#and studying and having casual conversations

[glowettee]

Study Like an It Girl: Paris Geller Energy 📚✨

If there’s one fictional character who embodies the ultimate study grind, it’s Paris Geller from Gilmore Girls. Her level of ambition? Unmatched. Her drive? Relentless. And while her methods might sometimes verge on chaotic (okay, very chaotic), there’s so much we can learn from her approach to academics. I'm gonna break down how you can channel that Paris Geller energy while keeping your sanity intact. 🌸✨ (hopefully...)

1. Set Clear Goals (Be as Extra as Paris)

Paris didn’t just want to do well; she wanted to be the best. While you don’t have to make your life a competition, having clear, specific goals can give you direction. Instead of saying, “I want to study more,” try:

“I want to get an A on my next chemistry test.”

“I’ll complete three hours of focused study for math every weeknight.” Specificity helps you stay on track and keeps your energy focused on the right tasks.

💡 It Girl Tip: Create a vision board for your goals, Paris-style. Include dream colleges, career aspirations, or anything else that fuels your ambition. Keep it somewhere you can see it every day—manifestation meets motivation. (digital or IRL is good, USE PINTEREST!)

2. Romanticize Your Study Environment

Let’s be honest: Paris wouldn’t study in a messy, uninspiring room. Your study space should feel like an aesthetic haven. Think:

A tidy desk with your favorite stationery ✏️

Soft lighting (fairy lights or a warm desk lamp) 🌟

A pastel mug filled with tea or coffee ☕

Background music (try classical, K-Pop or lo-fi playlists for the ultimate vibe) 🎶

You’re the main character of your life!!

3. Be Aggressively Overprepared, But Aesthetically So

Paris Geller never walked into a study session without knowing everything. Her energy was all about overachieving to the point of intimidating her competition. You don’t need the rivalry, but you do need the prep.

It Girl Twist: Gather extra resources and organize them beautifully. Think color-coded binders, pastel-highlighted textbooks, and aesthetic digital flashcards.

Why It Works: When you know more than what’s required, it builds confidence. That’s Paris power.

💡 Mindy Says: “Overprepared = unbothered queen vibes. Let your notes be so cute they could double as Pinterest posts.”

4. Master Controlled Chaos

Paris’s intensity could sometimes spiral into chaos, but she always managed to pull through. Instead of avoiding stress, embrace it as a sign you’re pushing yourself—and learn to channel it constructively.

It Girl Twist: When you’re overwhelmed, do a quick brain dump into a journal or planner. Write down every single task, no matter how small. Then organize it into bite-sized chunks.

Why It Works: Getting everything out of your head and onto paper clears your mind and gives you control.

💡 Mindy Says: “Your chaos is part of the process, babe. Just make it chic— glittery gel pens and mood-boosting playlists.”

5. Develop an Intimidation-Level Vocabulary

Remember when Paris dropped SAT words like confetti? It wasn’t just for show; she knew that language was power. Building your vocabulary can make you feel (and sound) unstoppable.

It Girl Twist: Learn one new “power word” a day and slip it into casual conversations or captions. Bonus points if it’s super niche and makes you feel like a literary goddess.

Why It Works: Knowledge isn’t just for exams—it’s for life. Plus, it’s fun to impress people with words they have to Google.

💡 Mindy Says: “An eloquent queen is a glowing queen. Vocabulary flexing is the new subtle flex.”

6. Treat Every Day Like It’s a Debate Prep Day

Paris’s debate skills were unmatched because she thought critically about everything. Adopting her mindset means questioning the world around you and staying curious.

It Girl Twist: Pick one topic you’re passionate about and research the heck out of it. Pretend you’re preparing to debate Paris herself (but in a cute, less intimidating way).

Why It Works: Critical thinking is a muscle—flex it daily. It’s also a low-key way to keep studying exciting.

💡 Mindy Says: “Be curious. Be informed. Be iconic. Channel your inner Paris and make intellectual sass your superpower.”

5. Take Pride in Your Ambition—Unapologetically

Paris never dimmed her ambition, even when people found it “too much.” Embrace that energy and stop apologizing for wanting more—if it’s higher grades, dream schools, or a future as the CEO of your life embrace it!

It Girl Twist: Write a “brag list” every week. Note down everything you’ve accomplished, big or small, and let yourself feel proud of it.

Why It Works: Celebrating your wins keeps you motivated and reminds you that your hard work is paying off.

💡 Mindy Says: “Being ambitious isn’t extra—it’s iconic. You’re not ‘too much,’ babe. You’re just enough to glow brighter than everyone else.”

✨ Final Thoughts:

I hoped you girlies loved this blog post. I wanted to try a different style. If you all noticed the "Mindy Quotes" they're all words by me! I'm Mindy/Glowettee! I wanted to give you personal words of encouragement! Love you all!

[violenteconomics]

for cater diamond, it starts like this:

cater diamond is made up of lies.

his hair and outfit are designed to give off an air of carefreeness, even when his heart is tearing his chest into ribbons, perfectly planned down to the tiniest wrinkle. he runs all of his words through his head over and over before he says them, navigating every interaction like he's trying to get the perfect run in a video game (and idia would probably appreciate that metaphor if he heard it, maybe cater should bring it up to him, see how it makes him tick—). even his smile has been meticulously manufactured, every little twitch and idiosyncrasy based on the influencers he sees on magicam.

not that anybody really knows about any of this, of course. he's a professional, after all.

all of that to say that cater is a good liar. a great one, even.

one day, ace walks into the kitchen with serious bed-head, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

cater is leaning against the kitchen counter (looking just ruffled enough to appear as if he's just woken up, but still put-together enough to keep up the chill senior persona he's spent the better part of two years cultivating — a look he's mastered after watching the first ten seconds of neige's "morning routine!" video on loop) when he sees the red-head shambling in.

he smirks (corner of his lips tilted 42 degrees up, eyebrows slanted approximately 12 degrees down) and leans his head against his hand. "what's up, sleeping beauty?"

"good mornin', senior," ace grumbles, sounding way too pissed off to actually mean it.

that's what cater likes the most about ace and deuce. they don't feel the need to mask as much as everybody else does in this school. if they have feelings, they'll let you know it almost immediately — ruthlessly in acey's case, and involuntarily in deucey's case. either way, it's kind of cute.

and refreshing. even cater, social butterfly extraordinare, gets tired of analyzing every little bit of somebody's mood and personality and conversational style, in attempt to weaponize them as he tries to achieve the perfect outcome everytime he talks to someone. after two whole years of trying not to trip over any of riddle's landmines (which were actually just his hundreds upon hundreds of trauma responses, as it turns out), cater would've sworn off talking to anybody for the rest of ever if he weren't more of an expert at deceit than that.

it's easy to talk to ace and deuce, comparatively. if they have an opinion, they make it known, even if it's not night raven college-approved. they don't care about what anybody else thinks. for someone who cares about what everyone thinks at all times with no limits on when, where, or who, it's certainly a novelty.

they're different — but cater likes that. they're emotional. they're understanding. they're great underclassmen, even if they don't realize that (and probably never will, because cater's definitely not gonna say anything about it).

cater scrolls through the "#diybreakfast" tag on magicam to hunt for a cute breakfast place he could snap pics of for some more views. "so how'd'ya sleep? deuce didn't try to wrap you up in his 24/7 study sesh, did he?"

ace puts a hand on the back of his neck and groans. "i slept fine. kept waking up because of deuce's loud-ass chewing, though. seriously, who is that noisy when they're eating blueberries?"

cater laughs and pretends the conversation is over.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering cater's simple question.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace rubbed his neck a little too hard to be casual, as if cater didn't use to have that exact same habit whenever riddle took his collar off of him.

pretends he didn't notice the tiny stutter in ace's "i slept fine".

(pretends he didn't say the exact same words, practically verbatim, every time trey asked him if he slept well during their second year at night raven college.)

(because he's supposed to be the unbothered one. he might actually crumble into a pile of misery if he has to let go of that idea.)

(maybe it's the same for ace, too.)

(it might be fake strength, but it's something to hold onto, nevertheless.)

because nobody else would've noticed that. nobody else craves validation so much to even bother. so if he's pretending to be cool and self-assured and confident and everything else that he's not, why would cater?

"damn it, we're out of cereal." ace groans, slamming the pantry door shut with a bit too much force.

the worst thing about being a great liar?

it's incredibly sobering when you meet someone who is almost as good as you.

