay single and pair them together. If we are going to add all the extra content to have a route where the two LIs get together, it’d be a full poly route where them and the MC were all dating. And that’s not a for sure option yet because it’d add a lot of extra complications. But either way, in OL the relationships all gotta be about the MC, haha.

In OL2, there will be extra LIs in form of DLCs? Like Dexter and Baxter. 

Maybe! We’ll see how it goes.

Since Cove will have 2 diff body types in s4, will the storyline and dialogs reflect this? Or all of it will be the same? Btw love the game and sorry for bad english. Hope this doesn't sound rude 😅 

Some descriptions and pieces of dialog will change, but it won’t impact the story really. And you don’t need to apologize! It’s all good.

Will you ever release the transparent sprites of the Our Life characters? 

Probably not, I’m afraid. They’ve got a lot of pieces and it’d just be kind of hard to deal with, aha.

Something I was curious about, what was your inspiration for making a game with so much customization?

Initially, the idea was just about having a romance where you actually grew up with the LI. But it was pretty stressful to try deciding how fast the relationship would progress with it taking place over such a long period of time and with no real storyline carrying it. People might not wanna play a game where the characters don’t get along as kids, but other people might not bother with a game where kids immediately liked each other. So the obvious answer came, just let the player pick themselves how it goes. From there we simply continued to add more flexibly with the MC due to the same thought process of wanting to make sure people were onboard with how their life was going.

What made you decide to change the artstyle for ol 2 so much? I of course respect all your decisions and will buy the shit out of everything related to ol 2, but i love the original style and i m honestly not a fan of the styles shown on patreon, despite me liking the painterly style in general. (I don t mind the style being changed, just that the examples shown so far all feel like there s something wrong with them.) 

We’ve always used different art styles for each of our projects. They all have distinct looks from each other. It’s just nice to do something new. I’m glad you really like how the first game looks, though. And those samples were only general concepts, rather than the exact options being decided between. We wanted to see reactions to different options. The art style we’re going with won’t be exactly like those, though I personally like all of them. I think players are gonna enjoy the style Our Life: Now & Forever when it’s revealed.

Hey! Is it ok to ask what gender ourlife2 protagonist will be and if we'll be given the same opportunity to customize an MC? Totally understand if you're keeping this under wraps for now if u don't wanna say! 

OL2 will have the same type of MC customization as OL1, but even more refined! So their gender will be up to you.

Hi! I happened upon Our Life on Steam by pure chance. It is such a great game, I am super excited about the DLC, and I just want you all to know that you are awesome! :D I have a question, and I'm sorry if it's been asked before. Do you have plans of making more games similar to Our Life, with customizable player character? The customizable player character was probably the one thing I personally have been desperate for in romance VNs. So glad there finally is one and would love to see more.

Thank you! And yep, we do have plans for more games like Our Life, most notably is another game in the franchise- Our Life: Now & Forever. We’ll also likely have other, non-OL, games with customizable MCs, though we may still have some games with set MCs in the future as well.

On the patreon dlc just curious but is it possible to play it without actually sleeping together/getting the nsfw content? I just want to spend more time with Cove 

Yeah, you can still choose not to go that far. Though the event is shorter if you pass on the 18+ stuff.

At the beginning of Step 2, did Cove end up accidentally falling asleep in your bed? Or did he fall asleep on the floor? 

He fell asleep sitting on the floor with his body/head leaning against the side of the bed.

This may seem like a weird question, but what exactly is the difference between "direct" and "relaxed" on the comfort scale?

Direct is blunter and more teasing, relaxed is lighthearted and goes with the flow.

can the MC have tattoos in step 3? 

Not in Step 3, but you can in Step 4.

how would Cove react if he visited somewhere like North Carolina in winter where it can get in the 20s(F) at night sometimes? 

He would be shocked and unprepared for what serious coldness is really like, haha. The poor beach baby would wanna go home.

Hello! I just joined the PATREON!! It’s amazing! I love your games! I have a question, approximately how much after will the nsfw be out? After or before the dlc 3 and step four? Sorry my English isn’t the best!❤️❤️❤️ 

Thanks so much! The NSFW DLC will be out after the Step 3 DLC but before Step 4. And you don’t need to apologize for that ^^.

This might be obvious but, will step 4 have dlcs? Also, where will the nsfw dlc happen? Won't bother me at all if it s in in our or his house but i do think it d be moderately funny 

Step 4 will have the Cove Wedding DLC and the Derek and Baxter romance DLCs each add a lot of new content to Step 4, though they’re also partially set in Step 2 and Step 3 respectively. The NSFW DLC happens in Cove’s room.

I keep wondering what would've happened if Mr. Holden met Lizzie first instead of the MC. I can't see that turning out well somehow lol. 

It wouldn’t have made a difference. He met the MC’s parents first and they told him about their two kids. He wanted the MC specifically to be Cove’s friend because the two were the same age.

Even though we have a way to go I'm really excited for OL 2! I was curious though, is the next main character going to be adopted again? I thought it was really clever to make the first main character adopted so when players are customizing,  they can make them look how ever they like without worrying about pesky genetics. Just wondering! 

The OL2 MC is not adopted. We wanted to go for a new dynamic. Instead their parents are their biological single mother who is partially customizable and an off-screen sperm donor father. So the mom will look generally like the MC and any other traits not from her can be assumed to come from whoever the father was.

—– —– —–

Thank you so much for all the asks ^^

FAQ   If you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

[awanderingdeal]

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time [Part 2]

Merry Christmas to all those folks who celebrate today! This one is dedicated to those of you of who are perhaps not spending Christmas in the way that you would like this year. I hope this brings you a little bit of Joy. Please note that this fic is filled with happy Christmas people so if that is going to make you feel worse then please avoid. 

Here’s your Coops instalment! Not the best thing I have ever written and it turned out to be a more Sirius and Jules interacting. Never the less, I hope you enjoy. 

Rating: T

CW: Christmas and Food talk. Very minor mention of past bad Christmas’ in the penultimate paragraph.

And again, this universe belongs to @lumosinlove and I feel incredibly privileged to be able to play in it. Thank you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t unusual for Sirius to wake up at stupid hours of the morning and apparently his insomnia made no exception for Christmas day. He rolled over to check his phone, 04:56. He wondered if he should be concerned that the only thought that his brain supplied was; hey, that’s not too bad. Sometimes if he closed his eyes he could pry out another few hours of sleep. He could tell that today was not one of the days. 

Accepting defeat, Sirius carefully teased himself from Remus' arms. He’d mastered the art of doing so without waking his fiancé up. Fiancé. It was a new thing and it still felt unreal. Remus Lupin actually wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. 

Sirius figured that he would make a coffee and find something to watch on the TV until it was a reasonable hour to wake Remus up. His plans were quickly scuppered. As he started to walk down the corridor, a head peaked out from one of the doors.

“Sirius?” Julian whispered, his voice filled with excitement. 

Sirius felt a smile spread across his face, “Awake already, Jules? The sun hasn’t even risen yet. What if Santa hasn’t been?” 

Julian scoffed. “Sirrrrius,” he whined. “I’m nine years old. I do not believe in Santa.”

“I know, I know,” Sirius laughed. “But it’s part of the fun isn’t it? Pretending.”

Julian grumbled, apparently too cool for all that now. “What are you doing?”

“I was going to make coffee and watch a movie. Want to join?” Sirius replied. He loved spending time with Remus’ brother. It felt like practise for when he and Remus had kids. It felt like redemption for all the things he did wrong with Regulus. It was a chance to relive the few things he had done right. And Julian was incredibly easy to bribe for stories of young Remus. 

“Can we make waffles!?” Julian asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Sirius lifted a finger to his lips, “Not so loud, Jules.”

The boy whispered an apology, but he didn’t seem very sorry. 

“It’s okay, it’s Christmas. You're allowed to be excited. We can make waffles but only if you can tell me how. I’m a disaster in the kitchen,” Sirius answered the earlier question. 