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[theartofcollapse]

Hello, I really love all your work! ❤️❤️ Was wondering if I can request R x Casey Novak where r is kinda hesitant getting into a relationship with her cause her job? Maybe happy ending just cause it is Christmas 😂

a/n: thank you so much. I hope you like this one as well��� i'm taking requests, so feel free to leave a message :) summary: read above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.5K

masterlist

Legal Bindings - Casey Novak

Casey and you first met when you were called as a witness for one of Casey’s cases. You worked as a social worker, and your testimony had been crucial in securing a conviction. After the trial, Casey had approached you to thank you personally, and what started as a professional conversation quickly turned into something more.

You’d been casually dating for about two months, sharing coffee dates, occasional dinners, late night conversations on the phone, romantic walks at night around Central Park.

You’ve always admired Casey’s passion and dedication as an ADA, but getting close to someone whose job constantly exposed them to darkness was daunting, especially when that someone was Casey Novak, fierce, relentless, and prone to putting her job above all else.

The low hum of conversation filled the cozy coffee shop as you sat across from Casey, stirring your latte absentmindedly. She was radiant as always, her auburn hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window, her green eyes focused entirely on you. It should’ve been comforting, flattering even, but instead, it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been quiet,” Casey said, her voice soft yet probing. “That’s not like you.”

You shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ve just been thinking, that’s all.”

Her head tilted, concern flickering in her gaze. “About what?”

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything at all. You liked Casey, more than liked her, actually, but the reality of who she was and what she did loomed over you like a shadow. It wasn’t her fault; she was incredible. But incredible came with a price, and you weren’t sure you were ready to pay it.

“Us,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Casey leaned back in her chair, her expression shifting from concern to cautious curiosity. “What about us?”

You took a deep breath, staring down at your coffee. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Her brows furrowed, and for the first time since you’d met her, she looked genuinely taken aback. “You don’t think we’re a good idea?”

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, your words tumbling over each other. “It’s your job. The cases you handle, the hours you work, it’s a lot, Casey and I’m not sure I can handle it.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she studied you, her sharp mind clearly working to piece together what you weren’t saying outright. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Y/N, I know my job is intense,” she said, choosing her words wisely. “But it’s also just that, a job. It doesn’t define me.”

You met her eyes, your throat tightening. “But it does affect you. You go home with the weight of those cases on your shoulders. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Casey’s expression softened, and she reached across the table to take your hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You don’t have to compete with anything. Yes, my job can be overwhelming, but it’s also why I need someone like you in my life. Someone who reminds me that there’s still good in the world, that it’s worth fighting for.”

You wanted to believe her. God, did you want to believe her. But the thought of late nights, missed dates, and the constant worry that her work would take too much from her - maybe even from you - kept you rooted in hesitation.

“I don’t want to lose myself in this, Casey,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Her grip on your hand tightened, and she leaned in even closer, her eyes boring into yours. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen. And if it ever feels like too much, you can tell me. I’ll listen. I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

The sincerity in her voice, the determination, it was almost enough to tip the scales. Almost.

“I just… I need time,” you said, pulling your hand back gently.

Casey nodded, though you could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Despite your doubts, a small part of you, a hopeful, reckless part, wanted to believe her. Because if anyone could make it work, it was Casey Novak.

You weren’t sure what made you say yes when Casey asked you to meet her again the following week. Maybe it was the way she said, “no pressure,” or maybe it was the way her voice softened, almost pleading, when she’d said, “I’d really like to see you again.”

So here you were, standing in front of her apartment door with a bottle of wine in your hand and nerves twisting in your stomach. This felt big, too big. You told yourself you could still back out, but before you could entertain the thought, the door swung open, revealing Casey in jeans and a casual sweater, a rare sight that made her look softer, more approachable.

“Hey,” she said, smiling like she’d been waiting all day for this moment. “Come on in.”

You stepped inside, noting the space. It was neat but lived-in, with books and case files stacked on her coffee table and a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of her couch. It was the kind of home that reflected someone who was always busy but tried to make the most of the little free time they had.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, leading you to the kitchen, where the faint aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air.

“You cook?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Casey chuckled, setting out plates. “I had to learn at some point. Takeout gets old fast.”

You set the wine down on the counter, watching as she moved around the kitchen with ease. It was strange seeing her like this, so relaxed and normal. You weren’t used to thinking of her that way. To you, Casey had always been larger than life, a force of nature in the courtroom, all sharp edges and fiery determination.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Just not used to seeing this side of you.”

She smiled, handing you a glass of wine. “That’s the point, isn’t it? For you to get to know me, not just the ADA, but the person behind it.”

You took a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the way her words made your heart ache. You wanted to know her, but part of you still wasn’t sure if it was safe to let yourself fall.

Dinner was simple but delicious, and Casey kept the conversation light, asking about your day, your interests, and steering clear of anything that might remind you of her work. It was nice, easy, even, but you could tell she was holding back, trying too hard to make this comfortable for you.

Afterward, the two of you settled on the couch, a comfortable silence stretching between you as you nursed your wine.

“I meant what I said before,” Casey said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

You turned to look at her, your brow furrowing. “About what?”

“About this,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know my job makes things complicated. But I want this. I want you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “What if it’s not enough? What if you get so caught up in your work that there’s no room for anything else?”

Casey reached out, taking your hand in hers. “Then you call me out on it. You remind me why I’m doing this, why it’s worth fighting for. Because I promise you, Y/N, I won’t let my job take me away from the people who matter most to me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise. For the first time, you felt a flicker of hope, a small, fragile thing, but real nonetheless.

“Okay,” you said softly, meeting her gaze. “Let’s try.”

A slow smile spread across Casey’s face, and she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “But if it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you. And you have to listen.”

“Deal,” Casey said, her smile widening.

For the first time in weeks, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing worth having ever was, but as Casey leaned closer, her lips brushing yours in a tentative, hopeful kiss, you thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

[itsbensart]

"Books, Blushes, and a Winkie Prince"

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Male Reader

Summary: Y/N’s day at Shiz University takes a chaotic turn when Fiyero Tigelaar, the charming prince of Winkie Country, decides to make him his new source of entertainment. Between teasing smirks, flirty comments, and one stolen moment too many, Y/N’s carefully balanced world—and stack of books—might just come crashing down.

Warnings: Flirty banter and teasing, Light suggestive themes (innuendos), Excessive blushing and flustering, Minor physical touch (e.g., hand kisses, cheek kisses), Slow-burn romantic tension, and an Overwhelming charm from a certain prince.

Notes: Y/C/N - Your Country Name

1,339 words

Shiz University was alive with its usual energy, students rushing to and from beneath the towering spires of Oz’s most prestigious school. Among them, Y/N hurried through the courtyard, struggling to balance an armful of books that threatened to topple over at any moment. The precarious stack earned a few curious glances from passersby, but no one offered to help.

Well, no one except one.

Fiyero Tigelaar, the infamous prince of charm from the Winkie Country, leaned casually against a nearby pillar. His arms were crossed, his posture effortlessly relaxed, as if the world moved at his pace alone. The golden afternoon light caught the sharp lines of his face, and his piercing eyes followed Y/N with open amusement.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Having some trouble there, doll?” he asked, his voice playful and teasing.

Startled by the sudden voice, Y/N nearly dropped the books. Turning swiftly, his wide eyes met Fiyero’s. The man stood there, radiating a playful energy that instantly put Y/N on edge.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Y/N stammered, his heart racing in response to the teasing glint in Fiyero’s eyes.

Fiyero chuckled, his smirk widening as he took a step closer, closing the gap between them with an easy confidence. “I just happened to be passing by and couldn’t help but notice your struggles. Quite a sight, really.”

Flustered by his teasing tone, Y/N adjusted his grip on the books, determined not to let him get to him. “Haha. Laugh all you want,” he mumbled, trying to sound unaffected.

Fiyero’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned more comfortably against the pillar. “Don’t be like that, doll. I’m just trying to help. Though, I have to admit, watching you struggle is entertaining.”

“Are you always this charming,” Y/N shot back, “or is this a special occasion?”

The corner of Fiyero’s mouth quirked up into a grin, the sarcasm in Y/N’s tone clearly delighting him. “What can I say? It’s a gift. But seriously, doll, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘doll’ forever, now can I?”

Straightening up, Y/N carefully set the books down on the floor and gave a small, formal bow, though his rosy cheeks betrayed his attempt at professionalism. “I’m Y/N, from Y/C/N.”

Fiyero raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his formality. His smirk softened into a more genuine grin. “Well, aren’t you the very picture of formalities? Y/N from Y/C/N. Quite a mouthful. I’m Fiyero Tigelaar, from Winkie Country. But you can just call me Fiyero.”

Tentatively, Y/N extended his hand for a handshake, hoping to steer the conversation back to normalcy. But instead of shaking his hand, Fiyero surprised him by taking it in his own and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. The warmth of his lips sent a jolt through Y/N, who quickly pulled his hand back, his face aflame.

“Y-you can’t do that! Especially with someone you’ve just met!” Y/N protested, his voice a mix of flustered surprise.

Fiyero’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Can’t I? Why not? It’s just a harmless little gesture. Unless…” His smirk turned mischievous as he leaned in slightly, studying Y/N’s flustered face. “…it means something more to you?”

“It doesn’t!” Y/N blurted out, his voice betraying his embarrassment.

Fiyero laughed, the sound ringing out in the courtyard. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”

Desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere, Y/N glanced up at the dragon clock and gasped. “Oh, look! The time—it’s almost class. I really need to go!”

Fiyero tilted his head, following his gaze. “Ah, you’re right. Don’t let me keep you. Though…” His eyes flicked to the stack of books Y/N was carrying. “You really planning to carry all that by yourself?”

Y/N hesitated but nodded. “Y-yes, I’ve got it. No problem at all.”

“Yeah, no,�� Fiyero said, reaching out and grabbing the top few books before Y/N could protest. He balanced them effortlessly in his arms. “Let me take some of those.”

“T-thank you… Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden,” Y/N mumbled, looking at Fiyero’s confident, steady hands.

“You’re not a burden. Trust me, I’ve carried worse. Now, let’s get you to class.”

As they walked, Fiyero’s smirk returned, his teasing nature still very much alive. He glanced down at Y/N, clearly delighted by how easily flustered he remained. “So, doll, are you always this easily flustered, or am I just special?”

“What makes you say that?” Y/N asked, trying to sound unaffected.

“Oh, come on. You’ve been blushing since the moment I held your hand,” Fiyero said with a chuckle. “Plus, you can barely put a sentence together without stuttering. It’s like I’ve completely flustered you.”

Y/N shot him a defiant look, though his cheeks betrayed him with their persistent rosiness. “Maybe you did. But for the record, I was born with naturally rosy cheeks. My parents said so. It’s natural.”

Fiyero’s grin widened, amused by the explanation. “So you’re naturally rosy-cheeked? Now that is interesting. Makes it much easier to tease you.”

Y/N rolled his eyes and picked up his pace, as if putting physical distance would muffle Fiyero’s words. “You cocky man,” he muttered under his breath.

“Me? Cocky?” Fiyero leaned closer, his grin turning sly. “I’m just telling the truth, your reactions give you away. Besides, I can’t help it if I have that kind of effect on you. It’s not my fault you find me so charming."

Y/N suddenly stopped walking, his jaw tightening as his grip on his bag strap visibly clenched. Fiyero noticed immediately, his teasing grin replaced by mild confusion.

“What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?” Fiyero asked, his voice more concerned than before.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped forward and turned to face him directly. The sudden seriousness caught Fiyero off guard. Tilting his head slightly, he regarded Y/N with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh? Is there something you want to say, doll? Or are you just staring at my handsome face?”

Without a word, Y/N leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, hoping it would make Fiyero quiet. Fiyero froze, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Now, will you be quiet?” Y/N asked, his voice firm.

For the first time, Fiyero was left momentarily speechless. When he finally found his voice, it was a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Well, I’m speechless. Was that your attempt at making me be quiet?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied simply, his voice carrying the weight of his determination.

Fiyero’s smirk returned as he leaned in closer. “That was unexpected. But effective. Not that it’ll stop me from teasing you later.”

Pausing, his tone softened, a hint of seriousness weaving through the playful undercurrent. “But… you do know there are better ways to shut me up, right?”

Y/N hesitated, his face reddening again. “Like what?”

Fiyero’s grin turned sly, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Oh, doll, there are several ways. Ways that would require your lips to be elsewhere than my cheek. Ways that would require a bit more… physical contact.”

Y/N’s face turned crimson, the implication of his words leaving him completely flustered.

Noticing his reaction, Fiyero chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on him. "Oh my... You’re already picturing it, aren’t you?"

Y/N’s face turned crimson. “N-nonsense! I’m not imagining things!”

Fiyero laughed again, his grin smug. “Oh doll, there’s no need to deny it. Your flushed cheeks tell me everything I need to know.”

With a satisfied smirk, he turned and began walking again, leaving Y/N standing frozen, his heart pounding and his mind racing.

...

When they finally reached the classroom, Y/N turned to take the books back. “Thanks for the help, Fiyero. I can handle it from here.”

He handed them over with an exaggerated sigh. “Always happy to help. But before I go…”

“What now?” Y/N asked warily, half-expecting another teasing remark.

Fiyero leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Just remember—if you ever need to shut me up, you know what to do.”

Blushing furiously, Y/N spun around and hurried to his seat. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered over his shoulder.

Fiyero chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh, doll… I’ll be waiting.”

The End

A/N : My first ever fic that I finally have the courage to post! I know, it is a drastic change from what I am posting before, a breath of fresh air per say, anything for this charming prince.... I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while, and after tweaking it (and overthinking every detail), I’m so excited to share it with you all. (I'm not sure if there's gonna be a part two of this, let's see....) Until then, thank you for reading.

[roneloren]

My first fanfic on Tumblr)

Earlier in the morning. Vladimir lazily opened his eyes, into which the bright rays of the morning sun brazenly climbed. Birds were singing outside the window. Only now did he realize that he had forgotten to close the window and curtains in his room in the evening, he was so tired after staying up late playing cards with Andrey yesterday. He's probably still sleeping like a dead bear in the next room on the couch, wrapped up to his nose in a scratchy but very warm blanket. Vladimir lazily got up from the slightly creaking bed and casually threw a dark blue bathrobe, abandoned last night, or rather already in the dead of night, which both proudly dubbed "the lingering twilight," onto the nearest chair. Slowly tying his belt as if there was no one else in the apartment besides the owner himself, Makarov left his room and suddenly heard a pleasant, quiet piano playing. Once again noting in his head how good the soundproofing in Stalinki was, Vladimir pondered the source of the music for a while. My first thought was that Andrey's phone had rung. An interesting choice of melody. In general, the brunette thought that his right hand on the ringtone would have something like heavy metal or, conversely, country music like the songs of the band Dropkick Murphys, in whose T-shirts Andrei often appeared in everyday life. By the way, he was wearing it that night too...Looking up, Makarov opened his eyes wide in surprise. Nolan was playing an old piano that stood in the corner of the living room, where the redhead was staying the night. It was impossible to even really understand what exactly Vladimir was in such shock about. From the fact that this junk, which no one had touched for twenty years, could be played normally, and even very beautifully, or from the fact that Andrei knew how to handle a musical instrument... Especially like this... Delicate and quite fragile... Behind which you expect to see anyone, but not a huge military closet, which almost always walks with a frown and instills fear at first glance into those flaming blue eyes. He could be imagined with anything but a musical instrument... Yes, he knew firsthand about Andrey's dexterity of fingers. Vladimir has seen many times how his deputy can disassemble a machine gun almost to the cogs in a matter of seconds and also assemble it back in a split second. And he also knows how to do it very well...one false note broke out of his thoughts.

—Damn it... La is upset...

Andrey swore softly, continuing to play. It was noticeable that the composition was coming to its climax. The melody gets faster and the notes get higher. Vladimir froze, leaning against the wall and listening to the music. He studied the pianist carefully. There was something wrong with him, something seemed to be missing, but it seemed that it was even more beautiful... But looking at the same level for a minute now, he can't figure out what exactly is confusing him in this whole picture. This level was Andrey's neck. It was only a minute later that Vladimir realized what exactly had caught his attention in this painting... A bandana. Or a collar. Or the kind of scarf that was always around the neck of an Australian. That's what was missing. Brown-eyed only now realized that... I've never even seen Andrey's neck... She was always hidden by collars, high hoods, scarves, or in warm places with an ordinary bandana. But this time the skin was bare, and what covered the neck last night was lying on the coffee table by the sofa, carefully and carefully folded into a triangle, which contrasted vividly with the slippers carelessly thrown by the aforementioned piece of furniture. Vladimir was mesmerized by the seemingly ordinary part of the body, listening to music and could not believe his ears and eyes... He had never expected to see this side of his deputy... It seemed that in this setting and with the bright morning rays, even Andrey's hair seemed bright, red as a spark... Or was it because he hadn't combed his hair, and because of that, his hair wasn't in its usual neat mohawk, but rather slightly disheveled, which made it look lighter? The question is rhetorical...Neither of them noticed how smoothly the melody ended. Andrey's fingers smoothly outlined the contours of the keys, where they ended their long, tireless run and gently lay on the redhead's lap. For about a minute, Makarov and Nolan were in complete silence, without saying a word. Only the singing of birds outside the boldly open window and the soft rustle of curtains from the rare gusts of a gentle warm breeze that played not only with the curtains, but also with Andrei's red curls, slightly disturbed the silence. It seemed that the men could hear each other's pulse and breathing, it became so quiet. None of them had heard true silence for a long time. They were both used to hearing the sounds of explosions, gunfire, and ringing in their ears all the time... But not silence. She was like a curiosity from children's fairy tales, the importance of which everyone talks about, but no one really felt it. The silence seemed to hang in the air along with thousands of small specks of dust. You could almost touch her with your hands, bury yourself in a warm blanket... She was interrupted first by Andrey, whose ear tips were slightly reddened from such close attention to himself.