Julian nodded his head quickly, “I know how! I can show you.”

Sirius figured reprimanding Julian’s volume again would be futile and opted to usher him down the corridor to the kitchen. He closed the door behind them in the hopes that it would provide a buffer between the excited nine year old and the sleeping adults.

“Aprons first, I think. Hope won’t be impressed if we get batter all over our pyjamas.” Sirius said, grabbing two aprons from the hook on the wall. 

Julian and he wore matching nightwear. In fact, they all did - Sirius, Julian, Remus, Hope and Lyall. It was a Lupin family tradition. Christmas Eve was board games and a brand new set of pyjamas. Sirius had had to excuse himself to the bathroom when Hope had handed him his pair. When he had returned, Lyall had looked at Sirius’ red eyes, taken his hands and said, “When are you going to realise that you are family now?”

When Sirius turned back around, he found Julian had climbed on to the counter. “Jules! What are you doing?” he panicked. This boy was going to be the death of him. 

“I do it all the time,” Julian argued. “The recipe that mama always uses is in here,” he added, his fingers curled around a thick tome. He carefully opened it to the contents page, tracing down the page until he found what he was looking for, “Page 98.” he said, holding the book out for Sirius to grab. 

“Okay, okay, just get down please,” Sirius took the book and turned it to the correct page. Perfect Every Time Homemade Waffles. The page was littered with comments and annotations, mostly in Hope’s messy scrawl. What Sirius liked the most though was that he could see the development of Remus on the page. From his childish chick scratch to the loopy cursive that Sirius was so familiar with. 

The recipe wasn't too difficult and the two of them managed to get the waffles made without too much of a disaster. 

"Jeez," Remus said from the doorway, making Sirius jump as he poured the batter into the waffle maker. 

"Re!" Julian squealed, scrambling down from his seat at the counter. 

Sirius had to give Remus credit for the fact that he didn't even flinch when Julian wrapped his flour covered arms around him. 

"Merry Christmas, Jules," Remus chuckled. "What is going on here then?" 

Sirius leaned against the counter, his smile broad as he watched Remus and Julian interact. They looked exactly the same, standing there in their matching pyjamas. They wore the same expressions of concentration as Julian explained how they were making waffles and listing off the toppings they could have. 

"Hey, Jules. Do you want to be the first to taste?" Sirius asked when the waffle maker sounded. 

"Yes! And Remus has to try too." Julian said eagerly, suddenly by Sirius's side.

Sirius caught Remus' eye and saw the same look of happiness that he knew was in his own. "Of course Remus has to try."

Soon, the waffles had been tasted and approved. They cooked up several more, piling them on to a large plate. Just as they were finishing up, Hope and Lyall appeared.

"Sleeping in until 7am on Christmas Morning. We'll keep you around Sirius." Hope greeted. "I'll even forgive the state of my kitchen."

Sirius wore a guilty expression as he looked around. Somehow, they had used almost every bowl in the kitchen, there was egg residue all over the counter tops and flour handprints on everything. "Sorry," he apologised.

"Merry Christmas, my darlings," Hope kissed Remus, then Julian and finally Sirius on the cheek. She stopped in front of him, "Don't apologise, dear. You are always welcome to make a mess in this kitchen."

“Right! Let’s get this feast onto the table,” Lyall clapped his hands together and started to grab the array of toppings that Sirius and Julian had decided upon. 

Sirius managed to find Remus amongst the chaos. He pressed a gentle kiss against his lips and sighed a happy, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Remus said back. 

Christmas with his parents had been nothing short of a nightmare. Christmas with the Dumais had taught him what it was supposed to be like. Still despite the fact that he loved Dumo, Celeste and all the kids, he’d always felt as if he was invading somehow. 

It was early, but Sirius could already tell that here with Remus and his family - Sirius’ family too now - it was going to be different. He belonged here. He thought of the rings newly settled on his and Remus’ fingers. If Sirius had his way, he’d spend a lifetime's worth of Christmas’ here.

[misskatebishop]

Make my messes matter

Word count: 2090

Pairing: Steve x Tony

Warning: Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: Tony has a bad day at home and Steve comforts him.

Tony rests his head against the cold metal, holding tightly his bag against his chest. He closes his eyes while the music fills his surroundings. It’s almost midnight and he has nowhere to go. Nowhere to sleep. Tony feels the tears prick his eyes, biting his lower lip to not allow a sob to come out. He’ll not cry. Not anymore.

He didn’t do anything wrong, but Howard never believes him. Not surprising, though. Yet, being kicked out of the house wasn’t something he was expecting. Of course, he had plans to move out from his parents long ago, but he’d never put them in order. He hoped that he would have more time. More time to build and secure life for himself. A life where he wouldn’t need Howard’s money to survive. But at 18, life isn’t what anyone expects it to be.

It’s a funny and ironic story that he wanted to grow up when he was a kid, and now he wishes he was a kid again. He wishes he didn’t have to worry so much or feel so overwhelmed at such a young age. But he’s Tony Stark and people expect better of him. They expect too much when all Tony wants is to work on his own projects. He wasn’t ready to assume a high post in his father’s company. Not yet. There was so much he wanted to do.

So many places to go. So many things to see, to listen to, to touch, to know. He didn’t want to spend his life in an office, barking orders around, filing paperwork. He wanted so much more to himself. Of course, Howard couldn’t see it that way. He said he was tired of Tony’s excuses to assume his place in the world, he was tired of having supported him his entire life, just for Tony to refuse when he’s offered the post of director in the R&D department. In fact, he’s tired of Tony. He’s been tired of his son long ago. And Tony was tired of living from crumbs. Crumbs of love. That’s not what life is supposed to be.

After Maria’s death, things just got worse. Howard became a constant burden on his shoulders, always asking and demanding more of him. As if he could never be enough. As if Howard had fed him his entire life just to reap the fruits of his work now. As if Tony owes him an entire life and that he should be paying back now. Tony couldn’t see an exit to himself. He couldn’t see a light out of that. He felt like a bird constantly locked in a cage. Unable to sing his beauty. To become what he was born to: fly freely. Spreading beauty in the world.

But Howard could never understand the meaning of such simple words as no, or I’m not ready or give me more time. He crushed Tony into expectations that he may never be capable of achieving. It hurts. So after being hit, insulted, mocked, he was done, then Howard screamed for him to get the hell out of his house. His house, he emphasized. After all, Tony couldn’t be more than a mere tenant living under his father’s roof while he worked out his life.

Fuck.

He’s so fucked up.

The automatic voice sounds inside the train, letting him know that he will descend in the next station. Tony sighs, looking at the empty wagon. There is some freedom in it, to be able to walk away and don’t look back. To be able to follow his own path. But for an eighteen-year-old, unemployed, and who just had graduated, freedom is always frightening. There isn’t any expectation of life. What could he do? He’d had to work his way out of this. To start job-hunting, and conciliate it with his master’s degree, which he just had been admitted to. Scary. Terrifying. So lost.

No prospect of life. No home. Just a few banknotes and his credit cards in his wallet. A couple of clothes in his bag. Nothing to offer. Why would someone take pity on him? Why would someone take him in?

Tony tucks his headphones inside his bag, holding on a post as the rails brakes, the sound is almost comforting for the fact that tonight he has a destination in mind. Tomorrow, he will think about somewhere else. But for tonight, he prays that he can count on Steve.

For his misfortune, Howard chose to kick him out at the moment that his closest friends were far away. He didn’t know Rhodey’s location since he was on a mission for the Air Force, and Pepper was in Vancouver for the next three months. He had nowhere to go, but Steve’s.

Tony was afraid of how Steve would react when he knocked on his door at… Tony glances down at his phone, 12:41 a.m. He had hung out with Steve before, he could say that they were friends. Steve is a good friend, actually, but Tony feels more for him than he’s able to voice and since he had embarrassed Steve at a party weeks ago, when he vomited on his shoes after drinking too much, then told him he loved him in front of everyone since then Tony hasn’t answered his calls or texts until he finally stopped receiving them.