— What do you think, Volodya...?

Andrey spoke at the same time curiously and reverently. Vladimir gently exhaled the air he was holding in his chest, not daring to make even the faintest sound while Nolan was playing. Makarov has always loved music... And now he has, so to speak, a hand musician... Perhaps he will take advantage of this gift of fate. It's a sin to let such a thing pass by the soul, right?

— Excellent, Andreika... Excellent... Will you play something else?

He came closer to Andrey and lightly ruffled his red curls. He twitched reflexively, but stopped, hesitantly tilting his head towards the commander's hand. No one except Andrey was given the privilege of seeing Makarov like this... Relaxed, feeling his warmth, which was hidden from everyone by hundreds and thousands of locks. And Andrey got the key to all these doors...

— Yes, Volodya... I'll play...

fingers touched the keys again

[how-serene]

Send Me Your Lovin'

Pairing - Jack Delroy x Fem!Reader

Summary - Jack just can’t seem to distract himself from you and that red dress you decided to wear to the studios annual Christmas party.

Word Count - 841

Warnings - no use of y/n, light making out, mentions of drinking, jack is clingy, fluff, established relationship

A/N - Thank you all for a wonderful year, writing these fics have really been a great outlet for me and it always warms my heart to see people engage with and enjoy what I write. Anyway, Happy Holidays!

The rented space was lively, with warm lighting splashing an evening glow over everyone. A towering, pine tree stood in the middle of the space, decorated with bright red and gold ornaments. Shimmering tinsel hugged the body of the tree all the way to the bottom, where a pile of decorative presents sat. Vibrant chatter filled the space, as people nursed on glasses of sparkling champagne. One group erupted into boisterous laughter. Jack noticed Gus among the group, holding onto a flimsy paper plate.

Yet, despite the opulent holiday decor and flow of conversation, the feeling of your warmth pressed into his side was enough to distract him. The group surrounding him spoke of their personal holiday plans, and he found himself unable to care. Jack sighed, and let his hand rest casually on your back.  

“Your hand is wandering, mister,” you whispered, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. 

Jack chuckled, dipping his head forward to hide his warm blushed face. His fingers reached to squeeze at your side, feeling the taut, red velvet fabric bunch between his knuckles. 

“You’re torturing me with this dress, honey,” he mumbled, his lip brushing against the shell of your ear. You giggled, playfully elbowing him. The earthy, rich fragrance of your perfume wafted into his nose, muddling his brain. Jack glanced down at his drink, to find an empty glass. He licked his lips, grimacing at the sour tang of grape juice that lingered on his tongue. 

“Are you ready to head out?” he asked, keeping his voice hushed. 

You glanced over at him, frowning in confusion. “We’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.”

Jack clenched his jaw, feeling heat creep up his face. His eyes flickered down to your deep, painted red lips. The color complimented your skin, and brightened your eyes in a way that made him giddy. You were heavenly beneath the warm, mellow lighting of the room. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” “You might’ve mentioned it a few times.” 

“Obviously not enough.” 

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to fight back the grin on your lips. Jack smirked, and pressed a swift kiss to your temple, not caring for the countless eyes on him. A deep part of him, beneath the echoes of his ribs, reveled in the attention. 

“Well,” you sighed, looking around the room. “If you’re so eager to leave, I don’t mind heading out.” 

As the words left your lips, Jack felt his stomach flip. He began ushering you through the other partygoers, mumbling out his half-hearted goodbyes with not even as much as a glance in their direction. The cluster of people wouldn’t move fast enough, and Jack was almost tempted to carry you out of the building. Finally, you two approached the front doors, where racks of coats hung on a wall. He snatched your coat off the hook, and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Give me a minute,” you said, giggling at his impatience. Jack helped you into your coat, making sure you were properly bundled up before facing New York’s weather. You two stepped out, hand in hand, into a frigid flurry of snow. The parking lot was vast and crowded, as cars were tightly packed together.

“I should have dressed in something warmer,” you sulked, rubbing your arms. 

“Come here, doll,” Jack urged, grabbing your hand. He wrapped his arms around your frame, pressing you against his chest. Heat radiated off of him, rolling over you in waves. With you so close, Jack took this time to study you. A light dusting of snowflakes decorated the top of your hair, before melting into the roots. A few had even managed to land on your cheek. He reached up, and let the pad of his thumb brush them away. Your cheek was smooth and soft against his skin. Your breath hitched, silently watching his movements as if you might startle him. 

With restraint, Jack leaned forward and brushed his lips against your icy cheek. 

“Do you know how difficult it was tonight,” he murmured, “to see you dressed like this, and not be able to do anything about it.” 

“I think you did pretty well for fifteen minutes.” 

He chuckled, pulling your body flush against him. His eyes fluttered close, as his cold lips met yours. You tasted sweet, with a hint of champagne just dancing on the edge of your tongue. You sighed against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Jack’s heart thudded in his ears, as his fingers shook trying to grasp on your coat. Despite the fabric bunching in his hands, and the feeling of your hot breath against his, it wasn’t close enough. He wanted to unravel you, and feel the scarlet dress beneath his palms. The way it hugged the slope of your body, lovingly accentuating the dips in your hips and waist. 

Light spilled out from the frosted windows of the building, barely illuminating the sidewalk. The night sky above felt everlasting, as snow fell around your enveloped forms.

[neverbelessthan]

I just read someone’s hot take on ‘the mermaid scene’ being ‘peak cringe’ and I just-

Sweet, sweet human. That’s Ed’s psyche you’re taking about. My dude is having his life flash before his eyes in the most beautiful little heartbreaking s1 montage, and if that’s how he wants to picture Stede coming to redeem his lonely fucking soul - as a glittery goddamn tits-out merman, then that’s HIS GODDAMN BUSINESS.

[its-murderous-business]

Sometimes I wonder why people think im a buzzkill and then I hear myself talk at social gatherings and I go oh yeah. That tracks actually.

[welcometoteyvat]

xingqiu should meet heizou they’d bond over uptight older brothers, a strong sense of justice and being second sons who are pushed to take on their family or father’s line of work 

mr light novelist goes over to inazuma and, while performing acts of chivalry for the common people, meets an easy breezy detective with whom he gets along surprisingly well—heizou seems to know quite a lot about him! rather uncanny, but he supposes it’s all part of what a good detective should be able to deduce. maybe he can use this material to improve his writing—he’ll finally be able to master writing a good mystery novel! except there seems to be more to this handsome young detective than meets the eye... this is delightful! xingqiu will get to the bottom of this puzzle, and perhaps discover something about himself in the meantime....

[causticsunshine]

been working on some photo studies in the hopes that perfecting my rendering skills and the like will help me finish more pieces and idk if i suddenly got really good at painting faces or what but god i’m doing something right with this one study and i can only hope it means something good for my art

tbh most of the art i scrapped the last few years—which was mostly the 1d pieces i lost rip 😔—i scrapped because i didn’t like how i painted the faces so?? yeah i really hope. the tide is turning

[across-stars]

[h0ney8ee]

interviews wouldn't be nearly so scary if they weren't filled with so many dumb bs questions. they have to know all the answers are made up anyway

[frozenambiguity]

Very long Initial thoughts and first impressions on the Caribert Archon Quest in the tags. Spoiler alert!!

[desertbled]

wolf takes after his mom so much UAAGGHHHH

[incognit0slut]

Hypothetically

Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x bau fem reader

Category: fluff/comfort

Warnings: marriage and baby talk, reader is insecure because she feels left out

A/n: This is my entry for the kid fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins! This was like a breath of fresh air from all the smut I’ve been writing

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as your question lingered in the air. Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly and patted his chest, his eyes drifting towards you. "Uh... what?"

"Hypothetically," you replied, the tap of your pen echoing against the round table between you. "It's like a pact. If we're both still single in the future, we get married to one another and, well, start a family together."