Fate is a bitch, though, and here he is asking for shelter for the very same man.

Tony strides through the streets of Brooklyn, he doesn’t know the neighborhood very well, but he knows where Steve’s building is. Tony gasps, rubbing his hands together to warm them up a little bit. It’s November, but the weather gets especially cold at night. He can see his breath whenever he exhales. Tony hurries up the stairs, getting breathless easily due to his heart condition. At least, he’d remembered to pack his medication, only enough for the next two months, though.

Because being homeless and unemployed is not enough in his list of failures, he also had to have a chronic illness.

Tony stops before the door with the number 13. He raises a fist, taking a deep breath. Steve must be sleeping, and he hates the fact that he is about to disturb him. Tony looks at the stairs again, thinking that he could wait there until morning, but Steve would be mad if he knew that Tony didn’t call him. Tony knocks hard. Harder than he should. Maybe, he should call Steve’s phone, although, after weeks without any news from him, it would look weird. It was already weird standing here in the middle of the night after confessing. Tony raises a fist again, wondering if Steve would really get up and check the door but before he could knock again, the door opens.

“Tony?” Steve frowns, staring at him. He rubs his beautiful eyes. Tony feels helpless, unable to acknowledge the emotions in his features, he can’t tell what Steve might be thinking just looking at his face.

“Steve, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I-” Tony starts to say.

“You didn’t. I was watching a movie,” Steve says, looking at both sides of the corridor before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Tony does. Steve locks the door behind him, throwing the keys on the kitchen counter. His apartment is small, but it’s cozy and it serves Steve well. It feels warm inside here.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Steve takes Tony's bag from his shoulder, putting it on the couch. Tony sees a movie he doesn’t know playing on the TV and a blanket and cushions on the couch. “Are you hurt?” Steve’s blue eyes scan him from top to bottom.

“No. I-I am fine,” Tony assures him.

“C’mon here. You must be cold,” Steve goes to the kitchen, and Tony follows him timidly. “It’s still hot, I made it minutes ago.” Steve hands him a mug filled with hot chocolate. It smells so good and tastes incredible when Tony takes a sip. “Nothing better than hot chocolate to warm you up,” Steve smiles.

Tony agrees, adding in his mind that there’s nothing better than hot chocolate to push away the distress in his chest. Tony rubs his eyes, feeling them dry for the fact that he had cried earlier, and Steve must’ve noticed how red and swollen they are because he asks again:

“What happened, Tony?”

Tony ponders if he should tell the truth or just invent an excuse. He ends up with the truth because it’s Steve, and he hates lying to Steve.

“My father kicked me out. I have nowhere to go.”

Steve looks… He doesn’t know how Steve looks. Pitiful? Sad? Relieved? It’s hard to know. Steve is only three years older than him; they met in an art exposition months ago in the National Academy School of Fine Arts. Pepper is passionate about Arts, and she dragged Tony along that day. It was his lucky day that Steve was exposing his work there, they ended up talking and exchanging phone numbers. After that, Tony asked him out to a few parties, one of which embarrassed Steve in front of everyone. He couldn't forget about that. But nothing really happened between the two of them, except for some stares and slight brushing of hands.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“I don’t wanna bother you, but--”

“Of course you can stay, Tony,” Steve cuts him off, walking in his direction.

“Oh,” Tony lets out when Steve's big arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. “It feels nice.” Well, Tony didn’t have the intention to say it out loud. He steps back, breaking the hug. “I-I-” what?

“Yes, it felt nice, too,” Steve looks almost fond of him, but… Tony didn’t want to get attached. He couldn’t, what if Steve didn’t love him? Tony feels already loveless. He couldn’t bear the thought of being fed with crumbs again.

“Thanks,” Tony says, he passes through Steve to wash his now empty mug. “I really appreciate it. I didn’t think you would take me in after that party.”

Steve comes to his side, a frown on his face.

“What? Why?”

“I-I embarrassed you in front of everyone. I literally threw up on your shoes, then I--” Tony stutters nervously because he always feels nervous next to Steve. The blond always gives him butterflies in the stomach, he just can’t help it.

“Oh, no. Why,” Steve shakes his head, looking confused. “Why would you think that, Tony? You almost passed out. You leaned on me all the way back. Why would you think I was mad at you?”

“Why would you not?” Tony blurted out. “You took me to my house, and I--” Tony breathes deeply. “I thought I had embarrassed you in front of your friends, I made a scene, and I told you--” he stutters. “I-I didn’t want to make it weird to you. I understand if you--” Tony shakes his head, gulping. He couldn't help but frown when Steve laughed.

“I was more worried about you than embarrassed. Trust me, Tony. You didn’t call me to tell me you were okay the next morning. I was worried. You didn’t answer my calls either. I thought you had changed your mind about what you said,” Steve sounds… sorrowful.

Tony blinks. He really thought Steve was mad at him, he really thought… Did he really misunderstand it all? It wasn’t possible, right? Steve was just being his usual self, kind and nice. He couldn’t really...

“Wait, you…” Tony points to Steve.

“You didn’t embarrass me,” Steve shrugs. “I love you, too. I called to tell you that but you didn’t answer me.”

“I--”

Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, tiptoeing to reach his lips, aware of Steve’s hands sliding to his waist to support him. Tony tastes the hot chocolate in Steve’s mouth, and it somehow suits him because Steve smells like home. Everything about Steve is cozy, lovely, and adorable. Tony feels a warmth flowing through his body, the feeling of safety invades him. He knows he can trust Steve, somehow, he knows, he wants to believe that Steve will not abandon him. Perhaps, that’s a love that he can let himself get attached to.

Steve breaks the kiss, still keeping Tony in his tight embrace.

Tony rests his head against Steve’s chest. “You can stay for as long as you need, Tony,” Steve kisses the top of his head. “It’ll be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

[justcourttee]

And They Were Roommates-Pt 2

Marinette woke to the piercing ring from her alarm clock. With a groan, she blindly hit her nightstand, trying to find the snooze. 

“Marinette! If you snooze, you’ll be late again! Professor Brookes may like you, but she did threaten that one more tardy to the meetings and you’ll be fired!”

Tikki pulled at a strand of Marinette’s hair trying to pull the girl from her bed. 

“Tikki it’s just five more minutes, please!” 

“Dupen-Chang, Tikki wanted to wake you the nice way but if you don’t get your ass out of bed in the next five seconds, I will dump a cup of ice down your shirt.”

Marinette’s eyes flew open as she sat straight up, scowling at the sight of Chloe and Tikki high-fiving. 

“I hate you two.”

“Mhm, now go shower. You look and smell like you just wrestled with pigs.”

Chloe’s nose scrunched up as she threw a towel at the girl. Marinette rolled out of bed with a heavy sigh, trudging to the bathroom. 

“Chloe, will you pick me out an outfit?”

“Already done, now hurry up!”

Turning on the water, Marinette noticed the dark ink covering her skin. A beautiful robin stretched from her wrist to her elbow, every last detail drawn with care. She sucked in a sharp breath as she allowed her fingers to trace over the artwork. As she stepped into the shower, her eyes never left the picture, scared her soulmate would erase it before she had a chance to photograph it for later inspiration. 

Turning off the water, she wrapped her towel around her body tightly before racing back to her room, almost diving for her phone. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth from the pure concentration of capturing the art at the right angle. Once she was sure it was photographed properly, she fumbled for the pen on her nightstand. 

“I love waking up to your artwork, would you mind leaving it for the day?”

She stared intently at her hand, waiting for his response that couldn’t seem to come fast enough. 

“Dupen-Chang! If you want a ride, you better be dressed in the next five minutes!”