Spencer felt the clamminess of his palms as he set his mug down, trying to steady himself. He considered you as one of the closest people in his life, if not his best friend, and he was accustomed to your random questions, but this sudden topic of conversation seemed to strike a nerve.

"Where..." he began, wiping his palm along his pants. "...where is this coming from?"

You shrugged casually, the tapping of your pen momentarily ceasing. "Just a thought. I mean, we're both at that age where these things start to cross our minds, right?"

Spencer swallowed, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he muttered, but as he studied you, he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Your gaze flickered away for a moment before you sighed, slumping against your chair.

"I have a wedding coming up this weekend." Spencer frowned, not understanding what you were trying to say. You continued, "And another one next week, and guess what? Two of my cousins are getting married next month."

"What does that have to do with...?" His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

But you weren't finished. Somehow, the thoughts that had lingered in your mind for the past few days spilled out right then and there, in the middle of broad daylight when you were supposed to be focusing on the case you were working on.

"And a close friend I went to high school with just gave birth while another friend from college announced she's two months pregnant. And look at me," you exclaimed, your arms flying around. "No wedding. No pregnancy. Spencer, I don't even have a boyfriend, heck, I forgot what it's like to go out on a date!"

He watched as your brow furrowed into a frown, and although your demeanor was all over the place, he couldn't help but notice how you still managed to look pretty.

"Spence?" You asked, nudging his leg with your foot under the table. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by your voice. "Sorry," he replied. "I'm listening."

You gave him a skeptical look, but the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you leaned back in your chair.

"I just... I don't know, I feel like I'm left behind." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I'm happy for my friends and all, but sometimes it feels like everyone's moving forward but me. Like I'm stuck in this... this rut."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he knew how it felt to want something that seemed out of reach, but on the other hand, he felt like it wasn't his place to offer advice when he wasn't even sure what the future held for him.

"I get it," he finally said, trying to gather his thoughts. The least he could do was try to offer some comfort. "But just because you haven't reached those milestones yet doesn't mean you won't get there eventually."

"But what if it doesn't happen? What if I'm still all alone and nobody loves me when I'm gray and old?"

He frowned at you. "I'd still love you when you're gray and old."

"Platonically. You love me as much as you love JJ. Or Emily. Or Penny, or even Morgan." You leaned over the table. "I want to be loved passionately by someone who is head over heels for me, who can't imagine a life without me. I want to feel that kind of happiness."

His frown deepened. "I don't think you should find happiness in another person."

"You're missing the point," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying I want to depend on someone else for my happiness. But is it too much to ask for someone to share it with? To feel like I'm someone's everything and not just another friend in the group?"

His expression softened as he listened, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He remembered feeling the same thing once, or maybe more than once; he wasn't sure. He had lost count of the times he felt his life was falling short.

But he realized the more he thought about the why—why was he so different? why couldn't he find love?—the more he felt worthless, and he hated that. So what was the best thing he did to ignore those thoughts?

Bury himself in work, because to him, pushing those feelings aside was easier than confronting them. But now, as he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing his own reflection and your words hit him harder than he expected.

"No," he quietly agreed. "It's not too much to ask for."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm tired of waiting for life to happen to me." Your gaze slowly met his. "So I came up with a plan."

His throat felt dry as he recalled how this conversation started in the first place. "The... baby plan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Think about it. If we're both still single when we're..." You paused, furrowing your brow as you did a quick calculation. "Forty? Yeah, let's say we're both still single when we're forty, with no partners, or like, no friends with benefits?"

You shook your head.

“Just... with no one in our lives—we get married. You and me."

He blinked, trying to process your proposal. It was unexpected, to say the least, but there was a strange logic to it that he couldn't quite shake. The idea of marrying his best friend as a backup plan was both absurd and oddly comforting.

"But what about... love?" he asked cautiously. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

You paused, considering his question before responding. "I mean, I don't think it's impossible," you said, leaning back in your seat. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Marry your best friend'?"

His gaze lingered on you, his heart beating hard against his chest. "You're saying that we can fall in love?"

Your eyes met his, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Who knows?" you replied softly. "Stranger things have happened."

Spencer shouldn't entertain the possibility. After all, who knew what could happen in the future? It seemed like an absurd thought, but as he stared at you, it was hard not to imagine a life with you as his wife.

He imagined you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him with a radiant smile on your face. He pictured you both in the house you had just bought, dancing joyfully around the empty rooms as you unpacked boxes together.

Then thoughts of you being pregnant with his child—or maybe even children—filled his mind, and he envisioned a future where your kids would run around in the backyard with a pet dog trailing behind.

And then he considered the prospect of growing old with you, watching as your children eventually started families of their own while you found comfort in each other's company. All of these possibilities didn't seem so bad, because if anyone could understand him on a deep level, it was definitely you.

Maybe this crazy plan of yours wasn't so crazy after all.

"I... I guess it's not impossible," he finally admitted. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he added, "Hypothetically speaking."

"Of course," you replied with a smile. "Hypothetically speaking."

Suddenly feeling flustered by your gaze, Spencer looked away and focused on his coffee, bringing the mug to his lips. Then you heard laughter and footsteps drawing closer, and soon Derek and Emily entered the room. Their eyes immediately landed on the two of you, sitting closely together at the table.

"What are you children whispering about?" Derek's voice interrupted, his eyebrows raised curiously as he glanced between you.

You didn't miss a beat. “Spencer and I are having a baby together."

Spencer choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in shock as he coughed and sputtered. You quickly moved to pat his back.

"Well, we're gonna get married first, right, Spence?" you added with a grin, glancing at him expectantly.

Spencer finally managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shot you a sideways glance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Hypothetically."

Derek and Emily exchanged bemused glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Emily's curiosity seemed to win out as she lifted a hand, turning her attention back to you. "Care to explain?"

"We were discussing our backup plan."

"Backup plan?" Derek echoed. 

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In case neither of us finds the right person by the time we're, oh, I don't know, forty or so, we figured we'd marry each other and start a family."

Derek placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "And you chose Pretty Boy over me?"

"I'm not going to compete with all your lady friends," you shot back, rising from your seat. "Come on, Spence, let's grab some lunch and brainstorm baby names."

He stood up, giving you a pointed look.

"Or do you want to discuss how we'd make those babies in the future?"

"Well, I was thinking of Amelia if it's a girl..."

You grinned, linking your arm through his before guiding him towards the door. Derek and Emily observed the natural closeness between you two, how you were practically clinging to him and how he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Derek turned to Emily as you disappeared down the hallway. "Do you think they'd actually get married when they hit forty?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied confidently. "I give it a year until he's already down on one knee."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. With the way Spencer's gaze lingered on you with unmistakable affection, it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

[hwajin]

☆°. — study me | hhj

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: inexperienced hyunjin, oral (m receiving), protected sex, fast-ish plot progression, strangers to lovers (only roughly proof read)

author's note: @hyunverse and @astraystayyh made me do it (also inspired heavily by rin's post!!!!!) 😚😚😚

He had always been cute, though he surely wasn't aware of it; when he sat in class, dainty glasses by the curve of his nose, he always seemed focused, taking notes with furrowed brows, full attention granted to the professor up front. When he left the lecture hall it was often in lonesome, and hurried; not shy, per se, but quick, and quiet. When people talked to him he was polite, though his shoulders tensed, and a blush crept up his smiling cheeks; not uncomfortable, as far as you could tell, yet visibly not in his element, either — and it all added to his charm. He was smart and aware of it, though he seldom raised his hand, initiated questions. He never corrected professors on their mistakes, never played the know-it-all even though he could. He simply sat in class, day after day, to your right in front of you, and left to go to his next class as quietly as he had entered your mutual one.

You watched Hyunjin walk into the lecture hall, headphones covering his sense of hearing, bag thrown over his shoulder lazily, a subtle lightness in his step. He fixed his glasses with a long, delicate finger before he sat down to prep his desk; placing his laptop in front of him, reducing the brightness before typing away his password, fishing in his bag for his phone right before the professor walked in. Hyunjin was busy taking off the bony headphones before they disappeared in his bag, and a big hand slid through the dark strands of his hair, only needing one movement to fix them into place; after that there seemed to be a click in his demeanour, in his attention. No music in his ears, no phone in his hands; quick fingers that were copying the headline of today's topic which the professor had projected onto the board, concentrated, glasern eyes void of the initial casual leisureness the had entered the classroom with.

It was a little bit of a ritual, watching him in class; you weren't sure if it was creepy, if it made you some sort of pre-version of a stalker, or an obsessed freak. You weren't sure either, if watching him was the reason you were at risk of failing the class, altogether. You were surprised every day anew that no one else was; that Hyunjin seemed to be nearly invisible for most people on campus, left for the few friends he kept with, or the occasional aquaintance he made for group projects before those relationships faded away, due to the lack of its' benefit. Yet even those people didn't seem to be taken by him the way you were, didn't see him the way you did; a striking beauty, hidden beneath a character so quiet and quirky, helpless, almost, that to others he appeared nothing but ordinary. A studious nerd, introverted and awkward; but you didn't want to go through another day without having talked to him. Couldn't, you thought; you needed to initiate a conversation, wanted so bad to hear the sound of his voice, the look of his eyes when the object he was looking at was you.

The professor had announced a group project for today's class, and had, by the end of explaining all about it and before dismissing the class, ordered you to look for partners until the next lesson, to start with first preparations. In your opinion, it was the perfect opportunity to go up to Hyunjin without appearing a freak, or too pushy, or utterly random; you weren't sure he even knew your name, so simply asking for a coffee seemed too finite to you. As expected, while everyone was still packing their bags and talking of weekend plans and just how boring their next class was going to be, Hyunjin had already put on his headphones and was on his way out of the hall, daring to disappear into the crowd of students before your very eyes. You hurried to collect your things before you stumbled down behind him, falling into a slow run to catch up with him. He was tall, quite a bit taller than you, so his struts were fast without being hurried, and you struggled to keep up with him, fighting your way between people before your hand could finally reach his figure, and a finger of yours tapped on his shoulder.

Your touch made him stop in his tracks in a rather confused manner, and he turned around perplexed before locking eyes with you. When you smiled at him expectantly one hand of his freed his right ear from his headphones, and he returned your smile, though only politely, yet not catching what you have stopped him for. The confusion was written in his eyes, and you hurried to clear it up.

"Hey, I'm y/n, from uh, Statistics... we just had this class together."

You looked at Hyunjin, waiting for a response, despite not having cleared up anything at all. He nodded, fixing his bag on his shoulder. You almost got distracted by the veins which ran through his hand when he did that, but you forced yourself to look him in the eyes instead. Brown and deep. You had never noticed before how captivating they were.

"Yeah, I know who you are...", a smile on his lips and you weren't sure what it meant, but there was a deep blush on his cheeks right after, and it made your chest fill with a warmth so sound you simply kept smiling at him.

"Was there anything you needed?" Pure curiosity in his tone, and you wondered how such a smart person could be so foolish. Though it was cute seeing him perplexed, cute seeing a void of his usual intelligence within his eyes.

You cleared your throat and fixed your bag yourself, before nodding up at him. You had never stood this close to him, had never noticed just how tall he was.

"I wondered if you wanted to be my partner for the group project thing. I'm not really good at statistics, so I wanted to pair up with someone who could... help me. In a way."

Hyunjin blushed deeper at that, and the fist around the strap of his bag tightened. He gulped visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing before his eyes lost yours suddenly, and he nodded, stuttering a little when he spoke.

"Uh, yeah, for sure. I, uh, I'm not really, like, sure if I can help much, I'm not a great teacher, but, uhm-", he looked at you, and you simply reciprocated his gaze; he blushed yet a little harder, fixed his glasses with a clumsy finger, and gave you a shy smile, "but, yeah. I'll be your partner."

☆.☆.☆

It was a Saturday night, and it felt strange not sitting in front of the mirror to apply some make-up, or get a decent outfit ready to wear to a night out with your friends. Instead, your old bag was thrown carelessly over your shoulder and the steps you took on the glistening asphalt were taking you to Hyunjin’s dorm, to study and work on the project with him at seven in the afternoon. Not what you normally busied yourself with, not on a weekend, but you hadn’t been this excited over a Saturday night plan in a good while. The day prior, Hyunjin had been ready to leave right after confirming he would partner up with you; that you needed to exchange phone numbers in order to be able to start the work he had seemingly forgotten, and you had giggled when he’d typed his contact into your phone with a guilty smile and a low-hanging head. He had replied quickly when you had texted him, clarifying his schedule – busier than you had expected, packed to the brim – before confirming to meet up today. And you had been giddy ever since.

When you knocked on his dorm room, Hyunjin opened moments later. He looked comfortable, in a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants, no glasses but his long, raven hair in a lazy bun. He smiled before welcoming you in, stepping aside and closing the door behind you. The room wasn’t big, much like your own, but clean, neat. Not much decoration on the walls but a picture or two, seemingly of family members, or close friends. You spotted multiple game consoles and a spacey monitor on his desk, an expensive looking keyboard, heavy headphones – different ones he took with him to class –, a mic, his school laptop on his bed. Two candles by his nightstand, and one bouquet of dried flowers on his windowsill; if dried on purpose of due to lack of care you were unsure, but they were pretty nonetheless.

Hyunjin stood behind you as you took in his small room, abashed and clearing his throat when you finally looked at him again. You smiled, and disposed your bag next to his bed.

“Nice room.”

He must have not expected the compliment; he looked perplexed, chuckling suddenly and a little too loud before thanking you quietly. He got rid of a couple strands of loose hair with a quick hand, and straightened his back, shaking his head as if to rid himself off thoughts, to find his way back to you. He gave you a quick smile, too; it was so pretty that you almost told him, almost stepped up to be level with him and touch the side of his face, purely to manifest him within you. Him and his face, his shy smile with its’ small, pearly teeth and glistening eyes.

“Alright, I guess we should start. The desk is pretty, uh, full and stuff, you can just sit on the bed, if... you don’t mind.” He sat down on the chair in front of the desk, motioned you to the bed. He tripped over the light carpet on his floor before finding his seat, though acted as though nothing had happened; cute.

“Just get comfortable.”

The sentence didn’t carry any connotation yet Hyunjin reddened after he spoke, and lost your eyes to rummage in his bag and in the drawers of his desk to fish out all the materials he thought he’d need. You smiled to yourself, and did as he told you; got comfortable on his bed, and got out your papers and pencils, spreading them out on his blanketed mattress. It smelt nice, his bed. Clean, almost like neutral linen, but with a hint of a scent you believed to be uniquely his. It was the first time you sensed it; you had never been close enough to him before to notice it, but now that you sat in the essence of it, in the core of his existence, in his very own four walls, it engulfed you. It was deep vanilla and sweetest honey, it was a scent dark and intense, but light. It wasn’t heavy, it didn’t suffocate you. It simply existed in the space around you, and it stuck to him; you doubted you’d ever forget the scent again.

When Hyunjin looked at you again, turning to face you on his chair, he stopped in his tracks, and his eyes seemed to widen, his jaw to tighten. It felt unfamiliar seeing him without his glasses, though very much known to watch the pink flush creep up his neck. He blinked a couple times, simply watching you, and it wasn’t until you shifted in your place, sinking further into his mattress that he moved again, pretending to look for something, or really doing so. He cleared his throat and choked on his own spit, fell into a short coughing fit; you almost giggled, and when Hyunjin caught sight of your repressed grin, the pink on his neck deepened into a red; he was even more helpless than you initially thought. He was still looking around, not frantically but close to it, mumbling something you didn’t catch, until you spotted his glasses on the nightstand. You leaned over to get hold of them, and offered them to him, with eyes big and expectant.

“Are you looking for those?”

The room was so small that the distance between the edge of the bed and the desk was only an arm length, so Hyunjin got hold of the glasses simply by reaching out, thanking you. He was interesting; everything he did around you, from the way he moved to the way he spoke, seemed always to be happening in a state of trance, or incredible awkwardness you hoped stemmed from fluster, not discomfort. The feeling spreading in the pit of your stomach was indescribable, when Hyunjin, with soft, delicate fingers and a familiar move, placed the silvery glasses on the rich curve of his nose, fixing them into the dip of his ears before sliding them up; ready to work, and he looked concentrated momentarily, serious; far more attractive up close than when you watched him in class, and you wondered if you’d handle an entire hour of speaking to him while in his bed, in his room, in the midst of his scent.

Yet the hour flew by too fast for your liking, and before you knew it you were packing your bag and making your way to the door of Hyunjin’s dorm room. The hour had contained of more giggling and casual talking than you had thought, and it had gotten you excited. Maybe it was your fantasy, but Hyunjin had seemed interested; more than just into the project, interested in you, too. He had asked questions, had initiated conversation, had neglected his work. He had been – after half an hour – brave enough to poke fun at your lack of mathematical skill, after you had failed to understand an equation he’d tried to bring closer to you. You had gasped and acted hurt, and the giggle which he had followed up with had made you so speechless that Hyunjin had needed to continue with the explaining, flustered and stuttering, a little rocky; all hope of understanding his explaining had been lost there, but you hadn’t minded it.