Chloe's voice echoed through the apartment, snapping Marinette out of her trance. Within three minutes, she pulled on the dress Chloe had laid out and managed to pull her hair back in a messy bun, sticking a pen through it just in case. She was working on the heels when she finally felt the tingle. 

“Sorry Angel, important interview today. I’ll leave you something tomorrow though. Promise” 

Marinette let out a defeated sigh, but tried to push it out of her mind. After all, she couldn’t be mad, he had a life too, one he didn’t want to publicize and she could respect that. Putting the final touches on her outfit, she grabbed her purse, leaning down beside the dollhouse to allow Tikki to fly in. 

“Dupen-Chang!”

“Coming Chloe!”

Tikki let out a giggle as Marinette rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long day. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

“Ms. Dupen-Chang, can I see you in my office please?”

Marinette internally groaned as she plastered a smile on her face. She picked up her design book, throwing a cover over the mannequin before she turned to walk toward the professor's office. 

“What can I do for you Professor Brookes?” Her smile was sickly sweet as she stared down at the woman. 

“Sit, please.” Brookes didn’t even look up from her paperwork, just made a vague gesture to the seat in front of her desk. After several minutes, she finally looked up, making a show of clicking her pen shut. 

“Do you know why I called you in Marinette?”

“Because you were lonely and wanted someone to talk to?”

She offered the woman a pity smile, but Professor Brookes was not having it.

“You have refused every offer I have arranged for you in the past three months. Marinette, what did I tell you when you accepted this position in my work field for young entrepreneurs?”

Marinette let out a sigh, her eyes falling to the ground. 

“It’s easier to work under a big name and break away than it is to build your own empire. But Professor-”

“Exactly. So tell me, why exactly have you refused not only Giorgio Armani and Karl Lagerfeld, but now I hear that Audrey Bourgeois has been after you for years now and you’ve refused her as well!”

Marinette bit her lip, trying her best to level her breathing before she snapped at the woman. 

“With all due respect Professor Brookes, they don’t want my name on the designs. I can’t make a name for myself if everyone else is taking credit for my work. If there’s any way you can find me an internship under someone who will let me be myself I’d be more than glad to take them on.”

It was Professor Brookes turn to sigh as she slipped off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“You’re a talented girl Marinette, nobody is denying that. But you just don’t understand how the business world works. This work field is for entrepreneurs who will listen to my advice, not do everything in their power to ignore it.”

“I understand if you want me to relinquish my position Professor Brookes. I’m sure you could fill it easily.” 

The professor looked up, her face unreadable as she stared down the designer. Several minutes passed and a sinking feeling began to settle in Marinette’s gut. 

“Ms. Dupen-Chang, what you’re asking me to do is to find you a sponsor. They’ll put their good name on the line for you, allow you to take credit for your work, and in return you’ll give them a portion of your profit. That’s anywhere from 5%-25% depending on how the sponsor operates. If I do this for you, you are going to have to up your production levels from one outfit a week to three, which means you’ll need to be here for three days instead of just one. Is this something you really want?”

Marinette’s heart pounded in her chest as she felt her body flood with relief. 

“It is. I really want a sponsor.”

“Then it’s settled, I’ll need you to complete a portfolio including pictures of models wearing your designs and at least three test designs that I can send to possible contenders. The test designs allow them to view your work up close and personal to look at stitchwork and such. I’m assuming you already have models in mind seeing as you live with two of them?”

Marinette nodded, her heart feeling as if it were about to explode with joy. 

“I won’t let you down Professor Brookes.”

The designer stood hastily, practically running back to her workstation. 

“I’ll need all of that before the first day of spring semester Marinette!”

The professor's voice echoed in her ears but she was too stunned to care. She was getting a real chance and that meant she had to put everything into the next month. Sitting on the spinning chair, Marinette pulled out her phone to view the picture she had taken earlier. Admiring his sketch, an idea began to form in her head as she cleared the workstation, laying out her various pencils. 

After a couple minutes of sketching, her phone began to buzz. At first she ignored it, trying to focus on her design, but after the third time, she finally gave in. 

“Chloe, I’m sorry, I know I said 3 but it’s looking like 5 or 6 instead, I finally got the break I was hoping for.”

“Well that’s great Dupen-Chang, but you see, I have a guy here responding to the ad placed this morning and I just wanted to ask if we could interview him without you.”

Marinette sat down her pencil, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She distinctly remembered emailing Julia for the spot, but she never sent in the ad. So either Julia’s newest boyfriend was applying or someone from the news team was.

“He’s not dating Julia is he?”

“I don’t know, let me ask. Hey! You! You’re not dating Julia, right? No? He said no.”

Marinette shook her head as she looked up at the ceiling, trying her best to send apologies to the boy. 

“So?”

“Go ahead Chloe, that’s assuming you haven’t chased him off already. I’ll be ready to go in an hour.”

“Great, you’re the best. Congrats on your break, I’ll order some food from that italian restaurant near our apartment to celebrate.”

Before Marinette could even respond, the line went dead, leaving her to stare at her sketchbook in slight despair. The poor guy would be scared senseless before she even got a chance to meet him. With a sigh, she returned to her sketch, determined to finish at least one design before she left for the day.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Marinette waved bye to Professor Brookes before she made her way up the stairs to her apartment. She had texted both Chloe and Adrien several times, but neither came to pick her up, something she was going to lay into them for. 

“Hey guys what’s the deal-”

She stopped in her tracks as her eyes couldn’t process the sight in front of her. Adrien was playing Ultimate Mecha Strike V, but that wasn’t the problem. No, the problem lied in the fact that some guy she had never seen before was battling him using her lucky controller. 

“Hey Mari! Meet Damian Al Ghul, our new roommate!”

The guy stood up, offering his hand, but Marinette’s eyes weren’t focused on his. Instead, she watched in horror as he tossed her control backwards onto the couch, the force sending it flying to the floor.

“Damian huh?” She pushed past his outstretched hand to pick up her controller, examining it for any cracks or chips in the paint job.

“Yes?” He moved his hand to awkwardly rub the back of his neck, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

Marinette sent a sour look at Adrien who only shrugged. 

“Damian is a double major as well Mari, history and business, sound familiar?”

“I hear you are quite competent in both subjects.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, setting her controller on the coffee table before standing to face the man.

“I’m more than ‘competent’, I excel in both with a perfect 4.0 GPA.”

Damian scoffed sending a wave of fury through the girl. Just who did this guy think he was? Adrien watched the interaction, amusement clearly written on his face. 

“So Mari, you want to play the winner of this round?”

“No, thanks. I’m going to study. My first final is on Tuesday, just ask Chloe to leave my food in the microwave, I’ll get to it later.”

Without another word, she marched back to her bedroom, shutting the door harder than she meant to. She pulled out her sketchbook, opening it to her unfinished design from earlier. Her pencil hovered over the page as she tried to remember the feeling she had earlier. 

“Tikki, how did I manage to let him get under my skin in less than five minutes?”

She let out a groan as she fell backwards onto her bed as the kwamii let out a giggle. 

“He’s got a unique personality, very straightforward Marinette. He almost reminds me of Chloe when I first met her.”

“That has to be it. PTSD from when I was 13 and Chloe was still a menace. I just don’t think I’m going to be able to get back into this design tonight.”

“That’s okay Marinette, let’s work on the last essay for your Grad school application!”

Marinette sat up to reach for her laptop, pulling up her browser that never closed. The Metropolis University website was still up, her application reading 95% complete. She clicked on the textbox and attempted to zoom in on the final question that had been bugging her for a week now. 

‘How will you use your education to benefit the world?’

“Why does my degree have to benefit the world Tikki? I just want to do something I love, can’t that just be enough?”

“You’ll think of something Marinette, you always do!”

“Yeah,” the girl huffed out a puff of air, leaning forward to reread the question for the hundredth time. “I always do.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Around 10:30, Chloe stumbled into their room, tearing through her closest.