Hyunjin stood by the door, held it open for you. There it was again, the fluster in his eyes, the flush on his neck; and you weren’t even doing anything. It’s not like the big doe eyes you caught his gaze with could play any role in his abash, or the purposeful teasing smile you shot him. It also couldn’t be the fact you simply stood in his door, waiting for him to say something, instead of leaving for the night with a simple goodbye, with your bag in hand, and quick fingers in your hair, pretending to fix it.

“Uh, we didn’t really come really far.”, he finally voiced with a chuckle, and you reciprocated. Yet you waited; it seemed there was more he wished to say. Hyunjin stepped from one foot to the other, furrowed his brows quickly before losing your eyes, locking your gaze again and opening his mouth, though without success initially. He closed it again, at a loss for words, and you cocked your head curiously, deliberately waiting, feigning ignorance. He huffed out an awkward chuckle, more air than laugh, and ruffled his hair. It made it look messier than before, but you liked it.

“Sorry, just – do you wanna meet tomorrow? I know it’s a Sunday, but... I don’t know, I thought we could work on the project some more. Only if you want to.”, he added quickly when you didn’t say anything. Only after you nodded with a smile Hyunjin’s shoulders seemed to relax, the tension in his body dissipating into relief.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Same time?”

☆.☆.☆

It had been two weeks of continuous meeting and working on the project with Hyunjin; but it had also been two weeks of continuous laughing and talking, of conversations far more memorable than the frustration over the schoolwork. Hyunjin had opened up to you, though still shy and quiet, far calmer around you now, more comfortable, it seemed. Yet you shied from initiating more; you had touched his thigh in friendly manner a week ago, barely a second, and the man had turned to a statue of stone, had lost sense of every word he’d had dancing on his lips, had lost train, even, of every thought; it had needed him a good five minutes before he had spoke again. Not only that, but he had eyed you the entire time after, hadn’t left his eyes wander from you, unless you’d caught and reciprocated them; only then his gaze had fallen to his fiddling hands in his lap, sneaking a look again only when you weren’t watching anymore.

You were sure he liked you, you doubted to be wrong about that; but ironically, you liked him too much to confront that, in fear of shying him away, of risking the delicate friendship which had developed over the past two weeks. The group project would end next week, and you weren’t sure if you’ve acquainted enough to stay friends beyond that.

You were sitting on Hyunjin’s bed, him on the mattress beside you, two hours into working on a PowerPoint which looked somewhat decent; decent to Hyunjin’s standards, that was, because you didn’t even know half the tricks he used to connect slides and merge texts and pictures; you would have stopped working on it a good while ago, deeming everything neat and sensible, but Hyunjin had looked at you wide-eyed and shocked, claiming it wasn’t near half-way done. You didn’t mind that he continued working on it; you enjoyed spending time with him, and you enjoyed watching him work, seeing him in his element. He had told you that he was into computers and everything regarding them, whether it was gaming or programming, or merely learning about the matter; you’d had the privilege to watch him build together a new keyboard he acquired, and as little interest as you had in the matter yourself, it was fascinating seeing him burn for something. He had grown bashful when he’d notice how much he had talked, and had apologized; when you’d admitted how cute it was, he hadn’t known what to do with himself, and had simply gone back to installing.

The small laptop lay on Hyunjin’s thighs as he typed away, finding new things to add, brows furrowed and the familiar, concentrated look in his eyes you knew so well from class; and, now, from working together with him. You watched him, weren’t left to do much more; and you enjoyed it. Hyunjin wore a nicely fitting polo-shirt over a simple flannel, and loose jeans which hung down his body leisurely. One of his fingers was adorned by a simple silver ring, matching with the silver of his square glasses; he looked unbelievable, and he didn’t even know it. Over the past week – if it was any possible – Hyunjin had somehow become even more beautiful to you. Knowing him closer made his exterior seem brighter, kinder; as though his soul reflected on his body and pulled you in even deeper than previous.

When he noticed you staring from his peripheral he caught your gaze, though not without his usual shyness. He chuckled a little before you smiled at him, and his eyes lost yours again.

“Why’re you looking at me like that.” His voice carried a hint of a whine, and your skin burned at the sound of it. The side of his face was a deep pink, his ears fire as he typed away on the project. You gathered your bravery; today could be the last time you’d meet him like this, with an excuse and void of brave initiations.

“I like looking at you. You’re cute when you’re working.”

He hadn’t expected it, neither have you; you meant the words, but you were surprised just how easily they slipped past your lips. Without friction, smooth; clear. So clear that Hyunjin stuttered around before going back to the laptop, the blue hues illuminating his face so prettily, you wished to remember this sight forever. Even if today didn’t go anywhere. Even if your short friendship would only be a memory a year down the line; you wished to remember the way his eyes glistened with a mix of confusion and curiosity in the dim light of the laptop screen, how his nose curved beneath his reflecting glasses, the way his tongue darted out and his wet lips caught again the hues of the computer.

Hyunjin mumbled a quiet “What are you saying?”, almost to himself because you barely caught it, and you huffed out in amusement.

“I’m serious.” Your tone was, too, and it made Hyunjin look at you, momentarily. His brows were furrowed, in something like question, doubt. It needed him a while to find his words, fishing them from somewhere within him; you could see the work in his mind, processing your words and understanding them, thinking of a response. You saw the whole process, before he finally spoke.

“Why, though?” Too long a time he took for two words only, but they sounded so honest your eyes softened, and your head cocked a bit, questioning. Hyunjin noticed, and followed up.

“I’m, like, boring. Why are you even hanging out with me?”

“Because I like you.”

The words flooded the room. They had felt trapped in your throat though gushed out the moment you allowed them, and they drowned you both in their weight. Hyunjin only sat, and looked at you. You have never seen him so pale, so colourless; you hoped it was a good sign.

“I don’t think you’re boring. You’re the most interesting person I know. And I like you.”

Only then Hyunjin’s face returned to the usual colour he’d acquired around you over the past two weeks; crimson red and his ears flaming, his neck probably hot if you only touched it. The moments of silence he granted you with were torturing, but the look in his eyes as he held your gaze looked promising; and then his cheeks painted pink, and he started blinking excessively.

“I... I like you, too.”

Two highschoolers confessing, but something about it was sweet, and pure, and ignited a fire within you.

“Can I kiss you?”, you heard yourself saying, and before you knew it, you felt his lips on your own. Soft, the very first thing you thought. Like clouds on your lips, or feathers, or sweet cotton candy. And though Hyunjin wasn’t skilled per se, a little helpless with his teeth and his tongue, unsure of what to do, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the slow pace of the kiss, the wet sounds your lips made when they touched. You enjoyed feeling his urge to touch you, to lay a finger on your thigh, before he collected enough courage to do so; and the touch was heavenly, too. Heavy on your body, significant and real. Everything about Hyunjin made you buzz; and then a whine slipped past his lips. It tumbled over into your mouth and you swallowed it, before Hyunjin could retract from you a bit, embarrassment glazing his eyes. You smiled in response, burning with a newly found passion now. He mumbled a quiet “Sorry.”, but you shook your head, softly, inching yet closer to him. You felt his breath on your lips, could see the droplet of sweat on his forehead. You could see your own reflection in his glasses; you took them off slowly before almost connecting back to a kiss, yet not quite.

“Don’t be sorry. I wanna hear that sound again.”

You closed the distance between you, and at your words Hyunjin complied, and let a sigh escape him. You almost reciprocated, almost followed suit; you had never heard anything prettier, anything more desperate and honest. You continued kissing him before you allowed your hands to explore his body, cautious of his reactions and even more eager when he leaned into your every touch. He was chasing you, your lips, your hands, your fingers which started playing with the loop of his leather belt. Hyunjin’s breathing had become staggered by this point, heavy and irregular, chest heaving so intensely you almost chuckled at it.

It was subtle, but when you felt his hips buck up from the mattress in impatient anticipation you moaned into him, and finally undid his belt, opened the button of his jeans. You retracted, gave a quick peck to his searching, reddened lips.

“That’s okay, yeah?”

Hyunjin didn’t seem like he had understood the question. He didn’t seem like he understood anything around him while he was looking at you; seeing him so very dumb founded, in absence of his usual cleverness and brains, was far better than you had anticipated, far more satisfying. It gave you an ego boost you didn’t know you needed, or wanted, for that matter.

You chuckled, and asked again; only then Hyunjin nodded frantically, following up with what felt like a million “Yes, yeah yeah, yes.”’s before you continued with a smug grin.

And it was adorable, seeing Hyunjin pucker his lips in the thought of feeling your lips on his again, only for you to lower your head, and bury your face in his neck instead. You felt his low whine against your lips before you heard it, and he sensed your smile against his skin, followed by a kiss deep and long, while your hands played with the waistband of his jeans. It’s been far too long he’d had anyone like this, embarrassingly long; and even longer since he’d liked someone as much as you. He was in trance as your lips travelled further down his body, not undressing him but catching bare spots of skin to plant kisses atop; his collarbones, the curve from his neck towards his shoulders, his jewellered chest right above the neckline of his shirt.

It wasn’t long before you were levelled with his core. Your position on the bed was awkward, a little uncomfortable, but it was the least of your concerns. You pulled up the hem of Hyunjin’s shirt a bit to kiss at his abdomen, teasing and licking and making a show out of it, and it paid off; the man was flush against the wall of his room, fingers digging into the blanket beneath him, looking at you, blinking so often you wondered if he was able to see anything in between. And you were getting impatient. You could feel the faint weight of his erection beneath his jeans as you brushed his core occasionally, his jerks and jumps when you did so, silently begging you for more. When you asked another “Can I?” he nodded, and you pulled his erection from its’ confines. Hyunjin sucked in a breath at that, bashfulness written in his eyes, brows furrowed; and he suddenly looked for something, tapping across his mattress before he got hold of his glasses, slipping them on. He blushed when you cocked your head at him, fixed them onto his nose with a finger; you loved that habit.

“Just, wanna see everything clearly.”

He was almost ashamed when he said it, but he huffed out in embarrassed amusement when he heard you laugh softly, teasingly. Your hand tightened a bit around the base of his sex, causing him to tense up at the sudden pressure, and your fist moved further up his length. You looked up at him beneath your lashes, intently, dark, almost. You gave a single kitten lick to his tip, gave him a kiss after before smiling up at his dizzied expression; “Watch, then.”

With that, you started softly sucking on his tip, cautiously and void of hurry, taking your time. You were languish with it, letting your tongue dart out and dance across his skin, swirling it when he moaned out or tightened his fist which held captive the fabric of his vanilla scented blanket. You didn’t know that watching him throw his head back would bring you the pleasure it did, but watching Hyunjin’s Adam’s apple beneath the soft, frail skin of his neck made you roll your hips into nothing, the sweat slowly forming on his skin made you flush and sigh against him. You took him deeper, engulfing him in your warm, wet mouth, inch by inch, getting used to his length, the feeling of his heavy veins against your tongue. And he was shy with his hands, placed them everywhere but on you; ran his fingers through his hair with furrowed brows, fisted the fabric of his jeans, or the softness of the blanket, or the pillow laying next to him. It wasn’t until he locked eyes with you, when he caught sight of a loose strand of hair framing against your cheek that he was courageous enough to reach out; Hyunjin moved the hair out of your face softly, delicately almost, held it then, his palm a nice feeling on your skull. And he kept it there. Stroking your hair, tightening around it when you hollowed your cheeks, when you sucked away the salty precum oozing out his angry tip.

You felt him at the back of your throat. He was bigger than you had expected, and his weight lay on your tongue, his tip grazing repeatedly at your uvula, by now sensitive and reddened, though you didn’t stop your antics. Not when the sounds he let roll off his tongue increased not only in volume but in desperation, whines so high pitched you couldn’t help but grin against him. You watched him, every of his movement; the way his glasses slid off his nose before he fixed them with a haste movement, quick and messy, making them sit slightly tilted; enough for you to notice, not enough for him to care. The strands framing his face starting sticking against the sweat forming on his forehead, his lip had developed a bruise from his repeated biting on it; he was a mess, heaving breath and breathless sighs, sweaty palm fisting at your hair in utter helplessness. And he could barely speak a word, could barely form a thought, yet opened his mouth nonetheless, only for words to fail him. He stuttered about, whimpered more than he succeeded to speak. You slowed down your pace, halted a little in the bobbing movement of your head, let your jaw rest to allow him to collect his mind. He looked down at you, urges so deep swimming behind his eyelids, and he breathed out shakily, licked his bruised-up lips.

“I’m so close.”

The words came out his mouth almost apologetically, breathless and quiet. He sat there, back against the wall, an utter mess, too beautiful to be real; lips spit-covered as he spoke, brows formed into one line, eyes glazed with every human emotion this planet granted.

“Do you have condoms?”, you whispered against him, your voice hoarse and weak, your throat sore. He hadn’t expected the words, but nodded after a moment of blushing, motioning to his nightstand with a cock of the head. You eyed him teasingly before shifting to open the drawer of his nightstand; packs of painkillers and coughing drops, looking old and unused. Pencils and other useless stuff before you spotted packs of condoms shoved into the very back, and you fished for one before meeting his eye again. You contemplated teasing him about it; you knew he wasn’t bringing girls over regularly – if at all – to his dorm room, so the small stack of contraceptions was all but adorable – Hyunjin was so very reddened though, and looking so very bashful already that you decided against it, and busied yourself with sliding off your jeans instead, leaving you to sit in front of him in your shirt and panties.

And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Not much exposed but when you straddled him your thighs were everything his eyes ate alive, shyly placing his hot palms atop them, breathing in shakily when you giggled at him. You tore open the little plastic wrapping, slid on the condom after a confirming nod of his; and when you leaned in to kiss him, he reciprocated it with a depth before not shown, clashing against your mouth clumsily but so passionately that you couldn’t mind it. You shifted in your place, lips never stopping to eat up his own, until you hovered above his erection. He felt your warmth atop him already, bucked his hips up in impatience only for his tip to graze your clothed sex; you both moaned at the embarrassingly short contact, and it was your cue to sink down on him slowly. You weren’t prepped, but you were wet enough for him to slide in easily after pulling your panties to the side, taking him inch by inch, not hurrying, dragging out the scenery. You watched him all the while, and the sight was utterly priceless; blown-out pupils beneath his glasses, a longing so grand behind his lids that you couldn’t help but kiss him again. A deep kiss as you bottomed out on him, felt him endlessly inside you, and he whined into your mouth, loud and raw when you clenched around him.

“I’m not gonna last long.”, he breathed out when you leaned back again; he was too adorable. Looking almost guilty, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs desperately. You chuckled before placing another peck on his swollen lips – even more like clouds now, puffy and soft to touch – and rolled your hips against him. He groaned deeply, throwing his head back with a quiet thump against the wall, hands tightening on your body, as though trying to hold you in place. You felt him twitch inside you, felt him throb against your depth; he wasn’t lying, he wouldn’t last at all.

“I don’t care. Just enjoy yourself.”

With that you started riding him slowly, and softly, giving him an opportunity to collect himself, though it was to little use. He was whining, he was throwing his head back and forth, lulling to the side, he was losing control of everything around him; his glasses slid off his nose repeatedly, sitting so deep they dared to fall off, sounds so loud you wondered if people outside could hear what was happening behind closed doors. His neck was red, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were closed so tight you wondered if it strained the muscles in his face; and you kept rolling your hips against him, chasing the feeling yourself, basking in the way he filled you out entirely. Basking in his sounds, in the sight of him, in the way he felt; this was better than what you had dared to dream of, and you hoped it would be yours for eternities to come.

It wasn’t two minutes, and not before you started bouncing up and down Hyunjin’s length slowly, with thighs strained and hips eager, that the man stuttered in his demeanour, bucking his hips so helplessly into your own, without much success in causing friction, simply to chase you, to chase the feeling, to come closer to you. And it wasn’t long after that when a whine so endearing, so frantic left his throat, and he came into the condom with a string of apologies and curses, and whispers of your name. You allowed him to ride out his high, moving against him in failed search of your own release, kissing at his neck and nibbling at the lobe of his ear, whispering reassurances, feeling his hands on your skin, his arms caging you in. His breathing was heavy, shaky, his eyes closed in exhaustion, or relief, or simple and pure pleasure when you leaned back again. You smiled to yourself, watching calmness take over him now; no nervousness now as you yet sat atop him, no awkwardness, only satisfaction, content.

When he opened his eyes and noticed your staring at him he blushed again, and upon remembering his softened sex inside of you he groaned lowly, twitching in his seat. He was sensitive, he was endearing; and for now he was yours. You smiled at him, and he reciprocated it shyly; you fixed the glasses on his nose, gave him a long, deep kiss. He basked in it, simply let you kiss him, let you run your hands through his hair. It wasn’t until you guided his right hand to your core he sucked in a breath again, upon feeling your warm wetness on his fingertips; and he looked at you with eyes wide open when you leaned back, and whined out again when you whispered; “Gonna show you how you can make me feel good, too.”

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