“Marinette, come clubbing with me and Adrikins! He needs a distraction for the night or two if you know what I mean.”

She let out a giggle as she pulled out her favorite dress, not even bothering to shut the bedroom door before throwing off her top. 

“Chloe! We’re living with another guy now!”

“Yeah yeah Mari, you’re the only straight one here so there’s no problem!”

“Just because you’re not straight, doesn’t mean he can’t oogle at you.”

Chloe stood up, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the girl. 

“Oogle? How old are you? 75?”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she stood up to pull her dress over her head. With her help, Chloe finished touching up her makeup. 

“So you gonna come with us?”

Marinette shook her head at her, earning a pout from the blonde. 

“Boo, you and Damian are both lame.”

Picking up her clutch, she opened it long enough for Pollen to fly in before shutting it tight. 

“You losers have fun tonight staying home.”

“I think I’ll just barricade myself in here instead.”

“Whatever.”

Adrien appeared in their doorway, equally tipsy as he offered Chloe his hand. Marinette watched with worry as they made their way to the front door, both stumbling over their feet at every other step. 

“Are you guys taking an Uber at least?”

“Yes mom!” They both looked at each other in shock before dissolving in a fit of laughter. Marinette rolled her eyes, waving goodbye as they slammed the front door shut.

With a sigh, she made her way to the microwave, hitting the reheat button for her pasta inside. 

“Is that an every weekend occurrence?”

Marinette jumped, whipping around to find Damian leaning against the kitchen counter, his face expressionless. 

“How about next time a warning like ‘Hey Marinette’ or ‘Whatcha doing?”

He didn’t reply, just remained stoic as he waited for her answer.

“No, it's not, just an occurrence whenever Adrien gets his heart broken. So try a monthly thing.”

He nodded in response, watching her carefully. Marinette shifted under his gaze, trying to keep her cool and not melt into a puddle. He may be a jerk, but he was still a hot jerk. The ding of the microwave severed the tension between them as she opened the drawer beside her, pulling out a fork. Sliding out her pasta, she didn’t even check to see if it had heated all the way through before she rushed past Damian and back to the safety of her room. 

He didn’t follow, but she heard him let out a thoughtful hum before he made his way back to his room, shutting his door. Letting out a sigh, she stirred through her pasta, reaching for the pen beside her bed. 

“How’d your interview go?”

She was halfway through her pasta when she felt the tingling. 

“Aced it. How was your day Angel? I apologize for not writing sooner.”

She rolled her eyes at his formalness, trying not to let her smile get the best of her. 

“I finally got my break. I’ll be getting a sponsor!”

Finishing the last bite of her pasta, Marinette weighed the risk of running into Damian again if she went to put up her dishes. Deciding it was too great, she set the plate on her nightstand, mentally preparing herself for the backlash she would get from hungover Chloe in the morning.

“That’s fantastic, I hope it works in your favor habibti.”

A shiver ran down her spin as her cheeks flushed red. She had used google translate a few times of the names he gave her and was surprised to find the Arabic traces. When she asked him about it, he just brushed it off to being from his mother’s side, never bringing it up again. Picking up her pen, she etched a small Robin on her arm, leaving a space beside it to write;

“Your pictures always inspire my designs. I can’t wait to see what you leave me tomorrow.”

A minute hadn’t even passed before he responded. 

“If you wash your arm off now, you won’t have to wait.”

Her heart picked up pace as she rushed into the bathroom, scrubbing furiously at her arm. She returned to her bed, toweling off the few wet spots as she watched in awe as pen strokes tickled her skin. 

“He’s so talented Marinette!”

Marinette smiled as she watched his delicate art slowly cover her arm, her mind drifting from the stress of the day. 

“He really is Tikki, he really is.”

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @kris-pines04 @rebecarojas07

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 27

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, mention of weapons 

A/N:  more musical references ... who would’ve thought? but now i’m also adding disney references bc referencing is my passion (unless it’s for essays, then screw referencing). also i’m very sorry for being late with this chapter something happened last night and i couldn’t finish it. i hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

    - Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six ...  - a choir of two voices echoed through the reading room in the Forrest household with one being significantly deeper while the other much higher and almost baby like. However if asked, Y/N would solely deny that being.5 made her a baby and she would constantly put five fingers up in pride of her young age. Accompanying the two voices, there was the soft sound of the very old piano which had been with the Forrest family for more than a century - sept, huit, neuf.

   - Fantastic. Play the last three notes for me by yourself this time. - Daniel smiled at the much younger Y/N dressed in a hand-me down white ruffled dress with her hair pushed out of the way by a velvet white string. Y/N giggled, her babyish laughter echoing through the room before she could concentrate on the keys of the piano, her fingers pressing the same combination as just before. 

   - Sept, huit, neuf ... Sept, huit, neuf. - her fingers played through the keys as her still very badly spoken French came through but that was the life of a lady who was to grow up to stand next to an heiress; educated in the arts and languages, polite and classic, a picture and reflection of true perfection. Fake it until you make it, it’s what her governess told her constantly. - Sept, huit, neuf. 

  - One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. - Daniel joined in with a lower key, quickly playing through the keys and ending at the nine making Y/N smile in relief. Whenever he changed to English it normally meant the lesson was over and while Y/N loved music, she didn’t enjoy it for three hours straight in the early morning. - You know birdie, whenever you don’t wanna be somewhere try to pretend you do.

  - It’s too early. - she whined, head leaned against the keys of the very expensive shiny black instrument. 

  - Alright, birdie, go on a do whatever it is you do in your free time.

Before he could even shut down the piano’s hood, Y/N was already on her feet, the small sounds of new tiny shoes becoming further and further as she exited the reading room and bolted towards the attic. At 5 years old, the young handmaid had mastered a way to get the high door open by using two tennis rackets tied together with one of her hair strings. After doing this, the stairs came collapsing down allowing her to climb them into the attic. 

Looking around like a squirrel afraid of being caught, she returned to the pile of boxes she had found when she was rummaging through whatever had been left there. She wasn’t entirely sure who it belonged to or what it was but she was convinced that it was filled with something that looked pretty enough to belong to a princess. Opening the first box she came face to face with a gold coloured head piece. Curiously, she grabbed it from the box rushing over to a pretty old mirror with already dark spots and a bit of browning. Curiously, she lifted up the headpiece, placing it on her head. Her eyes seemed to wander around her reflection before the headpiece started to slide down, a bit too big of her. Before it could reach the floor, however, Y/N grabbed it, noticing a few letters on the in the piece. 

 - Y/N, the French tutor is here. 

 - I’m going. 

Y/N watched as Sebastian in awe as he cooked her cheese toastie. Sure, a cheese toastie wasn’t a culinary masterpiece and it was the furthest thing from being a hard task, still she was just entranced by the sight imagining what things could be. Dreaming is a dangerous two edged swords allowing you to envision everything your heart desires yet having the power to keep it as further yet close enough to reach but never have. She could almost see it, she could almost see and hear the future that would never be. With eyes wandering to the piano in the living room, she could see and hear being sat at the piano teaching her child how to play while Sebastian made his cheese toasties in the kitchen. Yet again dreams aren’t reality, reality is much more bitter and unforgiven. 

    - Look at that, unburned. - Sebastian slide a perfectly white porcelain plate towards her containing the delicious snack. 

    - I’m rather scared that burning is your only evaluating tool for cooking. - she tried to hold in a little child-like smile but her muscles had more strength. - Thank you.

    - Well, angel, unless you can cook better than me I believe you have no right in criticising. - he took a seat very close to her, choosing to instead stare at her rather than eat along with her. At that comment Y/N scoffed, giving him a look that made him question his statement and wonder if she was some sort of hidden stellar cook. 

   - I would say I can, at least, cook better than you. 

   - What can’t you do? You’re like this untouchable Edwardian woman. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is so effortlessly ready to be in high society.

   - I don’t belong in high society. - she seemed to stare blankly at the wall of the kitchen and how perfectly straight the back splash had been placed. Every single square perfectly placed yet not noticeable by its own, unless bringing perfection to the whole piece itself. - You just have to pretend you do. No one in this business is gonna give their daughter up to be standing next to someone who’s bound to inherit an empire ... you said yourself, if they shoot at an heiress they’ll shoot at you too. It’s more like picking someone off the street and dressing them up just good enough that you believe they’re untouchable. 

   - You don’t give yourself enough credit. 

   - I think you just see me through rose coloured glasses. - she took a bite off the sandwich. - You know what? That’s pretty good. 

   - Thanks, angel. - he kissed the top of her head. - Hey, how about we do something you really like tonight? 

   - No. - she held his hand. - Let’s do something you like to do. We never do something you like to do, why don’t you pick?

   - Angel, I don’t think you’d enjoy it. 

  - It can’t be that bad. - she put what was left from the sandwich in the plate, wiping her hands clean from the grease. -  You do what I want all the time. 

  - I like making you happy, angel. - he leaned towards her, placing a soft and quick kiss on top of her nose. - Besides, you haven’t made me do anything particularly torturous. 

  - No. - she crossed her arms at him, jumping from her high seat. - We are doing something you like doing tonight. 

  - Okay, angel. Let’s go then. 

There was no denying her, or at least he hadn’t built a backbone to deny her yet. Nevertheless, he took her back to the garage yet instead of walking into the unit they had just been in, both of them kept walking and walking passing various units with various numbers, probably belonging to other tenants. He finally stopped in front of an abnormally large unit which had a pin code pad. Quickly and almost mechanically he put the code in which made the door unlock allowing him the open it up. Stepping inside, this unit was way more organised than the last one with what looked like a small version of a shooting range. A mob boss liking to shoot ... original. 

  - Do the neighbours not complain about the noise? - she wondered out loud. 

  - Soundproof walls. - he gave her his regular pearly white smile, taking a pair of noise cancelling headphones and googles from the wall. - Besides, it’s my building. 

  - I’m sure someone probably has complained. - she teased as he put a pair of googles on her face. - Have you ever shot a gun, angel?

  - I did archery in school. - she shrugged. Gwen and Dan usually went for the shooting range back when they were younger but Y/N was always one to take that time to herself and stay home either practicing for her lessons or reading. Besides, she was entirely sure she didn’t even know how a gun worked. - Didn’t have a good aim.

 - Well, this it’s not entirely like archery. - he opened a black panel, grabbing a matte black revolver before handing it to her. Y/N, however, stared at it untrusting of the object. - You’ve grown up with the mob, don’t tell you’ve never touched a gun. 

 - They told me not to and I enjoy following rules. - Y/N crossed her arms, defensive of her statement which made Sebastian smirk. - Besides, what if I touched it and it accidentally shot me? 

 - It’s locked, angel. - he placed the revolver in front of the circle target so he could put the noise cancelled headphones on her, leaving it just spaced enough so he could still talk to her. - Besides, maybe you should know how to defend yourself.

 - Okay. - still a bit guarded, she picked up the weapon, placing herself in line with the target while Sebastian was by her side. 

 - It’s a quick-lock system. - he helped her unlock the gun. - Now, regularly most of the ones in the mob have a quick-lock system so if you’re eve ...

 - I don’t wanna think about it. - the memory of the gunshot from earlier had her not in the mood to think about danger. Maybe there was imminent danger to avoiding the probability of her being hurt but half her mind wanted to believe that people wouldn’t shot at her. Sebastian tightened his lips, changing his narrative. - What if it shoot you by accident?

 - Angel, that is pointing nowhere near me. - he tapped her elbow. - Eyes on the target and pull the trigger. 

Y/N swallowed in dry, looking up from the gun to the bullseye before pulling the trigger. The sound didn’t hit her as hard due to the headphones but she still took a step back out of surprised followed by an upset moan due to the fact the bullet had hit the furthest place from the target. 

  - Right... - Sebastian placed himself behind her, arms coming up to her, almost mirroring her position so he could move her arms and overall aim in the right position. - Take a deep breathe, pick your target, concentrate and shoot. 

  - Okay. - she took a deep breath, feeling his skin too close to her in a way which almost made her too weak on the knees to concentrate on the target. Nevertheless, she focused on the bullseye, pressing the trigger which caused a back/forward motion and the bullet when straight into the target making her eyes and smile widen as her ego swelled up with pride. She turned around, pulling Sebastian into a hug. - I did it!

Sebastian locked the revolver, placing it back on the table before returning to a very enthusiastic Y/N yet not very excited to do it again. Nevertheless, Sebastian was happy she at least knew how to use a weapon, just in case. As he opened his mouth to say something, his phone started to ring. God, just fantastic. Sighing in defeat, he put his phone on to his hear, a fairly familiar yet annoying voice coming through. Y/N watched in confusion, not entirely sure who was at the phone but from what she could manage from his words it seemed like he was getting an invite which he was very against. After what felt like a good 5 or 10 minutes of speaking on the phone, begrudgingly he turned his phone off, looking at Y/N with a look which was very indescribable.  

  - Are you okay? - she took a few steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, one of her hands coming to brush his hair soothingly. - Who was it?

  - Gwen. She’s spending New Years at the Ritz and she wants you to go. 

  - The Ritz? I thought she was going to Monaco. 

 - Seems like she decided to stay in New York and wants you and me there for good measure. 

 - I know for a fact she does not enjoy your company? Why the sudden change of heart?

 - We are getting married in two weeks, angel. I would call it PR but then again, what hasn’t been PR with the two of us?

 - Oh ... right ... the wedding. - sometimes Y/N forgot that she was very much involved with a man stuck in his engagement. It wasn’t like he could break it, that was a death sentence and probably the biggest mistake he could make. However, she still didn’t know how she was gonna handle it. Maybe Mr. Forrest was right, maybe she should go to Paris after all of this was over, maybe she should just start to distance herself but how could she distance herself from someone who is just so magnetic without even trying? How do you ignore a magnetic pull? - Well, I guess we should pack ... again. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​ @nikkipea​ @madisonpillstrom​ @cevans98​ @thelostallycat​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @anxiousdreamersworld​ @captainchrisstan​ @lookiamtrying​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen​ @nsfwsebbie @strangerliaa @emzd34 @everything-is-awesomesauce @dreams-in-blxck 

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (5)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD, background drug use

*****

Riley waited a full week before talking to Nikki again. Probably not her best move, but Nikki didn’t need to be such a baby either. 

Hey we need to book flights, Riley typed. 

The three dots appeared and disappeared several times before Nikki sent back, Come over. Let’s do it together. 

Ok.

An hour later, Riley hesitated before knocking on Nikki’s apartment door. She didn’t know why. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet here she was, standing outside like a timid guest instead of letting herself in like she always did. 

Deep breath. “This is ridiculous,” Riley muttered to herself. Her knuckles collided with the wood in three sharp knocks. 

Muffled footsteps approached the door, and then Riley was met with Nikki’s soft smile. “Hey,” the blonde said. 

“Hey.” Crossing the threshold, Riley didn’t know what to do with her hands. She tried to put them in her front pockets before realizing her jeans didn’t have pockets. Nikki would take crossed arms the wrong way, so Riley clasped her hands in front of her. That felt wrong too. She settled on clasping her hands behind her back, slightly widening her stance like a soldier. 

She’d learned that from an Army guy her mom dated once. 

Nikki grabbed her laptop and set it on the kitchen counter. Looking at the screen, she said, “I started looking at flights before you got here. They’re all pretty expensive because it’s Fashion Week, but I think I’ve found some good options.” 

Riley kept her distance, but she said, “Whatever you think is best.” 

Nikki’s eyes slid to her, disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

Riley tensed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You always have opinions on flights. Always.” That was true. When it came to running a job, Riley never let someone make a decision without her input. 

But her apology had to start somewhere. If Desi, of all people, thought she needed to apologize, then she couldn’t just sweep this under the rug. And giving Nikki back some control after refusing to do so before seemed like a good place to start. 

“You can pick. I trust you.” Riley shoved down the burning need to look over Nikki’s shoulder as her gut churned, unsteady and anxious without having complete control. She quickly wiped the grimace off her face, but it was too late. Nikki saw it. 

“Riles, are you okay? You look like you’re going to puke.” Nikki studied her with a concerned frown. 

Riley squeaked, “Yep. I’m good.” 

Her friend wasn’t convinced. “You hate this, don’t you?” 

“Just book the fucking flights, Nik.” She fought not to squirm the entire time Nikki worked, only relaxing after the deed was done and Nikki closed her laptop with a soft click. 

“Need anything else?” Riley didn’t miss the clear dismissal in Nikki’s tone. 

“Uh, yeah.” Riley awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, just to give her hands something to do. “Jill told me about that jewelry designer who rented out the Louvre,” she said. “That wasn’t just a casual conversation you two had, was it?” 

Nikki glanced down. “No, it wasn’t. But you already knew that.” 

“Why not just tell me yourself?” 

“Because you wouldn’t have listened to me!” Nikki tried and failed to speak calmly, her normally calm exterior crumbling with each word. “When I questioned you in the kitchen, you pulled rank and basically told me to shut up. If I had suggested an alternative target, you would’ve blown up in my face right in front of everyone!” A pause. “You’ve changed. The Riley I know doesn’t do things like that.” 

Her words stung, but Riley kept her expression neutral, the way she’d learned to do in prison. “Desi thinks I still hold a grudge against you.” 

“Do you?” Nikki asked softly. So, so softly, almost like she was afraid of the answer. 

Nikki’s change in tone and the apprehension lining her eyes was enough to make Riley lower her guard. Not all the way, but just enough to say, “I don’t know. Maybe.” Nikki swallowed. “It’s complicated,” Riley backtracked, desperately trying not to make things worse than they already were. 

“So how do we fix this?” Nikki asked. “Fix us.” 

Talk to her, Jill had said. 

“Talk about it, I guess. Not all today,” Riley quickly added, “but over time.” 

“Okay.” Nikki chewed her bottom lip, and Riley waited, knowing her best friend had something more to say. Nikki’s voice was thick when she finally said, “It’s okay that you’ve changed. Of course you have. It’s not fair of me to hold that against you. And I’m sorry that it’s my fault you had to change to survive in there.” 

Neither of them could say the word aloud. Prison. Riley could barely imagine a future where she could easily say it. 

“Do you really blame yourself?” 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“That’s why you visited me so much, isn’t it? Because you felt guilty.” 

Nikki looked down. “It should’ve been me in there, not you.” 

“Bullshit. I made a choice, and I’d do it again if I had to.” Riley wasn’t entirely sure the last part was true, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Clearly it was, because Nikki met her gaze, eyes brimmed with tears and a sad smile just barely curving her lips. 

“Thank you, Riley.” 

The moment hung heavy in the air between them. Riley felt it then, the gravity pulling her toward Nikki—the same force that drew them together outside that art gallery all those years ago, like the universe was telling her they needed each other. Riley spent much of the last two years cursing the universe, but this...this was the one thing the universe did right. 

Riley closed the distance between them in two long steps, flinging her arms around Nikki and holding her best friend tight, letting the hug convey the last thing she needed to say. 

I’m sorry. 

Nikki clutched her just as tightly, like she was afraid Riley would disappear again if she didn’t hold on tight enough. 

Breaking the silence, Riley asked, “Do you want to go shopping with me?” 

“Like Target and the grocery store shopping? Or maxing-out our credit cards on Rodeo Drive shopping?” Riley snorted. This was normal. Like it was before. 

“I, uhh, tried on all my party clothes the other day, and none of them fit anymore.” Riley tucked her face into Nikki’s neck, not wanting to see the pitying look on her friend’s face. She expected another comment, or for Nikki’s hand to feel her ribs, but neither happened. Instead, Nikki simply pressed a kiss to her temple and continued to hold her, with no sign of letting go any time soon. 

Almost as if she were an anchor, refusing to let Riley get swept out to sea. 

*****

Riley studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The metallic red mini dress she’d bought earlier clung to her curves like she’d been wrapped in plastic. She’d expected pity as she pulled it off the rack, but Nikki had been nothing but reassuring. Even after Riley had sent her from the dressing room again and again to grab a smaller size. 

She’d left with a pile of clothes small enough to fit a wraith-like body like Cage’s. 

Now the team was at an exclusive party at a mansion in the Hills—courtesy of Cage’s endless social connections—for a little fun. And by fun that meant stealing stuff from a notoriously overbearing, sexist, and overall obnoxious director. He had it coming, to say the least. 

Desi had to work— “Drunk assholes won’t bounce themselves out of the club,” she’d snarked—but Jill agreed to tag along. That way she could get her feet wet in a real heist and show the rest of the team what she could do. 

The four of them—Riley, Nikki, Cage, and Jill—huddled off to the side of the spacious living room as Cage explained the plan. “Get a load of this,” she said, a feral grin lighting her face. It was one of the things Riley admired most about Cage, her passion for the job. “Six months ago, this guy paid millions at auction for a miniature painting. But because of the crowd that attends his parties, he hides it in his personal safe in his office so nothing happens to it.” 

Considering the utter debauchery all around her, Riley didn’t blame him. Every guest had either a drink or pills in hand, often both, and she vaguely recognized the actor snorting cocaine off the kitchen counter. In the darker, more private nooks of the mansion, people slunk to the shadows to devour each other in semi-private. Riley made a point not to look too long in those directions. 

Jill clearly hadn’t yet learned to do the same. She asked, wide-eyed, “Whose house is this?”

Nikki gripped her chin and turned Jill’s attention back to the group. “It’s better that you don’t know.” 

Frowning, Jill questioned, “Why?” Always so many questions with her. 

“Because you’ll chicken out.” 

“I will not!” she shrieked. Nikki just smirked. “Okay,” Jill amended in a much quieter tone, “maybe a little.” 

“Anyway,” Cage redirected. “I’ll go into the office first and make sure it’s empty.” And remove anyone who is there, she didn’t have to say. “Riley and Nikki will hack the safe—” they both nodded— “and Jill will make sure you two don’t leave any evidence behind.” 

Riley itched to get her hands on that safe. Stealing that random man’s wallet a week ago had only made her more hungry to get back out there, doing what she did best. She eyed her team. “Don’t get caught.” 

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki and Cage parroted, just like old times, and then Cage melted into the crowd, making her way to the office. 

The remaining trio followed at a much slower pace, pretending to admire the eclectic collection of artwork hanging from the walls. Riley’s cursory glance snagged on a cartoonish painting of a pug driving a Porsche on some tropical highway. The director had bizarre taste. Knowing Nikki was doing the same, Riley kept the office door in her peripheral vision, waiting for Cage to reemerge. 

Meanwhile, Riley pulled her phone from her clutch. To any onlookers, she was merely responding to a text message, but in reality she was hacking into the director’s home security system. It was easy enough, since the whole thing was connected to his WIFI, and the director was dumb enough to leave his network accessible without a password. 

Although, it wasn’t like bypassing a WIFI password would’ve slowed Riley Davis down. 

Riley didn’t understand this guy. He hosted drug-fueled ragers in his mansion, yet also cared enough about security to have interior cameras. Why would he want proof of what happens within these walls? 

Unless…

Gagging, Riley refused to finish that thought.

Cage emerged a few minutes later with a wasted middle-aged woman in tow. She met Riley’s gaze just long enough for two slow blinks. Coast is clear. 

Riley looped the office camera feed so it only showed the empty office, giving them plausible deniability of ever going inside. “Let’s go,” Riley murmured. She slipped into the now-empty office, trusting Nikki and Jill to follow. 

The director’s office, like the rest of the mansion, was ultra-modern, all sharp angles and sleek, black and white furniture. A distorted statue of a giraffe was the only exception, standing beside the door like a sentry. It’s glassy black eyes made it seem like it was watching them. Freezing, Riley checked the angle of the camera she’d looped. It matched the giraffe’s eye-level perfectly. 

Sneaky bastard. The camera was in the giraffe’s eye. Clever, but creepy. 

Embedded in the far wall, behind the director’s messy desk, the safe was relatively new and very high-tech. And while the fancier ones were always harder to crack, user-friendliness came at the cost of security. In the case of this particular safe, the battery compartment for the keypad was part of the keypad itself, so the batteries could be changed easily. But that also meant that by taking out the batteries, someone like Riley would then have direct access to the wires inside the keypad, and thus, an easily hackable way in. 

Nikki slid on a pair of cotton gloves before taking out the batteries and wiring the keypad to Riley’s phone. Riley reached back to brush her curls out of her face, but Jill stopped her with a firm hand on her forearm. 

“Don’t touch your hair. You don’t want any loose strands to fall on the floor.” Riley raised her brows but did as she was told. “You should’ve worn your hair up.” Jill gestured to her own meticulously pinned bun. No stray hairs would be escaping that thing. 

“Good to know.” Riley turned her attention back to cracking the safe. 

It took just under a minute. 

“Losing your touch?” Nikki teased. “That took forever.” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Once the safe was open, they didn’t waste time poking around. All they cared about was the painting, no matter what other valuable things the safe contained. The painting was even smaller than Riley had pictured. The canvas itself could’ve fit in the palm of her hand, and the frame made the whole thing about the size of a birthday card. 

Nikki shoved the painting down the back of her dress, the frame’s sharp angles hidden beneath her ridiculous fringed suede jacket. Considering how well it hid the painting, maybe Riley shouldn’t have made fun of it. But only maybe. It was still ugly. 

Riley and Nikki locked the safe, and the trio slipped out of the office undetected. 

In short, the heist was flawless. 

Nikki immediately peeled off, joining Cage in flitting around the room and saying hi to all sorts of people. Nikki seemed to actually know several of the guests, although not nearly as many as Cage did. Cage was acquainted with everyone worth knowing in LA, plus quite a few who weren’t. 

Riley much preferred to be a fly on the wall, watching but not interacting. 

Jill stayed back with her, mouth agape at all the blatant drug use. “I’ve lived in LA for a long time, so I know that happens here,” she said, “but, like, it’s different actually seeing it, you know?” 

A young couple knocked back a handful of pills with shots of something clear, and Riley grimaced. “You can join in if you want, although I don’t recommend it.” 

“Absolutely not!” Jill squeaked. 

“Good choice.” 

Nikki made her way back to them, slinging her arms around Riley and Jill’s shoulders. “Ready to go?” 

Riley had been ready to go the moment they’d locked the safe. If Jill’s overwhelmed expression was any indicator, she was ready too. 

All that was left to do was collect Cage. 

The blonde stood across the room, batting her eyelashes at an attractive, dark-haired man. Her airy giggle floated above the pulsing music at something the man said. Jill coughed. “Umm…”

Riley quickly put her out of her misery. “It’s fine. Cage flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“She’s just like that,” Nikki added. “Stick with us long enough, and she’ll flirt with you too.” 

“Doesn’t that upset Desi?” Riley and Nikki exchanged a knowing look. “Wait, what am I missing?” Jill hissed. 

“So many questions,” Riley teased, linking arms with both blondes. Nikki laughed, and together they dodged wasted partiers on their way to grab Cage and go home.

~ Tag List ~ (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@macrileyedits​ / @hellishrose​ / @incorret-macgyver-quotes​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem​ / @thecarrieonokay​

[sheep-sorbet]

this is the account owner of the aro account you mentioned in a post earlier. i’m so sorry! i found it posted in a different server and they had credited you, so i assumed it was fine to repost, which wasn’t cool. i checked to see if you had an insta i could tag, but couldn’t find one. it’s taken down now (i didn’t see the comments telling me to remove it for a few days, hadn’t been on the account since they had been posted). once again, i’m so sorry for the trouble!

Hi there!

Thank you for taking it down. That will be the end of me pretending to be okay with this.

You're the owner of that account, yeah? That means you are also the owner of the discord server that my art was posted to. Which means one of your friends (or someone else in the server) reposted my art to that server, and you decided from there that it was then OK to repost that to your Instagram account. Without asking permission or even sparing my page a glance.

Your Discord server is set up in such a way that encourages art theft, and indeed, your account thrives off of posting other people's content. My art isn't the only stolen art on there, and I say "stolen" because adding people's names without so much as a proper link back to the artist's page is not proper credit. Your account features reposted memes and educational content galore.

You've stated yourself to only be 18, so I'm going to be graceful and assume you genuinely do not understand why this is an issue. I am going to now explain to you why this is an issue. Take this as a learning experience.

Reposting people's art without their permission or knowledge is an inherently dick move. You seem to know this, but you don't seem to fully grasp why. The Reason it's harmful to artists is not solely because artists deserve credit, but also because it directs traffic away from the artist, who often desperately needs that traffic for themselves.

Let me put this into perspective for you. Your Instagram page, at the time of writing this, has 2,756 followers. My art blog? 216. That's it! 216! That's all I got.

I made that piece of art back in February of this year, for aro week. It did not pick up steam until recently, and has just only broken 1,200 notes. Your repost of my art, however, garnered up to 1,700 notes within the four days it was up.

That's right. Four days on your platform got you more engagement for my art than my platform got me over the course of eleven months.

And beyond just notes, who knows how many people saw your repost and now associate my art with you, instead of me? You credited me by name, but you did not link back to my page. I know from experience that nobody on Instagram is going to leave Instagram to go look up someone on a completely different platform. You put more effort into plugging your partners' Instagrams than you put into properly crediting and directing traffic back to me.

I'm going to be honest here. I would not give a shit at ALL that this happened if it were fanart. People could TRACE my fanart and I would not care at all. But this art that you took from me? It was extremely personal. I made it because I was upset with the widespread mistreatment aromantic people. The person in that image is me, that's my face, albeit a cartoonish version of it. You stole a part of me when you took my art and reposted it without my permission or knowledge, and you got significantly more reward for my work than I did.

It's entirely possible that your repost would have garnered another thousand notes, or more, if it had been left up. And none of it would have benefitted me at all- in fact, it actively detracted from my reach and would have continued to do so if it had stayed up. Because now, if someone went searching for that art? The first result that would come up would be your repost of it, not my original post. Because You have more reach than me.

I'm not trying to be a bitch, ok? But I really want to hammer home the fact that what you did is not okay. It's not okay for any of the other content you repost, either. And the fact that you are doing this on anonymous is frankly a little insulting to me, because I otherwise have no way of contacting you - as stated, I do not have an Instagram. The only reason I know about the discord server and what happened in there is because someone in that server shared that information with me. The only reason I know my art was reposted at all is because a kind stranger on Tumblr alerted my attention to it. You're effectively escaping all consequences by refusing to own up to this as yourself.

I'm not going to name drop your account or link that discord. But I am going to tell you my honest opinion. I think you need to either stop doing this, take down ALL of the reposted content on your account, and find another way to get followers that doesn't rely on stealing the fruits of other people's labor- or delete your Instagram account, because you clearly do not know how to get a following without fucking someone else over. I'm physically and mentally disabled, unemployed, financially unstable, I barely eat most days. Art is my ONLY income. That is the kind of vulnerable person you are screwing over when you do this. Learn from this experience and stop engaging in this behavior. Because next time this happens, you might steal the work of someone that is WAY pettier and WAY more vindictive than me.

I wish you well. I hope you understand better now. Ask again if you have any questions.